#but to take a page out of the jaws au- it's the thought that counts

[inkblot-inc]

Just thinking about Skitch and jeweler!Wanda having a quiet day inside together and Skitch is doing Wanda's nails while delicately holding her and in theirs and they're so happy to do this for Wanda and also so afraid to mess up the nail polish so their eyebrows are thrilled in their highly concentrated cuz they want them to look good for Wanda's next public appearance and Wanda's just looking at skitch with heart eyes because of how seriously they're taking it-

I imagine Wanda gets her nails done at the salon regularly and just- one week. Maybe her schedule is too hectic, or she just doesn't feel like making the trip down, and Skitch offers to do Wanda's nails for her and they can just buy the nail polish, the UV hand light thingy and the other basic stuff for it to use at home.

They definitely don't wind up like her usual style, but Wanda enjoys doing something as innocuous as this with Skitch y'know.

I wouldn't say skitch is a perfectionist and they definitely aren't afraid to mess up when it comes to their own projects at work and things like that, but when it comes to Wanda? They have full-on concentration to get things just right.

Skitch just wants to give their very best and you know that Wanda notices that.

Trust, Wanda's still making her regular appointments because their a nice part of her routine, but every so often she'll switch things up and let Skitch do her nails.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Beggin' For It | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Orgasm Denial

Chapter Summary | Your new boyfriend Joel, in the process of helping you pack up your apartment, finds your stash of porn, full of all the things you've been scared of asking for. He surprises you by offering to help you tick them off, starting by denying you the thing you always love the most.

Chapter Warnings | This is basically porn without plot. Explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PiV sex, talk of contraceptives, orgasm denial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (baby), hair pulling, established relationship, No Outbreak AU, No Use of Y/N.

Word Count | 3.7k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Well here we go, the Joel Miller Kink extravaganza. I had SO much fun writing this and putting this together so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I love writing it! If you do enjoy this, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

Your face is burning hot, and your stomach is in knots of anxiety as you stand in the doorway to your room, two glasses of water in hand, watching Joel, who is sat on your bed with a spread of magazine’s spread out across the duvet. Those fucking magazines, stored carefully in the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Some are straight up pornographic, plucked from the top shelf of the store, paid for and shoved into the depths of your bag before anyone apart from you and the cashier knew what it was. Others are those silly gossip magazines, Cosmopolitan mainly, pages folded in all of them of the pictures you like the most, the ones that help you get off the quickest, the things you want to try the most. And they’re all spread out for him to see. 

“W-where did you f-find those?” You choke out, swallowing thickly, hands gripping the two glasses so hard you’re surprised they don’t shatter. 

Joel shrugs, “You asked me to start packing the stuff from the drawers into boxes,” He says, because you did, your apartment in disarray as you’re packing up to move into his home, “I opened the drawer and found them.” 

Joel was never planned. You’d been more than happy on your own. When you met him, on a random Sunday morning, you’d been out of your last relationship for almost a year. You’d been staring at different types of nails at the hardware store, cursing yourself that you hadn’t thought to research what the best nails for hanging pictures up would be, when his Southern drawl had pricked your ears. 

“Need any help, miss?” 

You’d turned, taken a step back because he was taller than you, broad, and definitely older too. Grey scruff peppered along his jaw, some in his hair too, and big brown eyes that screamed kindness at you. He was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. 

“Huh?” Was all you could manage to let out, cursing yourself for seeming like the typical dumb woman at the hardware store. 

“Been milling around gettin’ some stuff and you’ve been starin’ at that wall’a nails for a while,” He chuckles, stepping forward so he’s next to you, “What d’ya need ‘em for?” 

“Oh,” You breathe, he smells good too, woodsy and masculine, “I’m wanting to hang some pictures on my walls.” 

He hums in understanding, reaching over to grab a pack of nails that are miles longer than the ones you would have chosen. He holds them out to you, which you take, fingertips brushing against his as you do, “Thanks,” You smile at him, “I would never have chosen these ones.” 

“You got everythin’ you need to hang them?” He asks, “Tools and stuff?” 

You shrug this time, “I’ve got a hammer, is that going to do it?” 

The look in his eyes is akin to what you imagine someone would look like if you’d just kicked a dog in front of them, he shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and then hands you card that he pulls out. You take it, the words ‘Miller Contracting’ and a phone number underneath it. 

“Usually, I’m more of a building from scratch guy, but you can’t hammer these nails into a wall, so give me a call and I can come and hang your pictures for you.” 

So, you do. Late that evening, you call him, tell him you’ve got the weekend free, and you’d like to get your pictures hung. He comes over, you watch him closely as he hangs them perfectly on your wall. You make him dinner as a thank-you, considering he won’t let you pay him, and then after two beers, you let him fuck you on your couch. It’s not usually your style, but nine months later, it seems to have worked, considering he’s moving you into his house. 

Like most things that had to do with your life and Joel, moving in this early had never been planned either. Sarah, his daughter, who you’d met multiple times, had her own life, her own home, and the lease to your apartment in the city was ending early. Something to do with the landlord wanting to completely redecorate. Joel had offered his place to you, which made sense, considering you spent most of your time at his anyway. So, you’d emailed your landlord, told him you’d be out by the end of the month, and were now packing up everything you owned to move into Joel’s place. Start a new life. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” He coos, “Some interesting stuff here.” He muses, reaching over to pick up a copy of one of the more explicit magazines, opening it on a page that’s got the corner folded over, the picture is a woman, bent over on her knees with her hands spreading the cheeks of her ass, an anonymous man pounding his cock into her, a look of ecstasy on her face. 

You can’t bare it anymore, so you put the glasses down on chest of drawers and made a beeline to snatch it out of his hand, “Now, hold your horses, baby,” He teases, managing to grab your waist to catch you off balance, pulling you onto his lap where you straddle him, the other hand holding the magazine out of your reach, “What do the folded pages mean?” 

You groan, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder, grumbling incoherently into him in the hopes he drops the subject, but this is Joel, and you should have known better. He pushes his shoulder forward, forcing your head up, “I didn’t quite hear you, baby?” 

Dick, is what you think, “They’re things I like,” You mumble, “Think that get me off.” 

He turns his head towards the bed with a smirk, “Lots of folded pages, baby,” He teases, Joel lets the magazine in his hand drop to the bed, gripping your waist in both hands, “Don’t need to be shy baby, nothin’ wrong with any of it.” 

It’s not really that you’re embarrassed by what’s in the magazines, it’s more the fact that even though you and Joel have an extremely healthy sex life, not one you would necessarily call vanilla, but certainly not kinky, there were things you were scared of asking for. There was a mental list of things you’d read about in the advice columns of Cosmo, pictures you’d seen in the other magazines, that you were dying to try, but how do you bring up to your boyfriend of not even a year, that you want him to bend you over and stuff his cock into your ass? 

Joel brings a hand up to your face, cups your cheek and brushes the skin there with his thumb, “Why don’t you show me something you want to try?” He coaxes gently, his brown eyes meeting your own. 

Your eyes go wide. You had always been worried of asking for these things, worried it would scare him off, or that he just didn’t want to branch out into anything too kinky, but here he is, offering to help make your fantasies come true, “Go on.” He taps at your sides. 

You lean over, grab one of the issues of Cosmo and flick through it to the page with the folded corner right at the back. You pass it to Joel, who takes it, letting his eyes flick to the column of sex advice. He clears his throat and starts reading with you still perched on his lap. 

“Dear Angela,” he reads in his Southern drawl, “I’ve been with my fiancé for over five years now. We’re very happy and our wedding is in a year’s time, but I’m struggling to connect with him sexually now. I think the problem is that he’s too nice. Outside of the bedroom, this is wonderful, but do you have any advice on how we might be able to spice things up with our sex life?” He then clears his throat again before launching into ‘Angela’s’ response, “Dear reader, this is something I deal with often. You’re happy with everything but the sex, but don’t lose hope because this is fixable. If you want him to get a little mean with you, nothing says that like denying you the big one, the final ‘O’ if you will. Talk to him, tell him it’s something you want, and have fun!” 

You’re looking at his face as he ponders what that means. He’s putting the magazine down on the bed, bringing his hands back to your hips, looking into your eyes, “Am I too nice to you, baby?” He coos, “Need me to be a little mean t’ya?” 

His voice flashes straight down to your cunt. You wriggle in his lap, the seam of your jeans rubbing along the bulge that is prominent in his own lap. He holds you still, fingers pressing into your hips, “I don’t think so baby, tryin’ to get yourself off like that.” 

You groan a little as he lifts you off his lap, spreads you out on the mattress. You open your legs for him, let him settle his hips between yours, grinding his hips as he presses his mouth to yours. You can feel his chest pressed against your own, the entire weight of him smothering your body, his hands smoothing your hair from your forehead as you open your mouth for him, letting him lick into your mouth, tasting him as your tongue works against his. 

You buck your hips up into his own, your hands coming down to slip into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling his hips forward so you’re grinding together through your clothes, something skin to how you used to behave as a horny teenager. 

“You feelin’ needy, baby?” He whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he does. 

You don’t want to admit that you are, mainly because you know he’s not going to fix the problem. You’ve asked for him to be mean to you, asked him to do nothing but use you and your body for his own pleasure and leave you wanted more, so you just let out a breathy moan, which makes him chuckle, makes him grind his hips into yours again before he pushes himself back on his knees, dragging you up with him so he can pull your t-shirt off your body. 

He pushes you gently back down onto the mattress, drags those big palms of his down your sides until he reaches the waist of your jeans. He pops the button, drags the zipper down and moves his body just enough so he can peel the material down your thighs and off your body, throwing them behind him to be forgotten now. Joel leaves your bra on, but drags your pantie down your legs, pushing your thighs apart so you’re bared to him, no doubt slick and shiny for him. 

Joel stands from the bed, drops to his knees and starts pressing warm, wet kissed to the insides of your thighs. Up the left side, down the right, but never right where you want it. He teases you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, and in moments like this you’re always in awe of how patient he is, always willing to defer his own gratification in place of getting you off first and, more often than not, multiple times, before he even thinks of sinking himself into you. 

His face finally makes its way to settle where you always love having it, right at the apex of your thighs, where you’re already wet with want for him. You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin so, although you didn’t think it physically possible, you spread your legs wider, showing him your glistening, slick cunt. His fingers press into your thighs as his mouth presses a single, chaste kiss right to your clit. You breathe out in pleasure, letting yourself relax a little as you feel his tongue move slowly through your folds, moving from your entrance where your slick is pooling, just for him, all the way up to your clit. He teases you a little at first, small little kitten licks placed ever-so-gently to your clit. He knows this is what you like, when he takes his time to work you up to the edge. The edge you have to continually remind yourself you’re not going to get the opportunity to push yourself over. 

He pulls his mouth off you when you start moving your hips in time to his mouth, his palm pressing down on your belly to keep you still, “This ain’t for you,” He reminds, nipping at the delicate skin of your thighs with his teeth, “Just makin’ sure you can take me.” 

He sinks two fingers into you, curling them up just right, your back arching up off the bed to grind up into his palm as he works you open for him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough, much like with his mouth earlier. Normally he’d make you come on his tongue, then sink those fingers into you and make you come again, but he’s pulling them from your pussy, looking you dead in the eye as he presses his fingers onto your tongue. You clamp your mouth around them, licking your slick from his fingers, rolling your tongue over them in the same way you know he loves on his cock, your eyes training directly on his with no shame as you pull off them with a ‘pop’. You giggle slightly, biting at your bottom lip as Joel leans down to kiss you, tasting you on your own mouth, tasting yourself still lingering on his tongue. 

“Taste good, don’tcha baby?” He smirks, pushing you back, watching you intently as he strips himself of his clothes. 

You don’t think you’ll ever quite get over how beautiful a man he is when he stands in front of you naked. Defined and muscular at his chest, with those big arms that wrap around you, his belly, spattered with hair trailing all the way down until you get to his cock, hard, almost painfully so at this point. His strong thighs that you love to nestle yourself between at night. He is truly a spectacle and it’s moments like this that you still don’t quite believe he’s yours. 

He settles back on the bed, between your thighs, your hands grip at those broad shoulders as he reaches between the two of you, fisting the base of his cock, moving his hips slowly so his cock drags through your slick folds, the bulbous head nudging at your clit as he fists himself, spreading your wet along his length. You feel him settle himself at your entrance, pushing his hips forward just enough to give you just the tip. His nose runs along your jawline, kisses from his mouth trailing just behind, as he rocks his hips into your own, but only ever enough that it’s just the tip of his cock inside. 

“Beg for it baby,” He breathes into your skin, “You want my cock?” 

“Want it so bad, Joel,” You whine, moving your hips into his to try and take him deeper, but he’s gripping your thigh, warning you not to push it, “Please, Joel, please fuck me.” 

“Beggin’ for it even though you ain’t gonna come?” He teases, one hand moving up to your chest to pull the cups of your bra down, fingers taking your nipple and rolling. 

“Wanna feel you.” You say, burying your head into his neck, pressing your own kisses to his skin. 

Joel seems to find that satisfactory, slowly pushing himself all the way into you, dragging himself all the way out again. He leans back a bit, gripping you behind your knees to press your thighs as far into your chest as he can get them. Then he really does fuck you. He’s big, and although you know you can take him, it’s always a shock to you that it’s so easy. That he can pound into you with the ferocity he currently is, tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in that perfect mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Awful quiet baby,” He gasps out, watching you bite at your bottom lip, “Don’t like it when you don’t get to feel good?” 

You shake your head, Joel dragging himself all the way out of your aching cunt, flipping you over onto your belly. He presses his palm into the back of your neck, keeping your lower half pressed to the bed, whilst his other hand drags you up onto your knees, ass in the air for him as he guides his cock right back to you, thrusting back in all the way. You always loved it when Joel fucked you like this. The angle always managing to feel just perfect as he fucks you. 

The only sound in the room is that of your combined moans, little grunts from him and whines from your mouth, and the sound of his hips hitting yours, sweaty skin against sweaty skin. You’re starting to regret asking for this, because God it would be so easy for him to reach round, press his fingers to your clit and tip you over the edge in seconds. If it wasn’t for the way his hand was pressing at the nape of your neck, you could do it yourself, so desperate to feel the euphoria of coming undone around him. 

Joel’s thrusts are getting more frantic, even though it’s only been nine months of you together, you know he’s not going to last much longer. He slides his hand down and into the hair on the back of your head, gripping it tightly in his fist to drag your head up and out of the material of the bed. The sounds of yours once muffled by the duvet under you now let loose into the room, echoing around the walls and doing nothing but egging him on, getting him closer to the finish line. 

“You like this, huh?” He asks you from behind, “Like getting’ used, baby?” 

“Yes Joel,” Because you do, despite knowing you don’t get to finish, something about him being selfish with you, using you just get himself off, makes you unbelievably wet, “Still feels good.” 

You can hear him chuckle, fingers of his other hand gripping so hard to your hip that you’re sure he’s going to bruise you there. You don’t mind, not really, you love carrying him around with you like that. Secret marks on your skin, evidence that you’re his that only you know, only you can see, apart from when he bites at your neck, claiming you in front of everyone. 

“I’m close baby,” You can hear from behind you, the grip his hand has in your hair arching your back perfectly, angling him just so that if he just carried on like this for a few minutes you think he could make you come just like this, “You want it inside?” He asks, “Want me to fill you up?” 

This was new between the two of you, still exciting. After months of using condoms, never once a complaint from Joel, you’d held up the tiny packet of pills, the ones you’d been taking for a week in secret. Asked him to fuck you bare, fill you up with every drop if his cum, and the two of you were struggling to find a way of finishing that you enjoyed more than this. 

“Please,” You beg, whimpering as he gives another tug to your hair, pulling you back into him even further, “Please Joel.” 

“Ain’t no need for beggin’ now baby,” He groans thickly behind you, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

You feel his hips slam into the plush of your ass a few more times before he goes still, groaning deep from his chest as you feel the warmth of his cum spread through your cunt. You can feel your own walls fluttering around him, taking his spend as deep as you can whilst trying to catch your breath. 

Fuck. You can hear him sucking in ragged breaths from behind you, hands still gripping your hips as he pulls himself from you. You whine at the loss of him, push your hips back trying to coax him into giving you what you want. God, this was such a stupid thing to want. Why would you want Joel to deny you the very thing he’d proved over and over again was the one thing he would give you without question? You’re desperate, and it wouldn’t take much, he’d have you screaming his name in less than a minute. 

“Please Joel,” You beg, “Please baby.” 

“What’s that?” He asks from behind, you can feel his chest lay across your back, pushing you down into the mattress, his cock still semi-hard against the cheeks of your ass, “You beggin’ for it, baby?” 

“Make me come.” You demand, like a little brat. 

“Awww baby,” He coos into your ear, hand coming to grip the back of your neck, “I’m such a mean man, aren’t I?” You nod your head, hoping it shakes his resolve, “Leaving you all wet and needy.” His teeth nip at your jaw, he pushes himself off you and then completely off the bed. 

You turn onto your back, watching as he picks up his clothes to get dressed. Why did you ask for this? You spread your legs, finger dipping down inside your pussy, dragging out the mix of slick and his spend to drag up to your clit. It wouldn’t take very long, already so worked up and sensitive, but he catches you before you can get there, hands tearing your own away from you. 

“Don’t be naughty,” Joel chastises, tugging on your wrist to get you to sit at the edge of the bed, he gets on his knees, loops your panties right over your ankles and drags them up, “Stand up,” You want to complain, but you do it anyway, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he drags your panties all the way up, pressing a kiss right where the waistband sits, “Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I promise I’ll make you come however you want later, okay?” 

It should embarrass you how quickly you nod your head, how your voice promises him you’ll be good for him. He kisses your forehead, helps you put the rest of your clothes on, passes you the glass of water you’d forgotten about earlier. 

“Come on,” He says, “Plenty more boxes to pack up.” 

[dianneking]

The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?" 

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop. 

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining. 

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo. 

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again. 

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?" 

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one." 

"But you will read it?" 

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This." 

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?" 

"You'll like it." 

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff. 

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it." 

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?" 

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did. 

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze. 

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?" 

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs. 

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day). 

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!” 

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was. 

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!! 

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side. 

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name! 

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor. 

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course. 

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor  and book fair dates. 

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?" 

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?" 

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months. 

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded. 

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight. 

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you. 

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?” 

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past. 

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go. 

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging. 

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot. 

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay. 

_____

It was not okay. 

It was anything but okay. 

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess. 

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly. 

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad. 

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply. 

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time. 

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to 

GET OUT OF HERE!! 

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?" 

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?" 

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!" 

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this." 

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading." 

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she? 

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–" 

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists. 

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" 

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you. 

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands. 

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?" 

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to. 

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together." 

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste. 

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy. 

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

Wednesday

Joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group.

read on AO3 | fic masterlist | masterlist |  next chapter

Rating: mature, allusions to sex (not yet in the series)

Warnings/Tags: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n

Chapter Word count: 3,7k

Tabby note: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾

I. LILAC

Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm. 

His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.

Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.

As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.

7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.

8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.

At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?

“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text. 

You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?

The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony.  The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.

As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.

“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.

He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.

“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”

“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way. 

You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.

Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.

“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”

“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.

“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”

Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.

“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”

“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.

“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”

The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.

Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.

Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.

This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.

“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.

“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.

“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.

“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.

The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.

Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back. 

Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.

Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.

People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.

His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.

It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.

The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.

“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.

Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.

“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.

“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”

“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.

“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.

“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.

“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.

“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.

“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”

“Sam,” Henry says firmly.

“Abigail,” you speak loudly.

Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you. 

“Teresa,” Tess points at her.

“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place. 

You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.

You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.

Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.

“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.

“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”

“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.

“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.

The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.

“Who is Sarah?”

“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”

“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.

“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”

Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.

“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”

He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.

“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.

“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”

“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”

That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.

“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.

“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”

“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.

“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.

He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy. 

The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.

Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.

“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.

“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.

“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”

“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.

“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.

“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.” 

And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.

“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.

“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. prev | next

[navybrat817]

Pros and Cons

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You weigh out some of the pros and cons of Andy's offer. Word Count: Over 3k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, t/easing, slight insecurities, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Looking back, you weren't sure how you got through your meal with Andy. Lunch was delicious, as expected from such a top restaurant. The conversation was easier than you thought after his offer, though you didn’t say much more. The quiet moments were more comforting than awkward and he didn’t push for you to speak. But all the while, he kept his attention on you. You had a feeling he was trying to get a read on how you would move forward.

You opted to skip dessert, your stomach still a bit in knots. Andy didn’t appear surprised or upset, quietly paying the check. You weren’t entirely sure you could trust yourself if you stayed longer, his soft, inviting smile urging you to say yes.

