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theneondemonx · 3 years ago

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HOUDINI | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: jungkook was your first and only. When he got arrested, you felt like an idiot for always believing his every word and after a few years you decided to date again. But the word somehow got to his ears in jail and he couldn’t let you be anyone else’s but his.

▽ genre: porn with some plot, criminal au, established relationship

▽ pairings: escaped convict!jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 3464

▽ warnings: mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of underage sex, criminal activities, implied murder, possessive behavior, mention of female masturbation, spanking, fingering, female ejaculation, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk

( �� Drabble 1: first meeting ) [⏵playlist]

He hit me and it felt like a kiss He hit me and I knew he loved me If he didn't care for me I could have never made him mad But he hit me and I was glad

You were still very young when you learned that love was nothing like the cheesy romances you’d see on the big screen. Well, you didn’t actually have the money to go to the movies, but sometimes you found the way to sneak in and watch whatever was there to watch. You had a fascination for those stories, for those dancing images on the screen. They were made of pure light. Literally. While everyone was caught in the enchantment of the movie, you were the one to look behind your back and follow the light beam up until its source, looking straight at the small window from which the projector created the whole illusion of life before your eyes.

Most people want to escape from reality. They want to feel like their life has meaning, like it is just one plot twist away from being interesting. I didn’t. Maybe I should have, since mine was pretty shit. But I guess this was the whole reason why I was looking for the disenchantment. It’s like watching a magician. I’ve always been the type to be more observant, to look for the trick. Cause if there wasn’t any, then it would have meant that mine was the only pointless existence.

No one in your block had a penny to their names. Everyone dreamed of going away, of starting a new life and do something meaningful. But you knew that most of them would never make it. They were trapped.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

Those weren’t your words. They were Jungkook’s. Well, not his own words, actually. He had read them somewhere. He was the type to read, although he didn’t look like it at all. And you know how people who read are: they are good with words. They can shape reality with just a flick of their tongue. And damn if he got a way with words! That’s why you fell for him.

It wasn’t just the fact that he got the looks of an angel. He also talked like one. He could talk his way in and out of everything and you were pretty sure he could lie his way into heaven if he wanted to. He was an exceptional liar, a pathological one too. But you loved him anyway.

You believed him when he told you that he was going to turn your life upside down. Why wouldn’t you? He had already done it more times than you could count. He had done it since the day you first met in that dark movie theatre. You had always believed him and everything he said. He was the only man you ever loved, the first and the last you had sex with, and eventually the one you married.

He reminded you of your father. They had the same dangerous charm. Their eyes gleamed with the same light: that of a man who was willing to con the whole world and make it his own. Your father didn’t make it, though. He became a drunk mess and ended up in prison for attempted murder.

Only a pathetic fuck goes to jail for attempted murder. Either you go down for murder, or you don’t go down at all. That’s how much of a failure he was.

But you didn’t care about him. He used to beat your mother whenever he felt like it. Jungkook, on the other hand, never did that.

So, when he told you those words – “the less you know, the better” – you didn’t question him. You just believed him. And when he came home with a bag full of money and his hands covered in blood, you still didn’t question him. You just did as he asked and bent over the kitchen table to let him fuck you senseless.

You really didn’t care about what he did. Everyone in your block was somehow entangled with criminal activities. That’s just how it is when you can’t afford an honest life. What if he robbed a bank? What if he killed someone to get that money? So what? You’d love him anyway. You’d love him no matter what.

You still loved him when you heard the sirens wailing through the block and stop outside your shared house. You didn’t care about the fact that he just ripped your marriage into pieces. You always knew he was an Icarus.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you with a cocky smirk, while being pushed inside the police car.

And again, you believed him.

He was the only magician who ever managed to deceive you into thinking that his was actual magic and not just a trick. But when the jury found him guilty of aggravated robbery and murder, you felt like the lights had gone off and the curtain closed on his magic show. It was over. And now you were left standing in a sad empty circus, with just the distant music of the carousel to remind you of the fact that it was all a rouse. A convincing one for sure, but still a rouse.

When you saw him being taken away from the trial, you thought about those words he told you years before.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

And you smiled to yourself. Somehow, even though your whole life had just gone to pieces, you found them ironic. Who would have thought, back then, that he would end up in an actual prison? Not you for sure.

The years had passed and although you never really moved on from Jungkook, you decided it was time for you to build a life for yourself. You were still young and pretty, so it wasn’t hard for you to fool some stupid rich boy from the city. Kim Seokjin was no Jeon Jungkook, but he had money and a steady job – one that could actually pay for rent, food and vices without raising any question from the authorities.

He didn’t know you were broke as fuck, and you did your best to hide it with the means you had and the cunning that your lowlife background had teach you. You would buy fancy dresses and hide the tag when you wore them, so that you could return them the day after. You would also tell Seokjin to come pick you up at work in Gangnam. You never worked there, of course, but he was dumb enough to believe you. It didn’t really matter: you planned on sleeping with him soon enough and let him knock you up. Men always get way too excited when you tell them that they can fuck you without putting on a condom.

What you didn’t plan, however, was to find yourself with a tattooed hand covering your mouth when one night you came back home from a date with Seokjin. At first you tried to scream and free yourself from the strong grip of the mysterious man that somehow got into your house, but you froze as soon as he spoke.

“Shh be quiet, baby. You want to be the one to rat me out?”

You’d recognize that voice among millions. It was Jungkook.

How did he get out? His sentence is not over yet. He still has to serve twenty more years.

You thought that by being quiet and staying still, he would loosen the grip on you, but he didn’t.

“Fancy dress you got here, honey.” He hissed, pressing his lips against your ear and making you shiver from his touch. His hand trailed along the side of your body, caressing the expensive fabric of the white dress.

“Was your new boyfriend, the one who bought it for you?”

Your eyes widened at that question and you again tried to free yourself without success.

“Yeah.. I know. I was surprised too when Yoongi came to visit me and told me you were seeing some fancy city boy with his head up his tuxedo-covered ass.”

You knew that no matter how soft his voice could sound, he was mad. He was always calm when he was really mad.. until he wasn’t calm anymore.

“I told him: no, Yoongi, there’s no way that’s true. My sweet Y/N would never do something like that. She is a faithful wife, not some dirty whore who’s ready to sell her cunt to the first Richie Rich who comes around.”

He chuckled darkly.

“But he brought me the photos. So I guess I was wrong.”

He abruptly turned you around, pushing your back against the wall. It was then, that you saw him. His hair got longer and he somehow got some tattoos on his right arm. His dark eyes were gleaming in the dark with a mischievous light that you had never seen on him – not when he was looking at you, at least.

His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing you to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Did you let him touch you?”

“N-no.” You muttered, with your heartbeat racing fast and your eyes wide open like those of an innocent doe who was just caught by a cold-blooded hunter.

He pressed his body on yours, breathing heavily against your lips without breaking eye contact.

“If you are lying to me.. I’ll know, Y/N.” He hissed. And you knew that those words were a clear warning.

“I expect your cunt to be tighter than it was when I left. If it isn’t..” he chuckled, slightly tilting his head to the side and licking his lips while caressing gently your reddened cheek. “..well, I guess I’ll stretch your holes so wide that there won’t be any doubt about whose little whore you are.”

He didn’t give you any time to breathe, let alone answer. He pressed his lips on yours with such passion that he sucked the air out of your lungs. And you melted.

You still loved him, after all. You still craved for his touch, which you missed every single night that you’ve spent in your empty bed. Every time you touched yourself, you always closed your eyes and think of him: his hands, his lips, his toned body, his cock, his breath, his smell.. everything. No man could turn you on like he did.

You could tell he had changed. He got more violent, more possessive. But for some reason, that didn’t bother you. Somehow, in a fucked up way, you enjoyed it. It was like you just had the proof that he truly loved you. That you were sill his.

You run your fingers through his hair, tightening your grip while kissing him deeply. A muffled sigh escaped from your lips when his tongue entered your mouth, exploring every corner of it like that was the last kiss he was ever gonna give you.

“Touch me.” You murmured, like it was a prayer sent straight to God.

The first one that was actually answered, since Jungkook’s hands quickly slipped under your dress while you kicked off your shoes. He turned you around again, face against the wall, and removed your underwear.

You gasped at his touch on your wet entrance, arching your back so that he could see your pussy in its full glory.

“Fuck, I missed you so much.” He murmured, starting to run his palm on your pussy.

You moaned, grinding against his hand in search of his touch while he steadied your hips with the strong grip of his free hand.

“Already purring like a kitten, baby?”

Another moan escaped from your lips, this time loudly, when he inserted his middle finger in your throbbing core, feeling it clench around his touch.

“Such a good girl. You didn’t lie to me.” He commented in a hiss, inserting another finger to test your tightness and starting to pump his digits on your most sensitive spot.

“So tight. Will you be able to take my cock, baby?”

“Y-yes. Yes I will.” You answered in between your heavy breaths and moans, chasing the pleasure that his movements gave you.

You suddenly let out a sharp cry when you felt his hand slapping your ass cheek without notice. But the lingering pain had the only effect of heightening the pleasure and getting you even more wet.

Hu chuckled, spanking you one more time.

“Fuck! Jungkook!”

He had always loved it when you said his name during sex, and he still did apparently, since he started pumping his digits harder inside you. The lewd sounds of your pussy soon filled the silence of the night.

When his other hand reached your clit and started drawing quick circles around it, your legs started shivering and your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. If it wasn’t for the wall, you’d probably fall on your knees when the orgasm hit you. You moaned so loud that you almost sounded like a dying animal.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.”

His words only made it worse and you couldn’t help but feel like a fire ball hit you right in the belly. Your walls clenched around his pumping digits and soon your climax reached an unprecedented high, making you ejaculate on his hand while waves of pleasure went through your body like an electric shock.

“Oh my God!” Was is reaction to the mess you just made.

He let out a satisfied laugh, retracting his fingers from your overstimulated core just to smear your arousal on your own lips.

“Open your mouth, baby. I want you to taste yourself – the way I make you feel.”

You obeyed, and even if you were still panting and barely able to function, you took his fingers in you mouth, rotating your tongue around them and sucking every drop of your own arousal before letting them out with a pop.

“Good girl.” He praised you softly, caressing your hair. “Now get on your knees for me.”

Again, you obeyed without hesitation while he unzipped his pants and pumped himself a few times in front of your face.

You looked up at him, licking your lips. You could still taste your slick on them, but you wanted something different. You wanted his taste. And you were so eager to get it, that you didn’t waste any time.

You soon wrapped your mouth around his hard cock, sucking it like it was your last meal. But letting you have it your way was not Jungkook’s plan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tying them up in a ponytail that was only held by his own hand, and started thrusting inside your mouth until tears were gathering at the corner of your eyes.

A deep growl escaped from his lips at the sight of your mouth stuffed with his cock and your messed up make up smeared all over your face.

“My little whore. Always so good for me.” He said through his panting, face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

And probably there wasn’t gonna be one. For all you knew, the police could come at any moment and take him back to his cell – this time, forever. But, if anything, the thrill just added something extra to the whole situation, making it even more exciting.

The rhythm of his deep thrusts against your throat soon made you gag. And that was it. That was what he wanted, what he was looking for.

“Oh shit! Fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

His cum shot straight down your throat, filling you with his warm liquid. You loved his taste. You always had since the first time he sucked his cock. You were only fifteen back then, and you had no idea how to do it. But he was older than you and he guided your every movement, teaching you what he liked and what he wanted. You thought you’d spit him out, but you always swallowed. You liked it. You liked the taste of his orgasm and you liked to know that you were the one to make him cum like that.

“Take off your dress and bra.”

Your jaw was still feeling numb and your legs weak when he ordered you to undress, but you still obeyed, in a daze.

“Now bend over the couch.”

Again, you didn’t raise any question. You just crawled towards the couch and rested your chest on the pillows, closing your eyes while you tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart beating strong, muffled by the padded fabric of the couch. The only other sound was that of his steps, getting closer and closer to you until he dropped heavily on his knees, resting his large hands on your ass cheeks and parting them.

He let out a pleased moan and you could feel his gaze devouring the most intimate part of your body. You didn’t even need to look or feel him to know that he was getting hard again. And you felt proud. You arched your back and spread your legs a big wider, offering him the whole show. You loved to know that he wanted you so bad. Just the thought of his desire aroused you more than anything else.

He chuckled, spanking you again and making you gasp at the sharp feel of his palm against your sensitive skin.

“God, you’ve always loved being a slut for me. Am I right?”

You thought the question was rhetoric, so you didn’t respond. But when he gave you another spank and bent over you, pulling your hair to get your ear closer to his lips, you knew he wanted to hear your voice.

“Answer me. Whose little slut are you?”

“Y-yours, Jungkook. I’m your little slut.”

He chuckled darkly, letting go of your hair while caressing your reddened ass cheek and pressing his lips on your ear.

“Good girl.” He praised you, slowly starting to align the tip of his cock with your wet entrance.

You whimpered at the feel, arching your back even more to look for more friction. Seeing you like that, so eager to have him inside of you, was all it took for him to sink deep inside your core, filling you with all his length and stretching your walls.

“Fuck! You got so tight, baby.”

You did. While he was away, you didn’t have sex with anybody and you only started thinking about that when you met Seokjin. Not because you really wanted to, but because you felt like it was a necessary step to get what you wanted. Sure, Jin was handsome, but he was no Jungkook. Your husband, your first love, your first everything – he was the only one who could make you wet just by staring at you. He had that power – the power to make your head spin like you had too many drinks.

Jungkook hold your hips in place and started pounding you hard, making you moan at every thrust until you were just a hot wet mess at his mercy.

“Jungkook..” That was all you could say, breathless, while feeling your walls clench around his cock like they were holding to dear life.

He went balls deep inside of you, fucking you for all the times he didn’t in the past three years. It was intoxicating, and you knew you could never get enough of that feeling – of him.

“Jungkook.. cum inside me, please.” You whimpered, pleading him with a mere whisper when you felt his thrusts getting sloppier and more imprecise. Your orgasm was close too, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t pull out. You wanted to feel every drop of him.

“Y/N.. fuck!” Was all he said while he sank deep inside your core, filling you up with his cum and pumping it in to get you closer to your climax.

You came with his name on your lips and the lewd sounds of your sex filling your ears like the sweetest music you’d ever heard. Your hands grabbed the fabric of the couch and you could feel your saliva dripping down the side of your lips, parted by the intense sensation of your orgasm.

He dropped with his chest pressing on your back. You could feel his heavy breath against your skin and his heartbeat trying to get a calmer pace while the high of the climax was slowly fading away.

“We are leaving tonight, baby.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence. “I’m not going back to jail. I’m not gonna let them tear us apart again.”

And again, even after everything that had happened, you believed him.

I guess this is my prison. You are. But I don’t want to escape.

“I love you, Jungkook.”

“I love you too, baby.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jk #jjk #jeon jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook criminal au #smut #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts criminal au #fanfic #oneshot #bts oneshot #bts x reader #criminal au

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annab-nana · 4 years ago

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All A Game - JJ Maybank

You were a kook dating the hottest pogue so you should have guessed something was up, but you never would have thought that your relationship with JJ was a joke.