Does he already know my answer is going to be yes?

"Are you sure I can't take you back to your place?" he asked when he walked you to the curb, his hand on your lower back as you waited for the cab.

You quickly shook your head, firm in your stance. Andy didn’t need to see the part of town you lived in. You had a feeling he would soon enough, but you weren’t ready for that. Not today.

“Are you sure?”

"I'm sure," you replied as you faced him. Up close, his eyes reminded you of the sea on a stormy day. Has he already swept you away? "I just need the day to think things over and figure out what questions I have."

You wouldn't allow yourself to go into this blindly. The two of you had to have a serious discussion to make sure you were on the same page. The scale already tipped in his favor due to his position in your relationship, if you could even call it that. It didn't mean you would allow him to have complete control of your life.

"So, I'll hear from you tomorrow then,” he said, his gaze still on you as the cab pulled up.

"Maybe sooner, but tomorrow for sure," you smiled, almost wishing you ordered dessert just to stay a few minutes longer. Almost. “Thank you again for lunch.”

Your whole body seemed to respond when he brought his mouth close to your ear, enough for his beard to tickle your skin as you shivered. “It was my pleasure,” he whispered, your eyes shutting as you unconsciously moved closer to him.

Before you could press yourself against him, he stepped away to open the door. The abrupt movement left you cold, aching, and wanting more. The small smile on his face as you opened your eyes was all too proud and knowing. It was exactly why you needed to go home and think things through alone.

But not before I give him a taste of his own medicine.

With more confidence than you expected to have, you brushed your fingers enticingly along his cheek before he helped you into the cab. You took pride in watching his composure slip slightly as he clenched his jaw. Having the ability to command his attention was a feat, but now wasn’t the time to take advantage of it.

“Get her home safely,” Andy told the driver, giving your hand the gentlest of squeezes before he paid the man. “Understood?”

“Sure thing,” he said, whistling when he saw the amount of cash in hand.

"Enjoy the rest of your day," Andy said.

"You, too," you replied, looking at him through the window as the door shut.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked.

You reluctantly tore your gaze away from Andy to answer his question. As the cab pulled away, you kept yourself from looking back. You had a feeling Andy still stood there, watching until you were out of sight. It was strange how the distance made it easier to breathe, but you felt out of your own skin.

Maybe because it isn't every day that someone offers to be my sugar daddy.

As if he sensed he was on your mind, he sent you a message.

"Please let me know once you're home."

Written word wasn't always easy to decipher. It could've read as Andy's need for control, to know where you are at all times. But you felt like it leaned closer to wanting to know you're safe. You hoped it was the latter, as it left a warm feeling inside.

"Just made it. Thanks again for lunch." You messaged back once you got back to your apartment minutes later.

“Thank you for letting me know. It was my pleasure.”

“Pleasure.” The same thing he whispered in my ear.

You blocked out the sounds of the bustling streets outside as you flopped down on the couch. You stayed in that spot for a few minutes and stared at the ceiling. Part of you debated exercising or doing something else to distract you from your thoughts, but your heart wouldn't have been in it. Now was the time to reflect on Andy Barber and his proposal.

"Down to business," you whispered before you got up.

When it came to any area in life that required extra attention, you preferred to write by hand instead of typing. It allowed you to process the thoughts and emotions more since it was a more tedious process as opposed to quickly typing. You also didn't have the advantage of backspacing if you made a mistake or didn't like something. These were your words in the moment and they had to be there for a reason.

Weighing out the pros and cons came easy to you. The obvious major pro was not having to worry about your finances for a short time, which means less stress. And less stress meant better sleep, not dreading work, and more taking care of yourself. A domino effect of positives for you.

On the other hand, minus the few interactions and what you found online, you didn't know Andy very well. What did that mean for your safety when you moved into his building? Or when the two of you traveled? If no one knew about your arrangement and something happened, where did that leave you?

I don't think Andy would hurt me, but someone needs to know what's going on.

You dialed Andy's number, wanting confirmation before moving forward with your list.

"Hi, honey."

You weren't sure you'd ever get used to that warm greeting or the mere sound of his voice, but you liked it. "Hi, Andy. I'm sorry to bother you, but I had a quick question for you and I thought it would be better to call instead of text."

"It isn't a bother. Ask away," he urged.

You tapped your pen against the paper. "Since you and I are still in the beginning stage of getting to know each other, I'd feel a bit more comfortable if one of my friends knew about our…" you tried to find the right word as you took a breath.

"Arrangement?" he mused.

"Yes. That's okay, right?" you asked, not sure why you felt nervous to ask. It may have sounded like you didn't trust Andy, but you couldn't be too careful. Surely he understood that.

"I'm glad you asked. It would surprise me if you didn't want someone privy to our arrangement," he assured you. The man was full of surprises. "Is this friend someone you trust? And will they be discreet?"

You almost flinched when Andy brought up discretion. Of course, he didn't need to broadcast that he planned to pay you for your company. You weren't going to tell a ton of people either. The less people knew that you were a first time sugar baby, the better.

"I trust her and I'll make sure she's discreet," you promised.

"As long as you're comfortable, go right ahead," he said, bringing you instantaneous relief. "Did you have any other questions?"

"What dessert would you have selected at lunch today?" you asked curiously.

He chuckled at your switch in topic. "Why don't I answer that question on our first date?"

"Date?" you smiled, butterflies in your stomach before you came back to reality. A date he was paying you for. "When did I say 'yes'?"

"You didn't,” he said. You heard the smile in his voice. “But my instinct says you're leaning in that direction."

I am.

"I think that's all I need for now. Why don't you hold your breath until I call back? You’ll find out if your instinct was right," you teased,

"Don't leave me hanging too long, honey," he said, taking an exaggerated breath for you to hear.

"Bye, Daddy," you smiled, getting right back to your list once you hung up. Your phone went off seconds later.

"Now you're just teasing me, honey."

You bit your lip as you typed. Maybe you were teasing him. Could he blame you? "I call it building anticipation."

"I want you to remember those exact words down the road." Andy sent back.

Despite the tingling between your thighs at the implication, you had to get back to the task at hand. After jotting a couple of other things down, you realized you were slightly stuck on the last part: the physical aspect. While he implied that you didn’t have to sleep with him, attraction was there. You wouldn’t deny that. Sex itself didn’t have to be complicated, but you had to communicate what you were comfortable with and set boundaries.

And what if either of you caught feelings?

You scoffed at that thought. No way would Andy fall for you. Take care of you? Yes. Trust you? Hopefully yes. But actually want you beyond this deal? Why would he? And what if you wanted more than what he had to give? Was adding your emotional well-being to the list worth it?

You had to protect your heart in this game.

I just hope I won’t lose it along the way.

Not wanting to dwell on that, you messaged Estelle.

“Hey. Are you free to talk? Not an emergency, but still important.”

Estelle was one of your oldest friends. Confidant, beautiful, and well off, many assumed she was stuck up or high maintenance. Truthfully, she had a heart of gold and looked out for the people she cared about. You knew if anyone would keep an eye out for you and not judge you for taking this path, she was it.

“You at home? I can stop by.”

And because she never judged you, you never once minded when she came to visit you in this part of the city.

“Come on over.”

You stared at your list as you waited before the letters blurred together, spots dancing in front of your eyes as you felt a slight headache coming on. Talking with Estelle would help ease any nerves you felt. Besides, weren’t you making the best decision for yourself? Not just for the present, but the future?

“Open up! I brought sustenance!” Estelle called through the front door minutes later.

She would find a way to get into the building without me needing to get her.

Your best friend didn’t have a hair out of place as you let her in, tapping her perfectly manicured nail against a bakery bag. She was almost the type of woman you expected for Andy to have beside him. “Got something for each of us. Important talks means important eats,” she said, arching an eyebrow as she looked you over. “You look nice. Who did you get dressed up for? Oh, my god. Did you have a job interview?!”

“Why do you assume I dressed up for someone?” you asked, even though you did. “And sort of?” you added.

“Because you don’t dress up on your days off,” she pointed out, making herself at home in the living room. She never once looked down her nose at your place. If anything, she loved how you made it your own. “I know I've said this before, but I've always liked that color on you. It’s very…” she trailed off as she set the bag on the coffee table next to your list. “Um. What is this?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have titled it “Pros and Cons to having a Sugar Daddy”.

“Yeah, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” you said as you took a seat on the chair.

“Wait. This isn’t a joke? You’re seriously contemplating getting a sugar daddy?” she asked, picking up the list to give it more of a careful read. Her eyes held no judgement. Only concern. “Okay. Talk.”

Over the next few minutes, you told her about meeting Andy and his offer. She was gracious enough not to ask any questions or interrupt, likely letting it sink in. You were probably one of the last people she expected to go down this road. Life was funny that way.

“So, this Andy Barber,” Estelle said once she was up to speed. “If you agree to be his ‘companion’ or whatever, he’ll wipe out your debt and keep your bank account full until this job opens up for his friend? A legitimate job?”

“Pretty much,” you nodded. Hearing it that way sounded too good to be true. “He said he’d make sure I’m comfortable until I get my first paycheck. And Huffman Enterprises is legitimate.”

“So, a legitimate job offer with this being the only string attached,” she said, showing you a photo of Andy from one of the articles she pulled up online. “I mean, the guy’s hot as hell, so he has that going for him until you start to work again. Bet he’d rock your world.”

“I’m sure he would,” you tried to smile, having no doubt about his skills. He didn’t strike you as a selfish lover. Demanding, maybe, but not selfish or a taker.

"Do you like him?” she smirked, not letting you avoid her stare. “No one would blame you if you did.”

“I like what I know about him so far,” you said carefully.

“Mmm," she said, not pushing for more. "Not much written on the 'Con' side of the list."

"That's a good thing, right?"

There weren't many cons overall in your eyes. Your safety and maintaining safe boundaries for sex were the major concerns. You wouldn't budge on those things.

"It is." Estelle dug the treats out of the bag, urging you to take one from her hand. “You know, you could just stay with me. And I don’t mind lending you some money. You could still quit the diner.”

“I couldn’t do that,” you said, picking at the pastry before you set it down. You refused to take advantage of your friendship with Estelle. Besides, what if she gave you money and you couldn’t pay her back? How could you come back from that? “I appreciate it though.”

She sighed and you wondered if you hurt her feelings by turning down her generosity. “I get why you want to do this arrangement, I really do, but are you sure it’s safe?”

“That’s why I’m telling you. If I go anywhere with him, you’ll know the details. You’ll basically be my failsafe,” you explained, which seemed to appease her slightly before you felt tears come to your eyes. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable. “I mean, this isn’t exactly where I thought I’d be at this point in my life. I thought I’d be more self-sufficient or better off, but I’m barely keeping my head above water. I’m tired of feeling like I’m going to drown. At least he can keep me afloat for a short time.”

I just want to breathe without feeling a weight on my chest.

“Hey,” she gently said, reaching over to hug you. Somehow the floodgates didn’t open. “I got your back on this, but he better watch his. If he hurts you in any way, shape, or form, I’ll gut him. I don’t care how powerful he thinks he is.”

A watery laugh escaped. You had no doubt Estelle would emasculate him if he crossed a line. “I know you will,” you said, pulling away. “I also know you’re the last person who would judge me for this and understand that this stays between us.”

“Are you kidding? All the shit I’ve done in my life and you never once judged me, I’d never judge you," she said fiercely. She was a good friend. "And no one else knows?"

"Just you."

A soft smile crossed Estelle's face, likely touched that you trusted her with this. "Your secret is safe with me,” she promised, glancing at your list once more. “Just promise me you thought this through and you’ll be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I have,” you told her. You felt better emotionally knowing that Estelle was aware and onboard with the situation. You didn’t feel alone in this. “And I will be careful.”

“Then give it a few minutes and let him know you want to talk,” she winked.

You waited exactly five minutes and typed out a message. Your finger hovered over “send”, asking yourself one last time if this was the right decision. As Andy’s tender smile flashed in your mind, you touched the screen without hesitation.

“I’m ready to discuss our terms.”

It didn’t take long to get a response.

“My office tomorrow. 4pm. I’ll send you the address.”

“Tomorrow it is,” you told Estelle, your stomach light and weightless again. This was really happening.

“Come on. I’m taking you shopping,” she said, pulling you up before you could argue. “If you won’t stay with me or let me help with your bills, at least let me buy you a dress for your meeting. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

“You just want an excuse to go shopping.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” she argued, shoving your purse into your hands. “But I do want you to be a knockout for your meeting. Let him see exactly what he’s agreeing to. And by the end of this, he won’t want to let you go.”

A girl can dream.

Negotiations are coming! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[siriusleee]

Like Blood on Iron | Part 4

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: smut, female x male sex, blood, death, decapitation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Three very important updates for you guys, please read:

My tag list has gotten way longer than I'd ever expected it to get. Honestly, I thought I'd have like 3 readers and that's it. It is taking me almost an hour to get everyone tagged, update the tag list, and go back to old posts and comment to people who Tumblr won't let me tag. Because of this I will no longer be doing a tag list. In an effort to make this easier on myself and get these posts out faster, please subscribe to my Ko-fi page OR enable notifications for when I post. Subscribing to Ko-fi costs nothing, and I do not expect you to send me any money. It's just the one page I have that I can send out quick updates.

However, I am currently super poor. For anyone that doesn't know, I am an English Literature teacher. This year I moved from middle school to high school, and buying all the supplies that I need for this new grade level is killing me. I am working at a part-time job to afford it, but if you can and want to, I'd love it if you donated. I just bought $40 worth of glue sticks; it's very expensive. You can donate through my Ko-fi. Thank you to @gazs-blue-hat and @devcica for donating to my wisdom teeth surgery - I just made the first payment; I love you guys.

I did not edit this. I literally finished and am hitting post; school starts tomorrow and the first 3 weeks are so exhausting, I will be going to bed at 4 p.m. each day. So I wanted to get this out to you. Adamantine Chains will have a new chapter posted tomorrow. If you see any egregious errors, please point them out and I will fix them. previous chapters + future preview: - one - two - three - preview

The sound of Lily's soft breath in your ear tries to lull you to sleep, tries to force your jaw to relax but you can't. For the first time since your outburst with Jonathan, Lily had crept into the bedroom the two of you used to share. She had curled into your side; her breathing wasn't even before the door cracked open again and Maggie snuck in to sandwich Lily between yourself and her.

Lily's hair tickles your shoulder as you keep your eye on the window - the warmth is fading faster each night, but when you tried to close it before you went to bed you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You needed the feeling of the cool air in the room. 

"Are you going to watch?"

Maggie's voice is so quiet it seems to get carried away by the wind. The bed shifts as she turns to look at you over the crown of Lily's head peeking above the covers. You turn, fingers brushing Lily's hair out of your way. In the darkness, Maggie's eyes gleam at you. 

"I don't know. He told me not to, but I think Father will make us."

Maggie breathes in sharply - once - just enough for you to know whatever she's about to say angers her.

"I think Father is making everyone go. Why did he tell you not to go?"

You want to tell her his name - as much as you know - is Ghost. To call him by his name, but you keep that information tucked close to your chest. 

"I don't know; he didn't say."

The conversation hangs in the air between the two of you, floating with the dust that blows in from the windowsill. Maggie's eyes burn across to you before she rolls back away from you, her hair dark against the pillow, curling down her neck. Mirroring her you roll away, eyes focused on the silver starlight you can see out the window.

You awake to soft hands shaking you awake; through your sleep you see Mother pressing one finger to her lip. Her eyes say it all to you - it's time. You slip out of bed leaving the warmth of Lily behind as the cool morning washes over the bare skin that shows from your nightgown. Mother hands you a dress, a thick black one. The same one you knew Maggie wore two years ago when Father's mother died. 

You pad out the room behind her, trying not to wake Lily up. You let the bedroom door shut softly behind you before you speak.

"I have to go?"

"Lily is staying behind with the Morris girls. Your father expects the rest of us to be there." Mother's voice is tight; she's already dressed in a black dress, simple and loose fitting. She refuses to make eye contact with you as she speaks. "I will be downstairs. You have to be dressed soon."

You dress quickly, ducking back into the room to grab your boots and underdress. Back in the hallway, Maggie crosses you, dark purple shadowing under her eyes - you expect the same exhaustion to be painted across your face. 

The temperature feels twenty degrees colder downstairs; you wrap your arms around yourself. Father is absent from his place at the table. A single slice of toast sits in front of Maggie, the neatest nibble taken from one corner. You drop down across from her and neither of you speak. 

A knock at the door jolts your heart - you shove away from the table before Maggie can. On the other side stands Mrs. Morris and her two daughters, still in their sleeping clothes and barely awake. Without her having to ask, you take one of the girls from her; Mrs. Morris follows you quietly to your bedroom where you tuck both girls in beside Lily. They fall asleep almost immediately.

On your way out of the room, you shut the window, pulling the latch down so that they can't see outside.

You wait at the dining table with Maggie; Mother and Mrs. Morris speak quietly in the kitchen. When the morning bell tolls, the two of them emerge out of the kitchen. You and Maggie follow behind them, pulling your cloaks off the hook by the front door when you pass by. You wish instead to have Ghost's cloak, the heavy and warm scent of him enveloping you instead of the cold wool you wrap around your shoulders. 

The four of you fall in line with the rest of the village, letting the wave of bodies push you toward the town center. Each step you take is heavier, harder to take than the one before. Ghost's voice, warning you not to come, not to watch, rings in your ear with a high-pitched drone that grows louder with each moment. The square is almost full whenever you arrive; you let yourself get pushed away from your Mother and Maggie until you're situated near the far side of the square, right where Ghost will first walk in.

The crowd tries to situate themselves as the council shuffles onto the platform. Your father stands at the back, face pale and empty. Even from this distance, you can see the tremor in his hands as he walks. Behind him, shackled in heavy iron chains, Uncle Henry walks up the platform escorted by two men you've never seen before. His face is gaunt and slack, his lip torn and blood dripping onto his chin.

The abject horror of it hits you all at once and you realize why Ghost had warned you not to come. All at once you think about the executions you had sat in your bedroom trying to strain to see, all the times you watched Ghost come up the street eager to get a glimpse of him and all the families that had been in the same place as yours is now. You think of all the times Father left his boots outside after execution and wonder if blood had splashed on them. You feel sick, horrified. You want to search out the families who had been ripped apart by the executions and beg for their forgiveness. 

A hush falls over the crowd like a velvet blanket pulled up too high. You strain past the ringing in your ears to try to hear the heavy sound of boots that you've gotten used to hearing in the midnight light. The sound is different now, leadened and sinister. Drawing your hood over your head you keep your eyes fixed on the point you know Ghost will emerge from. 

He seems to dwarf everyone in the crowd when he arrives, sword glinting in the early morning sunlight. You're torn between trying to press closer to him and pulling away as the thought of what he's about to do courses through you. He walks slowly, regret heavy in each of his steps as he mounts the platform. 

The head councilman speaks, but you can't hear him above the roar in your ears as you watch Ghost situate himself to the side of Uncle Henry. He turns his face towards the crowd and his eyes search through every person before they land on you. He shakes his head just a fraction of an inch, and you know he's telling you to look away - to walk away before he swings his sword.

But you're rooted to the spot - you can't move as the councilman stops speaking and Ghost raises his sword, his eyes still locked on yours.

There's a moment's pause when his sword reaches its apex - a moment where you hope he'll lower it down and walk away. But the sword falls heavy; you manage to clench your eyes shut at the right second, but you still hear the heavy sound of Uncle Henry's head hitting the wood, and your mother's scream.

When darkness falls, no one stops you from walking out the front door. Father had not come home - you knew he was burying Uncle Henry somewhere, and Mother had to be carried to bed by you and Maggie. Upstairs you'd heard Lily sobbing; Maggie was the only one to witness you slip out the front door. 

The red that dripped off of Ghost's sword as he walked back home is long gone in the dust and daytime; even so, you imagine that you can see it trailing in front of you as you walk, tripping over stones in the dirt. There's betrayal here, you know, running away to the home of the man who executed your uncle, but you don't know anywhere else to go. 

Eyes peer down at you from their windows as you pass through the village, but for once you don't care if anyone runs home to tell on you. You're not sure Mother or Father would even be able to comprehend what you were doing anyway. 

Like he knew you were coming, Ghost sits on the step, hands folded neatly in front of him. He doesn't look up at you, doesn't rise until you're within touching distance. An empty glass sits at his side; without speaking, he pushes himself to a standing position, glass snagged up in his large hand. You don't wait for him to beckon you as he walks inside.

You grimace at the warmth of the whiskey as it goes down your throat. You had never liked the taste of alcohol, but when Ghost sat it down in front of you you had reached for it without hesitation. The glass is heavy in your hand.

"I told you not to come," Ghost says, lowering himself down into the seat across from you. His voice is stern, but without any judgment for you attending the execution.

"I didn't have an option." You speak so quietly, you're not sure if he hears you over the wind and the crackle of the fire. 

"You always have a choice."

"No, you always have a choice. You are a man; you don't understand what it's like to have someone dictate your entire life to you. I had no choice because my father said I had to go. And soon it won't be my father telling me what to do, but Jonathan. And I'll be shackled to a life of listening and obeying."

You shove the glass you'd drained towards Ghost, shaking your head at him when Ghost moves to fill it again.

"I'm sorry your father forced you to watch." 

"My father," you pull your tangled hair over your shoulder, running your fingers through it to distract you from Ghost's eye burning at you over his mask, "thought that if we didn't come, it would show some level of guilt. I should be thankful that he let Lily stay home, but-"

"But what?"

"But I saw what the execution did to my mother. My mother is not a weak woman, but she didn't want to go. She can't do blood - it makes her sick for days. My father told me once it had to do with something she saw as a child, but wouldn't tell me more. She never attends the executions. But he forced her, knowing she's going to be regulated to the bed for the rest of the week. And I-"

You can't get the thought out - that you are a horrible person for how excited you used to be for the executions. Ghost waits patiently, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking underneath him. You study the patterns of scarring on his fingers as they splay across the table. They're clean, no blood and dirt crusted beneath them.

"I am a horrible person," you finally sob out, fingers pressing into your eyes to try to press the tears that threaten to come out, "I have spent months waiting for an execution to come around; all I wanted to do was see you - I didn't think about everyone that was losing their life. Or their families, or you."

"Or me?" Ghost's voice is rough; you pull your fingers away from your eyes to look into his; they're dark and unreadable. 

"I've never thought about what you must experience - doing the bidding of the council."

"I think you'll find I know more about being forced into doing things I don't want to do than you think."

The wind increases outside, the sound of leaves and sticks hitting the sides of Ghost's cabin. You wonder if it's Uncle Henry, angry with the town and determined to tear it apart. 

"How did you end up here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth, and you feel ashamed as soon as you say it. Ghost's eyes flash, his nails dig into the wood of the table. You expect him to ignore you, but he pushes his hands into the collar of his tunic, and pulls out a necklace. With a flick of his wrist, he pulls it from around his neck and flings it to you. It lands a tangled mess in front of you.

"Read it." His voice is a solid command you follow, fingers tracing the edge of the cross as you pick it up; the metal chain snakes across the grain.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley - King's Guard 141st Division - you were in the King's army?"

"I was a part of the King's Guard; we were tasked with protecting the king when he traveled or during battle. There were four of us."

"What happened to the others?"

"I'm all that remains of the 141. We were-" his voice is whiskey thick, and when he swallows, you hear the heaviness of it, "ambushed. I was not able to save them. And so my punishment for not dying with my brothers was to live out my days as an executioner."

The metal is warm against your fingers, as you trace the engraved letters of his name. Simon Riley. Thoughts swirl in your head, and he seems to read them as you reach across the table to pass the necklace back.

"In this house you can call me Simon. Outside only Ghost."

The weight of the day - of Simon's background pushes against you. The small patterings of rain begin to hit the windows as you stand, taking your glass off of the table. You leave Simon as you refill the glass, bringing an extra for him. You drink yours in one go, refilling it again before you pass Simon his. 

The corners of his eyes are tight as you step beside him, the glass held out to him. His hand wraps around your wrist, warm and electric. A stone settles in the pit of your stomach as a fire spreads across your skin from where he grabs you. 

"You drink much more and you won't be able to make it up the path home."

"Just put me under the table then."

The corners of his eyes relax, and then turn up just slightly as he takes the glass from you with the hand not holding your wrist. He keeps you close to his side as he uses the hand with the glass to push his mask up just over his nose; the edge of a ragged scar peaking out on his cheek. He downs the drink in one go and grabs the glass you'd intended for yourself before finally letting you go.

You'd never enjoyed the way being drunk had made you feel, but as the world outside Simon's cabin swirls around you, you feel nothing but the warmth of the whiskey in your veins. The rain falls slow and heavy, warm despite the cool wind that had taken over the village. You reach one hand out to let the droplets pool into your palm, the rest of you shielded by the small awning above you.

The door opens behind you, the dim firelight spilling onto the rain soaked ground in front of you. The shape of Simon wraps its shadow around you along with the musky smell of him. You watch his shadow as he leans against the doorframe.

"We could run away together."

You had thought about it for a few weeks now. It had started out as a ridiculous fantasy - the two of you riding out on horse in the middle of the night and disappearing into the forest together. It had started out innocently enough, just the two of you escaping with each other, but now -

"Where would we even go?"

Simon's voice is soft, rolling through the rain drops as it passes by you. The timbre of it makes your mouth dry, or maybe it's the whiskey.

"Anywhere. Across the sea. Somewhere just far enough that know one would know who we are."

Simon's shadow ripples; you watch his shadow as he reaches to his chest, to where you know the cross hangs. 

"You could go," he says, "but I will always be marked."

You don't know what he means, can't remember if he's told you something or not. But you let the reckless abandon that started building at you so much earlier in the day take over you. Simon's figure backed by the firelight makes your fingers itch to reach out and tangle them in the front of his tunic.

"But would you go?" You ask, voice rising and falling. "If you could, would you go with me?"

The silence stretches thin. Simon chews on the inside of his lip; the doorway groans beneath his fingers as they dig into the wood. 

"You're drunk," he finally says, the words falling from him. "And you're not happy. I should take you home." His warm hand wraps around your elbow; you jerk it back and in your drunken state stumble. You try to catch yourself, but your feet slip. Simon tries to catch you, his hands wrapping around your elbow, but your feet tangle together and the two of you fall. Simon twists, getting his body halfway underneath yours. 

The two of you land hard in the mud, your forehead clipping his chin. The two of you lay awkwardly, one of your hands on Simon's chest and the other buried in the mud. You try to push yourself up, hand slipping, to peer down at Simon lying beneath you. Mud is splattered across the exposed skin around his eyes. He reaches the hand that had wrapped around your back - the only part of him that has escaped the mud- to your forehead, fingers gently wiping away the warmth that had started to form there.

"You're bleeding."

"Is it deathly?

"I think you'll live."

He pulls his hand away, covered in your blood, and the rain washes it away slowly - the red tinge traveling down his wrist and disappearing into the hem of his tunic. You feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest as you shift so that you're straddling one of his legs. 

"Can I ask for a favor Simon?" You swallow heavily, trying to swallow down the nervousness and embarrassment that's threatening to explode out of you.

"Anything."

A red blush starts to creep up your chest as you speak, each word measured and bitten off carefully - worried that if you speak too fast, Simon will disappear.

"I won't lie and say I haven't kissed my fair share of boys. But I've never - I've always been too worried to - to do anything more."

You feel Simon's thigh tense between your legs, and the feeling tightens the knot inside of you.

"If I'm going to be forced to give myself to someone I don't want to, I want to keep something for myself. I-"

Simon's hands tighten painfully around your waist; you hadn't even realized he'd grabbed you or that your hands had snuck down so that they framed his face, your wet hair creating a curtain between the two of you and the rest of the world. 

"There are some things you can never take back - that you may regret." 

"Why would I regret you?"

Your question cracks the tension between the two of you for weeks. You collide together, the kiss frenetic, your teeth clicking against each other as Simon tangles his hands in your hair and pulling you closer to him. 

He pushes the two of you up, grabbing you beneath your thighs as he rolls and stands, pulling you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist as Simon stumbles back into the cabin. Your fingers tease the edge of his mask; Simon shakes his head and you pull them away, still worried that at any second he's going to tell you to go home. 

Your shoulder hits the doorway of his bedroom, but you barely feel it as Simon kicks the door shut behind you, darkness enveloping the two of you. This time when you reach for his mask, Simon doesn't stop you from sliding it off of him. His hair is warm and wet; your fingers catch on the tangles there. 

Simon presses your back against the doorway as he lowers yourself to your feet. You pull away from him, unable to catch your breath as your hands slide beneath his tunic. His skin is soft and scarred; you trace your fingers across a jagged one that bisects his chest. Simon's breath hitches when you trace it to his nipple, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin there. 

Simon lets you pull his tunic off of him, his fingers tracing the lacing on the front of your dress. He hesitates there, waiting for you to say no, to push him away.

"You've seen me naked before," you whisper, trying to loosen the tension, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. "No reason to be nervous now."

"It's different," Simon says, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck, tongue trailing upwards to the shell of your ear, "to think about what it would be like to touch you, and actually doing it."

His admission that he's thought about you like that - the same way you had shamefully thought of him on nights alone in your bed - sends a spear of want through you. You pull him closer, straining to reach up and kiss him again, but Simon keeps himself away.

"You can go home," he whispers in your ear, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh, "I wouldn't be angry with you. I would find no fault with you at all."

And you know he's telling the truth - if you said so at any point, he'd let you leave and wouldn't hold it against you. But you can't even entertain the idea - the instinct to wrap yourself around him, to claw at him and at yourself until the two of you are open for each other, is too much.

You reach up and place your hands over his, guiding them so that they pull at the laces of your dress, the bodice falling open. You shrug out of it, letting it pool at your feet as you kick it away. Simon's hands linger chastely at your side, fingers barely skimming your skin.

"I'm not breakable Simon."

"Of course you are," Simon sighs as you trace your fingers softly up his neck and to his cheek. His breath hitches as your fingers tease the edge of the scar you'd caught a glimpse of earlier when the two of you were drinking. You trace it, trying to map the features of his face. It ends at his hairline, a second scar bisecting it.

"It's my cross to bear." Simon's voice rumbles deep; you can feel it in your chest. "It's my mark as an executioner - the righteous hand of God."

I will always be marked, he had said earlier and you realize what he'd meant. 

Simon wraps his hands around the back of your knees; he pulls you up until you're forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep from falling. He kisses you again, clumsy - you can feel him shaking beneath the soft skin of your hands. He pulls your hair so that your neck is exposed to him; Simon trails kisses down, nipping at your collarbone.

He's hot, his skin and mouth burning you up. You try to grind yourself against him, to get some sort of friction, but Simon's hands keep you just far enough away from him to drive you crazy. His knees hit the side of the bed and buckle; he drops you gently to the bed. The dark scent of him, and the whiskey that still pulls at you makes your head swim. 

Simon's hands are firm on your knees as he pushes them apart and pinning you down.

"If I start to hurt you-"

"Simon, please." 

He presses your thighs down harder to the bed, stopping your squirming. 

"It can hurt. If I start to hurt you, I need you to say something; I need you to promise that you will."

His fingers have inched upwards and you try to buck your hips and make the connection; Simon digs his nails into the sensitive skin of your thighs and the feeling makes you gasp - more electric than anything you've experienced before. 

"I," you swallow hard, Simon's nails scratching down you lightly pulling all the air from your chest, "I promise."

You're ashamed of the moan that you let out when his mouth finds your core, your back arching off of the bed. Simon's tongue is velvet on you, lapping at your wetness with a gentleness you wouldn't have expected from his size. 

You'd listened to other girls in the village talk about this - about their quick trysts with the boys in the village and how it felt to be pawed at. But this - this was like nothing you'd ever imagined it could be, and nothing like the girls described it as. 

Simon's hands keep your knees apart as his tongue swirls your sensitive spot; your back arching off of the bed as you grind down onto him. His fingers trace patterns in the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. When his fingers reach your wetness, you can't help but clench your knees around him, nervousness and embarrassment filling you. You had never let any of the boys you'd kissed touch you - the thought of their fingers inside of you disgusting, but the want for Simon to stretch you out is enough to make you pull away - not sure how to react. 

Simon's tongue slows as he pushes your knees back down with one arm, his mouth pulling off of you with a pop. In the absence of him you buck your hips, but he doesn't move. He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, and when he speaks, the brush of his lips on your skin makes you shiver.

"We don't-," he swallows, heavy in the darkness, "we can stop if you want."

"No." It's a pathetic whine. You can feel his smile against your thigh, teeth nipping at your skin.

"You're going to want me to stretch you out a little."

His words pull a gasp out of you; you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. Simon's hand traces your wetness gently, before he pushes in one thick finger. It burns as he pumps in and out of you; you're so tight he can barely move in and out of you. You can't tell how long it takes before the burn starts to dissipate; like he can read your body, Simon slips another finger in.

Simon works you until you're comfortable; the sounds you make are filthy. You're so wet you feel yourself dripping onto Simon's wrist. He latches onto your apex, and the feeling sends you over the edge. You come with a choked sob; you try to reach down and stop his hand, but he pushes you away and continues until you can't take it anymore. 

He pulls his fingers out of you, as you beg incoherently - but you're not sure what you're begging for. 

Even in the darkness, Simon's a shadow when he crawls up your body, lips skimming your hip bone, your stomach, your collarbone. A muscle twitches in your thigh; you can't catch your breath in the heat that radiates off of Simon as he dips his head down to kiss you. You dig your nails into his side, and buck your hips up, but he pushes them back down gently with one hand. 

Simon pulls away just enough to speak, lips brushing against your as he does.

"If you want me to stop-"

You feel crazed - the way you claw into him, trying to pull him into yourself, the way your lips crash against his, teeth clicking together in a way that would be painful any other time. Simon snakes his hand between the two of you; you jump when it brushes past your clit. You can feel yourself dripping already - wetter than you'd thought you could get. 

Simon lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses, resting his hand on your chest. His fingers stretch across the expanse of skin, calluses raising gooseflesh.

"You're shaking."

And you are; it's overwhelming - the smell of him enveloping you, the expanse of his body, hard muscle under a layer of soft downy, and being broken down by him. The thick feeling of being stretched out. 

"I'm alright."

It comes out whispered and broken, but you are. You've never felt like this; never thought that you would. You wrap one hand around this wrist at your chest and beg.

"Simon please. I can't - I," you can't get the words out, can't explain that you can't take the feeling of being empty; of being without him. 

Simon presses into you, just barely, but it's enough to make your back arch and your nails to scratch down his arm. He hisses at the feeling, teeth nipping at your earlobe. He moves slowly; the sharp feeling of him is enough to cause you to hyperventilate. On instinct, you press your hands to his chest; you can feel his desire to move faster in the way his muscles bunches beneath your touch. 

"Do I need to stop?"

"No - it's just - you're too much."

You can feel his smile, brief and small, as he presses his face into your shoulder before he bites down. Hands finding his hair, you grip tight enough that you're sure it must hurt him, but he doesn't say anything.

You can feel every inch of him stretching you out; Simon's voice is soft in your ear as he whispers to you to relax - that you're doing so well. One of his hands trace down your side, trying to soften the gooseflesh. The other pushes your hair away from your forehead, fingers pausing at your temple. 

The world pauses when he bottoms out; you can feel him in your throat - he's burning you up from the inside, his skin fire against your own. Simon's mouth his hot against your skin as he trails kissed across your neck. You know there will be marks there tomorrow - something you'll have to hide - but you don't ask him to stop; you beg him to keep going. 

"I need you to relax, my love." His soft voice in your ear makes your fingers curl against the blanket bunched beneath you. "You're too tight."

You try to relax beneath him, but you can't - you can't.

"I can't."

"Just breathe love."

You focus on the movement of his chest against yours, and try to synch your breathing with his. Simon lays his hand against your throat, your pulse slowing beneath the pads of his fingers. His tongue snakes out to trace the shell of your ear, and he rocks himself against you.

You're ashamed of the sounds that escape you, you press your hand to your mouth to try to muffle yourself, but Simon pries your hand away and places it on his shoulder.

"Don't try to be quiet."

His words cut into you, and you grind yourself against him trying to match the rhythm he's setting. 

Sweat and slick mix between your thighs; Simon pushes your knees towards your chest and the shift in angle tugs at something inside of you; you can feel yourself unraveling faster than you did earlier. Simon's nails dig into your skin as he moves faster. Your hands press on his chest, his stomach, trying to find some space to breathe, but his grip on your waist doesn't let you move.

Simon finds a brutal pace. You dip your fingers between the two of you until you can feel him pumping in and out of you; Simon moans at the feeling, nails piercing your skin hard enough to make you gasp. 

He grabs the hand you have between the two of you and guides your fingers to your apex, forcing you to swirl your fingers around yourself. 

You try to commit the feeling of him to memory: the texture of his skin, the sound of him panting in your ear, the feeling of his thumb tracing the contours of your nipple. Your second orgasm starts to break around you, and in the haze, you realize that you will never have this kind of moment with someone else.

The thought puts a knot in your throat; you pull Simon down to kiss him; he must sense your desperation as he slows down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer. 

His body shudders once and he pulls out; you feel the heat of him spill out across your stomach. The wild thought of reaching down, and taking some onto your finger to taste possesses you, but your fingers are still clutching at Simon. You can't figure out how to loosen your grip.

Simon pants between your thighs, one hand still wrapped around your neck as he shifts so that he's laying down beside you. You shuffle, kicking the blanket down beneath you until you're able to pull it up around you. 

You want to say something, anything to dissipate the air that stills around the two of you. But as Simon pulls you into his chest, anything you could think of is washed away. 

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[pedrostylez]

Don't

pairing: Joel Miller neighbor!au x fem!reader

summary: No outbreak, not canon in the slightest, Joel Miller as your neighbor growing up. You've returned home from grad school for winter break and Joel sees you in the bar

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count:2k

warnings etc: No outbreak Joel, no Sarah, age gap (like maybe 10-15 years) mentioned but not defined, fingering, dirty talk, angst, anger, drinking, alcohol, and food mentions

A/N: I've set this up to be focused on the smut and angst as much as possible, but there is a back story if it is wanted...I just can't seem to keep things short if I give the whole shpeal ya know? Anyways, I'm nervous when I post anything Joel but we are going to just roll with it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, darlin’.” He groaned, shutting the door with his foot as he pushed you into the bathroom. 

The bar was dark, humid with the growing crowd of older men just getting off their shifts to have a couple drinks with their friends. You saw Joel when he walked in, t-shirt splattered with black tar and arms dusted with dry concrete as he stepped up to the counter and asked for a whiskey. 

You didn’t really expect him to see you in the corner with your friends, who were all fixed on finding someone for you to go home with. They had been up your ass about finding someone for you, watching you cry over your previous boyfriend in the dorm room until you ran home to sulk there. 

It had been easy to find comfort in Joel when you returned home. 

And when he locked eyes with you after hearing your one friend laugh too loud, his neutral expression grew dark before taking another sip of his drink, turning to his coworker, and continuing his conversation. He was a master at ignoring you.

But now he was in front of you after following you to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Feeling like a cornered animal, palms sweating with anticipation of what Joel might say to you, you tried controlling your heartbeat. 

“What?” You said just above a whisper, glancing at him and then turning around to the mirror. 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at you and leaning against the door. “You can’t just come to the bar I’m at.”

You shrugged, picking at your nails for a moment before reaching into your purse. “I got here first. And I didn’t know you would be here; Shelby picked the place, not me.” You say quickly, pulling out a chapstick and looking in the mirror at yourself. 

This wasn’t the club like at school, you didn’t have much to fix about your appearance. You weren’t even really all that drunk, only a couple drinks sipped on while your friends chatted away and pointed out people they thought were your type. You had only come because you knew Joel frequented here. You could be done quickly with applying your chapstick and checking your hair, but Joel made you want to take your time. 

Joel stepped up behind you, looking at you in the mirror as one hand ghosted down your arm. You shivered at the feeling, pulling away slightly before subconsciously leaning backward into him. “We shouldn’t have done what we did.” He amends, locking eyes with you through the mirror and pulling his hand away. He lets you lean on him, his slow breaths expanding his chest and brushing against your shoulders. 

You look down at your purse, picking yourself upright and away from him in an attempt to feign further innocence. You really weren’t the planner of this-you just didn’t tell your friends no when they were suggesting the bar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel.”

You snapped your eyes up to him quickly to watch for his reaction. His jaw clenched for a moment before a small smirk climbed up his cheeks. “So we’re on the same page then darlin’.” He drawls, tilting his head around to look at your face. “Nothing can happen again.” 

Your breath hitched as his hand hidden from the counter squeezed at your hip, turning to look at him fully. If he was going to say nothing could happen again, you were going to pretend it didn’t happen at all. You stood your ground. “Nothing happened to begin with Joel.” 

Like a faulty lightbulb in your dad’s garage, Joel’s face blinked from satisfied to annoyed quickly, trying to control his emotions. “You sure you want to act that way darlin’? Instead of just admitting that we shouldn’t have done it?” He doesn’t wait for your reply as he spins you, pushing you to sit on the counter and allow him to slip between your thighs. “Acting like I didn’t fuck you? Is that easier for you?” 