Requested by @rochyu 💙

A/N: just to clarify, this is based on a scene from the movie “after”, so if it seems familiar, that is why

Warnings: some curse words; angst

Word Count: 2.0k+

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Laughter sounded throughout the closed restaurant as you, JJ, and all of his friends—who you too have become quite close within the span of your relationship—were hanging out with cold fries and watered-down drinks before you on the table. These moments were the ones you held close to your heart. They just felt so warm, something you never ever felt with your friends at the kook academy. Your only kook friends that you ever felt a genuine connection with were Rafe and Kelce, but they always tried to come to your rescue even when not necessary which while endearing was a tad annoying. They probably hated you now that you were fraternizing with the enemy so to speak.

The pogues made you feel so at home in a place that despised you and you had actual fun with them. Between surfing, fishing, little adventures, and late nights like tonight at The Wreck, you grew close to them, called them true friends but boy, were you wrong.

There you sat, a wide radiant smile on your face. JJ’s arm was slung around your shoulders as he cracked more jokes. Pope was on your other side, his dorky grin put on display. Kiara and John B sat on the opposite, giggles flying from their lips alongside quick remarks to add to the banter. Another warm moment that would be your last. Your last moment in their presence and you would miss it. You would be savoring it now if only you knew.

“I gotta wring it out. Be right back,” JJ announced before pressing his lips to your temple—the last kiss from him you would receive—and standing up to leave.

“Ew,” you scolded while wiping the kiss off that you’d wish later on you could do with every part of you he and those damn heavenly lips had touched, “don’t kiss me after talking about that.”

“C’mon princess, don’t do that,” he pouted at you as he blew you a kiss and disappeared into the men’s restroom.

“You two are gross,” John B commented, his facial expression showing his disgust for the interaction he had witnessed.

“Like you don’t mack on Sarah every fucking chance you get,” you quipped, earning some laughs from Pope and Kie. “Anyway, I’m in love with him so say all you want. I don’t care.”

As soon as the words left you, the air was thick around you as the tension grew. You felt Pope stiffen next to you and watched as John B and Kie showed similar blank expressions.

“Is… everything alright?” you questioned with a nervous chuckle. Kiara’s eyes flitted to Pope’s for a second whose eyes widened at what she was insinuating before they jumped to John B’s. “What’s going on?”

“I-“ she sighed while she unlocked her phone, “y/n, there’s something you should know about JJ.”

“O-okay,” you stuttered out in a small voice, worry filling your veins only to heighten when you heard his voice.

“Woah, who killed the mood?” the blond joked, trying to lift the spirits of the group but based on your worried expression, Kie’s eyes never meeting his, and Pope and John B shaking their heads, he realized something serious was going on. “What happened?”

Kiara finally revealed what she was looking for on her phone. It was turned sideways so you all could see the video better and front and center was JJ Maybank. She had not played it yet, but you could tell by his surroundings that it was from the night you met him. It was at that party where Sarah drunkenly introduced you to John B. The other pogues were there too but you had no knowledge of them at the time. That’s when you saw him, blond hair a mess but still cute and bright blue eyes that you found captivating. He saw you too and introduced himself before trying to make a move on you. You, of course, rejected him because he was known everywhere for his infamous one-night stands, and you weren’t here for that. You desired something more that at the time, you didn’t think he could provide. He then went back to his friends, the ones you sat around today.

“Kie,” John B warned as she shot a sharp glare at JJ and played the video. You saw yourself in the video looking up at JJ. It was the exact moment you had met him, and Kiara had filmed it.

“Aw, it looks like JJ Maybank just got his first rejection,” Kie spoke from behind the camera while JJ turned around with an amused smile on his face. John B was laughing behind the phone as well, probably heavily intoxicated on alcohol and Sarah.

“You don’t think I can make it happen?” JJ teased, blue eyes going to each of his friends who stood behind Kiara while he quirked a brow teasingly.

“Make what happen, JJ?” Kie asked before she hiccupped. She’d had a few prior to this as well.

“Make her fall in love with me and then,” he paused then snapped his fingers, “turn it off.”

At that, you felt the tears well in your eyes, but they were also glued to the screen in front of you. You saw the smile he wore after he spoke such a damaging statement and it cut you deep inside. As for everyone else, they were watching you. The video stopped mere seconds after he said those painful words and your eyes lifted from the phone to its owner.

“It was all a game,” Kie’s voice spoke to you while wearing a pitiful expression on the face you thought was of a friend, but she didn’t feel like on right now. None of them did. Though she repeated what you already knew, thanks to the video, you could not believe it. Your focus faltered to the table as you tried to calm the thoughts running through your mind. Every moment you shared with him was nothing. It was all meaningless. It was all a lie. He never cared about you and slowly, that was tearing you up inside.

“Y/n?” JJ’s concerned voice entered your ears. How in any way did he have the right to be concerned for you? This was his mess after all. He did this. You didn’t look up from the table. “Y/n,” he tried again, this time reaching for your hand, but you shrugged it off. “Y/n, please, you have to believe me,” he said while you tried your hardest not to look at him, keeping your gaze trained on the table. He leaned in to be a little closer to you.

“Y/n, that was before everything, before I got to know you,” he desperately tried to get you to understand his side of things. Instead of turning to him, you turned to Pope. His big brown eyes scanned your face, seeing how you were breaking, and he hated it for you. His face showed sympathy, but he was in the wrong too, just not as bad as JJ.

“Is that true?” Your voice broke at the last word, and you despised yourself for it. You could see the little line of tears blurring your vision at the bottom, but not one had dared to fall. Pope looked down for a moment. He did not want to be the one to tell you, but his silence answered your question. Your eyes found John B and Kie next. “And all of you knew?” Back to the table your stare went when no one spoke.

“Y/n,” JJ’s shaking voice sounded on your left. Finally giving up, you let your eyes meet his. What a bad idea that was? Once you caught sight of the beautiful blues, it felt like you were drowning. It was like the water was clogging your ears because you saw his lips moving. You knew he was talking, but no sound was coming to you. Through your blurring vision, you saw that he was fighting off tears too, but what did he have to cry about? He broke yourheart, absolutely wrecked it, and here he was with tears in his eyes. Why couldn’t he just turn it off like he said he could? God, you hated him so much right now. Through the deafening silence, you scrambled to stand as JJ did the same with you.

“Y/n, wait,” you thought he said. That’s what it looked like he said, but you would not know. And you wouldn’t be there to find out either as you took off running for the exit. Once outside, the rain could be heard but also so could JJ.

“Y/n, wait,” he tried again but you kept walking. “Y/n!”

“None of it was real,” you paused to breathe as you faced him, “I actually thought… I thought that-” Your words were cut off by that feeling of your chest tightening as the emotions swirled inside you. That gummy feeling rose to your throat and blocked you from speaking for a moment and JJ noticed this. He knew you now. He knew how you looked when the world was crumbling all around you and that’s how you looked right now. He hated that he was the one who had caused this. “You’re just a liar.”

“That was all before,” he tried to fight, tried to get you to fucking understand but it was too hard. It would never make sense to you and how could it?

“Before what?” you inquired. You were emotionally drained and honestly so done with this situation that you knew you should have seen coming. Love can blind you sometimes though.

“Before-”

“You snapped your fingers and turned it off?” you asked after cutting him off. Guilt was written all over his face and you watched as he thought about what to say next.

“You said nothing could change the way you felt about me.” Yes, JJ, but that was before I knew you were playing some game with me! That’s what you wanted to scream at him. God, you wanted to scream at him, but you didn’t have it in you at the moment.

“Then, I guess we’re both liars,” you stated, plain and simple. You watched as his head hung low and you decided you were done with this, turning to leave. Nothing seemed to be on your side tonight because you had come with everyone in John B’s van after he picked you up so now you had to walk home in the rain. Luckily, The Wreck was between your land and theirs so it wouldn’t be a long trek and the rain masked your tears so to onlookers, you were just walking alone in the rain. Not as sad as you would seem if they had known what was really happening but still pretty pathetic. Your feet took you into the land of the kooks and surprisingly to Tannyhill where Rafe sat outside in his truck.

“What were you doing alone in the rain? Shouldn’t you be with those demons?” Rafe teased, attempting to get you to smile but failing miserably.

“Don’t talk about them,” you barked before letting out your next word a lot more silently and vulnerably, “please.”

“Are you okay?” Anytime someone asks that when you are trying to fight back tears, it always breaks the dam.

“No,” you muttered, but he was quick to pull you into his arms to comfort your sobbing state.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” You laughed after that. It was funny hearing him apologize on a pogue’s behalf. “What’s so funny?” he asked, a little laughter in his tone as well.

“Nothing, just you’re not telling me ‘I told you so’ or whatever,” you told him honestly, but he was just glad to see you smiling again.

“Wanna go inside? I imagine you’re cold.” You nodded in response as Rafe turned off the vehicle and reached for the door to leave, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

“I- uh, sorry. I just wanted to say thank you,” you muttered before he shot you a smile and hugged you again, his lips finding the top of your head in a friendly manner.

“Anytime, y/n.”

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tag list: @tovvaa @killingbxys @moniamaybank @makebank @saharamae21 @x-lulu @taylathornton @mxltifandoms06 @dpaccione @bibliophilewednesday @rudybarnes @dpaccione @marjorie189 @vintageobx @cognacdelights @saraxthompson @astronomical-parker @ilovejjmaybank @drewstarkeysbitchh @maybanksslut (strike through means I couldn’t tag you)

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#jj #jj maybank #jj imagine #jj x reader #jj fanfic #jj fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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bluewhale52 · 4 years ago

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Little Black Book: The One You Hate (M)

Summary: There are a few names in your Little Black Book, and these seven hold a special place in your heart. Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men, especially with Kim Seokjin, the one you hate.

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED.

Genre: nonidol!au, strangers to lovers, friends with benefit

WC: 3.9k

Warning: swearing, car blowjob, ass slapping, OC loves going down on Seokjin, sex against a window, sex between coworkers, love-hate relationship between OC and Seokjin (more on OC). I guess that’s about it….

A/N: Many, many, many thanks to @rainbhrts94 for beta-ing this piece. I was experiencing a burnout and having a hard time putting all my thoughts together, and her reviews and suggestions totally helped getting this fic into its final form. Thank you!! Also, I’m a total dodo when it comes to Tumblr so with some help from @aroseforyoongi and @moccahobi, I’m reposting this with hope that the link works this time round!

Series Masterlist: Little Black Book

Kim Seokjin was the bane of your existence.

The cocky, arrogant IP attorney from the New York office had everyone on your floor in an uproar for weeks. You had seen him making one of the conference rooms his home away from home, with a hoard of lawyers and secretaries going in and out at his beckoning. You were watching them with jealousy. Sure, you were a mere junior in the firm and therefore the lowest in the food chain (just slightly above the interns), but you really wanted to be part of the action.

Then, somehow, during his last few days in Seoul, you were picked to help him and his team. Your excitement soon turned sour, as you were constantly on coffee and photocopy duties. How could you prove your worth when you were too busy being worked as Kim Seokjin’s personal server? Why couldn’t he ask one of his groupies? There were plenty of secretaries and PAs throwing themselves at him; you bet one of them would be happy to do this… THIS menial job. It was truly beneath your job description, and you started to simply, truly hate the man.

If that was really the case though, how did you end up in his luxury rental car, bending over towards the driver seat, sucking his cock? How did your mouth end up around his shaft, while your saliva dripped down and coated your fingers around his base? Why were your panties getting wetter with every moan and groan that left his lips? Why did you wish he would just spank your ass instead of tugging your hair? Why, when he came, did you gobble up his seed so greedily and lick him clean? Why did you even feel the need to stick your tongue out to him to show him you had swallowed every single drop?

Seokjin exhaled sharply then looked over at you as he tucked himself back in. “You do this with every visiting attorney?” He leered at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Just the one that pisses me off.”

He chuckled. “I should piss you off more then.”

“Are you going to drive me home or what?”

Seokjin started his car. The engine purred, and you pressed your thighs closer together at the soft vibrations that went through the car. “I promised I’d buy you dinner first, didn’t I?”

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I had a meal already, thanks.”

Seokjin sniggered as he pulled out of the parking lot. He had offered to drive you home - “the least I can do after all your hard work this week” he had said- and while your little apartment was at the other end of the city from the five-star hotel he was staying, it was indeed the least he could do for you. So when you had settled in his car and buckled your seatbelt, after he had asked if he could buy you dinner, you- in your frustration, because you hated him and you just wanted to go home (god, was that too much to ask)- muttered under your breath on how you would rather suck his dick than have dinner with him.

You had been taken aback when he broke into a brazen smile, challenging you to eat your own words, and damned if you were going to back down. Deep down, you had wanted to see if this perfect man with the perfect face and the perfect suits tailored around his perfect body (he had legs that went for miles, you hated to admit), also had the perfect dick.

It turned out that he did, and his perfect dick was perfectly hard when you unzipped him. And so, that was how you went down on Kim Seokjin, giving him a near perfect blowjob, in his car, in the basement parking lot of your firm. (Near perfect because honestly, you could have done a lot more had you had more ample space to move.)

You stole a glance at Seokjin as he drove. His side profile was sharp and too good to be true. Flashes of lights only further highlighted his jaw and cheekbones. You looked away, pouting.

“I’m flying back tomorrow evening.” He broke the silence. “You gonna miss me?”

You scoffed. “You wish. I’ll finally be able to do real work rather than making you coffee.”

He had the gall to laugh. “I’ll be back in two months. Don’t worry.”

The rest of the drive was quiet. How did you get into this? How could you possibly be so horny for him? Was it your dislike for him that made you like this? You should have known better than blowing him in his car just now. What if he started shooting his mouth off in the office? Or worse, in your personal promised land, THE New York office?

“Seokjin,” you started, “about what happened just now, I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”

“Of course, I’m not Yuna.”

You tilted your head at the name. Yuna was one of the senior partners’ secretary. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? She’s been telling everyone how good I was in bed.”

“You slept with her?” You couldn’t mask your surprise. “I didn’t hear anything about it. I must’ve been so out of loop with the rumor mills. Wait… Is that why you’ve been asking me to do all that shit? So you don’t have to deal with her?”

“Smart girl.” Seokjin made a turn, stopping just outside your apartment complex. He turned off the engine.

“And here I thought you liked my coffee. And how I photocopied your endless documents.” You said dryly. “Thanks for the ride.”

Seokjin stopped you before you exited his car. “Aren’t you going to invite me to your place?”

You chortled. “Why, you need a goodbye fuck?” You spat it out, but internally, you hoped your playing hard to get was not going to backfire.

“Hmm,” Seokjin looked out of the car, eyeing your apartment building. “What kind of bedsheets do you have?”

“What do my bedsheets have to do with anything?”

“500 thread count? Or pure linen?”

You opened the car door and got out. “Bye Seokjin.”

He got out too, walking you to the main entrance. “I’ll buy you some. For next time I’m here. Two months from now.”

You scanned your access card, but he stopped you from opening the door.

“Not gonna kiss me goodnight, sweetheart?”

You turned to him and leaned forward. But instead of kissing him, you stuck your tongue out and licked him, along his jaw, all the way to his ear. You did not miss the shiver that ran through his body when you closed your lips around his earlobe. Smiling smugly, you opened the door, and as you were about to walk into your safe haven triumphantly, Seokjin slapped your ass. You stilled yourself, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction.

“See you in two months, sweetheart.” You heard him chuckle as the door closed behind you.

Kim Seokjin was truly the bane of your existence.

~~~

He returned to Seoul in two months. You were not keeping track on your calendar, no of course not. You just knew because the commotion was back, as it always was when he stepped into the office. He picked you again to assist his team (Yuna gave you an evil eye for that), and at the end of the work day, when you were filing papers and folders, he slipped a small envelope into your hand.

“Open it at your desk.” He said in a low whisper.

You looked at the envelope quizzically before putting it into your pocket. “Is it your credit card? To buy pure linen bed sheets?” You whispered back.

“Sweetheart, I already bought you a few sets from New York.”

You snorted. Later, when you were back at your desk, you took the envelope out and opened it. You found a note with a gold monogram of Seokjin’s initials at the top. You laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Under his insignia, was a series of digits you assumed to be his mobile number. You saved it in your phone.

There was something else in the envelope, however. A piece of key card, with the logo of the five-star hotel on one side, and handwritten 4-digit number on the other. Your eyes widened. Was this an invitation to his hotel room?

You peered out of your cubicle like a meerkat, trying to find where Seokjin was. Then you remembered foolishly you had his number. So you immediately texted him.

– You [18:40] : Seokjin, WTF???

– You [18:40] : also, nice stationery

– You [18:40] : it’s me btw

– Seokjin [18:41] : hurry the fuck up. I’ve been waiting for you in my car

You smiled. The time had finally come, you were going to fuck Kim Seokjin.

~~~

You had to admit, high quality bed sheets felt amazing. It hugged your naked body like soft clouds as Seokjin pounded into you relentlessly. His thrusts had caused your body to move, inch by inch, from one end of the bed to the other. You were not complaining though; the way he rammed himself into you made your breasts bounce back and forth like a pendulum on a string, the feeling was so delicious.

You gripped the edge of the bed as you watched him over you. His usually perfect hair was messy now, his perfect face was void of the usual laser focus expression you normally saw at work and of the arrogant smirk he liked to give you. His broad shoulders and lean torso filled your vision- you had had fun stroking your hands over his pecs, abdomens and biceps. God, you hated how perfectly hot he was.

You whined pathetically when he plunged his cock and pushed it as deep as he could into you. Seokjin dropped to his elbows, and you welcomed the new weight on top of your body. He stilled, letting his hardness rest inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and could not help but clench around his cock. He groaned against your chest at the sensations.

“Do that again, sweetheart,” he nibbled and licked your collarbone, “squeeze my cock again.”

You did as he asked, tightening your walls around him before loosening again, repeating the movements and creating your own erotic Kegel exercise around his cock. You could feel Seokjin’s breath faltering on your neck, and before long, you were careening towards your peak.

“Seokjin,” you gasped, “close.”

He remained still, even at your warning. Choosing to work his lips on your neck and up to your ear instead. Finding a spot behind your ear, he licked and nipped at it, sending shudders all over your body and suddenly pushing you to your release. Seokjin held you down as your body shook, willing himself not to come, but the way your pussy walls massaged his cock, it did him in.

You and Seokjin held each other tight as you both came. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his hips pressed harder against yours as he shot his seeds inside you. Finally groans and moans gave way to heavy breathing, and as your heart rate slowed down, sanity returned.

You opened your eyes. “God, don’t do that EVER again.” You slapped his shoulder. “I’m super ticklish there.”

Seokjin hummed, and nipped at the spot again. You yelped, but in the process you also squeezed his flaccid cock, still sheathed fully in you. “Now I know what to do when you talk too much.” He mumbled.

You tried to wriggle away from his mouth, but the more he teased your spot, the more you moaned, and the more your body became heated again. You were all ready for round two, but your stomach betrayed you, for it growled shamelessly. Seokjin’s eyes widened at the sound, and the two of you burst out laughing.

“OK, I’d better feed you before I fuck you against the window.” He pulled out of you, holding on to the spent condom on his dick. Walking to the bathroom, he gestured to the phone on the bedside table. “Whatever you order, order the same for me.”

And that was how you spent your first night with Kim Seokjin. Fucked out of your brains and eating room service food in his luxurious hotel room.

~~~

You gave Seokjin your Saturday nights whenever he was in town, which was only about three to four times a year.. You hated to admit it, but you enjoyed your time with him. It was obvious he liked your company too, and your arrangement worked out well. You both wanted sex with no strings attached. You enjoyed arguing with each other, although it felt like Seokjin lived solely to rile you up to get a reaction out of you. He said he was training you to hold your poker face better; after all, didn’t you want to be a successful attorney like him?

And that was the situation you found yourself in that evening. Seokjin kept prodding at you until your temper snapped, and you roughly pushed him to the chaise in his room. You quickly worked on his jeans and his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles, only to find his cock already hard and weeping with precum.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Making me angry turns you on so much, huh?” You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, lazily stroking it a few times before squeezing it gently at the base. Seokjin hissed, but his annoying smirk never went away.

“You can’t shut up your opponents by going down on every one of them,” he teased, his hand reached out to touch your hair but you swatted it away with your free hand, “no matter how sexy you are when you’re angry.”

You scowled as your hand continued stroking him. Keeping your eyes on his, you closed your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue lapping up his precum. Seokjin sucked in a breath.

“So what should I do then?” You asked before licking up and down his length. Seokjin threw his head back, enjoying the wetness of your tongue on his hot member.

“Hmmm… “Seokjin moaned. “Learn to control your temper better, sweetheart. You know how our kind is…”

Seokjin took a deep breath. Your tongue was still busy on his cock. It drove you nuts how addicted you were to the taste of him. “… especially to female attorneys..” Seokjin continued.

“Excuse me?!” you sat up straight, but your hand was still around his member, unconsciously squeezing it a little harder than normal.

“Ouch!” Seokjin yelped. “What are you trying to do? Pull my dick off?”

You sniggered, your grip loosened slightly as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me,” he asked, “how did your last case go? You almost lost because the opposing attorney kept throwing jabs at your gender, am I right?”

Your cheeks reddened. “How did you know about that?” you pouted.

“I get regular updates on you, sweetheart, I like to know how my protege is doing.”

You eyed him skeptically. “Wow, I’m so honored.” Your tone was flat, but your hand started pumping his cock faster. You thought back to the moment you nearly lost your temper in court, and you buried the memory deep. You leaned in and started to take Seokjin’s length into your mouth when it suddenly dawned on you.

“Wait,” Seokjin’s cock popped out of your mouth. “Is that why I didn’t get the promotion? I won that case but I didn’t get my promotion because I was too emotional?”

Seokjin groaned, in desire and in frustration. He looked down at you, kneeled between his legs, eyebrows scrunched up, eyes angry, mouth in a pout, and his hardness in the mercy of your hand. He ran a hair through his hair.

“Now that you recognise the problem, will you solve it?”

You nodded.

“So can we please continue?” He asked.

You nodded again before your mouth returned to his cock. You enveloped your lips around the head, sucking it gently and licking it until you heard him moan. You started taking more of him into your mouth, the muskiness of his scent filling your nose. His hands found your head and held it gently, his fingers carding your hair.

You continued to lubricate him with your saliva, relaxing your mouth and your throat to take all of him in. You steadied your breathing as you sucked in your cheeks, and you slowly pulled out all the way to the tip, before filling your mouth again. “That’s good sweetheart, you know just how I like it.”

You stupidly beamed at his praise, and it encouraged you to pick up your pace, sucking him faster and harder. His breathing was getting heavier, and you massaged his balls, eager for him to cum in your mouth. “No, no,” he pulled your head, and you came up gasping for breath. “I want to be in you now.”

You and Seokjin undressed immediately, and Seokjin went to the bathroom to retrieve a condom. He rolled the rubber as you positioned yourself by the window. The window felt cold on your back, but your core was wet and hot. Seokjin lifted you up effortlessly, and your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck.

Seokjin spat into his hand and rubbed his saliva over your cunt. Then the blunt head of his cock was at your entry, and he pushed it in, inch by inch until he was fully inside you. Adjusting his grip, ensuring he got you secured between him and the window, he started to move. Slowly at first, and once your juices were flowing and leaking, he went faster.

You felt sweat developing on your back, making your body slippery against the glass. You dug your fingers into Seokjin’s shoulders, anchoring yourself up as he continued to pound into you. You turned your head to the side, catching the city skyline in the corner of your eye.

“God, Seokjin,” you whined wantonly, “When I get that New York position, will you fuck me like this with the New York skyline in the background?”

Seokjin huffed, his hips not missing a beat. “Sweetheart, you’ll never get the New York position.”

You snapped your head back to look at Seokjin, he was still thrusting mercilessly into you. You pulled his hair. “What do you mean I will NEVER get the New York position?”

Seokjin’s smirk was back. He pulled out slowly then he rammed himself back into you hard, making you mewl. “It means…”

He took his time thrusting into you again.

“… you will…”

Another slow and hard thrust.

“… never get…”

He was hitting the sweet spot inside you.

“… the New York position.”

You cried out at his last thrust. “Because I’m too emotional?” you asked breathlessly.

“Because… “ his mouth was inching closer to the sensitive spot on your ear, “we’re closing that office.”

You gasped, at the news and at Seokjin’s sudden change of pace. He was fucking you fast again, pressing your body harder against the window.

“Wait.. ah, Seokjin… “ you said between pants, “does that mean…”

You could not finish your question because Seokin began nibbling and sucking your ear, sending your body rigid as the pressure on your cunt was waiting to explode.

“Yeah,” Seokjin panted. “I’ll be back in Seoul for good, sweetheart.”

You threw your head back against the window as Seokjin continued pistoning into you, pushing you towards and over your climax. You wailed in pleasure as the heat enveloped you. He did not let up at the slightest, his hips kept thrusting into you ruthlessly even as you began to sob from the oversensitivity.

Seokjin wrapped his arms around you tightly to move you, and you both collapsed on the bed, his cock still secure in you. He rolled to his back, bringing you on top of him. He slapped your ass. “Can you ride me?”

You pushed yourself up with your arms, your hair curtaining Seokjin’s face. You started to move your hips back and forth as you tried to get your breathing back. The sensitivity in your sex slowly turned into pleasure once again, and you quickened your pace. Seokjin moved his hands to your breasts, squeezing the flesh and flicking the nipples as they swung before him.

“Does… does this mean you’re gonna be my boss?” You asked between moans.

“Do you want me to be your boss?” Seokjin tugged your nipples, causing your back to arch.

“You’ll scold me everyday.”

“And I’ll fuck you every Saturday.” He thrusted up to meet your hips. “You like that?”

“Fuck no…” you felt the heat returning back to your core. “I’ll just hate you even more.”

Seokjin slapped your ass. “Just admit it, sweetheart, I’m your favorite among all your other fuck toys.”

You stammered as Seokjin thrusted up again, and he took the opportunity to pull you down onto his chest. Planting his heels on the bed, he held you down as he started thrusting his hips to plunge his cock into you, fast and hard. You closed your eyes tightly and felt tears slipping down your cheeks as you came closer to your climax.

“Come on sweetheart,” Seokjin whispered in your ears, “give me one more. Milk my cock.”

You cried out as your body jolted and shook. Seokjin kept holding you down, chasing his own release too. His thrusting became more messy, and he finally came too, swearing and groaning loudly.

You stayed still on top of Seokjin, your heart beating out of your chest, and so was his. You both lay on the bed, bodies sticky with sweat, waiting for the haze of your orgasms to pass.

“If you become my boss,” you whispered, “I want no special treatment.”

“Of course not, sweetheart. The only special treatment you get is I feed you after sex.”

You chuckled. “Speaking of…”

Seokjin rolled you over and pulled himself out. “Yeah yeah, order whatever you want.”

~~~

Today

Seokjin walks into your room. You barely glance up, used to him barging in whenever he likes.

“So, Yuna told me there’s a tall drink of water waiting for you in the lobby.” He plopped down on the little settee in your office. “So naturally I went to see. And you’d better get there before Yuna devours him.”

You glance at your watch. It’s ten minutes to 7pm. You smile softly, leave it to your boyfriend to arrive early. “He’s my boyfriend. I told you about him.”

Seokjin ahs. “So, that’s the man who took away my Saturday night fun.”

You glare at him as you tidy up your desk. “Yeah well, he feeds me AND reads me poetry after sex. So, sorry.”

Seokjin stands up as you ready yourself to leave.

“Besides, now we play Maple Story every Saturday, surely that’s more fun?” You tease him. He chuckles and rubs his chin. He accompanies you walking down the hallway towards the lobby.

Before you arrive at the glass door separating the inner office from the reception area, you turn to Seokjin and ask, “Do you want to meet him?”

Seokjin thinks for a moment. “Does he know about our history?”

“He knows MY history, but I never share any names with him.” you explain. “He only knows you as my asshole boss.”

“Now I am offended. I thought I was a nice boss!”

“Well, I rant about you too much maybe. But he doesn’t mind, because you know what happens when I get riled up.” You wink.

Seokjin laughs. “What a lucky bastard. OK, come on, introduce your asshole boss to your boyfriend.”

Published 01022021

#thebtswritersclub #noonasinnetwork #thetruthuntoldnet #purplearmynet #bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x oc #littleblackbook

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generallypo · 4 years ago

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in all sincerity, kim dokja makes me happy and he deserves to be so too :^(

incoherent yelling and sobbing under the cut. these fEELINGS will not be contained aaauuunnghhh.

------

anyway i binge-read all 500+ chapters of ORV this week and i honest to god feel bad for this -- completely! fictional! aghhhh -- guy. in case you haven’t figured it out, the following is some spoilerly shit

i went in expecting a fun, brainless power trip fantasy for dudes with an isekai addiction. instead, it turns out ORV is actually a gigantic, self-deprecating prank on the entire genre itself. kdj plays more into the sad -- if high-functioning-- clown trope than the sexy, edgy, chuuni bastard type i was prepared to laugh at. there were -- gasp! -- female characters with personalities! parents (aka ADULTS who act like ADULTS) who actually survive and feature prominently! adorable children! a real sexy, edgy bastard! a power trio with amazing fashion! sexual tension and bickering! friendship! life and death bonding!