You closed your eyes at his brashness, fingers tightening around the strap of your purse. He was the one that said it shouldn’t happen again. He was the one that was upset you were in the bar with him. He was the one–

“Open your eyes,” Joel says softly, breaking you out of your thoughts and slowly lifting your eyelashes up to him. His face is still stern, but his stare widened as if he wonders what you’re thinking. “You have to stop.” He breathed across your cheek, hand reaching up to slide his fingers through your hair.

You sigh out “I’m not doing anything,” as his fingers curl, pulling at your locks. Your head is tilted back, heart thrumming with anticipation of what he is going to do. Your next inhale is all Joel–dirt and sweat and the malt whiskey on his breath, maybe some of that shampoo you left at his house a couple weeks ago. 

“Don’t act like we didn’t.” He confirms, pulling your head to the side to expose your neck. “Even though it was wrong, darlin’. I don’t think I can stand for you just pretending it didn’t happen. Does that make it easier for you?” He is mumbling against your neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. 

You barely nod, wanting to lean into his mouth, to let him mark you. But you know you can’t-not after the falling out you and Joel had when he told you it can’t happen again. “It didn’t happen.”

You feel more than hear the growl that bubbles out of his throat, the way he quickly presses his lips to your neck and sucks into your skin to leave a blooming red mark has you wincing. His intention is clear; to make you always remember him, even if it hurts you. 

A big part of you is willing to let it happen. 

His fingers are sliding down your stomach, the friction from your shirt onto your skin leaving a blazing trail. The humidity in the small bathroom seems to increase as his finger sticks to the now exposed skin just above your pants button. 

Joel pauses long enough to have your eyes flicking to his, biting the inside of your lip to see if he is going to pull away. His eyes crinkle with his smirk, fingers fully dipping into your jeans and forcing open the button and zipper. 

He passes the back of his index over your slit, hot on your skin as he shushes you when you gasp. “You’re okay baby, just wet for me, huh?” He waits for your response, wiggling his finger back and forth to make you squirm away from him. His other hand pressed into your hip pulls you closer, urging you to stay put. “Don’t move away from me.”

You sigh, shutting your eyes tightly to hold back a moan at just the connection. You’ve been wanting to reach out to Joel ever since he told you it couldn’t happen again but held back with the hopes that he would make the first move. Now here you were, desperate for his touch. “Please, Joel.”

Joel pulls his hand from your waistband, yanking down your jeans to your knees before pressing his fingers back to you. Now the pad of his thumb is over your clit, sliding down to your hole to collect the wetness you’ve left and bringing it back. “Don’t pretend that this didn’t happen. It’s the best thing you’ve had.” Joel growls out, pressing harder on your clit. 

He’s not asking for a response, but you’re nodding at him anyway to let him know that he is, in fact, the best you’ve had. You feel light headed when he leans forward to connect his lips to yours, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip hungrily before pushing his way into your mouth. 

You swear he’s only kissed you to keep your moans at bay as he pushes two fingers into you at once, pausing once he has them completely surrounded by your fluttering walls. “So needy, darlin.” He sighs, beginning the slow pump of his hand, thumb going back to circling your clit. 

You groan in frustration at his words, wanting him to stop teasing you. But it’s like he has read your mind, bringing the hand that was keeping your hips from moving up to your jaw, wrapping tightly around your neck to keep you focused on him. “I know baby, I know. I’ll let you finish, don't worry.” 

It continues like this, his fingers pumping into you, his thumb circling your clit, your hips meeting his hand with an obscene wet sound that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Joel’s mouth is agape, watching your face while his breath fans over your chin. He won’t let up, keeps encouraging you.

That’s it sweetheart.

So good for me, aren’t you?

You aren’t allowed to forget me this time. 

Fuck, you’re so wet for me darlin’.

You reach your hand forward to dig into his forearm around your neck, your orgasm apparent and on the edge of letting go. Joel knows, smiling at you and leaning down again to connect his lips with yours like he knew the sweeter contact that he has deprived you of would make you tip over. 

He bites down on your lip as you feel your vision cave in, black surrounding you to the point that you have to close your eyes and try to breathe through it, hearing Joel groan and push his fingers all the way in and hold you in his hand. 

When the fog has lifted, his fingers still inside you, he pops off your mouth and releases your neck slowly. “Careful, darlin’.” He murmurs, holding you by the side of your neck as you lean toward him unconsciously. 

You blink at him, whining as he slowly removes his fingers from you and brings them to his lips, and sucks on them. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as they trail down from his tongue, wiping them on the hem of his shirt. 

He watches you for a moment, chest heaving and adjusting himself before stepping away. It is suddenly cold in this bathroom, the lights too blue, the tile too white. “No more.” He sighs, running the same hand that was just inside you through his hair. Something deep in your gut warms at the thought that he won’t know why he still smells of you later. “We can’t keep doing this.”

You scoff, hopping off the counter and holding on to the edge with white knuckles, hoping to not wobble in front of him. He reaches for you anyway, and you bat at his hand. “You followed me in here, Joel.” You turn back around to the mirror, glancing at him quickly before fixing your hair. There is an obvious glow to you, flushed and not fully put together, but you would pretend. “I’m allowed to be in the bar you’re in.”

Joel sighs, shaking his head and rubbing his neck. He looks stressed, regretful. “I’m too old for you.”

“Fine.” You snap, turning back to him. “Then let me move on how I want.”

He rolls his eyes at you, tilting his head. “What? You’re going to go cry to the other neighbor John then? Let him fuck you next?”

You feel tears prick your eyes at his assumption, but anger flushes your skin as you shove past him and out the door. You don’t owe him an explanation, and you sure as hell aren’t going to defend your case. 

You already have, and that’s the real problem. This conversation has been in circles with Joel all of winter break, and you’re tired of it. You step to move to the main part of the bar from the bathroom hallway when Joel has wrapped his fingers around your arm, pulling you back to him. “I didn’t mean it-”

You snarl at him, making his eyes go wide, hand dropping your arm. You put your hand out, creating space between you. “Don’t.” You say quietly, firmly, before turning back around and heading over to your friends to let them know you were leaving. 

You weren’t going to stick around for Joel’s sorry excuse this time. 

[downbad4yoongi]

Namjoon x reader

First Responder AU

Word count: 7156

Friends to lovers

Warnings: mature, smut 🔞(choking, vaginal sex, blowjob, fingering, edging), fluff

Summary: Namjoon's clumsiness proves to be your saving grace.

Thank you, @colormepurplex2 for the banner and the cheerleading.

The blue curtain partitioning off this emergency room bay from the others pulls back, the metal hooks jangling against each other as you lift the tablet in your hand to greet the newest patient to come into the ER. With a few swipes, you access the patient information causing you to stop short and snap your head up.

“Really, Namjoon! Again?” You look down at his lounging form, dressed in black joggers and a cream shirt, on the hospital bed cradling a heavily bandaged hand to his chest. At least he has the decency to look ashamed. You rest back on your hip, the tablet braced against your waist, “You couldn’t have made it five more days before ending up here again?”

Before he can respond, a fellow nurse walks up and silently holds their hand out. With an eyeroll and sigh, you reach into the pocket on the front of your scrub top and pull out three neatly folded bills and slap them into their hand. They smirk at the two of you before spinning with a loud laugh and heading back to the nurses’ station.

The chastised look on Namjoon’s face has morphed into a small frown, “What was that about?”

“That was about you not being able to go another week before ending up in my ER again.” You draw the curtain closed and move to his side, looking down at the tablet to review the information provided by EMS. You blink a few times at the screen before lifting your head to peer at him, “Nearly sliced your thumb off… how?”

You’ve known Namjoon two-thirds of your life seeing as he is your older brother’s closest friend. Ever since they were thrown together for a science project in middle school, they have been thick as thieves. In all that time, you don’t think you have ever seen Namjoon turn as red as he is turning right now.

Eyes cast downward and mumbles, “I was tryi-”

“Speak up for the class. I can’t hear you.”

With a roll of his eyes, his head flops back on the pillow, “I was trying to cook dinner, and turns squash is more difficult than I thought to cut through.”

Your lips purse, cheeks inflating in an effort not to laugh. The urge is a terrible pressure building in your chest; you turn, giving him your back, hand smacking across your mouth to muffle the laughs that do manage to escape. Tears prick your eyes in your effort to exercise restraint. Several beats pass with you taking in deep lungfuls of air before you spin back around to face him. “So, terribly sorry. That was unprofessional of me.”

“Quite. Don’t think I won’t tell Teddy about how poorly his sister treated me when I was in need.”

“Whatever. It’s not like he’d expect anything else.” You set the tablet down on the rolling tray and wrap your fingers around his right forearm and pull it towards you to get a better look at the hastily done bandage wrap. You can already see that blood has started to seep through the final layers of the gauze. “I’ll be right back. I need to gather the necessary supplies to clean the area before the doctor comes to stitch you up. If you’re lucky, you won’t need surgery.”

You walk out of his medical bay, leaving his curtain open, and head toward the locked supply cabinet. Using the key on your lanyard, you open the doors and pull the needed items out before relocking it, and making a stop by the nurse's station to ask them to page the on-call doctor. Leaning against the desk, you giggle at a joke your coworker makes as she reaches for the phone to page the doctor. Before she can complete the action though, you feel the body heat of someone next to you, standing way too close to be appropriate. Your shoulders stiffen as the newcomer leans on the desk next to you, his left hand moving to lightly cup your waist. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

Straightening abruptly you step away, jaw tight as your eyes fill with anxiety. “You would have had to be here to understand. I’m going to finish prepping the patient, and then he’ll be ready for you.” You turn abruptly and make your way back to Namjoon. Your breath leaves you shakily as the items in your arms clatter onto the metal tray.

“What was that?” he asks, his chin tilting to gesture toward the desk, concern laced in his voice.

Shaking your head sharply, “Nothing.” You slip your small hands into the nitrile gloves as you angle to face him, “Now, let’s get you prepped.”

His frown deepens, but he holds out the injured hand out to you. Bracing his arm with one hand, you slowly start to unwind the gauze wrapping his injury. After a few minutes, light is finally cast upon the damage. The note about severing his thumb was a little extreme, but was a close description. You hold his hand closer to you, looking at it from all angles; a few more centimeters, Namjoon would be getting scheduled for surgery right now and you tell him as much.

“Stop being ridiculous,” he scoffs.

“I’m not being ridiculous, Joon. A few more centimeters and you would have severe nerve and muscle damage that could only be repaired by surgery and a lot of occupational therapy. So next time, buy the pre-cut squash, ‘kay?”

Your eyes flick up and catch his wide eyes, his face a bit ashen as he takes your words to heart and nods. 

The corner of your mouth turns upward as you start cleaning the wound and treating it with a numbing agent in preparation of the doctor. Light chatter is traded between you both as you work. The banter comes to an abrupt stop as you feel a heavy palm against your back.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon that your shoulders tighten and jaw perceptibly clenches as you are joined by the ER doctor on call. You avoid looking at Namjoon as the doctor introduces himself to Namjoon.

“Hello, um, Namjoon Kim. I’ll be the doctor attending to you this evening. I’m Dr. Brogan Rothport. Looks like you are here because of a severe laceration?”

You can feel Namjoon’s eyes flick between you and the doctor, who’s hand is still resting on your back. You hurry through the remaining cleansing and slide out of the way as soon as you can possibly manage.

Dr. Rothport moves into the vacated space looking down at the supplies you already have ready for him. He hums under his breath, “Sweetheart, can you grab me a pair of gloves?” He turns to you with an overly– unwanted– smile. “Then we can get started.”

You yank two gloves out of the box on the wall and drop them unceremoniously on the tray, “Not your sweetheart.” You shift out of reach of the doctor, moving to the other side of Namjoon’s bed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I don’t mean anything by it, you’re just my favorite nurse,” he quips nonchalantly.

Before you can respond, Namjoon intercedes his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer. “I don’t think she’s being ridiculous at all. After all she’s only one person’s sweetheart, isn’t that right, jagiya?”

You fight every instinct in you that wants to react and push Joon away from you. Instead you lean into his hold, your own hand gently sifting through the black strands of his hair, “You’d be correct in that, aegi.” You look down at him, and force yourself to smile at him and pray that it looks like a smile one would give to their significant other.

A sharp clearing of a throat breaks your gazes. “Oh, I wasn’t aware you had a boyfriend. I assumed you were single.”

You force a tight smile, the hand at the base of Namjoon’s head flexing a little, “Well, you know what they say about assuming.”

The doctor’s eyes narrow as he glares at you, “Why didn’t you tell me you were with someone?”

“Well, I tend to not talk about my personal life at work, and I am sure I’ve mentioned my love to you before. You’re just so busy that it’s probable it slipped your mind.”

You watch the doctor force a smile of his own as he gloves up, “This is  wonderful news, regardless.” He threads the needle and glances at Namjoon, “Well, you should definitely come to the holiday party I’m throwing for everyone this weekend. I’d love to have you.”

A smile naturally spreads across Namjoon’s full lips as he meets the doctor’s gaze, “Of course I’m coming. I was so excited when she told me it was happening. We’re just quibbling over what to bring; we hate showing up empty handed.”

You ease to a stop in front of Namjoon’s apartment building and shift your car into park. Since you were at the end of your shift when he showed up, you agreed to drop him off at his place rather than him calling your brother to pick him up. The entire twenty minute ride was a stifling silence with a soundtrack of throwback hits.  You shift in the driver’s seat, clearing your throat, “So how are we going to play this?”

Namjoon stills before shifting back to face you. “Play what?

“This fake relationship we are suddenly in.”

“We don’t have to play anything. Just tell you coworkers we broke up or I got sick or something.”

A sardonic laugh filters into the silence as you shake your head. “Yeah, no. You started us down this path, so you need to commit to this path with me.”

His brow furrows, “I don’t see why we would need to do that. No one is going to really care.”

“Joon, what do you think will happen when I show up to that party alone and Brogan realizes I am alone?” You shift your body to face him head on. “Ever since Brogan transferred to this hospital he has been invading my personal space, asking me out, and calling me ‘sweetheart.’ For six months, I have been dealing with this and I am at my breaking point.”

With wide eyes, “Wait, six months? Have you reported this to anyone? Does Teddy know about this?”

“I cannot have my brother storming into my workplace and assaulting an attending. I don’t need his good intentions to inappropriately escalate things. I reported the behavior to human resources a few weeks ago, but nothing came of it. Everyone at that damn hospital falls for his charisma.”

You watch Namjoon struggle to control his emotions, his jaw tense and his tongue stabbing a sharp dent in his cheek. You remain silent, letting him process. You glance back at him as his hand reaches over and cups your own. “Well, nae sarang, what are we bringing to his party?”

After a brief argument in the car about who would carry in the spiced cider, an argument you won after asking if he was trying to end up back in the ER if he ruptures his stitches, you step out of the warmth of your car into the chill winter air. You wait for Namjoon to join you on the walkway, your eyes tracing over the obnoxiously large house with a huge expanse of manicured grounds idyllically decorated with snow.

“Good lord, his house is as garish as his personality.” You start up the cleared walkway and approach the black front door with an ostentatious gold knocker and wait for it to open after Namjoon knocks. With a deep breath, you both slip into your roles as the door swings open.

Namjoon’s arm curls around your waist, you easily lean into his hold and paint a smile on your face as Brogan greets you and invites you inside. Namjoon’s hand slides to the small of your back ushering you inside before him. Brogan smiles at you, barely acknowledging Namjoon’s presence beside you, as he shuts the door. “So glad you could make it. You’re looking beautiful as always.” His eyes trace along the collar of your off-the-shoulder green sweater. “Really love your sweater… It's so festive.”

You suppress the shudder that begs to be let out. “Well, we are happy to be here. She talks so much about her coworkers, I can’t wait to finally meet them all!” You watch as Brogan finally looks away from you and nods his head in greeting at Namjoon.

“We are looking forward to meeting her elusive partner.” Brogan turns back to you. “Can I take that for you?” He motions at the spiced cider you’re holding.

You quickly give it up, eager for him to be away from you. Your shoulders relax as Brogan turns away from you, Namjoon’s hand rubbing soothingly against your back. “Let me take your coat for you.”

“Thanks, Joon,” you accept dropping your arms to your sides for him to slide your coat off. You straighten your dark green knitted sweater, waiting to the side for him to hang your coats up.

“You ready?” You can see the worry in his face that he is failing to mask.

Your fingers lace with his, “Let’s do this.”

You pull him behind you as you move from the foyer into the gathering area. This time a real smile dawns your face as you start greeting your colleagues. Namjoon easily falls into step beside you and plays his role to perfection. He knows exactly when to be an active participant in the various conversations and when to let you shine, interjecting cute anecdotes, witty remarks, or thoughtful observations. 

He is currently in the middle of telling an embarrassing story about you from a few years ago, when a set of arms circles around your waist from behind. You know exactly who it is without evening needing to look. A soft smile chases away the blush that was heating your face as you lean into the hold. “Hey, when did you get here?” you ask over your shoulder.

Hoseok rests his chin on your shoulder, “We just got here. Someone,” his eyes cut to the side pointedly at Jimin, “wanted to swing by the hospital. He insisted he needed to check in on his patients in the NICU.”

You giggle, “Did he? Let me guess, that side adventure took an hour.” Jimin pouts, crossing his arms, telling you all you need to know. Jimin has always gone above and beyond as a nurse in the NICU of your hospital. In fact, that is how he met his husband, Hoseok, who is a nurse two floors down in pediatrics. Your giggles grow louder, accompanied by Hoseok and Namjoon’s laugh, drawing attention from folks not even in your small circle. 

Your laughter fades because one of those people is Brogan. You stifle a sigh as you are pulled out of your comfort bubble. In your excitement to have your very close friends here, you didn’t notice the odd, surreptitious glances others have been giving you as you remain in Hoseok’s hold. You straighten and step out of Hoseok’s back hug and closer to Namjoon.

“What’s with the vibe change?” Hoseok’s eyes bounce around the circle.

Brogan clears his throat, “You seem awfully handsy with someone who has a partner. Last I checked, Namjoon doesn’t like that.”

“Also, she told us that this was the first time her coworkers were meeting Namjoon,” someone else throws out.

Hoseok and Jimin turn as a unit to look at you and Namjoon. You can feel their eyes take notice of the way his hand rests on your hip. In sync, they both slowly blink at you before turning back to the group. “Well, this may be your first introduction to Joonie here, but Hobi and I have been friends with both of them for years.” Jimin delivers with his signature smile.

Some of the tension bleeds from your shoulders as relief washes over you. You were worried for a second that Hobi or Jimin would inadvertently blow your cover. You lean into Namjoon’s side, his hand idly rubbing your hip, and smile because you should have never doubted that your close friends wouldn’t go along with your plan. 

“Still Namjoon, you seem completely fine with Hoseok being all over your woman,” Brogan brashly throws out, staring Namjoon down.

Namjoon smirks, rising to the challenge, “One, she is her own person; not an object to own. Two, who she does and does not let into her personal space is her own choice. Three, why is this any of your business?”

You turn into him slightly, a huge smile on your face, “And this is why I keep you around.”

Namjoon’s head tilts towards you as he gives a conspiratorial wink, and you can’t explain what comes next. It almost feels like an out-of-body experience as your hand reaches up to cup his jaw, you go up on your tiptoes, and kiss him. You feel his fingers flex on your hip where they rest, before he relaxes into it and kisses you back. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his lips move against yours. Holy shit, you are kissing your brother’s best friend!

A clearing of a throat breaks you two apart, your eyes slowly open taking in Namjoon’s own bewildered gaze. You settle back on your feet with flushed cheeks and a soft smile, your fingers brushing against your lips in a daze. A hint of pink dusts Namjoon’s cheeks, your head turns back to the group and Namjoon leans close to whisper in your ear, “That was pleasantly unexpected.”

You capture your lip between your teeth as heat creeps up your neck. Not even Brogan’s piercing gaze can steal that moment from you. You catch out of the corner of your eye, Jimin discreetly throwing you a look of surprise. You give a tiny shake of your head and mouth a ‘later.’

Brogan claps his hands, his face stony, “Well while that was riveting, shall we move on to the gift exchange?” With hums of acknowledgement, everyone starts moving to grab the presents they brought. 

Namjoon turns to you with a question in his eyes. You pat his chest, “Don’t worry about it. This was a staff exchange only.”

“Hm, that’s good seeing as I didn’t bring anything and was going to piggyback off your gift.”

You roll your eyes, “I would expect nothing less, Joon.” You head back to where you left your tote and pull out a gold gift bag with a sparkly red ribbon tied around the handles. “Since I am so gracious, this can be from both of us.” His chuckle resonates from his chest as he takes your hand again and leads you to the last open seat, plush chair next to the hearth. Namjoon takes the seat and pulls you onto his lap. You can’t help the small gasp of air that escapes you as he pulls you down with no resistance; rolling your lip between your teeth as his hand naturally comes to rest on your hip to hold you in place. 