*breathes in deeply* fouND FAMILYYYYYYY.

like, yeah, the plot around the first few arcs seems a little aimless, but the buildup is worth. the world-building is pretty decent. there’s discernible effort put into the fight scenes, and i can appreciate that. but -- but! what i stayed for were the characters -- namely, the fantastic OT3 of KDJ, HSY, and YJH -- who come together despite their initial rivalries and end up saving each other’s asses, like, every other day. granted, the other characters don’t get as much focus, and they do fall into certain character tropes..

but a trope done well is nothing i would gripe about. every significant character in ORV has a coherent, and more importantly, respectful take on their respective trope. maybe it’s because sing-shong is actually a married couple, but all the interactions between even minor characters are a convincing blend of awkward rambling, suggestive humor, sharp remarks, and casual banter. in other words, this cast of mostly working adults (plus a teen and two kids) talks like working adults. the relationships built throughout the story are, frankly, some of most realistic of its genre. sing-shong has managed to craft a dynamic that undoubtedly brims with fluffy fondness all around, but also drips with sarcastic tension, with unspoken urgency, with a wariness that softens into sincerity over the course of many, many chapters. it’s the kind of progression that makes even stock characters read like more than just the 2-bit villain or comrade or love interest. here, we have relationships both straightforward and not, strained or otherwise, romantically-oriented as well as decidedly the opposite -- and then numerous others scattered along the spectrum with the freedom to shift either way.

it’s also an interesting point of note that our MC kdj actually does not end up with a stated romantic partner, much less a conventional heteroromantic harem. he gets teased about that fact from time to time, but it’s with less of the sleazy shonen locker room humor one would expect and more of the good-natured ribbing you’d find among friends or that one especially nosy auntie at the yearly family reunion. kdj is a grown ass man. in the background, i applaud his maturity, and he handles all the prodding like a champ.

so instead of finding and fulfilling his horny, he builds himself a wealth of loving family. yeah, there are beautiful men and women around him. yeah, they unequivocally adore him. but they’re also adults, and they have priorities, too -- which are not so much finding a way to bang kdj’s brains out and more so simply keeping the damn guy alive. this is truly not ‘oblivious mc with his thirsty, sex kitten harem’. it just so happens that a guy proves himself to be unflinchingly gentle and capable in an apocalyptic setting despite his broken self-esteem, and lots of people find that attractive, romantically and platonically.

it.. kinda makes sense? he’s a hard worker, thoughtful, and good with kids. kdj is the kind of guy you know would make a reliable partner, and anybody with eyes can plainly see and appreciate that.

and it’s not that our MC’s a total brick wall. in fact, it’s likely the opposite, and he’s just too darned repressed to admit it. from what has been implied, kdj does indeed recognize and accept love, or at least a primitive concept of it. i like to imagine that the kind of love that he ends up seeking out simply manifests itself more easily as acceptance and safety, as warmth and a home of people to return to every day. even better, the people who surround him know this, and they give him exactly that. it’s refreshing, and honestly, really sweet.

(as a side note, i really, really do appreciate the cosmic bi energy radiating off of kdj, who canonically earns the title of being loved by all and is all but in name married to yjh and hsy. he also respects women and small children and honestly anyone who isn’t total scum to him or his family. i respect that.)

but the happy stuff aside, you know it it just ain’t ORV without the generous screaming dollop of angst. admittedly, there’s self-sacrifice, injury, lonesome wandering, more sacrifice, some epic fighting, reunion and confrontation. all of it is a lot to digest, sure, but never does it feel entirely hopeless, or truly, truly heart-clenching. ORV, up until the final act, is a mostly light read. you relax in your chair, thinking that nothing beyond this point can disturb you.

yeah fucking right.

------

and then the beginning of the end arrives. when the squad finally break through to their ‘ending’, the scene that kind of breaks me is the reveal of the Most Ancient Dream. it ties so much thematically into the little tidbits that we get of kdj’s past, and it though it feels like almost a joke that the source of the goddamn apocalypse is a kid with bruises smeared across his skinny ass body -- it’s such a pathetic picture that it’s kinda poetic, actually. you’re left mystified but somewhat convinced, like a math problem explained halfway through. this.. child.. is a villain somehow, isn’t he?

and then 999th turn uriel speaks up, and she. just. hugs him.

[[You are this universe’s most powerless existence, aren’t you.]]

that. that gets me. kdj’s reaction immediately upon this revelation? absolute murder. seeing him essentially self-destruct upon realizing that all these people he’s surrounded himself with -- some who continuously proclaim their loyalty and affection for him throughout their journey, some who suffered eons of war and loss and trauma because of his existence -- not only forgive his younger self but smother him with unconditional acceptance and love is stifling, is too vulnerable and exposed and he simply can’t cope -- it’s so telling of his true mentality, of his crippling insecurity and crumpled sense of self-worth. kim dokja is a liar, through and through, so much that he fails, or perhaps refuses, to comprehend the veracity of others’ kindness and love towards himself.

by some miracle, the events at the end of the world somehow resolve.. or so it seems. there is a departing train, a liberated team of ex-gods, and a child rousing from his slumber. in the aftermath, i am left shaking. somehow, despite the ending having been (happily?) reached, there’s still another chapter ahead. what is this witchcraft?

------

and then ah, yes -- the epilogue arc. i teetered on the edge of being critical for a little bit there -- is that display of deus ex machina, of sad, self-sacrificing nobility a bit too egregious to be acceptable? is this some wild last let-me-yank-this-outta-my-ass plot twist to drag out the chapter count? i sincerely thought that the arc before it would have been the finale. i was wrong. thank god.

anyways, as an answer to the above: no, and no. i stake my firm claim on the belief that the epilogue arc was meticulously planned out well in advance of its release, confusing and time-warpy as it is. i liked it. tremendously. even if it entirely invalidates all of kdj’s supposed development (”haha lol yeah sure i won’t sacrifice myself or anything anymore guys don’t worry about me” -- KDJ, at some point because he’s a lying rat bastard). actually, our beloved MC disappears for a large chunk of this arc, and i think it’s great. in his absence, the other characters not only go absolutely fucking nuts, but they have to figure out this new problem on their own, even if the lure of peaceful complacency in the newly saved Korea might convince them otherwise.

and then the whole time paradox thing comes around. yjh goes to space, hsy saves the only life she can, and kdj grows up. the crew waits, holding onto their hope even if it bleeds them dry. sing-shong does a damn good job of illustrating their fraying calm, their lurking madness, the unseen but pervasive depression that seeps in from kdj’s absence. the kids lose their father, lhs and jhw lose their reliable leader figure, ysa loses a best friend and confidant, lsk -- as distant as she pretends to be from her son -- loses her only child. and then there’s hsy and yjh , who are essentially bereft of the other half of their existences. their pain is palpable, is grounded in the hopeless, gnawing frustration of an utterly meaningless victory. emotionally, ORV hits all the right -- if agonizing -- beats.

however, a story can’t sustain itself just through its pathos. i’m happy to say that ORV doesn’t drop the ball after the first milestone, and after all the hurt, the characters do leap straight back into action. even better, the plot holes actually do get patches, and the poetic cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader comes full circle by making use of all those supposedly throwaway characters from the myriad world lines.

at the end of the road, there is a distinct sense of unity, of a delicate but undeniable cohesion to the world lines and their origins. sing-shong lets us guess a little here at the finish, but there’s just enough information to feel hopeful. maybe there never had been a definite start -- or finish -- to the story of kdj company, and... that’s okay. everybody ends up where they were meant to be, where they fought and struggled to reach. it’s.. almost like a happily ever after, if we’re allowed to dream of that.

------

now, i realize, this was all an orchestrated maneuver.

i’ll take it.

to me, all of this work sounds like someone put some serious thought into this behemoth of a plot. it cements the entire original premise of the story. it suggests -- but never explicitly confirms! -- the possibility that breaking free of the cycle is possible through the exact same system that sustains it. it’s terribly interesting -- and inspirational! with all the dramatic revelations and life-threatening scenarios and the cast’s resigned acceptance of them that essentially make up ORV’s entire mood, there’s still that last hint of rebellious and righteous anger that lights up the whole damn nebula. it’s like the kdj company blasting away at the heavens just to yell into the nether: we’re not looking for the happy end, but the free one. stay alive.

it’s subtle, and yet it’s such an emotional gut punch. i came away with the most ruinous, frustrating, bittersweet sense of longing in ages. i pined. for these fictional darlings. god, i am weak.

so. yeah. ORV is pretty good. flawed, but ambitious and impressively thought out. i’m stoked that the webtoon is making pretty good progress, even if it’ll take an eternity and a half to meet that monstrous chapter count. i’m still gonna follow it. hell yeah.

------

(by the way the idea that secretive plotter and co are literally gonna take care of and raise baby kdj and spoil him and be the best friggin family a kid could ever want does things to me. protect him. he’s suffered too much. let at least one worldline’s version of him know happiness. and actually, aLL OF THEM DESERVE DOMESTIC BLISS TOGETHER IN A BIG OL MANSION WITH SUN AND FRESH AIR AND TENDER FAMILY MOMENTS UGH)

------

and there you have it, folks. you made it to the end. in the far, far distance, i’m cheering you on and crying my eyes out in gratitude. thanks for tuning in!

#omniscient reader #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #fanart #kdj happiness rights!#protect him!#let! him! have his big house! with everyone! he loves!#please!#long ass emotional screeching #look i can't do him justice with drawing but hell can i yell out my love for him :'^DD

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har-rison-s · 5 years ago

Text

your worth

request: Loki Smut please! Perhaps both Reader & Loki are in love with each other but in denial. Loki thinks he's a monster and a human could never love him til she proves him wrong.

A/N: Listen,,,, I live for this type of smut. I don't know why. Something about comforting someone or making them feel like they matter is... I love. God, I probs sound desperate. But honestly, I just want to love someone :> Anyway :D I love this request, if you can't already tell, and I hope you'll like it. I hope the anon who requested this is still following me! Truth is, I started writing this one back in July 2019 and got around to finish it two days ago and I've finally done it! it's been tough, that's for sure, I've had many writer's block moments. And I think this is actually my first ever Loki thing. It must be, yeah. Though I feel like I've wrote his character a million years already. I certainly did my best on this one. Smut is always a tad harder than fluff or angst for me and I wish to improve my skills at writing it. Happy reading! Love you all!

main masterlist

mcu masterlist

warnings: angst, smut, comfort.

“Oh, Steve! Star-crossed lovers, seven o'clock.” Tony speaks, seeing Y/N and Loki walking - unplanned - together into the kitchen. Loki rolls his eyes while Y/N does nothing, perhaps only glancing at Loki for a split second, in fear. She searches for any shared emotion between them, even if it may be discomfort. Anything they could share. Loki and her are both tired from Tony's and Sam's constant teasing. But, like the mentioned two, the rest of the team also see what's really going on between Y/N and Loki.

Now, Loki is in bigger denial than Y/N, because her feelings are showing more above the surface, easier to read. She’s recently realised it, hence she tries her best to conceal her feelings, her embarrassment, her truth, so no one could ‘crack her’. She would love to share these feelings with someone, scream them from the top of the Stark tower so that the whole world knows of it, and, most of all, to share them with Loki.

But Loki... He’s cold. He denies her supposed feelings, and his own when asked about it. He himself can't accept that someone like her, a beautiful girl inside out, a caring and loving one, could like, much less love, someone like him. Well, there's no one else like him, but... Loki's a monster. A villain in his eyes and those of others. He’s been cowardly and submissive his whole life, committed crimes in hopes of earning love, attention… Acceptance. He’s betrayed his dearest, and is known as a galaxy-wide criminal and villain. Who and how could ever feel such things as love or affection towards him?

“Your endless teasing is growing pathetic, tin-man.” Loki says to Tony, grabbing the coffee machine's handle to pour himself a cup of the terran liquid. A liquid he’s learned to love the taste of over these several months he’s spent in the tower. Tony snorts. To that Loki only shoots the man a look, though he wished he hadn’t.

“Tony, you should stop. It is starting to get old, this joke of yours.” Steve points out and turns over a page in the paper he's reading. Y/N makes quick work of taking sandwiches from the fridge. Mainly because she hates to be the topic of anyone's open discussion, but also because she can't bear hearing Loki denying his love for her. Truth be told, it hurts her very much.

Y/N only puts a dirty bowl in the dishwasher and walks out of the kitchen, leaving the others feeling quite empty with her leave. Loki's eyes sadden a bit upon it, though he erases that soon. He would have loved to be alone with her in the kitchen. Merely her presence soothes him, simply the breath that leaves her chest through her nose, her quiet touch of hand on counter and feet on floor. But not when these two are around. Her alone. It's far too many people for Y/N there, too many eyes and needless constant comments of the head of the team, hence she decided to come back later.

She could always enjoy Loki’s presence in their lonesome, but not with others present. Though when she does have the chance, she cannot enjoy it for her nerves and anxiousness, her insecurities.

“Not until something happens.” Tony states, his chin resting in his hand. “I believe—”

“Whatever theory you are about to voice, Stark, will prove you wrong.” Loki interrupts him, putting on a false smile and batting his eyelashes mockingly. Tony and Steve both look at the god drinking coffee. Loki’s gaze is unbreakable on the two.

“—that my teasing, as you call it, will do the exact trick that needs to be done in order for you to get over all this and just—tell each other everything!” Tony raises his hands in the air and looks at Steve. The captain shakes his head at Tony and looks back down at his paper, merely as tired of this as Loki and Y/N are. He’s thinking of leaving the kitchen soon, too.

“And what would you call 'everything'?” Asks Loki. The master of hiding anything that comes from his heart or his mind, hiding his true intentions. He's playing them both for fools. And himself. He knows what he feels, but he doesn't want to acknowledge it and is afraid to state his feelings.

“Oh, please,” Tony starts with an eye roll, “do I really have to tell you what you want to tell her? Honesty - is it not familiar in your realm?” A pause. “Your undying longing! You want each other, it's clear as day!”

“You don't know what you are talking about. Your human eyes see what you want them to—which is false—for what reason, I cannot guess,” Loki says, “no one could feel... longing for me. Or want me. That'd be...”

“Impossible?” Steve suggests. Loki gives him a look. “Surprises myself, this what I say, but that’s not true.” Loki now gives him a confused look.

“What could be so wrong with a regular girl liking you? Or being with one?” Tony questions. “You’re discriminating the human race, huh.”

“What's in it for you, regular man?” Loki asks, squinting his eyes at the two men. Tony laughs, but Loki ignores it and slams his empty coffee mug into the sink, leaving the kitchen afterwards in a surprisingly calm stride.

“Hey, horns! No dishes in the sink!” Tony calls after Loki, but he gets no response. Steve looks at his team-mate.

“Really think something as big as a god would care about a dirty, empty cup of coffee?” He asks and closes the newspaper he was trying to read. Tony once again is at fault for his failure.

“Worth a shot.”

“You're the worst match-maker I've met.” Steve admits and stands up from the kitchen table, leaving the room afterwards. Tony frowns, but doesn't doubt himself either way. He knows he's right. About the coffee cup and about Y/N's and Loki's probability of being a thing. It'll happen at some point.

“Wanna bet?” Stark calls out to the hallway Steve walked down, but he gets no response from the super soldier. Instead, another voice speaks.

“Bet on what?” Tony hears Y/N's sweet voice behind him, entering the now empty and lonesome kitchen. Unnoticed, she slipped in the room through another door, good for quiet entries, but far from her own room.

“Oh, you came back.” Tony states and Y/N eyes him across the table they're at. “Didn't like me and Steve sharing you two's company, huh?”

“Me and who's company?” She asks, confusion riddling her face as she makes herself sandwiches, again. The plate that adorned the previous ones now in the sink next to Loki’s cup. The mischief god has noticed her appetite and skill for handmade sandwiches, and the sight of her making another pair usually paints a warm smile on his lips.

“Just your one and only.” Tony says in a sickeningly sweet sing-song kind of voice, decoratively placing his palms under his chin.

Y/N scowls. “There's nothing between me and Loki and I doubt there ever will be.” She says and even chuckles at the end, when instead she wants to wallow in pity cause that's the probability that is bound to happen. No happy ending, no love from him, no affection, no reading books together, no gazing at the stars, nothing shared… None of that. Only loneliness and longing now left for her.

“So you do hope for something to happen?” Tony questions and Y/N gives him an angry look.

“Why would I? I'm not ready for relationships.” She replies carelessly with a simple lie that’d struck the god in question straight into the heart. Only she wanted to add, unless Loki would want one with me. But she didn't. She doesn't like him, she doesn't want him. It'd be silly if I did. “Did you talk about... anything with him?” She betrays herself with these words.

Tony nods, grinning to himself. He has cracked her. There are feelings involved. “He said that, and I'm using his words, someone longing for him, wanting him, is impossible. And a human feeling it is even more impossible.” He says. “Basically, he dodged a bunch of questions, but we all know what’s really going on.”

“Sure does sound like him.” Y/N agrees quietly. Silence falls between the two as Y/N slices salad with a knife. Tony sighs.

“Could you please do yourselves and us a favor and cut the damn sexual tension between you?”

“A what now?” Y/N echoes, scoffing, a shocked expression on her face. “Firstly, if I was to do something, it wouldn't be because of you. I do things for myself, thank you very much. I don't need a motivator.”

“And secondly?” Tony asks, looking strongly at Y/N. She realises after a moment she has nothing to add to her second point. Well, nothing that Tony should know from her. “You'll feel much better if you get everything sorted out.” Tony states and Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Stark.” She says before walking out of the kitchen for the second time this morning. Tony stays in his pose for a few seconds, wondering if he has worked his plan out and if it will work out on its own.

The day goes by and Y/N has found herself suffering from anxiety throughout it. She doubts herself, she worries about, perhaps, showing too much of her true feelings outwardly. This love, this unreturned, one-sided love should not exist. She should never have had such affectionate feelings towards him. She’s lesser than him, and he sees her so, as anyone of his title and kind would. He is a god, a god thrice older than a thousand years, the same amount older than Y/N herself.

She is a simple human girl, she’s only gifted, that’s what could ever make her special in the eyes of someone his kind. She cannot compare to him, or his brother. She’s so little against the metaphorical and physical him, they simply… do not match. He knows this well and could never return the feelings because of this. She’s stupid to even hope for that.

But she knows little of what he thinks of her. She’d be delighted, to say the least, if she’d ever hear his thoughts aloud. He thinks of her heavenly, much more heavenly than himself and any other creature he’s seen. He thinks of her as sent from the Allfathers, a precious gift to all everyone she meets in her life. She’s truly all grace, love and beauty merged into one human being and Loki longs everyday to be bathed in it. He may only dream of it, though until a point.

Both of them spent the Saturday in their rooms, in their personal agonies. Many days like this have come and gone in their lives, days when Y/N is not on a mission, going out with the others, grocery shopping or doing anything otherwise productive. Y/N would be ready to write this Saturday down as the worst in her life until a certain minute struck past nine in the evening.

The team had gone out, an occasion Y/N was not ready to accompany them on tonight. Some type of celebration, maybe? Well, it always is, no matter the reason. So they left Y/N and some other usual sulkers to their own devices, one of them being Loki. Due to his surprisingly kind heart, tonight he decided on going to Y/N’s room, accompany her, if he may, all by her lonesome, and set his mind right by telling her how she feels.

He was pacing a bit before he headed the needed floor up the tower. Hands touching and mushing his own face times and times over, eyes bulging out of their sockets purely out of torturing anxiety. He moved his hair back, he tousled it back into messy locks, over and over. Having no peace in his mind or body.

Loki could fail miserably, doing what he’s intended to. He could give out his whole heart and soul to her, and she could laugh in his face. Crying would not be as bad as laughing, so he hopes crying is the worst to come of it. But it could not be the worst… The worst of all outcomes would be her inability to return the feelings. Gods, no… Loki hopes to all whose hands it’s in that she does not have this inability.

A knock comes softly to Y/N’s door. She raises her head from her book with curious eyes and raised eyebrows. She presses the button to open the sliding door, and to her most surprise, Loki almost falls through when the door opens. He is not used to this kind of technology, not yet. He leaves his door open, as in Asgard the bedrooms did not really have doors that can open and close. There were no doors at all.

Both their eyes meet and Y/N rises from her bed right to her feet, not letting the book go so her fingers would have something to nibble on out of stress. “Loki,” she says, her surprise very apparent in her voice still. The god simply stands in her doorway as the door closes automatically, dressed in… Oh, he looks gorgeous. Loki wears a green linen shirt, his signature colour, similar to those from medieval times, wide sleeves and strings instead of buttons. He does wear dress pants, though, which look like part of a formal suit two-piece, “good evening.”

“Good evening, my lady.” Loki greets back.

“What brings you here?” Y/N asks and tries to adjust her pyjama shorts, suddenly realising how undressed she is compared to Loki. Her stripy, loose button up and pyjama shorts are not her best look.

“Well, I—“ for a moment, Loki looks and acts like his regular self, seemingly about to burst out with a joke or a trick, his mannerisms tell her so. He glances at the corner of Y/N’s bed. “May I sit down?” He asks with innocent eyes. Y/N nods in response, gesturing for him to do so. He nods, sits down on her bed, his pose reserved and a bit stale. Y/N walks now to stand in front of him, but not too close. “I have come to tell you something.”

Y/N has rarely seen Loki this… gentle, this… fragile, sort of. He does not look like himself, but then again there looks to be revealed more a lot more of him than usual. Purely looking at his face, Y/N wants to whimper ‘i love you’, and she almost does. But thank god for self-control.

She crosses her arms over her chest out of habit. “I’m listening.” She says, a million positive and negative guesses going through her mind like a thousand volcanoes, making noise and chaos in there, most of all—permitting her to think clearly.

“I beg you to take this—what I will say—kindly.” Loki says, a saddened expression on his face. “It scares me and tears me apart to say, but I must for my own and your sake.” He starts and takes a deep breath. Here comes ‘i can’t stand you’, ‘i hate you’, ‘i don’t like your company’. Y/N furrows her eyebrows and tries to shut those thoughts out. “I find you, Y/N, very attractive, beautiful, really, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. And not only physically.” Her breath catches in her throat. “You are grace, beauty and wisdom in one body. You are… You are an angel sent from the Gods above to this Earth…”

Seeing the look on Y/N’s face, the look of surprise and confusion and eyes on the brink of crying, Loki’s doubts on himself begin to take over.

“I should not have those feelings for you, it is wrong for me to think of you this way, to,” he gulps, “to want to cherish you day and night, to give you as much love as you give away and deserve in return, and much more; to lay you gently to sleep and give every goodnight to you, as well as see you every morning that I wake. It is wrong.” Loki shakes his head and looks at you, clearly ashamed to have exposed his heart and yearnings like this, to someone, and ashamed of their truth.

Tears do gather in Y/N’s eyes and she unconsciously drops her book before rushing to stand before the god, carefully cradling his face between her hands. “Why do you think it’s wrong?” She whispers, scared, but searching his eyes for the answer. Loki’s pleasantly taken aback by her action.

“Because… look at me. You know well who I am.” Loki starts explaining after looking into Y/N’s eyes. “You know what I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt, the way I am, I’m—I’m—I’m a monster.” Loki finishes and guiltily eyes the girl cradling his cold cheeks. She closes her eyes, tears squeezing past her lids, and shakes her head.

“You are no monster.” She whispers even quieter than before. She opens her eyes to press a kiss to Loki’s forehead, which freezes him. She’s in agony, because her greatest love is thinking of himself so low. Loki’s ready to disagree with her, but she speaks before him. “You are not.” She shakes her head again, looking into Loki’s eyes, begging him to listen and believe her, feeling it’s hard to do so. He’s been hurt and he’s been mislead, there’s no wonder he wouldn’t believe every person he speaks with. But with her, it might be different.

Y/N puts her forehead against Loki’s. “You long for love, and appreciation, and I can relate to that deeply.” She tells him. “But I can also give you that what you desire.” She says and draws back to look into Loki’s eyes once again. He’s unsure, shown by his face, but willing at the same time.

Loki locks his hand around her wrist, but gently. “Are you certain?”

“Do not ask me if I’m certain. I have waited, it seems, my whole life, to give it all to you. And you only.” Y/N assures him. Her finger runs along the side of his face slowly, admiring the milky skin adorning his body. “Can I show you?”

“I’d love nothing less.” Loki says, agreeing to give himself to her freely. So she takes him, pushing Loki down on the soft covers and mattress of her bed and balancing herself on top of him. Her knees are on each side of his hips, pressing into the mattress as Y/N straightens her back above him.

Loki wants to keep this exact moment in his memory. She, with tears in her eyes, but with her beautiful hair falling around her face and shoulders, starts unbuttoning her striped shirt. Her face the most beautiful face, as always, and her eyes boring into him. Her crotch pressing into his lower stomach. Loki dares to moves his hands to her thighs, exploring the skin and flesh on her upper legs. Only groping them makes him more hungry and yearning for her.

Y/N doesn’t unbutton her shirt fully, she’s too impatient out of want to know how his lips feel, how he kisses, how his lips would move against hers. So she moves down to Loki, his face showing complete submission to her. Her hand caresses the edge of his hair at his forehead, then her fingers swipe against his cheek. These touches are already almos orgasmic to Loki, he leans into her touch like a kitten who hasn’t known home for long, and he mewls at her feather caresses.

Finally, her hand moves to the back of his neck, the fingertips just trace into the roots of his hair, she’s cradling his head. Their lips almost touch, and Loki can already feel them on his, just a few inches, and he’ll fall in love with her even more than he has already. The fatal kiss, he might call it.

He leans up out of impatience, but she already presses down, and they meet each other halfway. Whatever Y/N had thought would be kissing him like, what it actually feels like is a hundred, thousand, million times better. It is far better than she has felt in her life.

Loki’s mind goes numb. He never thought he could get this much satisfaction and pleasure from a mortal being. He never thought his expectations would be out-done. He thinks he’ll never feel anything that could out-do this in his long life. Now this kiss captures everything that they feel for each other intensely. All the love and lust, yearning and hunger, longing and reaching. All of it, in one kiss. How is that even possible?

Love must be magic.

Instinctively, Loki’s hands grasp Y/N’s thighs harder, pulling her closer to him. But her rolling back into place creates a grind against the god’s slender body, which makes Loki moan and all the more impatient. He longs to feel every inch of her against him, around him, on him, it doesn’t matter. He just needs to feel her.

Y/N presses another kiss on Loki’s lips, and another, and another. When she doesn’t, her mouth open in a gasp, Loki chases her lips and connects them both again. Her hands move to untie the front of Loki’s shirt, but when that is not enough, she untucks the shirt from his pants and slides her hands under the green shirt. Her hands feel warm against his chest, and his skin to her feels a little colder than her own chest.

The skin is smooth and a little slithery, Y/N cannot guess why. Does he use some special shower gel? Or was he born with skin like that?

Loki’s fingers cautiously wander around her hips and waist, wanting to explore every inch of her body, to know it, to know it best of anyone. But Y/N feels impatient, teased by his touch, and she grabs his hands in her own, straightening up again.

She moves his hands under her shirt now, both their actions mirrored, similar as they are both equally curious about the other. “You are not wrong to love me the way you do.” She assures him. “Touch me as you please, I have longed for your complete touch for the longest time.”

Loki would have cried out that he loves her more than anything, but he’s much too turned on to do so. She is sitting right above his growing-by-the-second arousal, causing them both teased pleasure and more arousal. Y/N lets his hands go, lets them wander on their own, feeling afterwards Loki’s touch on her waist, her back, her stomach. While she herself opens the top of his trousers and shrugs them down his legs carelessly, not interested in whether they are or are not completely off. She can only think about him.

His hands grip her back, pulling her down onto him. His next move is to get her pyjama shorts off, and he does so in a hurry. Once the garment is off, Loki grips the back of her head, Y/N’s hair bunching up and twisting under his fingers. Their lips interlock in an intense kiss, so intense, so full of emotion, that both involved shed tears. And the tears wet the other’s cheeks and lips, and they can taste the salt of the drops in each kiss they share.

Y/N thinks Loki’s fingers might dig holes into her back from the way he’s holding her. She pulls away from his lips and locks eyes with Loki again. “Make love to me.” She requests in a hushed whisper. Loki’s eyebrows raise for just a second, but he gets right on it, or rather, on her.

Loki gently lays her down on her own bed and kisses her neck, her collarbones, his hands already back to her waist. Y/N lets her hands lay by her head, sighs leaving her lips in pleasure, her chest moving up and down in semi-hiccups. Loki’s hair tickles her chest as do his lips, but he decides he cannot watch her from above for any longer.

“I am at your mercy.” He tells her, returning them both to the position they were in previously. Loki’s head now resting against the headboard, looking at her from below again. He loves this much more. Y/N manages a smile, resting both her hands on Loki’s heaving, growing-hot chest.

“I love you.” She whispers to him, and doing so, she tears up. Loki smiles at her, though a bit sadly, and makes her giggle as well. She takes the back of Loki’s neck again and pulls it towards herself, their foreheads once again pressed together. They pant, they cry and they laugh. It might sound insane, but they don’t much care.

“I love you.” Loki responds, his eyes looking so sincerely and strongly into hers. Y/N looks over what she sees of Loki an she smiles wide again, disbelief adorning her eyes. She cannot phatom the place and situation she’s in, she cannot phatom the person she’s with most of all. She whispers her love to him over and over, panting breaths interrupting her words, as well as her own kisses on Loki’s lips and cheeks. She pulls him closer to herself, whether it be possible or not, by the back of his neck, gripping his muscles under her delicate touch.

Loki gives her kisses back, very heated kisses, that each leave her running after fresh breath. Neither of them can wait no longer, and so Loki helps her get her underwear off and Y/N takes his length to line up with her entrance. Her face twists and she draws in a gasp of very high pitch when the tip is teasing her walls, Loki can’t deny his own sensitivity to the feeling. She feels so warm, she feels so silky, and she’ll be around him—

She takes over and pushes him whole inside of her, immediately awakening sounds and feelings in them both they didn’t know they could muster. Both of them freeze, mouths agape and eyes shut tight, their hands interlocked so tightly they might break each other’s bones.

“Gods, darling…” Loki sighs, speaking finally. She might have thought he went dead for the moment he tried to comprehend he’s really feeling this, he’s really buried himself inside of her, he’s really having this moment with her. Not any other guy or man, him, Loki.

Y/N shudders. With this first thrust already she can feel him near her spot. His size is incredible, and he’s quite thick. Though a little stretching and stinging at that, there’s pleasure much more than any pain. “C-Can I move?” She asks, opening her eyes to look on Loki. He nods, massaging her hand with his thumb over, readying them both for what’s to come.