Across the grouping of chairs, Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows at you. You shake your head diverting your eyes so as not to encourage him. Unfortunately, your gaze lands on Brogan and you catch him staring at you with narrowed eyes, jaw tense. His glare makes your skin crawl. You shift on Namjoon’s lap resting against him more, his hand soothingly rubbing your side as he catches your gaze. “Are you alright?” he whispers.

You gently knock your forehead against his, “Yes, because of you.”

The edges of his lips tilt upward. “Glad to be of service.” His eyes flick down to your lips and back to yours. You remain still as he leans in and brings your lips together, your eyes shuttering as your lips move with his. Quicker than you probably wanted, you pull back and brush your thumb along the edge of his thick bottom lip.

The eagerness of Jimin’s voice brings you out of your private bubble. “Gift time! I want to go first.” He reaches down to the side and picks up a lovely wrapped present and holds it in his lap. “I am sure you are all hoping that I was your Secret Santa  because who wouldn’t. Lucky for me, though, I was given someone who I already was shopping for. Yeobo, Merry Christmas!” Jimin turns to Hoseok and slides the present from his lap and onto Hobi’s.

Hoseok’s whole face lights up with a brilliant smile. “What! How did you keep this from me?”

“One doesn’t reveal their secrets.” Jimin leans in and pecks Hoseok’s cheek. “Hurry up now and show everyone my amazing present.”

Hoseok resembles a little kid on Christmas morning with the way he attacks the wrapping paper. In seconds, a white box is revealed and from across the way you see the Louis Vuitton insignia embossed on the lid. Hoseok is practically bouncing in his seat as he pulls open the lid and lets it slide to the floor. Reverently, he reaches in, eyes wide, and pulls out a black on black crossbody sling bag.  

Hoseok tears his eyes away from the gift to look lovingly at Jimin, “Sweets… I don’t even know what to say.”

Jimin smiles fondly at him, “A thank you and kiss would suffice.” 

Hoseok laughs and leans in kissing Jimin softly, pulling back he presses their foreheads together, “Thank you.”

“That kind of feels unfair that you got your husband as your person, but whatever,” another pediatric nurse quips. That has everyone chuckling as the gift exchange continues. It’s not long after the plush rug is littered with paper and empty gift bags as it gets down to the last few people who need to hand out their gift.

You bounce a little on Namjoon’s lap, “I want to go next!” You give the bag on your lap a little shake, “I was really excited to get this person as I have been wanting to buy this for them ever since I saw it in the store.” You slip off Namjoon’s lap and cross over to Jimin. “Merry Christmas, Chim!”

You can’t miss the way his eyes light before making your way back to Namjoon. By the time you have settled back down, Jimin has already pulled the gift out. His hands gently stroke over the cream cashmere scarf in his hands. “Oh, this is beautiful.” He sends you a fond smile and wraps the scarf around his neck, “I love it. Thank you!”

“Only the best for my bestie,” you shoot back cheesily.

“While it has been a joy to watch all of this, it is my turn to give my gift.” Brogan stands up and picks up the flat silver-wrapped box at his feet. You figured out after the halfway point that Brogan was probably your Secret Santa, and you have been dreading it ever since. You sink back into Namjoon as Brogan approaches, he offers the present to you with an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. 

You gingerly accept the box, setting it across your lap. Namjoon strokes your hip attempting to ease the tension running through you.  He props his chin on your shoulder and watches you take apart the wrapping paper to reveal a white box embossed with the name La Perla . Your back stiffens and you can already feel the heat crawling up your neck; Namjoon’s hand tightens on your hip as he watches you lift the lid off. Your lips purse tightly as you reveal the black lace corset lingerie nestled in tissue paper. Your hands grip the box edges, your body vibrating with a riot of emotions leaving you unable to speak. 

Namjoon, sensing your turmoil turns his steely gaze on Brogan and gives him an overly-saccharine grin, “Didn’t know you were so thoughtful, Brogan. While I am perfectly capable of purchasing my love lingerie, we will definitely put this to good use.” 

Finally getting a semi-handle on your emotions, you look up in time to see Brogan’s face tighten in anger, his cheeks tinting red. You lean back into Namjoon, head resting back on his shoulder as he reaches in to pick up the lace lingerie to show it to the group. “Yes thank you, Brogan. Despite it being very inappropriate to buy a colleague lingerie. I’ll make sure to wear it for my love; hopefully, it’ll make it through in one piece, Namjoon can get a little wild sometimes.”

“Lovely,” Brogan turns on his heel and walks out of the den. It feels like everyone releases the tension they were holding during that exchange and looks over at you, a mix of emotions displayed on their faces.

You cover your face with your hands, “What the fuck.”

“Mm, very quality.” You slide your hands down to peek at Jimin who’s gingerly holding the corset up and appraising it. “Don’t give me that look. He is a creep, but he does have relatively good taste.”

You snatch the garment from him and stuff it back into the box, slapping on the lid. “That is so beside the point.” You stand up and turn to look at Namjoon, “I’m ready to go. Are you?”

He nods and stands up taking the box from you as you quickly hug Jimin and Hoseok good-bye. Namjoon does the bro hug thing with them and then you’re in the foyer putting back on your layers. With one last wave, Namjoon opens the front door and jumps back, shouting in shock as a  pile of snow rushes in through the open door.

Other guests start trailing in to see what the commotion is about as you look out the door and see piles and piles of snow have accumulated over the last few hours. Something that no one had realized because Brogan had drawn all the drapes to hold out the cold.  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” you huff.

After an hour of arguing in circles, praying to a higher power, an almost brawl, and checking the weather reports, it's determined that you are all stuck for at least the night. You’re currently settled in one of several lounges in this overly large house with Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin. 

“Did I do something terrible in a past life?” You throw the question out as you lay on your back across one of the sofas, your legs draped over Namjoon’s lap. 

“Mmmm, probably. I always thought you did something devious in your past life. Maybe something like an interrogator or an assassin. Sometimes your looks can kill.” Jimin laughs as he catches the throw pillow you toss at his face.

“That was a rhetorical question.” 

Hoseok clears his throat, “So are we not going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

Namjoon’s hand rubs soothingly up and down your calf, “Like what a massive asshole Brogan is?”

“Yes, and that apparently you’re dating your best friend’s little sister.” Hoseok eyes the both of you.

Namjoon catches your eye and shrugs one shoulder at you, leaving the choice up to you. With a sigh, you shift to a sitting position but leave your legs on Namjoon’s lap. “I would have told you if I was really with Namjoon. He is helping me keep Brogan at bay.”

Jimin straightens up, “What did he do?”

You divert your eyes, worrying your lower lip. Namjoon gently squeezes your calf and answers, “I was at the ER–”

“Again?!” Jimin interjects.

Namjoon ignores the comment and continues, “I had cut my hand pretty badly and she was assigned as my ER nurse. I witnessed Brogan inappropriately try to flirt with her and invade her space.” He looks over at you, “She was clearly upset and uncomfortable, and so I acted on instinct and pretended to be her boyfriend to get him to back off.”

“It threw me for a moment, but I went along with it and grabbed that life preserver with both hands.” You look at Namjoon, your expression relaying how grateful you are for his intervention.

Hoseok snaps, “Can’t believe that prick still works at our hospital.”

“Money talks and Daddy’s money talks even louder,” Jimin quips sardonically.

The three of you nod solemnly. Hoseok softly claps his hands, “Let’s stop wasting our time thinking about that asshole. I’d rather discuss how your fake relationship somehow includes very real kissing.”

You duck your head, cheeks heating, “Um, I don’t really have an explanation for that.” You glance at Namjoon, “It just felt right.”

“Twice?”

Namjoon’s dimples appear as he laughs softly and nods. His fingers crawl up your leg to snag your fingers in his. “Pissed Brogan off didn’t it?” Namjoon says as his eyes fill with a contradicting message.

Your hands grip the cold edge of the marble countertop in the bathroom and take a few deep breaths. Your mind is a mess and can’t seem to settle on any one thought. You’ve really managed to stick your foot in it this time and now you have to sleep in the same bed. 

Was he just playing along? 

Did he actually want to kiss you?

Will he be expecting more after those kisses? You‘re not ashamed to admit you like what you’ve experienced thus far.

Do I want more? You lift your head and stare at your reflection. Worrying at your lip, you think about the consequences if you do what you want to versus what you should probably do. You release the pull you have on your lip having made your decision. 

Namjoon is idly scrolling on his phone as he lounges on the mound of pillows on the king-size bed when you open the bathroom door and casually lean against the doorframe. The light from behind you perfectly framing every dip and curve of your body in the expensive lingerie that was gifted to you. You know you look amazing; the corset is perfectly cinched at your waist providing just the right lift to your breasts, the lace briefs highlighting everything it needs to. 

Namjoon’s eyes flick over and then back to his phone but quickly snapback, his phone slipping from his hands, as he fully takes you in. You can’t suppress the smirk that lifts your lips as his eyes trail down your body.

He slowly sits up, “Um, what are you doing?”

“What feels good.”

He blinks slowly at you, his mouth still gaping.

“It would be a shame to waste all of this, no?” Your hand trails down your side from just under your chest to your hip.

Namjoon stands up and stalks toward you, the intensity of his gaze ensnaring yours. He comes to a stop, leaving just a breath of space between you. He lightly runs his finger along the thin strap of the corset, it’s more like a whisper of a touch actually. “It would be a crime to not take advantage of the generosity provided to us.”

Your breath shudders as that whisper of a touch teases along the top of the corset, teasing you. “Absolutely,” you whisper.

Namjoon’s lips crash against yours as he yanks you against him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, arching into him as his tongue sweeps into your mouth. You slide one hand into the hair at his nape, the other gripping the back of his shirt as you meet him with equal vigor. He slides his hands down your waist to your hips before sliding around to grip your ass and lifting you into the air. You don’t hesitate to wrap your legs around his waist, your tongues dueling with each other.

A grunt forced from your mouth into his as your back collides with the wall, his hips pinning you to the hard surface as his hands navigate back to your waist. You nip and pull at his thick bottom lip as his fingers dig into your ribs. He dives down to your neck, his tongue leaving behind a wet trail before settling on a spot and sucking. 

Namjoon presses his forehead to yours, his breath gusting against your face, as he pauses the frenzy. He gently squeezes your waist, “Are you really sure? If we cross this line, there’s no going back.”

Your tongue traces over your lips and you nod. “I am very sure. Ever since that first kiss, I haven’t stopped thinking of the possibilities.”

As the last words leave your lips, his hips kick forward grinding your lower back hard against the wall as his hands wedge between to start popping open the fastenings on your corset. Your head falls back against the wall, his mouth leaving a string of purple bruises down the column of your neck. A surprised gasp is pulled from you at the sudden pressure of his teeth biting down on the skin of your collar bone. You arch into it, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

You feel the deep timbre of his laugh more than hear it, “Mmm, you liked that huh?” He unhooks the last fastener, your chest spilling free as the tension of lace falls away. You hold eye contact, your teeth digging into your own lip, as his large palm cups you and slowly starts to squeeze. The rhythm of your breathing falters with the slow increase in pressure around your tender breast, drawing a whimper from you. His eyes dart to the mottled skin around his fingers as he maintains the harsh grip he has on you. “There something you want to tell me?”

He releases his grip, the pressure from his hold leaving behind a dark reddish-purple ring around your breast. You buck your hips as much as you can as blood rushes back into the area. “Take my mind off tonight. Make me forget everything. I won’t break…but it never hurts to try.”

You can see the sparks ignite in his eyes as his lips collide with yours, this kiss punishing and intense. Before your body can fully react to it, your grip on gravity is yanked away as you sail through the air and land with a bounce on the plush bed. You lay there for a beat, heart racing before leveraging up onto your elbows. Fortunately just in the nick of time because you get a front row seat to Namjoon stripping off his clothes as he stalks toward the bed after you. The last piece of clothing, his boxer briefs, join the rest of the clothes strewn across the floor; your eyes can’t settle on any one thing to look at. 

Namjoon is a fucking adonis. Your eyes run from his broad shoulders to the taper of his waist down to follow his v-line straight to the thick cock framed by even thicker thighs. A startled sound escapes you as he grabs one of your ankles and yanks you to the edge of the mattress, stepping in between your spread legs. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jaw before tilting your head back and meeting your eyes. His fingers slip back to cup the back of your hair, your body tensing in anticipation. Suddenly his grip on your hair tightens, yanking your head back sharply, “Tap out if it’s too much.”

You’re barely able to nod your head before being pulled forward and having your lips spread open by his cock. You roll your eyes up to watch him watch you as his hips continue their slow press forward only stopping when his tip is nestled at the back of your throat. He stills for a moment just taking the view in, but it’s not long before you become impatient. You flutter your lashes at him and that turns out to be the perfect thing to set him off.

His hips draw back and snap forward, his hand holding you in place as he starts fucking your mouth. Your fingers curl and hold onto the blankets under you as he uses your mouth. You can’t help but moan around him with the way his cock is perfectly stretching your jaw wide and coating your tongue with the taste of him. Your deep moan has his hips kicking forward even harder, his cock sliding down your throat. Your eyes sting with the pricking of tears as his pace intensifies, your body flushed with need as he takes what he wants from you.

“Fuck, your mouth. It’s so perfect,” he moans, head falling back on his shoulders before rolling to look down at you. “Just look at you taking my cock so well.” His pace slows until with one last deep push he buries his cock deep in your throat, your nose almost touching his pelvis. He keeps you there for a moment, your throat spasming as you choke on the meat of him.

Your seconds from needing to tap out when he pulls you off him, a thick trail of your saliva tethers you together before snapping when he releases his hold on your hair letting you collapse back on the bed. Your throat burns as you suck down air while simultaneously giving in to the urge to cough and clear your throat. Namjoon stands over you watching you patiently. It’s not too long before your body calms and you look up at him, face wet with tears and slick with your spit.

“Okay?”

You give a raspy laugh, “Never better.”

“Who knew you were hiding this side of you? How much more can you take?”

You bite your lip and lift one of your legs to slide your foot up along the hard planes of his abdomen. “I contain multitudes.” You slide your foot down until your toes are lightly ghosting down his length, “All of it.”

A visible tremor runs through you as Namjoon gives you a devious smile and glides his hands down your legs to the lace edges of your lingerie. He balls his fist in the front panel and yanks, ripping them from your body. Your hips are jerked off the bed with the force of it. A deep pulse throbbing within you at the aggression.

You can feel the weight of his gaze between your legs, you watch as he bites his own lip before sliding a finger through your swollen, wet lips. His finger dips in teasing you before he plunges two fingers into you. You arch off the bed with a gasp, your body clasping tight around him. 

His fingers quickly work you into a frenzy, a deep heat coiling in your belly that has you yanking on the bedding around you. You're ready for the explosion of pleasure that is about to happen when his fingers yank free of you. Your eyes snap open, “What the fuck?”

He straightens and shrugs, “I don’t think you earned it just yet.”

If looks could kill, daggers would be piercing his chest right now. As is, he just chuckles at your frustration, grabbing you by the hips. He flips you over onto your front, your hips curved right over the edge of the bed. A ringing sound echoes through the room as a sharp sting blooms along your ass. His hand soothingly rubs the sting away before he grips both your hips and tilts you just right. 

Your breath shudders from you as you feel his heat glide between your aching lips and teases your tight bundle of nerves. He repeats the motion again and again until you’re a mewling mess in front of him. Tears prick your eyes in frustration, your body desperate for more when the heat of his body leaves you for a brief moment before connecting back with you. His pelvis slams against your ass as he buries his cock inside you.

You don’t even bother to smother the scream that escapes you as he splits you open on his thick cock. You’re writhing on the bed, unsure if you are trying to get away or get closer to him. He waits patiently until you’ve calmed and have relaxed back into the mattress before moving again.

The slow drag of him leaving you pulls moans from both of you, your walls clinging to every inch of him. It’s only the tightening of his grip on you that gives you a warning as he snaps his hips forward again. The pace he sets is brutal as he fucks you into the mattress. Your hands desperately grapple at the bedding needing to hold on as he fucks you into another universe. The skin of your ass burning with the intensity of his thrusts driving you higher and higher.

You cry out as his fist wraps in your hair and yanks you backward, pressing your back to his chest. The tip of his cock hitting you at just the right angle has you clawing at his arms, your eyes rolling back in your head. One hand remains on your hip as he keeps pace, the other sliding to curl around the front of your neck pushing your head back to rest on his shoulder.

The cries you were letting out are swiftly cut off as his hand squeezes down around your throat. Your walls tighten around him as he slowly increases the pressure from just restricting your vocal chords to cutting off your air flow completely. The speed of his thrusts slows as your pussy clamps down tighter on his cock. A few more deep thrusts has your nails biting hard into his arms, leaving deep red crescents. He releases his grip on your throat and the rush of oxygen back into your lungs along with the waves of pleasure crashing through you has you seeing stars.

You’re almost completely out of it as Namjoon rams deep one more time and spills into your depths. You both fall forward onto the bed, Namjoon just manages to catch himself on his left arm so he doesn’t crush you. You’re unsure of how long you remain like that as you come back to earth, but soon he is pulling out of you and disappearing into the bathroom as you lay there eyes closed.

You jolt back to awareness when the warm softness of a cloth strokes between your legs. You squirm as he brushes against your sensitive pussy before settling back down when he tosses the cloth toward the bathroom door and helps you shift to lay fully on the bed. He shuffles in next to you and pulls the duvet over you both.

You curl against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you loosely wrap an arm and a leg around him. You nuzzle at the skin of his bare chest, “Mmm, so how are we going to break this to Teddy?”

[kirythestitchwitch]

Klaroline WIP Wed - fake sexy lamp au

Okay so like the basic premise of this fic is that Klaus finds out about Elena and in order to keep an eye on his doppelgänger, comes to town before Stefan and fake woos her in the guise of a college student. He just doesn't count on her extremely opinionated best friend Caroline butting her nose into everything and messing with all his plans and getting under his skin.

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

It was astonishing what a thousand years could do to a place. The last time he’d seen the village that would become Mystic Falls, it had been a half burned wreck, a testament to the sins of fathers coming to roost on the sons. Now? 

Well, it was no longer on fire, Klaus thought blandly, looking around the town square from where he sat on an out-of-the-way park bench. One could term that an improvement. It was disgustingly picturesque in that true Southern Americana way. 

As he flipped through the file folder he’d had liberated from the Sheriff’s file folder drawers by a convenient deputy, he rubbed at his jaw absently, fingers missing the usually present stubble. Going undercover, at his age. The temptation to burn this town to the ground—again—and take his doppelgänger and go simmered pleasantly in his veins, except for that one pesky loophole: the ceremony had to be completed in the birthplace of the doppelgänger. From all accounts, that was Mystic Falls, VA. So here he was, blending in. 

Was this how the average American youth wore their clothes, so ill-fitting? He hadn’t worn anything that hadn’t been tailored for him in the past several centuries that he hadn’t taken in desperation on the run from Mikael. It seemed rather ridiculous to complain of one’s trousers being too tight when your own father figure was trying to stake you through the heart.

Kol had managed it, both the too tight trousers and the complaining. Probably he should have spent the majority of the 80s daggered instead of doing enough cocaine to keep El Padrino in business, but his little brother’s terrible fashion decisions aside, he didn’t think they had ever stooped so low as to buy off the rack. 

The jeans and t-shirt Klaus wore, along with the thin zip-up hoodie, and converse sneakers were designed to make him appear younger. Those, and the addition of a paint smeared backpack slung over one shoulder, seemed to be performing the desired result: before he’d compelled him, the deputy had asked Klaus if he was taking classes at Whitmore. 

Which brought him back to the contents of the folder: the drowning deaths of Grayson and Miranda Gilbert, and the mysterious rescue of Elena Gilbert. It was clear the car accident was just that, an accident, but what flummoxed the good members of the Mystic Falls Police Department was how his Doppelgänger got out of that vehicle. Indeed, she had no memory of having done so.

Where in town, he mused to himself, would I locate the one person who could rip open a car door with their bare hands?  Closing the folder, he slid it under a second folder, flipped it open to see a paper clipped photo of a square-faced young-looking man with green eyes and light brown hair. An odd little brush of memory hit him as the man laughed, an arm around his shoulders, the sound of jazz in his ears, blood and gin mingling in his throat. Blink, and it was just a photo again. 

A shadow fell across the page. “Nik, I’m bored.”

[127tyong]

Sticker

Pairing: Taeyong X Reader

Genre: Smut, Childhood Friends AU, Reader is in her 20s, Caught Masturbating (Taeyong)

Warnings: (This is so vanilla. Like, the most vanilla shit I've ever written. It's just sex y'all.)