She moves upwards, though lazily, and moans at the feeling of him reeling against her walls. She sinks down as deep as she can and lifts herself up again, now pressing their intertwined hands against Loki’s bare chest for support. He lets go of her hands and instead returns them to her waist. Going up and down on him, his hands were extra support. Because, honestly, she’s in such a trance from the feeling that she can barely make herself move.

Her hands move to his shoulders for even more support and her chest leans towards his, as much rythmically as her hip movements do. Soon enough he thrusts his hips to meet hers, and from then on their movements increase in speed. There is not enough air in the world for them to catch, there is never enough sound for them to show their satisfaction through. Mostly, there is not enough of each other they can get.

Loki pulls her down to himself merely to kiss her, feeling himself nearing the edge. His hand grips her face just right and Y/N clenches around him. It makes Loki accidentally bite down on her lip. She gasps and, oh, oh—she’s coming. She’s coming, and her nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. She is certain she now knows what drugs feel like. But this is certainly better than any drug. Because it’s love, and it’s passion, and it’s wonderful…

“Tell me you’re close,” she begs Loki, mid-orgasm.

“I am,” he confirms, “I love you.” He tells her again, reminding her and himself. He reminds himself because, for the first time in his life, his love and yearning to give his love, has been fulfilled. And returned. And he’s got to keep that in mind. Loki’s eyes look begging, almost praying to her, praying for her love.

He looks into her eyes when they both come, surprisingly in unison, but their eye contact is scarce mostly, her eyes are shut tight. She sings tunes of ecstasy, still barely moving on his length, as best she can. Loki fills her ears with growls and moans he’s finally not afraid to let out.

When she looks at him and nods ever so subtly, he understands with it that she’s done and he can pull out. So he does, slowly, making her mewl out of sensitivity. She feels a little sore, but it’s an ache she excuses because of who has made her so. She looks at him.

He helps her steady herself on top of him, her nakedness sitting on his stomach. They both do their best at getting their breath back, and as Y/N regains herself, she nears her face down to Loki’s. Their eyes lock. Loki puts his hands on both her cheeks. They share a gentle kiss and lay silently for a few moments, simply looking at each other and marveling in the wonder of one another.

“I never expected someone as delicate and gentle,” Loki admits in a soft whisper, “to love me.” His hand softly moves to caress her hair. She tilts her head.

“But you’re so…” she whispers herself, then unable to finish her thought and sentence, “you are so…” she struggles still. Loki smiles, even daring to chuckle. She looks at him, more disrupted by his laugh, but a small smile playing on her lips anyway, “you are so everything.” She finally says. “Everything I could ever want.”

“What about what you need?” Loki asks, his hand reaching for hers. She laughs, shaking her head.

“I don’t care about what I need as long as I know that my wants are equal to my needs.” She assures. Loki frowns.

“You needn’t throw yourself away for me, love.”

Y/N leans closer to him. “I have already done that.” She says and gives his cheek a kiss. “I’ll do that and more for you. And not just because you’re handsome, and not just because of you.” She starts to say and Loki raises his eyebrows, curious. “I knew at some point you’d be the one I love, and I’ve waited my whole life for someone I could love, someone I could give everything to.” She leans back up. “And I feel I’ve been made to love, you know, to love another or many. I guess you came along at the right moment. And even while I doubted you ever returning these feelings, even when I was convinced you didn’t feel the same, convinced you hated me. Loving you was enough for me.”

She looks back at him from looking around the whole time and finds Loki with tears in his eyes. “Sorry.” She says. “That just… came out.”

“Do not be sorry.” Loki shakes his head. “That was very beautiful, I think, because it’s the truth and it’s from you. Your heart’s ways are beautiful.” Y/N blushes at his words. Loki’s head then hangs a bit lower. “I was never sure I could be some who you could love. I’m me, and I may call myself a big chaos. I am not easy to love, so you’ve done a great job.”

“Why do you think so?” Y/N asks, now moving to lay in between Loki’s legs, her chin on his chest. Loki raises his eyebrows. “That you’re hard to love.”

“I have done terrible things, my darling… And I’ve lied. A lot.” Loki nods for effect. “And well, I’m the God of Mischief.” They both laugh. Of course he had to mention that, his arrogance does spring out. “So I doubt anyone could trust me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re no good for me.”

“Took my words, sweet girl.”

“Loki, I love you.” Y/N looks strongly into his eyes. “And we are good for each other.” She says in an angelic voice. “I know you disagree, but I can learn from you.”

“What exactly, darling, lying? Tricks?” Loki suggests with a sly grin.

Y/N laughs. “No.” She says then. “You’ll see.” Y/N rests the side of her face against Loki’s chest, also listening to his heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his torso and Loki’s hands go to hold her arms, almost protectively. Almost as if she’d disappear if he doesn’t hold onto her. “How much time will it take for you to realise your worth?”

____

Bonus material!

Before falling asleep the night before, Loki and Y/N agreed to making sandwhiches together, more so, Y/N teaching him how to actually make those. He complimented her skill and liking for sandwhiches, Y/N had blushed. So here they were, in their pajamas and in the Stark Tower’s kitchen, cutting lettice and ham and cheese all sorts that Loki’d wish to see in a sandwhich. Some combinations seemed strange to Y/N, but she trusted his taste and decided she wouldn’t try those exact ones.

“No, no, stop!” She scolds in a shushed whisper, with a smile playing on her lips. “Those are too narrow. Salad needs to be big, you know, with volume. Great size!” She decoratively growls at the last two words.

“Like myself.” Loki says and chuckles.

“Yes, mister, thank you for reminding me verbally. This time.” Y/N replies and returns to cutting cheese.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh not-maliciously.” Tony Stark declares in a whisper and takes more nuts from his snack bag. Steve Rogers takes some from the same bag before receiving a slap from Tony for it.

“Never thought the out-come would be like this.” Steve admits. Both their eyes are hazy while watching Y/N and the god work around in the kitchen. They’re standing in the hallway right where the shadow starts from the kitchen light so the lovers wouldn’t notice them. They won’t be there for a long time, anyway.

“Who are we watching?” Bucky Barnes asks when he comes up behind them with Natasha, and both grown men squeal in terror from the surprise, Tony dropping his snack bag. Bucky and Natasha burst into uncontrollable laughter while trying to pull the two team leaders further into the hallway to not get noticed. Well, with screams like little girls, that’s a little late.

Loki and Y/N look over their shoulders, spooked from the sound they heard but upon not hearing or seeing anything that could explain it—the former russian assassins did a great job of getting Steve and Tony away—they look at each other and shrug. Then they simply continue their culinary workshop in each other’s company.

A/N: I really wanna hold Loki like that :/

Permanent tag-list (I hope at least one of you likes Loki :D) : @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy@thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes@langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @eddie-spaghetti-boi@radiantrichie @terratori812 @urban-dreams @shawni-h

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki x you #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson imagines #loki smut #loki laufeyson smut #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #mcu imagine #mcu imagines

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pseudofaux · 5 years ago

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Tracassin {Comte/MC}

Nothing scandalous, but the desire is heavyyyyyyy. Kinda angsty. Please enjoy if that sounds like your thing! This gripped me in one of those creative MUST DO MAKE WORDS WRITE LONGING fevers. It’s been awhile, so I was happy to let it happen!

“Is it... Marcel?” she murmurs, back to the game they have been playing for weeks, always with much more space between them.

Rumpelstiltskin, Tracassin, she had suggested in the garden on one of her first happy days in the mansion, if you will not tell me your name, then let me guess! He had agreed, so eager to indulge her and feeling some relief that the game put him in the villain’s place. He could be her entertainer and friend, and of course he would protect her. But he could not orbit her like a lover would. They’d smiled companionably over their cups from the fine set of Limoges, the brilliant white space in the pattern reminding him of her unpointed teeth. He had been confident she would never guess his name. And he had thought it such a neatly-arranged way for her to pass the time, close but not too close.

She is being shockingly bold, but moreover needy, she is needy over his body there in the chair in the hourglass room, and she has said her need is for him, good Lord—

“Comte,” she whisper-whines, plump lips moving softer than her word over his cheek, his jaw. He would have sworn before this moment that he knew what it was to suffer, in life and in lust. Of course she would be the one to show him better. She has revealed so many of life’s joys to him already, clarified tastes like lemon juice in jellies and lifted cloche after cloche off the delights of Paris he may never have found without her. How could she do anything but make his despair a sharper, deeper cut? What will be left if all his rules bleed out of him through the split she is making in his heart? That is the true and most dangerous question.

Because it is so dangerous, he will resist her, he will gently extricate himself from the chair and he will get up and usher her out or leave the room himself. He will... he will remember his plan as soon as she moves her mouth from his jaw, the very second she stops sowing a soft line of kisses there, so precise that the gardeners of the Grand Trianon would weep to see the elegant devastation she is working against him. He has not felt flush on his own skin in such a long time but it is there now: inelegant, blotchy, lurid. A mockery of mortality. It makes him nervous in a way that is juvenile, as he remembers the first time he ever courted, the fumbling declarations, the warmth of love in youth, tender and unwise. Her face interposes itself between memories of learning to dance and kiss. He wants to groan but worries if he makes a single sound, he will break more than his own silence.

“Is it... Marcel?” she murmurs, back to the game they have been playing for weeks, always with much more space between them.

She is quite close now, the expanse of her skirts allowing the knee she has put on his chair to cage him in. The wingback could hide them from the world, if they were really lovers. Her body leaning to his, the sweet honesty of her seduction, these things have stunned him.

She pauses for his response, but before he can use the time to gather himself and move, she moving herself, shifting over his lap and making another guess. “No, not Marcel. Adrien?” She exhales a little laugh. The sound blooms from her throat, below the blood place. He can smell it, precious as butter and salt, and he is grateful he has never needed to see Lear’s folly to know the value of these things. Le comte de Saint Germain knows what makes a table and a feast, and though he will not have it, he knows exactly what he wants spread out before him on the lacquered rosewood surface where the mansion takes its meals.

There is a kindness to her hum, a milky sweetness, when she lifts away from his skin. Only far enough away for the lonely beast in his heart to yelp pathetically for her return, please, anything, go far away or come closer and truly ruin me and it is all silenced with her words. “I don’t think that’s a yes,” she says. “But you are not giving me any real answers at all...” And she returns to kiss his jaw again, her bold but ever-gentle hand cupping the other side of his face. He is surrounded by the feminine pressure of her, but he cannot surrender and he absolutely cannot allow his thoughts to list toward any consideration of feminine pressure.

He feels her arms under his hands, the slight supple muscle of her upper arms tense from contact that has surprised them both, and he is grateful his body is faster than his mind. Her name is a warning on his breath, but it is so heavy with his own need he must yet again keep himself from groaning. If he heard her say his name with as much passion, nothing would keep him from her.

“No more guessing tonight, ma chèrie beauté,” he begs her as he pushes her away. “You must rest.”

She is looking at him with an assessing sort of fire in her eyes, but still she is kind. She has kept her hand on his cheek even as he moved her to stand on the floor in front of the chair.

“Will you tell me?” she asks with transparent, honest hope. If timeless ones had her grace, their lives would not be ones of melancholy.

“I would not take away your game,” he says. Her gaze becomes reproachful.

“It is our game,” she whispers, and she moves to lean in again, has even closed her eyes. But his hands hold her. The hurt in her face wounds him. He wishes it only wounded him. He is not good enough to receive her, let alone reject her-- that is why he must lean on the crutch of this farce and play at disinterest. He releases her arms to pat them and the second time manages to make it more of a quick touch than a caress.

“Shall I call Sebastian to take you to your room?”

He hates himself. For a moment she looks like she hates him, too.

“Non,” she says with emphasis, suddenly French to her toes, and it is a new torture not to smile at her. He tries to focus on not moving forward as she finally draws her hand away, fingertips sliding over the muscle in his jaw that jumps to maintain contact with her. He wonders if even she has limits to her grace, if she is doing this on purpose to twist the knife in his heart.

It is there as a plug, that yelping animal whines, craving her understanding as much as her self. It is there to keep you safe.

She does not look at him as she walks away, but at the door she turns. She is reproachful and a little prim, but no longer angry. “In my time, women take lovers,” she tells him. “If you do not want me for one, it is courtesy to tell me so.”

“I have told you I do not want you for a lover,” he says immediately, and the syllables are so wooden and lame he can see every way her face transforms from pique to victory.

“Goodnight, Monsieur,” she says softly. The door traveler is gracious in her laurels.

He bids her the same, and asks her to forgive him for remaining seated. She only nods, sparing him further ruin. When the door clicks closed, he counts her slippered footsteps as they soften to silence in the hallway of his home. At twenty, he allows his hands to destroy the rests of his chair, splintering the fine frame underneath leather and stuffing.

Rouge and Blanc are both in reach, and both completely unappealing. He shakes the dust from his palms and undoes one cuff. Cleanly, he rolls the sleeve to his forearm, cream against his skin. He thinks of going to find Leonardo for company instead of being so maudlin, but decides against it. Melancholy men find one another eventually, and he’s convinced the other man loves her, too. They all do, damn them. For tonight, he’ll keep his hurt and his blood and his regard for her to himself. He has a terrible sense of dread that these things will see sunlight long before he would like.

She did not touch his sleeve, but her scent is unmistakable over his own, perhaps haunting the air around him. Butter, salt, lemon, lilacs, life. He sucks it in through his nose as he pierces the vulnerable skin inside his arm. The adoration for her is too strong to even imagine biting her and he can taste his own blood so it would be useless to try, but the smell of her stays with him as he punishes and soothes himself. She is the golden light of summer, unavoidable as midday sun. If hers could be the only sunlight to see how weak he is for her, he might dare to reveal himself. She will burn him if he is not careful, and oh, she makes it so hard to be careful. But without her in the room he is cold, and desires her warmth like a winter beggar, even more than when she was there.

#ikevamp comte #ikevam comte #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfic #twisting that knife in my heart too ya big beautiful desire-denier #hi sometimes I DO make words

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citruscisco2 · 5 years ago

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You. Are. A. Man!

Five Hargreevs x Trans!Male Reader

Plot: The reader is a transgender male who is struggling with body dysphoria and tries to deal with being reminded that he was once a female. Five is there to support him and remind him that the reader is indeed a man.

Author’s Note: To be honest, it felt weird writing this. I’m a female and I don’t feel like I should be writing this. I feel like someone with these actual experiences should write this. This is also why I’m turning to my friend Axel, who is transgender and having him help me write this. I would love to write more stuff like this in the future, so please send in more requests! Also, if you’re struggling with body dysphoria, please feel free to talk to me about what’s going on. I love you guys and I wanna help ya’ll! I love you guys and remember that you’re all special in your own way! Also go check out my Wattpad!

Warnings: BODY DYSPHORIA! Basically, if you’re sensitive to any content regarding transphobia I guess.

Requested: Yes by @rainbow-depresso-expresso

Key: E/C = Eye color; B/T = Body type; S/C = Skin color

⁂

My chest ached at the feeling of my binder crushing the two lumps of fat that remained hanging on my body. Then again, it’s my fault for making it so tight, but I’ve been wearing it all day. I just wanted to look completely flat; is that too much to ask for? To be born with the correct body and to have people accept you for who you are? I just want to look how I was meant to be born; I wanted to be born a man. Is that too hard? Is it too hard to be accepted for who I want to be, who I was meant to be? I’m not harming anyone, yet only a handful of people in my life support me rather than everyone. These people are the only reason why I stay sane. They’re the only reason I haven’t given up my dream of having top surgery. Though, the topic of transitioning from female to male didn’t settle well with my parents.

Here I am, standing in front of my body mirror with tears brimming my (E/C) eyes which were glaring at my (B/T) (S/C) body. I hate it. I hate my body. I hate every damn thing about it! I couldn’t even look at myself without feeling the dysphoria creeping up my back like it’s a damn spider. I can’t even look down without seeing the two lumps of fat on my chest and what lies between my legs, I can’t even tell my parents about what I’m feeling because I know what their views on transgender people, and they’re not positive.

It hurts to know that you can’t become who you want to be; who you are meant to be. It fucking hurts to hear people call you something that you’re not and to be constantly reminded that you’re different, and when people think of different, they think, “Oh, that’s weird.” Weird eventually leads to people thinking the people or things that are weird as inferior to them. It’s beneath them. Do you know how much it hurts to hear your loved ones bash the people in your community just because they’re different and think that they’re weird? They say those things then turn right to you and tell you that they love you for who you are. No, they don’t, but then again, they don’t know I’m the very thing they despise.

It’s scary to know they if they found out your secret, you’ll change right before their eyes into a hideous, mutated monster. They’ll kick you out, act like they don’t know you, humiliate you and force you to wear the clothes they want you to wear, and they’ll do whatever they can do to convince you it’s a phase and you aren’t who you think you are. I’m terrified of the day they remind me constantly of the things that make me what they want me to be.

I’m so fucking insecure about how my shirt hugs my body, and how I can’t wear underwear without wanting to bawl my eyes out because they’re not boxers. Sure, I have other insecurities that everyone else has, such as how some people don’t like the size of their nose, the color of their eyes, or even the amount of fat they have on their bodies. I can’t change myself though without anyone really noticing what I’m trying to achieve. I had to convince my parents I was just going through a phase just so I could get my hair cut short enough to where it chopped off some of the dysphoria I carried around.

You wanna know what hurts the most, though? Fearing that the love of your life is going to leave you for who you are. You fear that soon he’ll realize the mistake he’s made and walk right out the door. He’ll lose feelings and start to distance himself, whether he realizes it or not. He said he loved you, but he can’t just be with you. Maybe somewhere he still loves you, right? He loved you, did he though? If he really loved you, he would’ve stayed and worked shit out, but instead, he became disgusted with who he associated himself with.

It first starts with him not wanting to kiss you in public. You think that he just hasn’t been comfortable with PDA lately and wants to limit it, so you brush it off. You don’t even point it out to him when you’re alone and continue to tolerate it. Soon enough it escalates into not wanting to hold your hand in public. It hurts, but you don’t bother him. It’s not until he stops doing these things even when you’re alone that it starts to bother you. It hurts, but you’re too scared to bring it up and accidentally start a fight. This isn’t the first time something like this happened to you, so you didn’t push him. You’ve learned from your mistakes, haven’t you? Your world comes crashing down and the nightmares you’ve been having for the past week finally come true. He doesn’t bother saying that he’s sorry, or that he wishes you two could just stay friends. No, he just walks right out the door without even looking back at you to see if you’re okay because he knows you’re not. He knows he broke your already cracked heart into dust, and he couldn’t give two shits.

Why would he though? Why would he want a monster like you? An abomination, that’s what you are. He couldn’t stand the thought of associating himself with you. He couldn’t handle the stares the two of you received in public. At first, you both just assumed it was because you were both men, but now he realizes it’s more than that. It’s because you’re trying to change yourself into someone you’re not. He was ashamed to be seen with you; to love you. He had to leave, he needed to. It was for the sake of his reputation he had said. He couldn’t stand to be with you because of the fact of who you are; of what you are. It’s all because you’re transgender.

As these thoughts ran through my head, my eyes grew increasingly more blurry due to salty tears blocking my vision. I felt both my bottom lip and knees tremble as my breathing grew more ragged, and it suddenly felt as if all air was cut off from my lung. My eyes screwed shut and my lips tightened shut, forcing myself to conceal my sobs. My legs gave out from underneath me, causing me to collapse to the carpeted ground of my bedroom floor and lower my head. I couldn’t look in that damned mirror anymore. A heart-wrenching wail forced itself from my body, and the sobs just came pouring out. My hands found themselves buried in my short (H/C) hair, tugging so hard at the strands that I thought I was going to rip them from my own scalp. Sob after sob, I continued to cry for what seemed like forever. Both my head and heart pounded in agony. My hands trembled and my chest heaved up and down at an increasingly fast pace as I tried to gasp for a single breath between my cries.

Fear shot up my spine as my chest ached for a different reason. I couldn’t breathe. I tugged harder at my hair and clawed at the back of my neck, hoping more pain would force my body to fight for its life and help me regain my breath. It felt like a lump of some wort was lodged in my throat, causing my body to heave forward as if I were gagging. Not to mention my nose was clogged up with snot. My vision grew foggy and my face grew hot. Would this be how I die? A pathetic mess?

I felt two arms quickly wrap around my waist and pull me into their chest. I could feel the rough texture of their jacket, but their shirt under the jacket felt smooth and soft. I could faintly hear their voice, shushing me and telling me something. They sounded calm, not panicked at all. Their touch was gentle as they brought my head to their chest, gently stroking my back with one hand and using the other to pull me close. It was still loose enough to where it didn’t feel as if I was suffocating.

I saw the familiar umbrella tattoo on the person’s wrist and the logo I had seen so many times on the person’s jacket. Only one Umbrella Academy member still wore their jacket, mostly because they were stuck in a teenager’s body and those were the only clothes that fit him. Not to mention he was too stubborn to go out and by clothes for boys his age. Physically his age, that is. I never pushed Five too many times to buy the clothes I’d die to see him wear because I just wanted him comfortable and happy. Plus, who am I to hell him what he can and cannot wear?

I was able to faintly smell the cologne he wore daily, calming me down just a tad. My throat finally ceased and allowed me to gasp for a small bit of air, but it didn’t stop me from hyperventilating. Five gently rocked me back and forth as best as he could, continuing to softly shush me and rub small circles on my back. I could finally make out what he was saying.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbled, humming a soft tune that always seemed to calm me down. “I’m gonna need you to do something for me, dear, can you do that?” I whimpered pathetically and managed to nod in affirmation. He nods and continues. “I want you to breathe with me, okay?” I nod once more, desperate to come down from my panic. He starts his breathing off at a moderately fast pace, almost matching with my own. I was able to match my breathing with his own as I gripped his dark blazer. His breathing gradually slowed down, and as did mine. This wasn’t the first time Five’s had to help me, so I knew what to expect. Once my breathing was stable enough, he spoke again. “Do you need anything?” he softly asked, reaching over and grabbing a soft blanket that laid upon my bed.

“You,” I managed to choke out. My eyes burned from the salty tears, and my head ached from crying. He nods and drapes the blanket around my body and tilts my head up so he can see my face. His eyes are glazed over with empathy and care. He gently strokes my cheek with his thumb and gently presses his lips against my forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere my dear,” he assures me, tightening his embrace just a tad bit. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” I shake my head no at his question. “Do you want to talk about something good that happened today?” I’m silent at his question. Taking a deep breath, fluttering my eyes shut and trying to focus on speaking properly.

“I-I was able to put to...together an outfit that-that made me feel really masculine today,” I start off, pausing as I felt my voice grow shaky as I spoke. I breathed slowly through my nose and continued. “It-It was a pair of khakis that stopped at my knees, and-and the polo Klaus had given me for my birthday.”

“The light green one with the lemons on it?” I nod in affirmation. My heart swoons at the fact he remembers something as little as that.

“Yeah, I-I was also able to finish the load of homework that the school gave us,” I added. He smiles softly and kisses the top of my head.

“See, I told you you could get it done! I’m so proud of you,” he praises softly, keeping his voice low. He continues to ask me questions about my day, focusing on the positive aspects of it.

With a clear and calm mindset, I know none of that would happen with Five. Sure, it’s happened in the past, but Five’s different - very different considering he can teleport and he’s mentally an old man. I know I can always rely on him when it comes to shit like this. He knows I can be a bit much during times like these, and he knows that I’ll end up looking pretty fucking gross. He doesn’t care though. He’s seen a lot of shit in his life, so a red face covered in tears and snot isn’t gonna bother him. He loves me, and he’s told me this an abundance amount of times.

After helping me clean up, we both lay down on my bed with my back against his chest. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His chin rest on the top of my head, humming the same soft melody he sang earlier. I felt my eyes droop as a wave of exhaustion came crashing over me. My eyes would fall shut and snap back open as I would realize I was slowly falling asleep, but falling asleep meant I wouldn’t be able to hear his voice anymore.

“Get some sleep, my dear, I’ll be here when you wake,” he mumbled softly. That was the last thing I heard before falling asleep peacefully in his arms with a small smile on my face and a heart full of love.

#trans!male #trans #male reader #x reader #x male reader #five hargreeves imagines #imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #Umbrella Academy #The Umbrella Academy #body dysphoria #transgender

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therainbowwillow · 4 years ago

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https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/641225373410000896/therainbowwillow

Part 16! Well, this fic is getting so damn long! I have another (dare I say more important) project I’m *supposed* to be writing. This fic was meant to be a warm-up... anyway. Here is part 16!

Premise/last time: With their trial fast approaching, everyone arrives at the gates of Olympus. Hermes again receives the same foreboding prophecy, but they’ve come too far to turn back now.

The golden gates of Olympus span before them, in beautiful contrast to the city’s mostly marble architecture. Athena opens the doors, standing guard as they enter. “Welcome home,” she greets the returning Olympians.

“Are we safe?” Hermes questions her.

“You’re safer than you could be,” she says. “Hades insisted upon immediately locking you up, but we negotiated against chains. I am supposed to disarm you, however.”

“We only have Hades’s knife, as far as I know,” Hermes explains.

“I’ll take it.” He hands the knife to her. It’s stained with blood, unwashed since... Hermes doesn’t want to think about it. “Smart, preserving the evidence,” she tells him, turning it over in her hands. He accepts the compliment, although his intention hadn’t been to incriminate Hades.

“Apollo!”

He looks up as Artemis flies down the path and leaps into his arms. “Artemis! Ouch, wait. I took an arrow to the ankle, remember.”

“Sorry!” She holds him up for support. Hyacinthus takes his other side. “It’s been a while, Apollo.”

He chuckles. “And whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry! I know I should’ve been there for you. It wasn’t you I was trying to avoid. Still, I should’ve said something.”

He tilts his head. “Who then?”

“Take a guess. Zeus and Hades blamed me for the Asclepius situation, because it was my hunter he resurrected. Our relatives are easier to avoid than to confront, so I ran. I see your lover didn’t stay down too long,” she remarks.

“I don’t know. I’d call seventeen- no, eighteen- years a long time,” Hyacinthus says.

She shrugs. “Shorter than most people stay dead for. Anyway, our prospects look fine. Zeus and Hades remain their ever-stubborn selves. Still, the whole world heard that song. Callisto and I were as far from the railroad as one could get and we heard it. That son of yours, he has the whole planet on his side.”

“You’re still with Callisto?” Apollo says with a smirk.

Her cheeks flush. “I suppose. She’s a wonderful hunting partner.”

“You don’t need the ‘hunting’ bit of that sentence.”

“And you wonder why I never visit,” she mutters.

“Aw, come on, Art. I’m only teasing. Please do come by more often.”

“I come by plenty when you aren’t moping and our father isn’t attempting to bring his wrath upon me. Shouldn’t we be discussing the trial?”

“Right.”

“I’ve been keeping my eye on Zeus,” she says, as they walk through the gates. “I posed a case for Hyacinthus, too. Our father seemed open to the idea of letting him live if it means you’ll get back to your duties.”

Apollo grins. “Still, it’ll take some argument,” Artemis continues. “I overheard that Hermes will be the target of the trial, not Orpheus. I didn’t catch why they changed their plans, but I thought I’d warn you. Ares, Zeus, and Poseidon took Hades’s side. The rest of Olympus is loyal to Orpheus, to varying degrees, and for different reasons. Regardless, it’s support!”

“A little good news for once,” Hermes remarks.

“Yes. I’m sorry about your circumstances, though.”

“Better me than Orpheus. When does the trial start?” He asks.

“Soon,” Athena answers. “Let’s arrive before our opposition.” She guides them down the street, ethereal and white as the rest of the city.

Orpheus notices the flowers, gardens pressed against every house and street corner, all in full bloom. It seems even Olympus feels his springtime. He absentmindedly plucks out a few notes on his lyre. The flower heads turn to face him.

Eventually, they reach the center of the city. A marble building rises higher than the rest. Its domed roof has blue accents. The entrance is lined with sets of ornate pillars.

“Here we are,” Athena says, “Get comfortable. Confidence will be an asset to our case.”

Hestia welcomes them inside. “You must be Orpheus! The poet I’ve heard so much about.” Her smile is genuine and it lights up the entire room as Eurydice wheels him inside.

“I am!” Orpheus says. “The gods know me!” He whispers to Eurydice.

“I am sorry for the circumstances of our meeting, Orpheus. My name is Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home. Are you comfortable as you are or would you like a chair?”

“This is fine! Thank you.”

“Of course! You will all be provided food and drink throughout the trial,” she tells them. “And Hermes, Hades has express interest in shackling you to your chair. I am not sure what he expects you to do, but I wanted to warn you regardless.”

Hermes nods, soundlessly.

Eurydice sits beside Orpheus. “You okay?” she asks, gently.

“Yes. I’m just... preparing myself to see Hades.” He lowers his voice. “It’s Hermes I’m really worried about. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“He’ll be alright,” she assures him, uneasily.

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

Hermes sits on the far edge of the semicircle of seats, keeping Orpheus in his line of sight. He’d picked out Hades’s chair, draped with a new grey coat and placed himself directly across from it. He’d keep a close eye on the king of the dead, he’d decided, for Orpheus’s sake.

He sits in silence, separated from the rest of his side of the case. Three figures enter the room. The two men closely resemble each other. Thanatos and Hypnos, he realizes, with surprise. Orpheus looks at the ground, afraid to meet the god of death’s eyes.

“We are allies,” Thanatos announces, “To Orpheus.” The god takes a seat beside Hestia, adjacent to the rest of the room. Orpheus beams in disbelief.

Other deities trickle into the courtroom. Ares takes the first seat on the other side of the room. Aphrodite and her son, Eros, take Orpheus’s side. Demeter pulls Persephone into her arms in a long hug and takes a seat beside her daughter. The air seems to warm at their touch. The Anemoi, the four winds, side with Hades, probably due to Hyacinthus’s presence, Hermes notes. Poseidon and Zeus arrive together, taking their seats beside Ares.