Word Count: 3k

In your eyes, Taeyong was practically a baby. You grew up living in the same neighborhood as him, and would constantly go to his house after school. You always had a key to wherever he was living, even after you both entered the workforce and were adults, you would still go to his house and spend time with him, comforting each other.

You would never admit this, since Taeyong was such a nerd, but you always thought he was cute. After all, you spent your entire life with him, watching his highs and lows. Something about him made you giggle and your heart palpitate.

But today, after work, you went to his house, wanting to drink with him since you were stressed out, but he wasn’t home. Slipping off your heels, you massaged your feet through your stockings. Finally deciding to just go through his manga collection, you laid on his bed, and flipped through a random edition of  “One Piece,” of which Taeyong owned the entire collection.

After about 30 minutes, you heard the front door click open, then lock shut as Taeyong returned home. “You’re here?” Taeyong asked from the living room after he saw your shoes by the door.

“Yeah!” You called back, not wanting to move from the warmth of his bed.

“Ugh, I'm so tired…” Taeyong mumbled as he walked through the door, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Taeyong’s eyes widened after he saw you on his bed. “What are you doing? You’re breaking the spine!” Taeyong ran to grab the book from you, but you pushed him away.

“God… you’re such a fucking nerd.” You scoffed as Taeyong practically got on his knees and whined, begging you to give him the manga back.

“Excuse me, I prefer the term “otaku”, thank you very much!” Taeyong rolled his eyes. “Now let go!” His face was resting on your stomach as he shook your arms.

You tossed the paperback book onto his bed. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey! That’s my precious Nami cover page!” Taeyong scurried to pick up the book and placed it back onto his bookshelf.

“You only like her because she has big boobs.” You scoffed. 

“No, it’s not like that!” He sighed, joining you under the covers of his twin sized bed, his face uncomfortably close to yours. “Besides, she’s not even my ideal type.”

“Whatever you say.” Sighing, you pat Taeyong’s head. He always did need more comforting than anyone else you had ever been friends with. The whiny, clingy, version of Taeyong remained the same even after all these years.

Taeyong rubbed his face on the collar of your button up shirt, his arms tightening around your waist. “Am I hurting you?” And kind of, he was practically resting all of his body weight on your chest. He was way too comfortable with lying on your boobs as a grown man. 

“Ugh, you should really buy a bigger bed, you have a huge bedroom just to fill it up with manga and figures. How are you planning on ever getting married?” You ran your hands through his hair, your fingernails scratching his head.

Taeyong sat up, getting off you. He slid his glasses back on and brushed his hair back into place. “Do you want to drink with me?”

Taeyong snorted, shifting to look you in the eye. “You really think I’ll get married?”

You pulled his glasses off and fluffed his hair up. “You know, you’d look really good if you actually wanted to…” Your hands slid down his cheeks, your palms cupping his jaw, feeling the sharp bone on your fingertips. Biting your lip, you really thought he looked good, even with his glasses on. He couldn't hide his pretty face behind thick glasses frames or a messy haircut, and you knew it.

~

Taeyong swallowed another shot, the bottle practically empty. He was sitting on his living room floor, a movie playing in the background.

“Tyong, don’t you think that's enough?” Sitting on the couch behind him, you only let yourself take a few sips of your drink, not letting your eyes leave Taeyong, worried he would do something stupid the moment you did.

He was always like this… Never able to feel how drunk or high he was until he was past the point of no return. You had many memories of him in college where he poured 4 shots of vodka into his Coke, saying it wasn’t even strong, then blacking out in the living room, passing out, waking up, and finally joining you in your bed.

“Come on, let's go to bed.” You helped him stand up, his arm around your shoulders. 

You grabbed the bottle from him. “Yongie, that’s enough.”

“You’re no fun!” He whined, his head hitting your knee.

Taeyong whined, his voice almost grating. “No…! Stay and drink with me!”

You sighed, dragging Taeyong into his bedroom. “Fuck!” You stubbed your toe against his dresser. You dropped Taeyong, instinctively grabbing your toe. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” You looked down at Taeyong, who was too drunk to realize you had even dropped him, and you tossed him onto his bed. You unbuttoned his shirt for him, trying to get him comfortable so he could sleep.

“Do my pants.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his arm.

“No, I don’t really want to.” You sighed. 

“Fine.” He went under his blanket and took his pants off himself.

“I’m going home.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to deal with drunk Taeyong anymore.

“No..!” He whined, sitting up. “Come here.”

How could you say no to that face? “Fine. Only until you sleep.” You took your bra and stockings off, then joined him. 

You sat on the edge of his bed, tucking him into bed. “Good night, Taeyong.”

He grabbed onto your wrist before you could even stand up. “Just until I sleep?” He begged, pouting.

His hot breath was next to your face, and it was sick how naturally his arm wrapped around your waist. It was disgusting how Taeyong made your heart flutter, but he didn’t even think twice about you. You knew he only cared about two things, himself, and his manga collection. But even still, you let yourself imagine what it would’ve been like if Taeyong liked you back, so you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

~

“Shit. Fuck. What did I do?” You felt Taeyong sit up next to you, his arms ripping off your waist.

“What?” You asked groggily, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up.

Taeyong ran out of bed, quickly grabbing some pants out of his closet. “Did we… uh…” 

“What? No. You were drunk. Besides, I don’t think you could fuck me even if you were sober.” You pulled the covers up over your chest. “Can I steal some clothes? I have work in…” You grabbed your phone off the charger. “40 minutes.”

“Yeah, I think I have some of your clothes from the last time you slept over.” Taeyong looked in his dresser, tossing you one of your old shirts and skirts. 

“Do you mind if I wear some of your boxers?” You hooked your bra back on, watching Taeyong go through his closet.

“I’m sorry?” Taeyong deeply exhaled.

“Well, it’s not like I can wear these panties for a 2nd day. Besides, you wash your underwear… right?” You buttoned your shirt up.

“Um…” Taeyong tossed a pair of black boxers at you. “I’m gonna shower… or something.” He left you in his room, waving his hand around.

You got dressed and made your way to his bathroom.

“What the fuck!” Taeyong screamed, his shower curtain blocking your view of him, but he stuck his head out.

“I just need to brush my hair and my teeth! You don’t mind if I use your toothbrush, right?” You started to comb your hair with his brush.

“I guess not? Just get out!” Taeyong retracted his head back into the shower.

You brushed your teeth. “You’re the best! I’m gonna head out after this!”

~

“Fuck, I forgot my phone.” You realized when you were already at work.

You decided to head back to Taeyong's house during your lunch break.

When you went inside, you tried to be as quiet as possible, so as to not scare any of his neighbors, but you assumed Taeyong was still at work.

When you went into Taeyong’s room, you were unprepared for what you saw.

“Fuck! What are you doing Taeyong?” You hissed at him.

He was laying on his bed, cock in his hand, cum dripping all over his abs and fingers. And in his other hand were your panties, pressed against his face like a pervert. Whiny moans, moaning your name escaped his mouth.

“I- I’m sorry!” Taeyong jumped up, trying to walk towards you. 

You instinctively backed up, not knowing what to say. If he was a teenage boy, you could make an excuse for him, saying he’s just a kid… But he’s nearly 30, and you know he wasn’t even a virgin, since you both lost your virginity in high school. You really didn’t think he even masturbated while thinking about actual girls, assuming he just watched hentai. And you certainly didn’t think he masturbated while thinking about you. 

So, you mumbled the only thing you could really think at that point. “You’re gonna get cum on me.”

Taeyong sighed and slid some pants on and went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

You grabbed your phone off the floor and nearly ran out of his house.

“Wait!” Taeyong called after you.

You waved him off, not even wanting to make eye contact with him.“Taeyong, I really don’t wanna talk to you-” 

He grabbed your shoulder, stopping you. 

“Tae-” You sighed, your hand already on the doorknob, ready to leave.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in a back hug. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “You know that right?”

“I have to go to work.” You sighed, sliding your phone into your jacket pocket.

“I’m really sorry, I promise I am, I promise I will never do that again…” You felt tears on your neck, and the water on Taeyong’s hands made your stomach cold.

He was so pathetic, like a little baby begging his mommy for forgiveness after breaking a vase. 

You turned around and kissed the tears off his cheeks, petting his head, soothing him. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

That was a lie. A ball of anger, frustration, and nerves started filling your throat. You tried to swallow it down, but it didn’t let you. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you forced yourself to face Taeyong and hug him.

“I’m sorry…” He whined, holding onto your waist.

“I know, but you understand that was hard for me to walk in on, right?” You tried to pull away from the hug, but his grip didn’t loosen. His boner kept poking you, rubbing against your stomach. You wondered how he could be hard in this situation, in front of you after you saw that… Your cheeks flushed, not knowing how to handle the thought of Taeyong fucking you, his moans so raw and pathetic, his head thrown back. “Taeyong, let go, I have to go back to work…”

“No.” He whined into your ear. 

You sighed, pulling out your phone and texting your boss something urgent came up at home and you wouldn’t be able to come back, which was only a half lie. “Fine…”

“You know I love you, right?” Taeyong kissed your neck, tickling you. He pushed you against the front door, pinning you there. You silently wondered when he’d let you go, his hands falling down your back and onto your hips, his chin still resting on your shoulder.

“Of course, I love you too.” You pat his back, wishing he’d get off you. 

“Would you… suck me off?” Taeyong finally let go of you, taking half a step back.

“What? Taeyong, I think you’ve just been single too long…” You shook your head, forcing it to clear of any impure thoughts, any hope, any expectations.

Taeyong’s thumb glazed over your lips, his fingers gently brushing over your neck, making you look up into his eyes. Eyes that lost their innocent, child-like look, and that have turned dark, lustful. Lustful for you. “Don’t you want me?”

“Taeyong, let's stop this already…” You mumbled through Taeyong’s thumb.

Taeyong’s lips made contact with your neck, licking its most sensitive spot. “I don’t think you really want to.” He was gentle, sweetly sucking, making you press your head back, your back arching.

A whiny voice escaped your throat, a voice you never knew you could make. You clutched onto Taeyong’s waist, your fingers digging into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling him towards you. 

You felt Taeyong’s lips curl into a smirk on your neck. His hands swept down to your shirt collar, unbuttoning your shirt, then sliding towards your back to unhook your bra. His hands explored your body, a body he’s touched multiple times, yet he’s touching you as if it was his first. Squeezing your breasts in his hands, then immediately going under your skirt, rubbing your clit through his boxers.

“Can’t believe you’re wearing my boxers… Fucking hell.” Taeyong gritted his teeth, pushing your shoulders down, forcing you on the floor.

You slid his sweatpants down, his cock slapping his stomach before hitting your lips. Licking the cum off his dick, you let yourself swallow everything, looking up at Taeyong. Kissing the tip of his cock, you gently edged him, licking, kissing, but not actually sucking it.

Taeyong laughed to himself, biting his lip. “Fuck… the girl I was just masturbating to is on her knees in front of me…” His pretty moans kept you going, cockhead nearly turning purple from being teased from your kisses. “Ugh, hurry up, please…” He groaned, words stretched out from throwing his neck back.

“Why should I?” You spoke, his dick still on your lips, causing the soundwaves of your voice to vibrate against him. “You’ve been nothing but mean to me today, so why should I?”

“You’re too fucking mean… Watched me humiliate myself and still won’t help me…” Taeyong’s hands reached the back of your head, fingers interlaced into your hair. “I’ll do it myself then.” 

Your lips parted on their own, throbbing cock sliding into your mouth. He started gentle, not wanting to hurt you, but he gradually let himself go, thrusting harder down into your throat, hitting the back. Choking on it caused your eyes to start tearing up, the sloppy sound of your saliva echoing in his living room. You slapped on his thighs, trying to get him to stop, his grip on your hair just tightening. Taeyong thrusted thrice, before pulling out and squirting his cum on your lips and cheeks.

You coughed a bit, stroking your throat to help the feeling of an abused throat go away. “Taeyong! What the fuck?”

“You look cute when you’re covered in my cum.” Taeyong went into the kitchen then tossed you a towel.

Wiping your face off, you lazily stood up, going back into Taeyong’s bedroom, tossing yourself onto his bed, Taeyong following. “I was right.”

“I’m gonna fuck the source of my horny dreams.” Taeyong mumbled, biting his lip. 

“About what?” Taeyong watched you undress yourself, tossing your clothes on the floor.

“It’s going to be hard to have sex on a twin sized bed, you should’ve bought a king, or queen at least…” You pulled down the boxers you were wearing, sliding onto your hands and knees. “Are you ready?”

He hurriedly slid his length inside you, plunging in. Hands grabbed around your waist, forcing you up, pressing his body into yours, lips nibbling at your neck and ear. Taeyong’s long, longer and harder than a man who’s came a thousand times already should be. Fucking you like a virgin, like he’s never fucked a girl before, whiny, pathetic, moaning your name into your ear, ragged, unpredictable thrusts, hurting your core. His hands made their way down to your clit, rubbing circles into it. “Do you feel good?” He asked between heavy breaths, the heat of his gasps for air on your neck. He felt like his dick would melt inside you, sucking him in, so warm. He swore he could feel your heartbeat while he was inside you, your legs shaking and vibrating from how aroused you were. 

It was nearly idiotic of him to even ask, your cries louder than his moans, feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed. He was too much, doing everything he could to make you climax all at once. “Fuck! Yes!” You screamed at him, about to cry from how good you felt all at once. It was almost sickening how even while having sex with you, he still wanted to make sure you felt good, and how he didn’t even realize how much you liked it…

“So much better than I ever dreamed of.” Taeyong’s fingers are covered in your juices, making him lick them. “Taste even better.” Your neck was bitten up, hickeys that wouldn’t go away for weeks, and trailed down to your shoulder. 

You wondered if Taeyong felt the same way about you… If he loved you the way you loved him, if you were the last thought he had before he went to bed, and the first in the morning… Wanton moans in your ear made your fears subside, figuring he could only act like this because he loves you. He was so romantic, even if he didn’t realize it. Constantly reminding you how good you feel around his cock, how pretty you are… Everything about Taeyong made you dizzy.

“Taeyong, I’m gonna…” Your head fell forward, toes curling, whining for him.

“Me too, cum with me…” Taeyong’s fingers returned to your clit, trying to make you climax.

“Taeyong, Taeyong… Taeyong!” You moaned his name out as you reached your climax.

“I love you! I love you so much…” He screamed as he came into your womb, thick ropes of white cum filling you up. He dropped you, making you plop onto the bed.

You backed up, sitting on his bed. “I, um, should take a shower… and eat lunch…” You clutched on your stomach, womb abused.

Taeyong hummed. “Say it back.” He cupped your cheek, wiping your tears.

“Say what?” Your back hit the wall as you sat.

“Tell me you love me.” Taeyong started kissing you, looking at you with those big, innocent, brown eyes. Looking at you as if your neck wasn’t covered in his bite marks, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.

“You know I love you.” You kissed him back, arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you.”

He pushed you, making you lay back down. “Good.” He lined his cock back up to your pussy lips. “Then I’ll fuck you some more, alright?”

“Ugh… Only if you buy a bigger bed tomorrow, and get your manga collection out of the bedroom.” You pressed a hand against his cheek, pouting.

“Only if you marry me.”

[sundaybossanova]

Witch's Love Chapter 2

Paring: San x OC

AU: Fantasy

Word count: 1,5k

Summery: It was a normal day for Sera, brewing potions, visiting the market and trying not to blow her cover but a sudden uninvited guest changes everything. Lying on her doorstep is a young man on the brink of death and she has no idea what she's gotten into after saving his life.

The sun has nearly completely risen and shines brightly on the two occupants of the house. Silence filled the room, occasionally interrupted by the sound of cutlery and quiet humming. San felt like he hadn't eaten in forever and devoured his food in record time while Sera tried to hide her amusement. “Do you want more?” a small smile graced her lips while standing up and taking his plate without waiting for a response. She returned quickly with a now full plate and placed it in front of an astonished San. “Thank you so much, I really don't know how to repay you for everything that you've done for me” he said, his eyes showing nothing but gratitude while he held her gace. Overwhelmed by the honesty in his words she diverted her eyes and busied herself with cleaning the table. Never had someone looked at her so thankful without being scared, the villagers would say their words of gratitude but often with no true meaning behind them. Most of her life she lived alone and only had short contact with others therefore the presence of San felt so overwhelming. Also she had to admit that he was quite handsome , from his chiseled jaw line to his cat like eyes, never had she come across somebody as attractive as him. Shaking her head she tried to get rid of these thoughts not wanting to get distracted even more as she already was.

“I have to finish some potions today, you should go back to bed and rest more for your wounds to heal” Sera didn't want to waste any more time, still having orders to finish as well as making a new ointment for her surprise guest. San looked lost. “I am not tired and I feel much better, can't I help you somehow?” He tried to convince her with a pouty lip and puppy eyes which in the end worked. “Okay, sit down and read me the ingredients” with her mind already elsewhere she pointed at an old chair in her little workspace and shoved a book in his hands.

Rummaging through drawers and shelves she searched for all her tools “What is the first ingredient, the page is marked with a dried flower” Sans fingers quickly flicked through the book searching for the said page. “Found it, the first thing you need are rosemary seeds” he recites the rest of the list with her working quickly on finding the right things. Both of them fall into a comfortable rhythm as they work together. Time flies by and the witch has finished her potion with the occasional questions from San about what exactly she is doing and what effects the different ingredients have. It was nice having someone being interested in your work, showing genuine curiosity about the process and being open to just listening to her ranting on about something she cares so deeply about.

“I’m sorry for taking so long, I will cook lunch right away” after a quick glance outside she corrected sheepishly “well I guess it's dinner instead”. Hurriedly she rushed into the kitchen already getting immersed in her work. San just smiled, the feeling of belonging reappearing making him shake his head a little. Reminding himself to not get used to these feelings he follows her into the kitchen like a lost puppy. “Where is your pet, I haven't seen him since this morning?" It was his way of starting a new conversation and getting to know her better. “Oh Bram is probably out in the woods or the village he won't be gone for too long. He will probably return by tomorrow. It's a way for him to relax but also find new customers and information” her answer was kept short as she cut their dinner ingredients carefully.

Yet again both of them fell into a rhythm with each of them working simultaneously. The comforting silence was only broken when San asked her a question about the whereabouts of certain things that he needed to set the table. At dinner Sera asked about his brothers, wanting to know more about life with a group of people instead of solitude. “Wait so Wooyoung tried to take the ring off of the sleeping king's hand? What if he would have woken?" her voice got higher at the end not being able to contain her shock and disbelief at the young man's actions. “He doesn't care about that, he's way too reckless most of the time but the ring was worth a fortune and we could feed a village nearby for nearly half a year with it.” his smile grew with each word and memory that he shared and it was contagious to say the least. Sera was jealous of his connection and relationship to others, she never knew she craved for something like this until San showed her how life could be.

Hours passed with more stories of the brothers and their adventures yet Sera’s curiosity wasn't satisfied. With each question she dived deeper into the lives of Sans family that she wished was her own. Each time he would ask her questions about her own family or past yet her responses would be short and simple, to her there wasn't anything worth telling.

“If you want I can prepare a bath for you, it would be good to clean yourself a little, tomorrow you should be able to go home.” San couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment; he didn't want to leave, enjoying their conversations, her calming presence and the feeling of belonging that he only gets when being with his brothers.

Sera might have seen San shirtless before but it was under completely different circumstances, before he was hurt and she needed to act fast to help but right now she can't help but stare at his back. His shoulders were broad, all the muscles defined and his bronze skin only highlighted them more. “Is the wound looking better?” his voice brought her out of her thoughts, not realizing how long she has been ogling at his back. “Oh yes it looks way better, I’ll leave you to your bath, just call if you need anything.” she tried to contain the nerves not wanting to show how much his half naked presence affected her. Before she could leave the little bathroom San turned around, his chest and abs on full display, smiling at her. “Thank you again, I will try to finish quickly” Her face turned red, the tip of her ears burning as she turned around trying to calm her racing heart. “No problem, but I should really leave now, get in before it gets cold and take as long as you like” her words were rushed as she hurried outside. San on the other hand was grinning to himself satisfied with the effect he has on her.

By the time the next morning arrived Sera had calmed down, forcing the image of the half naked boy out of her brain. She prepared breakfast for the two of them and packed an extra portion with some fruits into a bag for his journey back. Sadness was creeping up on her, the thought of San leaving not feeling right. Still the young witch tried to move on and went up the stairs to wake her guest.

“Wake up sleepyhead, breakfast is finished!” she was knocking lightly on the door but to her surprise it opened right away with a smirking San on the other side. “Sounds great I am starving” and with that both of them went downstairs to share their last breakfast together.

“I packed some fruits, I hope you like them if not it's okay just give them to someone else or throw them away” the girl was fiddling with her fingers continuing her rant “Also there is the ointment I used for your wounds in there, get one of your brothers to apply it twice a day for your wounds to heal as quickly as possible.” Her mind was racing, trying to think of everything she wanted to tell him and subconsciously extending their time together.

San sensed her nervousness and put one of his strong hands on her shoulder. “Thank you” these two words made her stop rambling and finally look at him. Sera’s eyes were fixed on his chocolate brown ones that felt like they held the world in them. “I don't know how to repay you for your kindness. I will forever be in your debt.” His voice full of sincerity and the smile on his lips made her feel small butterflies in her stomach.

“It's nothing, just promise me to take care of yourself and don't get yourself hurt like this ever again” the girl's words were stern, yet her eyes showed how much she cared for him. “I will try but I can't promise anything my little witch.” and with one last smile he started walking into the woods, leaving the comfort of the little cottage.

“San wait!” she shouted before thinking about her words. His body turned around quicker than she had expected, eyes filled with curiosity. “Will I see you again?” the question sounded unsure, she feared he doesn't want to see her again. “Of course, you won't get rid of me that easily” His eyes formed into crescent moons, smiling from ear to ear as he waved one last time and went on his way. Unbeknownst to the other, both of their ears were turning red unable to contain the overwhelming feelings.

For the rest of the day Sera tried to keep herself distracted by brewing a new potion as well as cleaning her home until no dust or dirt were to be found. The evening came faster than she had expected and yet her thoughts only circled around San and his safety. “I hope he is home already, or maybe he found a shelter for the night. Did I let him go too early? Oh god what if his wounds open up again?” her mind was racing with all these questions.

The young witch was too distracted to notice the front door opening only when she heard a loud thud did she lift her head. “Bram, is that you? I think I made a mistake. I shouldn't have let him - she couldn't even finish her sentence before a clothed hand covered her mouth. With all her strength she tried to escape but the stranger held her body against his and slowly she could feel her eyes feeling heavy. “Sleep tight you little bitch” were the last words she heard before her eyes shut and her world became dark.

🖤 here's chapter two with a little cliffhanger 🖤

border by @cafekitsune

[cryscendo]

11. Travel!au

7. Childhood friends

23. You know your book is upside-down, right? (If this is duplicated then my backups are au 14, trope 9, prompt 34)

this one was incredibly cute and fun to do! it gave me an opportunity to write flustered blaine, which i love doing!

Word Count: 736

If anyone else would like to send in a prompt, you can do so here!

Fic can be read under the cut!

~~~

“Attention, everyone. Flight 283 to New York is now boarding.”

“Blaine, c’mon! We’re boarding! We don’t wanna be late!”

With an unmatched eagerness, Kurt directed them towards their boarding gate. Though it should certainly be said that there was absolutely no way they were going to be anything less than punctual if Kurt was the one who was in charge of making sure they got where they were supposed to be.

Blaine couldn’t blame Kurt for his excitement, however. He knew Kurt loved New York more than anything. He also knew that if it weren’t for his dad’s health taking a surprising decline, Kurt would still be living there and not back in Ohio. Blaine feels for Kurt in many ways, though he had to admit, at least only to himself, that he liked having Kurt back in Ohio with him. It felt incredibly selfish, but it was the truth.

He and Kurt have been friends since elementary school. And even back then, Blaine knew that Kurt had no interest in staying in Ohio. That was kind of where the two of them differed. Blaine was quite content where he was. Kurt was not. The few years that Kurt was away in New York was the hardest few years of Blaine’s life. He truly could feel the distance, even if they had Skyped frequently. He would never tell Kurt that, though. He never wanted to be the reason why his best friend couldn’t live to his fullest potential.

But Kurt is back now! And not only that, but they’re taking a trip to New York together. Kurt was looking forward to showing Blaine all his favorite parts of the state. Blaine was mostly just looking forward to having Kurt to himself for two weeks. 

Because as much he hates it to be true, he never did shake his stupid, fat crush on his best friend. And these days, that has only been amplified. During childhood and even into their teenage years, Kurt was always incredibly reserved about being perceived in any way that was even remotely sexual. Nowadays, however, he’s a changed man. New York changed him. He’s confident, alluring, and if Blaine were to be so bold in his word choice, sexy.

Blaine can’t stop himself from staring at him.

Once they were seated on the plane, he and Kurt adjusted their belongings to get comfortable. Kurt pulled out a sketchpad and opened it up to a design that he had been working on. Blaine wishes that Kurt could have continued working for Vogue, but obviously the high fashion market doesn’t really reach Ohio.

Blaine took a book out that he had been reading and opened it up. He was trying to focus on the page, but he was finding it hard with Kurt sitting right next to him looking immaculate. No matter how hard he tried, his attention kept being pulled away from his book and towards the line of Kurt’s jaw, or the slope of his nose. It was unbelievably distracting.

“Uh, Blaine?”

Blaine’s attention was fully on Kurt immediately. “Yeah, Kurt?”

Kurt nodded down to the book in Blaine’s hands. “You know your book is upside-down, right?” 

Huh. It sure is. Blaine flips the book the correct way around, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “You’re right, th-thanks.”

“You feeling alright?”

“Yeah!” Blaine replies, already knowing that he sounded far too energetic to be convincing. “Just a bit nervous about flying is all.”

Kurt gave him a look of genuine concern, and damn it, why does he have to be so caring? “I didn’t know you were afraid of flying.”

That’s not the only thing you don’t know about me, Blaine thought, a bit pathetically. “Yeah, a little, but I’ll be fine!” He offered Kurt a smile that he hoped came off as believable. “Once we get past take off, I’m sure it’ll be easy-going from there.”

“If you say so.” Kurt then patted his knee in a way that Blaine was sure was supposed to be purely friendly, but all he could think about was the heat of Kurt’s touch and how it somehow managed to warm his whole body. Once a silence fell back between them, Blaine forced himself to look back down at his book (which was now turned the correct way), but he couldn’t focus on the words at all.

This was going to be a long trip.

[coolguypluiplup]

Flower Husbands Florist AU

have a flower husbands oneshot loosely based on this tumblr post :)

word count: 1228

full fic under the cut!!

It had been a long shift. Jimmy wasn't normally one to complain (he's lying about this) but he feels like he deserves it today. His boss had booked him in to make 20 flower crowns for a hen party happening tonight that he didn't find out about 'till this morning, he had couples in and out all day for valentines' flowers and had to do the displays for tomorrow. And no one else was working this week! What a joke.

He was slumped against the counter, face pressed to his palm and eyes fighting to stay open. He had 10 minutes 'till closing and was practically counting down the seconds. The flowers in the display case glistened against the rim lights pointed at them causing a ripple of light against the wall facing Jimmy. He should really turn them off. No one had come in for 20 minutes and it's not like anyone's gonna come in at quarter to 10-

“Oh thank god. I've been searching for a place still open.” A man entered hastily, the doorbell ringing as he did. Teal hair stuck to his forehead in clumps and eyeliner ran down his face. He put his collapsed umbrella onto the counter. “I need a bouquet to tell someone I hate them.”

“Hm?” Jimmy spoke- nearly asleep.

“It is valentine's day tomorrow, right?”

Jimmy sat back on the stool, trying to avoid the rainwater pooling near the cash register. “Yeah.“

”Okay, so I need, like, a reverse 'I love you' bouquet.“

Jimmy stared at the man. He sighed and pulled out his floriography book.

”Anything in particular you fancy?“

”Nah. You're the flower boy, anyway.“

Jimmy made a noise of disagreement but started flicking through the pages of the book anyway. “I might need a bit more context to pick the right thing.”

The man sighed. “It's gonna take a while, you sure?”

“Mhm.” Jimmy said, instinctively. He was still exhausted but this was more fun than sleeping.

“Well, tl;dr or whatever, My ex is in town. She still has a thing for me, and I don’t.

He stopped flicking through the pages. “That's... a story. Not normally what I make this time of year,”

“Yep. And I'm gay, which I don’t even think she knows yet.”

“Hm.”

”So. Flowers?“

Jimmy flicked through the pages briskly, scanning each page for something suitable. ”I'm intrigued now. How'd that all go down, then?“ He was never one for small talk.

”Well. We met in year 9 and dated that entire time 'til uni. She was getting fed up that we'd never done any of the romantic stuff our friends did. I genuinely had no clue that that was kinda strange, so I didn't see the problem. And before I knew it, she'd run off with the ex of my best friend. They weren't exes at the time, but trust me, after this it was fallout. I was angry, naturally, and she told me that it was my fault for not trying to fix our relationship before it got too bad. So, I broke it off. Hadn't seen her since.

"Until last week, when my friend told me she was in town. So I invited her round our house. Me and Cleo thought 'no harm done now. We're over it, we know why me and her were having problems, should be fine now'. Couldn't be farther from the truth. She comes round and immediately starts talking about how much she misses me. Says that now we're 'more mature' we can work it out like adults and that she still has feelings for me. Didn't even get to tell her I found out I was gay after I left her.” 

The man had been looking at the displays while speaking, so he probably didn’t catch Jimmy’s jaw dropping before he could catch himself. He turned around to face him. “So, any good picks for the bouquet, then?”

Jimmy hesitantly flips to a page he dog-eared and turns it to face the stranger. They both move closer to the page to read it. ”Foxglove might be a good pick. 'Means insincerity. In older things it even means secrets and complicated situations, which seems fitting. And it's quite pretty, but that's more an aesthetic choice.”

“I like them.“ He stared up at Jimmy. Their faces were mere inches apart. His eyes were a light hazel with gold flecks nearly colour matched the piercings running down his ears. ”You alright?“

Jimmy blinked and moved back. ”Uhm, yeah. Sorry.“ He picked up the book and moved to the greenhouse door behind him. ”I've got a few picks that'll go great with the message. Should take, like, 20 minutes?“

”Okay. Thanks for doing this, by the way. I know it's, like, nearly ten right now,“

”No, don't worry, really. Uhm, can I get a name for the order?”

“Scott.”

Jimmy smiled as he spoke. “Scott. That name suits you.” He shut the door before Scott could respond.

The bouquet was placed on the counter with a thud, shaking Scott from his thoughts. The florist he was just thinking about stood with a smile. He got up and tried to shift his hair from his face (a pointless effort, he knew. Scott had checked how he looked in his phone camera while the guy was making his bouquet, and by god did he look dreadful. Make-up pouring down his face and clothes soaked through. Rained on just wasn't his look.) and walked towards the counter. ”Wow. These are beautiful.“

Scott wasn't lying. The foxgloves he'd recognised from earlier framed intricately placed white flowers. The vase the florist put them in was stunning too, glass patterns mirroring the stems of the flowers fractionally across its surface. 

”Thank you. The purple are foxgloves, like I said, and meadowsweet is the white one. It means uselessness in floriography. Um, I would've put more flowers but I guess not a lot of people need 'I hate you' flowers.” He laughed awkwardly at that last bit.

His laugh was nice. It was higher pitched than normal, but fit him perfectly. Scott smiled along, pretending like he wasn't just staring at him. 

Scott paid for the flowers (Jimmy gave him money off, not that he would find out until months later) and picked up his bouquet. 

”Wait. Uhm,“

Scott turned to face the florist. ”Hm?“

”I have, uh, something else to give you,“ He held out a singular poppy with a slip of paper wrapped around it. ”'s just- Don't take it if you don't wan' it, but-“

Scott took the poppy before he finished speaking. He unravelled the piece of paper and read it carefully. ”'Jimmy'. That name suits you, you know.“

He blushed and turned away from him. ”Aw. Don't use my own words against me!“ He feigned anger but was smiling too much for it to have any bite.

Scott put the piece of paper with Jimmy's number in his pocket and took the poppy and tucked behind his ear. ”Thank you, Jimmy. I'll call later to tell you how the flowers went down.“

”Don't spare any details, I'm properly invested.“

Scott laughed as he opened the door. The moonlight had illuminated the wet concrete. When had it stopped raining? He couldn't have been in there that long. Scott turned to face Jimmy. “See you later, Jimmy.”

”You too.“

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (04x08)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 4 Episode 08: Unfair Practices

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of the housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: an idiot sonovabich with bad intentions for our girl and a...um...thing we’ve been waiting for?

Word Count: I had no idea that when the gases in your intestines had no way to escape they could make various parts of your body hurt where you never thought gases could reach. Yes I am feeling the acidity in my chest tonight

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"That's that for the class. You may talk to David and I'll be available on Wednesday for any queries." The camera panned out of the professor's face to take in a smug David leaning on the lectern at the end of the platform.  "Uh, professor, may I talk to you about the Oedipus complex subsection in the chapter?" The camera focused on Tamikah, the ace student in the class sitting in the front row. "I'd rather clarify my doubts from someone who can make me understand the complexity as a researcher rather than a man baby who thinks the complex is the ultimate truth of the world." The entire class chuckled. David gave a chuckle with a tik in his jaw. Javier even caught the professor suppressing a smile before indicating for Tamikah to follow him to his office. "Ugh, women," David whispered, "Everyone please submit your assignments. The grades will be up on Wednesday morning." The camera turned towards the back of the class to find your figure lost in your notebook, your face resting on your palm while the other hand doodled something on the pages as you tried to hide a smile.  "Earth to Y/N," Yusuf whispered, calling you out of whatever trance you were experiencing before pulling out your assignment from beneath your notebook and walking down the lecture hall towards David. A millisecond of fear flashed in your eyes and you looked for the camera.

You: *biting your lip* he looked at my notebook, Javi. God, he must be judging me so much right now! *you look behind the camera* oh! *Open your notebook and show him the doodles* *camera pans in to show the last page having incoherent scribbles with a couple of horns here and there along with a few flowers scattered across* *camera pans out* *silence* *you blink* *you gasp* what do you mean you don't get it. I could not have been more obvious!

You joined Yusuf near the platform, giving him a friendly slap on the back before wrapping your arm around his shoulder. "Should we grab lunch at Erma's? I'm craving their jelly doughnuts," you asked your friend as you both began to head out of the lecture hall.  The camera made it a point to show the transparency of emotions on David's face when you did that. Yusuf was more than happy to be in your company. "Please submit your assignment on your own, Miss Y/N," David calls you out in front of the class, "rather than running your errands through your classmates. It reflects how least interested you are about the work you are putting in receiving a good grade." You ignored him.  Someone in class shouted, "She's not interested in you, man. Move on." Neither you nor the camera felt the need to turn back and see what David was feeling right now.

 The Lounge The camera sat next to Wanda as she lay her head on the cold kitchenette island all the while groaning. Scott came from the elevator, drenched in sweat and glowing from the workout. "Upset stomach? I got some tablets in my room ever since Y/N introduced me to those orgasmic Korean recipes." "No," Wanda whimpered and went back to her groaning. Gulping down a bottle of cucumber water, Scott took a huge gulp of air before looking back at Wanda. "What's wrong? Magic gone bad?" The camera panned in on her face. The groaning stopped, her lips pouted the saddest pout imaginable and tears welled up in her eyes. "No," she finally sobbed. Fear seemed to cloud Scott's eyes as the bottle was carelessly dropped in the sink and Scott bent down, placing his hands gently on her hair to caress it. "Hey! Hey! What happened?" The tears didn't stop. "Nothing happened," came a small cry out of her before her voice cracked and the sobbing got worse.

Vision: *trying to adjust himself in his seat* Wanda has threatened me not to say anything but I'm worried for her. She had a nightmare yesterday and kept saying 'no!', 'No, you Glupyy bog!'  *shrugs* I don't know which bog is trying to hurt her but *camera pans in onto his serious face* that bog better be ready to...grab these hands. *looks behind the camera* Oh...catch! That bog better be ready to catch these hands! *shows his hands*

The camera swerved to watch Tony enter the Lounge, pausing his conversation on the phone and observing Wanda. "I'll call you back." He turned to Scott and pointed towards Wanda's figure with a tilt of his head. Scott shrugged. "Should I send for some Sokovian delicacies?" Tony asked her softly. "Or should I teach Vision to stop sleeping while standing in corner of your room?" "No, he doesn't do that anymore," Wanda wailed through her sobs, wiping her tears but still not getting up from the kitchen island. "Tony," she gasped a little, forcing the man to bend down and face her, "no matter what happens, all you need to do is give a hug." Tony tilted his head in confusion. Before he could ask her anything, Wanda's hand came for his collar and pushed his face closer to hers.  "Do you hear me Tony?!" she wailed, swollen eyes bearing into the man. "Just a hug." Tony gulped and nodded, bringing his arms around to hug her. "NOT ME, DAMMIT!" Wanda yelled, the lens feeling a little tremble and Tony immediately pulled back, his hands up and away.

University Library The camera sneakily walked across the library, trying to avoid the students and book racks, looking for someone. One corner of the library had a familiar figure hunched on a huge book opened upon a stack of more books. "Yeah, I think I found something," you whispered into your cellphone, "I'll text you pictures right away." Yusuf joined you with three more books. "Oh, by the way-" you thanked Yusuf through your facial expressions- "Friday could have done this faster than me." The camera came closer and was able to hear the voice at the other end. "The comms went down and the ship's system was ridden with malware because SOMEONE thought it would be a great idea to download Minecraft from an unknown pop-up in the ship's system." You furrowed your brows before the realisation hit you. "Thor." "I was bored and had no games on my phone!" Thor yelled back. "Friday's trying to fight the malware and reboot the system but we don't have enough time on our hands right now. These weirdos have started chanting some bizarre ritual and have started shooting at our ship. Text me the pictures and we'll try to figure out how to fight this cult." "Oh, okay. Is Loki there too?" It took you a second of locking eyes with the camera to realise what you had just said. "Uh-he said he was going to go to the city with Peter." All you could hear was incoherent chants in the back while Thor tried to curse the bad guys away. You facepalmed yourself hard and let out a muted curse. Gripping your lower lip in between your teeth for a stretched second, you blurted, "I needed some menstrual cups."

You: I COULD HAVE SAID ANYTHING ELSE!!! *wide-eyed glaring at the camera* ANY. THING. ELSE!!!! *The camera pans in on every word* *you groan and hide in your hands* *The camera pans out to show college kids passing you by with confused looks on their faces* *one of them offers you orange soda*

"Loki's not here," Natasha finally stated. "Oh, cool." You wanted to bury yourself in your arms. "I'll keep sending you whatever I can find. 'Kay bye." "Loki as in the God?" Yusuf whispered, sitting right next to you. You nodded. It took you a good few seconds to realise your friend did not know about your family. "Cool," he exclaimed before you could add anything, "can you thank him from my side the next time you see him? He's been a lot of help in my term project." Your furrowed brows and tilted head looked at him and then at the camera. And then back at him. "Excuse me? He did what?"

 Somewhere in the University Grounds Natasha ended the call with you and switched off the device blaring the chants and Thor's voice. "Y/N is kind to a fault." She walked towards one of the apartment complexes with the camera following her.

Natasha: Loki really is out with Peter today. And Javier is out with Y/N. Today is the perfect chance for me to do some digging and find out about the missing days of their space travel. *looks at the person behind the camera* I know you want to know it as much as I do so I expect you to keep mum about what I'm about to do today. *The camera nods*

Natasha's red hair was now veiled in a golden-coloured wig. Her face was covered behind huge sunglasses and instead of her go-to jeans and shirt, she wore a flower dress.

The apartment manager gave her figure one look before stopping her from getting on the elevator. "Excuse me. Who are you and where do you think you are going?" the manager was a white lady with pixie-cut blonde hair, a wrinkled face with endless worry lines and rimmed glasses. "Oh! Hi! I am Dorothy! Javier's mother! I am letting myself in to clean up my precious baby's dorm. He's a good kid but he takes after his father and never cleans up his mess. I'm pretty sure his place is stanking right now. He didn't bring his clothes for a wash the previous weekend. Don't worry Mama's got the keys to his place and she's gonna leave it squeaky clean for her little angel." Natasha gave her biggest smile and a flawless New Jersey accent to the manager, who clearly was getting uncomfortable with every shoulder touch 'Javier's Mama' was making. "Would you like to come to help me clean the apartment? The more the better, right? Oh, that reminds me, my baby's out of clean undies." The manager was screwing her nose now. "No, thank you. Please, just go." Natasha pressed the elevator button and once against smiled at the flabbergasted manager. She waved her goodbye as the doors closed. "Nice to meet ya!" She announced as the doors clicked close, the New Jersey mom immediately reverting to her resting assassin face. "Not a word about this goes out." She glared at the camera through her sunglasses.

Walking out of the elevator on the fourth floor, she walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a door.  The camera focused on a device she pulled out of her dress pocket and stuck to the doorknob. The device clicked and whirred, blinking twice with a red light before turning green and clicking the door open for the assassin. The apartment had a modest living room cum kitchen with three rooms at the end. Setting the earlier device on the breakfast table, Natasha touched the edge of her sunglasses to switch on the reading mode on them. "Friday, scan the entire apartment for hard disks, flash drives, memory cards and any electronic equipment with a storage." "On it, Miss Romanoff," Friday chimed and began the scan right away.  Natasha grabbed two soda cans from the fridge, offering one to the person behind the camera. "And now we wait."

 Uni Library 4 PM "Huh. I had no idea Loki was a bookworm in that way!" Yusuf chuckled, offering you a sandwich before going back to clicking pictures of any relevant page that Natasha might need. You were still lost in his laptop, scrolling through the pages of research and citations, not able to believe the layers put into the paper. "He's amazing!" Yusuf almost fangirled too hard before going back to the usual whisper. "He even loaned me some limited editions and research papers that are either sitting in restricted sections of world libraries or at some rich asshole's home." The camera swerved from him to you, recording your fingers pausing the scrolling to look up from the screen. 

You: *raise a brow* Excuse me???

"Glad that instead of either of those options, it was in Mr Stark's library. How lucky am I to be able to hold the same books that Mr Stark has preserved so well!" Yusuf adds with starry eyes.

You: *wave of realisation* Oh! *smiles* okay. *walks away from the camera to throw the baseball bat in your hand into the nearest storage closet*

You nodded in approval. "Stark's going to kill him but yeah. He's golden for lending you those books." The camera did not miss the little smile growing on your lips that you tried hard to suppress. "He's a nice guy," Yusuf admitted, leaning back in his seat and smiling. "He often calls me up to ask me how I'm doing and sends me snacks during assignment hours." You let your head rest in your palm as you looked at Yusuf. "Aw! I didn't know that. That's so sweet." Yusuf was grinning now. "But I think he does this less for me and more for someone else." He twirled his finger in your direction. You smacked that twirling finger away. "Yeah, right." Yusuf licked his lips. "I mean-" he pulled his chair closer to the table, letting his arms rest on the surface and leaning his face in your direction- "he always asks about you. How you are doing? Whether you have eaten. If you are sitting alone somewhere, lost in thoughts. If you are enjoying your company. If you are enjoying your company...too much." This time you smacked him away from you, the slap on his back resonating through the silence of the library. Both of you did not move for the next ten seconds, wondering if anyone would come and chuck you out of there.  "We should go back to helping Natasha," you whispered eventually, going back to the books in front of you. "I think I should go back to helping that suppressed scream out of you." "One more word and my elbow will bring out a scream from your stomach."

 Avenger's Facility The camera focused on the duffel bag Natasha carried through the front doors of the building, heading straight for the security room. She emptied the contents of the bag on the centre table, letting the platform light up and scan all the storage drives and memory cards. "Pull up the contents on all of them, Friday." Friday put up the hologram screen to run all the devices simultaneously. Half of them had test runs of the documentary. Some had shots of the university campus and some had recordings of campus events. "Find me the one with Loki and Y/N's time in space. The missing timeline." Three seconds was all it took to filter out the rest and bring forward the footage with a blank screen. The camera stood opposite Natasha, recording a haze for where the screen was, looking right through at it at the curious assassin. The silence was deafening as both of them waited. There was static for a few seconds before the sound of heavy breathing echoed through the security room.  "Do not make me repeat myself," Loki's voice was more of a growl, followed by someone gurgling- as if fighting for their breaths. "Where. Is. She." The frame that was panned in on Natasha's face gradually noticed something. Her furrowed brows were slowly going back to their resting phase. Her usually pursed lips moved apart in a calculated surprise. But there was more. Her figure- earlier leaning on the table wanting to read every little movement on the camera footage- was standing straight and taking a step away from the table. Curdled laughter resonated through the screen, sending Natasha's eyes wide. "She's dead, your highness." The mockery in words was made worse by the maniacal laughter that followed. A boom shook the recording running on the screen, making Natasha jump where she stood. This time, there was horror in the assassin's eyes.

 University Campus: 0730 Hours "Sorry, Yusuf. Had I known everyone was out at some event now, I wouldn't have dragged you into this." You groaned and bent down with your hands folded in front of him. Yusuf cackled. "Are you kidding me? It was fun! I don't have a sister so I finally know what it's like to tease one about their crush. This is the best day on campus I've had." The boy glowed with happiness, forcing you to mirror his smile. "Thanks, bro," you chimed. "For teasing you?" "For not asking about the Avengers? For being chill about all of this." He smiled. "Aw, come on. I fangirled about them in front of Loki so I'm good now." Both of you giggled to your heart's content till it was time for you to leave. Assuring Yusuf you can go to the parking lot on your own, you bid goodbye and walked under the street lights towards the parking lot with Javi and his camera. "He's a nice guy, isn't he?" you hummed with a smile, skipping on the pavement. "Pretty nice," a familiar but unwelcoming voice came from the shrubs that decorated the pavement by the college building. The camera quickly turned in that direction, moving ahead of you. "David," your tired voice came from somewhere out of the frame. David looked at the camera and then behind it. "You should get out of here, kid. The adults are gonna have some grownup talk." The camera did not budge where it stood until your voice called for him. "It's okay, Javi. It won't take long."

Javier's camera did not miss the smug smirk David had on his face when you said it wouldn't take long. Standing in the parking lot about a few meters away from you and David, the camera was constantly focused on you while someone's phone keypad was clicking quite fast in the back as if texting someone in a hurry. "What do you want, David?" It was more of a tired plea than a question. "What do I want? What do you want, Y/N?" Your crinkled brows displayed wrinkles of befuddled emotions. "Submitting your assignments seconds before the deadline. Making the excuses of being out of town just so you can do the extra ones to submit them to me. Being overtly sassy during my lectures even when we both know you aren't. Wearing boots even though you prefer flats. Then coming into my lecture yesterday with your hair flowing in the wind and that blue sundress till your knees. I think I know where this is going, sweet cheeks." You had to take in a good gulp of breath to shake your whole body in bafflement at him. "What the f*** are you even talking about, David?" "Oh, I know a flirt wave when I see one, baby." With the amount of offence your brain had taken, you were barely able to form coherent sentences now. "I did not dress for you, you moron! I dressed for- why am I even explaining myself to you?!" "Deny it all you want, Y/N. You can't run away from the fact that you are falling for me all over again." Your offended features went back to their neutral self. Your lips shutting up and your eyes giving him an extremely offensive side, you walked away from him and towards Javi. But David was quick to grab your arm and pull you back to him. Even before you could let this sink in, his hands were already roaming on the small of your back. "It's okay, babygirl. No need to deny the inevitable," David purred. "You can have me back. You don't have to be so needy about it." "Oh, F*** OFF, DAVID!!" your patience was reaching its threshold. "Even the tick on the bug under my boot would not reconcile with a trash like you." You broke away from his hold. The camera panned in on the fallen face of David as he let your words sink in. "Not everything revolves around you. Something I should've known is not easy for you to understand," you declared while looking right into his eyes. David's eyes seemed darker than usual now. The street lamps cast an eerie shadow over his face when he stood there frozen for as long as a cricket chirp before grabbing you by the neck. You never had the time to react with the basic defence skills Natasha had taught you. Javier's camera almost made a dash for it before coming to an unexpected halt. David pushed you into the nearest side of a car in the lot, forcing a whimper out of you. "You think I'm a joke?" His grip got stronger, making you gnaw at his hands. "You f****g slut!" the camera caught David bringing your face closer to his, waiting to growl. "You whiny bi-" "The last person who tried to hurt her ended up with a broken neck." The camera zoomed in on the shadows behind David, trying to find the source of the voice when it caught a pair of glowing golden eyes with a green hue. The God stepped into the light, pausing all movement within seven feet of his radius. Loki never had to spell it out. The mercilessly brutal gaze seared a nauseating feeling into David, compelling him to push you away from him. You felt your ankle twist, not able to bring back the balance in your leg if not for Loki breaking your fall. The God placed his hand on your back and let his eyes survey your neck for any injuries.

The camera slowly closed the distance between you and Javi, focusing on Loki's eyes. The sombre concern saw something on you that brought back that nauseating rage in his eyes. "I should have been more clear for this slow excuse of a human disgrace-" Loki's whisper tried to suppress his lungs as he turned towards David- "broken neck would be too easy a death for him." The camera was a bit too focused on the colours fading from David's skin to notice why he was suddenly backing away from you and your company. Loki's back was towards the camera. No way to record what he looked like. Only that he took two steps towards the man to send the latter running for his life while you grabbed the God by the waist. "Let him be. Loki, stop," you commanded. But within seconds you were begging him when he tried to undo your hold as gently as possible. "Please, let him go." "He hurt you, Y/N," Loki was not even looking at you. "I don't care. Just please don't do anything," you kept wrapping your arms around him and blocking his way. "It's alright," he calmly responded, still trying to walk in his direction, "he won't be able to do anything by sunrise." The camera caught a wave of fear in your eyes. Without another thought, you locked your arms around him as tightly as possible and shouted, "Wanda! Take us home!" With a wave of red plasmic energy, you disappeared before the camera. So did Loki.  Another wave hit the camera and everything turned black.

 The Lounge Scott whistled the theme of La Cucaracha in the kitchenette as he fetched himself an ice cream tub. "You want one, buddy?" he asked the person behind the camera sitting at the dining table at the other end of the lounge. Fetching another bowl, he walked towards the camera when a wave of red plasmic waves filled the lounge area. Scott found himself jumping behind the sofa. So did the camera. But unlike Scott, the camera peeped from behind the sofa to see you and Loki standing in the middle of the lounge while Javi presented himself out of thin air in the kitchenette, bumping into cabinets before finding a steady ground for his shaky legs. "What? Why did you do that Y/N?" Loki was ticked. The peripheral of the camera caught Scott raising his head to look at you two with peak curiosity. "So, I'd rather let you run behind him and beat him to death?" you responded on the same wavelength as the God. "He deserves it for being such a bloody scum." Loki was on the verge of grinding his teeth now. "I don't care what he deserves, Loki. Okay? This isn't space! You cannot just go about getting your way here! People are watching you!" Your assertion came out more loudly than you expected. "People can watch me punch the Midgardian soil out of him! Why should I care who's watching me!!" Loki was enraged now. Scott scooted back into the shade of the sofa at the first emphatic syllable in Loki's voice. "BECAUSE I CARE!!" you announced at the limit of your lungs. "I care too much about you to let some awful people brand you something you are not! Okay? I care about you too f*****g much to see you get so riled up by a pathetic loser. I-" The camera zoomed in on your expression. The weight of your own words dawned upon you abruptly while Loki stood there in a confused void. The camera made sure to catch Scott's jaw hitting the floor at your confession while you tried to gather your emotions. You did not speak. It looked like you didn't want to. "What?" Loki's voice went soft. And that did it for you. "I like you, Loki," your voice confessed delicately; your fingers pressing the life out of each other, "I like like you. Too much."

[spacequokka]

Page 270

Pairing: vamp!Jinki x Reader Genre: Vampire AU, Fluff Rating: PG Summary: Jinki has a surprise for his favorite human. Word Count: 0.9k Warnings: None, really. Blood drinking mentioned but not done.

A/N: Happy birthday to one of the cutest leaders I know <3

No matter how many times Jinki ran his hands over his cream slacks, he couldn't get rid of the sweaty palms sensation. Sure, his body hadn't produced sweat in centuries but that fact did little to the feeling go away.

Today was the day.

All the paperwork was done. Any registration fees were paid. He just needed to ask you. Make it official on paper.

A quick glance at his watch reminded him that you should be getting off the bus soon. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.. Everything would be alright. Even if you rejected his request, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

You knocked on the door lightly. It'd be difficult, if not impossible, for other people to hear it, but you knew he could be deep in his basement and still pick up the sound. He opened the door and smiled. "____, welcome."

You smiled sweetly and stepped inside. "The storm's starting to kick up. I brought my overnight bag, just in case." You held up the leopard print backpack. "Hope that's okay."

He nodded and closed the door. "Of course it is. I prefer it over traveling so late."

You laughed. "Somehow I knew you'd say that." You stepped close and poked his cheek, eyeing the reaction of his skin. "Hm, you're a little dryer than usual." You stepped back and peeled off your scarf and coat. "Have you been overdoing it again?"

He avoided your perceptive gaze. "It couldn't be helped. I needed to pickup documents and return them as quickly as possible."

You sighed and turned on your heel. "Then we should go ahead and get started." You beckoned him to follow with a few curls of your finger. Like a lovesick puppy, his feet obeyed. It wasn't until you pulled your shirt collar away from your throat that he even noticed you were seated, waiting for him to drink his fill.

"Oh, no." He shook his head to clear away the fog. "I wanted to talk with you first."

"Oh?" You blinked then let go of your shirt. "What about? Is it my work schedule? I can request to get off earlier, but I'm not sure my boss will allow it."

"Well, yes but not exactly." He went to his desk and plled out the contract he picked up from H&V Resources. "You made a comment last month about how it'd be easier to be a live-in donor--"

"You glanced at him then at the papers in his hand before jumping to your feet. "Is that--" Fear and sorrow flowed from your pores like a thick, bitter syrup completely unlike your usual light floral scent. "Oh. I-I didn't mean to upset or offend you. It's just been a mess at work and being with--I'm mean, around you--Oh, God. Please don't fire me--"

He shushed you with a cold fingertip against your trembling lips. "I wouldn't dream of it." When he was certain you'd calmed down, he held up the papers. "It took me a while to get permission and the permits, but I'd like to ask you to be my personal live-in donor."

Your jaw dropped.

"As you said then, it'd be much easier if you lived here with me." He gestured to your surroundings. "I have plenty of space. I'm offering a six-figure salary as well as health and life insurance." He passed the papers to you.

"Mr. Lee, that's a lot of money."

"I realize that. That's why I hoped to have you take on the role as my personal assistant with my company as well. You could help me avoid 'overdoing it,' as you say. It'd benefit you as I wouldn't need to feed as often." When that thoughtful look settled on your face as you flipped through the pages, the sweaty palms came back. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Feel free to take your time to look over--"

"Where's a pen?" You searched the top of his desk and found one. Before he thought to stop you, you were going through and signing and initialing wherever highlighted.

"I-I thought you'd want to take your time to read it thoroughly." It was a lot to process given all the disastrous ways he imagined things turning out.

"It's a no-brainer. I hate my other job and we get along great. On top of that, you're essentially offering a way to turn my life around. Even one year working for you would pay off my debts." Your words were rushed and your hand shook as you blitzed through the contract. "Imagine me being able to lease a car!"

Your happiness was contagious, treating him to a richer flavor of your scent he'd never experienced. "I'd be happy to help you get a car. I could also loan you one of mine as a company car."

You paused and looked at him with a mixture of shock and glee. "I've never had a car with a company car before." Doubt flittered through your mind. "Are you sure you want me for this?" Worry filled your eyes and it melted his heart.

"____, dear. May I be brutally honest with you?" When you nodded he took one of your hands in his. "You are one of the most brilliant, endearing, and compassionate people I've ever met. There's no one else I trust, or want, to give this position to."

"Thank you so much." You blushed then returned to the contract. You scribbled your name on the final page and handed the stack to him. "It'll be a pleasure living with you."

He chuckled and accepted the contract. "I'm almost positive the pleasure will be all mine."

[c0zmo-writes]

Hello! Here are some notes/background info/etc on my Harpy Beetlejuice AU, Birds of a Feather! Here’s chapter two.

Chapter 2- Boredom

“It was hard to tell in the low light, but it appeared to be a translucent green color. After a few moments, her brain connected the dots. It was drool.”

Fun fact- all of Beej’s bodily fluids are some shade of green. His blood also glows in the dark, so he’s sorta like a glow stick!! A feather and flesh covered glow stick.

“You’re gettin’ all this stuff for me?” He was confused. Wasn’t he just some lab project to her? Why was she being so nice to him?”

Poor Beet has never had someone go out of their way to get things for him. My guy does NOT know how to handle care and acts of service being thrown his way. 

“Then his hand met the light switch. Perfect. He played with the lights for a bit, until his attention flitted to an open door. He dove to the floor and batted the door between his hands, eyes wide and pupils large. That kept him entertained for a good five minutes, before he got bored once again.”

Cat Beetlejuice strikes again. He’s got ADHD in this AU! I might be projecting onto these characters just a bit…

“He unfurled his large wings and jumped up, prepared to fly, but he misjudged how much space was between him and a large stack of loose papers. The force of his wings flapping sent the papers flying in a frenzy around him. The sudden stationery storm made him panic. With a distressed screech, he flew up and clung to the bookshelf. To his dismay, the shelf creaked and leaned forward, bringing him down with it.”

While his hand-eye coordination is pretty good, he has pretty poor impulse control and doesn’t really take a minute to think: “Will the force of flapping my wings send everything around me flying?” He also loses a lot of skills when he’s in a panic. Like basic reasoning. Also shoutout to alliteration. I fucking love using alliteration. 

“Dammit. Now Shilo’s definitely gonna kill me.” He tucked his wings back, slowly approaching the reason he was about to get his ass beaten.”

Shilo would never intentionally hurt him, not that he’s aware of that.

“Ok, ok. Gotta fix this. God, I wish there was something I could use to just glue this thing back together!” It seemed the lightbulb in his head hadn’t clicked on yet. After a worryingly long amount of time, he snapped his fingers and bounced up. “Oh yeah! Glue!”

Inspired by this scene in The Cuphead Show.

“The label read “Glow-In-The-Dark Glitter Glue: Neon Green color! (now with 98% less radium!)”

Just pointing this out because it made me chuckle while writing it.

“After a few seconds, nothing came out, so he bit into the top of the container and ripped it off. He squeezed the bottle harder. With a loud, splattery slop, half the glue bottle dumped onto the pages. Shit. That’s too much, isn’t it? He thought to himself as glue dripped onto his hand. He licked it off.”

Probably not a great idea to put the radioactive glitter glue in your mouth. 

“She stumbled over a pair of shattered glasses. Oh. That’s what that crunching sound from earlier was. Beetlejuice realized.”

Thankfully, those glasses were old and not the right prescription!

“Shilo’s shoulders and jaw tensed. She held her face in her hands and sighed. Counted to ten in her head. Did everything she could to not scream in the face of the harpy.”

When your new science experiment breaks one of the only rules you’ve set for him in a three hour span. 

“Beetlejuice tilted his head and furrowed his brow. What’s wrong? Why isn’t she happy? He wondered. He decided he’d point her in the right direction. He swooped past her and grabbed the sticky, glittery journal. He thrust it into her face with a smile. “Beetlejuice,” her voice was scarily quiet, “I’m going to ask you this again. What did you do?” Beetlejuice stepped back. “What’re you so pissed about? I fixed it!” He beamed.”

He has lots of trouble reading social cues!! He thinks he did something really great, he doesn’t know why Shilo seems upset at him :(

“Beetlejuice flinched at the loud noise and scampered away like a little rodent into the closest room with a door, which happened to be a dark bathroom. Shilo cringed at her outburst. She sighed and hung her head.”

Beetlejuice really hates it when he’s being yelled at due to a mix of trauma and sensory issues. Both Shilo and Beetlejuice struggle with occasional outbursts of anger. Shilo especially hates them. She doesn’t like feeling that she doesn’t have control over herself. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have a support system or someone to help her with her mental health.

“and dug through the couch cushions until she found a pen.”

She keeps writing utensils everywhere. Couch cushions, empty flower vases, drawers, lying down on the floor waiting for an unsuspecting victim to step on it and become great friends with the wooden floor…

“Maybe it was just the lighting, but Shilo swore she saw his hair and now ruffled feathers tinted crimson red.”

His hair changes color based off his mood, as do some of the feathers on the underside of his wings (primary converts, primaries, and secondaries).

“Shilo made them both sandwiches, as Beetlejuice kept trying to plunge his fist in the jars and smear condiments on the bread with his hand. They ate in silence, both feeling a bit better. Beetlejuice once again wolfed down his sandwich. Then the next one. Then the next one. Then he tried to lap at the grape jelly, which Shilo had to shut down.”

Beetlejuice isn’t used to utensils, and prefers to grab/dig through stuff with his hands. He’s also a pretty messy eater overall. 

“Shilo only hearing a chorus of happy chirps when Beetlejuice saw his dessert – a bag of live beetles, worms, and a scorpion lollipop.”

He loves his bugs!! Beetlejuice also makes lots of bird sounds.

“Stay with me again?” He asked. Shilo settled down next to him, and they took a similar position to the previous night, with his head resting on her chest.”

He likes this position because it means he can listen to her heart beating. He also likes to sniff her. But the first reason is less creepy.