Hades is last to arrive. The air prickles in his presence. Persephone turns up her lip. Orpheus squeezes Eurydice’s hand. Hermes forces himself to keep his gaze fixed on Hades as he strides to his seat. He scans his ex-employer for weapons, anything he could use against Orpheus. He finds nothing and his head aches too badly to keep searching. Hades sits and glares, his eyes trained upon Hermes. He moves his head slightly. Hermes’s vision fades to black.

He sees nothing, only hears the notes flooding over him and he feels the chains, boring into his wrists. Orpheus’s voice, so clear and effortless. He stops singing. A chair creaks. “No! No!” Orpheus screams. Blood. A stronger scent than ever before. Eurydice gasps. His vision returns. Drops of golden ichor bead on the marble floor beneath his feet.

Hestia sits at his side. “Hermes?” She hands him a handkerchief. “Your nose is bleeding. Pinch, lean back a little. Are you alright?” He nods. “Would you like something to drink? You passed out.” He shakes his head. His eyelids feel heavy. “Okay, I want you to drink something anyway.”

She hands him a glass of nectar and he takes a sip. “Would you like to lie down for a moment?”

He hears heavy footsteps approaching. Hades. “I told you, chain him up,” he growls.

“Hades, he’s clearly quite ill.” She places a hand against his forehead. “He’s running a fever. Perhaps we should delay-”

“No,” Hermes mutters. “I’m alright.”

Hades presses shackles around his wrists. He can’t find the strength to fight back. “The trial proceeds.” Hades returns to his seat.

Athena rises. “We proceed, then,” she says, uneasily. “The prosecution may give its opening statements.”

Hades dips his head. “We open, Olympus, to traitors, with more support than those who abide by the law. To the lesser crimes of the foolish Orpheus, willing to unwind the binds of death for his selfish desire for the girl he forgot.” Hermes sees Orpheus draw in a small breath. Eurydice whispers something to him.

“And the true cause for our gathering,” Hades continues, “Hermes. Impressive, I must admit, just how much of his contract he managed to break. Willing to betray his own family for the good of a mortal boy and his worthless lover.” Eurydice’s expression hardens, burning with anger. She sips from the glass beside her, hiding her fury. “Pathetic and foolish is his love of mortals. Even now, he betrays us, refusing to provide evidence before the court, simply because it incriminates a red-blooded boy. He hides from us the contract of Eurydice, a shade of Hadestown, returned to life by his maddened endeavors.”

“How, Olympus, do you side with these cowards? Do the laws of our land mean nothing to you? Your very sustenance relies on the preservation of death. Without it, your precious world would be overrun by long-dead shades, many of them criminals. Murderers, thieves, vain enough to proclaim themselves above you. Today, let us prevent the fall of your civilized world. Let us uphold the borders that protect us and punish those who dare to tear them down.” He lowers himself methodically back into his seat.

Athena stands once more. “And the defense’s response. Lord Hades, the reason for Orpheus’s support is this: Olympus does not find your actions redeemable. This mortal boy walked into your realm on his own two legs. He sang a song, so beautiful, the world wept for his love. He reminded you, he reminded all of us what it means to lead. That strength is not found in cruelty and fear, but in love and respect. He stood before the King of the Dead and he sang. If that is cowardice, there is no bravery.”

Orpheus smiles. She continues, “You allowed him safe passage home, so long as he did not break your terms. He was not to sing until he reached the surface. Although his memory faded with the fog of the River Lethe, he did not break his contract. Still, you sent shades to hunt him down and blackmailed Thanatos into bringing you his soul. You tortured Orpheus, deprived an already injured and starved young man of food and drink and forced him to sing at your will until he could not force out another note. Once you discovered he was no longer of use, you stuck a knife through his stomach and left him to die, alone in the dark.” Hermes notices Orpheus’s misery at remembering his days in Hades’s prison. Orpheus sips his drink to distract himself.

“We are inclined to side with the truth and that Orpheus is a traitor is a lie. Broken contracts hold nothing to the crimes of Hades. The law exists to govern our morality. When the law is wrong, it is our job to uphold justice. Not in the name of the papers we signed, but in the name of what is just. Let us do today what is just: acquit the defendants and honor them for their gifts of springtime. Now, albeit unconventionally, I ask for a song.”

Orpheus strums his lyre and sings his first notes. His song washes the room with an incredible warmth. A murmur goes about the crowd as flowers begin to bloom in the vast hall, wrapping chair legs in vines, springing from the ground. His shoulders drop, his fear fades as he sings. His song recites love. Not just his own. Not only Hades’s.

Apollo is struck all over again by the first time he’d seen Hyacinthus, his beautiful Spartan prince, outlined against the sunrise. Achilles remembers Patroclus, racing him through Peleus’s halls. Artemis sees Callisto, her eyes glinting in the moonlight as they hunt, side by side. Even Hera feels the old flutter in her chest, some tiny spark of love for her husband, love she’d long since extinguished. Persephone feels the change of her husband’s heart. How he sees her, how he knows what must be done.

Not a single note is out of place, not a single line is forgotten. Orpheus’s song is a song of love and warmth. A song of hope for what might be. What is now, so long as he keeps singing. And this time, his voice doesn’t fail him. He does not falter. He only sings and sings, until every flower on Olympus and on the ground faces him. Until his voice reaches Hadestown and echoes off the distant walls and the workers join the chorus, singing with a new vigor. His springtime is not the springtime of legends. It is more. It is hope for a new world, freedom from the past. And he keeps singing.

#hadestown au #hadestown fanfic #hadestown #orphydice #therainbowwrites

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blackrosesfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 229

Amber

I laugh and eat some of the grapes I went and got from the table. Men don't like to come around when women are together talking. They assume when we are alone we share dick and period stories. I mean it's true but there's other things as well. The door opens. We all stop laughing and look at the door. I jump up.

"What's wrong?" I ask Cammie as she walks in.

"I..." she just shakes her head.

I hug her. "Okay, you don't have to talk about it."

Alex comes over. "Do me and Hidia have to kick someone's ass?"

"Maybe no one in here is in the best condition to whip any ass." Fadiya giggles.

"Yeah, well, maybe not." Alex says hugging Cammie. "Okay, bitch, perk up cause you not unmarried possibly pregnant by your ex's baby brother, unmarried pregnant by who fucking knows until you figure out how far a fucking long you are, married and just stupid as fucking because now you considering moving out of the fucking country cause your bitch ass husband likes Mexico, or unmarried and dating one of the richest jackasses on the fucking planet with a jacked up past and a heavy as engagement ring."

Cammie frowns and spins around the room. "Wait what? Who? What? Richest jackass? Amber?"

"Yeah, that one was mine." I wave my engagement ring.

"You moving to fucking Mexico?" Cammie snaps looking at Hidia. "All yall bitches not pregnant."

Alex eats a frittata. "I hate eggs."

We look at her. Fadiya sucks her teeth. "Stop eating them things before you have high blood pressure."

"Everybody is fucking crazy." Cammie says. "I'm not fucking pregnant but my fucking husband thinks it's okay to kill himself and not okay to talk about me possibly dying an accidental death. Me of all people don't understand what drugs can do to your life."

Everybody kinda goes silent. The door opens relieving everyone from their deep thoughts. It was MiMi carrying her baby.

"I go to breakfast and I'm told the women all left the table. I'm like damn you can't keep your women in check through fucking breakfast?"

"And Chris had something to say?" Alex nods.

MiMi nods. "Of course. Cammie what happened with your breakfast?"

Cammie shrugs. "I left out. I didn't..."

"No ma'am." MiMi snaps scaring the baby. "You need to take your spoiled ass back in there. You know your fucking pathetic ass husband can't do shit without you. Talk about his true feelings to a therapist and his mother?"

"I know."

"Okay, this is bigger than you. You know that."

Cammie sighs. "Yeah. I don't want to be in here with them anyway. You shouldn't stay."

"Why not?"

"Cause they all taking pregnancy test. I mean unless you got something you want to share."

MiMi makes her eyes big. "Don't fucking go there. Do you not see this fucking 7 month old in my fucking arms. Hey, Baby. Mama Cammie can't see you."

Cammie takes her from MiMi. "I see you, pretty girl."

"Yes, take that drama. We got too much as it is." I say waving my hand.

"Girl, why the hell Amber in here?" MiMi whispers to Cammie.

"I don't know, just go. It might be in the air." Cammie says shutting the door.

I laugh. "Bye, sluts."

Alex bangs her head on the bed. "Oh my gosh. That shit winking at me. It has a face on it!"

"Pregnant." Hidia giggles.

"So that means mine is ready." I say going into the bathroom. I turn right back around. "You guys I don't know what I want this thing to say. Just last month I was happy he had a daughter and wouldn't be asking me cause I didn't want to do this shit. I'm going to be the mistake who got pregnant. Oh shit. By the richest jackass in the world."

Fadiya sucks her teeth. "Don't do that to Chris. He is very sweet. He took time out of his busy life to do this for his friends and not ask nobody to pay nothing. He deserves for us to support something. Go look at your damn test."

"Yeah." I nod turning around.

"Pregnant." Hidia says from behind me.

My heart drops. "Fuck."

"You so damn happy check yours." Alex snaps. "You get pregnant in multiples. You fucking pregnant by association."

"If I'm pregnant we not moving to Mexico and we probably gonna fucking fight about that."

"Not fist fight though." I ask.

Alex looks at me. "We should be asking you that."

I suck my teeth. "Chris has been sober for months. Before we got together. He knows that's one thing I don't fucking play with and besides I'm not a psycho bitch. I mean. Most times I'm not. Anyway he doesn't hit me, shake me, or nothing."

"Not even if you ask?" Alex says seductively.

"You are like the spawn of Chucky." I snap.

She slides on the floor. "I might be having Chucky fucking baby. At least it might have cute red nigga hair."

I laugh. "Shut up. Hidia what does yours say?"

"I did two." She says walking across the room. "This shit is… who peed on these?"

"Bitch!" Alex yells. "You are fucking lying. There is no way."

Hidia smiles. "I'm just kidding. If I am pregnant it won't pick it up for a few weeks. Mine just went off days ago."

"You sick. So who going out there to tell their man now?" Fadiya asks.

"Why didn't you take one?" I ask Fadiya.

She stands up and holds her shirt up. "It's a bit late to second guess this. It's a boy."

I cover my mouth. "Oh my gosh. He knows?"

"My ex? No. His brother? Yes." She sighs. "Like I said I'm back in Chicago with my parents away from my ex. Away from Houston."

"You not with the father?"

She sighs. "He wants to be with me but... it was a fucking mistake. Getting into a relationship with the fucking brother of the man who broke my heart 2 years ago? That's fucking..."

"Girl, shut up. You having this man baby." Hidia says. "Be happy. Family reunions are already gonna be awkward. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Birthdays, and shit. That man cheated on you with your fucking gay friend."

"No..." I cover my mouth.

Alex sucks her teeth. "Yall selfish. What yall need to do is find me an abortion clinic."

"Fuck no." Hidia says.

"Why?" I ask.

Alex sits up. "Have you seen my mothering abilities?"

"No." I shrug.

"Exactly." She nods. "No one has cause they are yet to exist."

"Bitch cause you not a mother." Hidia snaps. "You fucking stupid. I'm going to tell that man right now. Anyone else need me to break their news?"

I shake my head. "No, I got to be extra with mine."

"Oh so just send him a random text from a random ass number. Bitch I'm pregnant and you know its yours." Alex says. "Classic Chris Brown."

I giggle. "That will piss him off."

"You wanted to be loving?" Alex snaps. "Send a drone over the fucking beach with a flag after you think he had enough."

"Why are you so good at this?"

She makes her eyes big. "I'm a fucking public rep. I do this in my sleep. And Hidia if you tell him I will kill you."

"Fine, I want to be home when he finds out anyway."

"Then what are you gonna do, Alex?" I ask.

She makes her eyes big. "I like to fuck who I want when I want. Who knows when this thing got here."

"Stop bullshitting. You said you had unprotected sex for the first time." Hidia snaps.

"Whatever. I'm not tryna deal with this. Amber has the floor to make it romantic. I'm just going to continue to shit bricks. Get a calculator and calendar."

Cammie

MiMi pushes me into the room. She promised to go back in with me. I pause looking around the room. Trey wasn't in there. It was just April and Wanda talking about shoes. They pause when April sees me.

"Are you going to join us?" April asks.

"No." I say backing up a bit. "Where is Trey?"

April points towards the patio door. "Tremaine!"

He comes into the room carrying Caden. "Yeah. Oh."

He smiles really hard at me. I swear I don't know what to do with him. Trey steps back outside then comes back with a chair in his free hand. Caden is woke chewing away at Trey's shirt.

"That was intense." Wanda says. "Do you think so?"

"Yeah." I nod. "It's us."

"But it doesn't have to be." Trey says so sweet. "It's not always gonna be us."

I roll my eyes. "And what changes that, Tremaine."

"Me."

"No, you are a pair. Together you need to change it. We are here because Trey deals with it all himself. He can't change it all himself." April says.

I nod. "I do hold a lot in."

"It's okay. We all do but marriage, it's the glue that holds your broken pieces together."

"Yeah but marriages don't always last. Then I'll just be broken pieces." I say.

"Marriages don't always last but are you not still in yours? So some marriages do last. My marriage almost broke me. Had me going to my colleagues thinking I was crazy for being in it. You have to grow with the marriage. When it gets deep you grow tall. When it dries up you replenish it."

I sigh. "How you figure out which is which?"

"We are here talking, helping your through it. Positive people help keep a marriage together." My mother says sitting down. "You don't have to have the answers Cammie. Nobody said you had to do it alone. You just have to initiate it. I had to stop blaming April and initiate getting you back. I just let you do what you wanted for too long. I'm ready to fight you now. So we are going to fight until you let me in your life. I always said God is on your side when you are walking in the right direction."

I just shrug my shoulders. I didn't want to cry no more. Trey kisses my cheek then a big face touches my cheek. Caden grabs my face suddenly then lets go. He better fucking let me go. I kiss him. He was back to trying to grab Trey's face.

"I should have brought my husband." MiMi says.

"It's not too late." Wanda says.

MiMi giggles standing up. "He too hood for emotions."

"The harder they act the more emotional they are." My mother says.

"So Trey... we need to set some realistic goals."

Trey clears his throat. "I'm letting this life go when my son starts kindergarten. Maybe first grade. Focusing my attention on them starting with Lane. I'm not waiting on another one to reach that age. Lane."

"That's realistic?" Wanda asks. "And how will you make money?"

"I married an educated achieved woman who don't mind working for what she has. We can make it."

April sighs. "Thank God to that."

My mama clears her throat. "I'd like to take some credit here. Not from God. She's just mine."

"Okay, Debra." April says rolling her eyes. "That's all you get today."

"That's below your current means."

"Royalties determine my means as it is so it'll just stay that way. I know how to make my money grow through investments and real estate."

Wanda moves on. "You know men experience postpartum depression as..."

Dee and MiMi walk in. A mad Dee. "Morning." He says.

"Good morning." April, Wanda, and my mother say.

I share my seat with MiMi. Wanda nods.

"What I was saying was men experience postpartum depression as well as women. Feeling like nothing is prepared, feeling useless, or just feeling negative about the new family structure. I see you have an infant as well. Are you feeling like your place is solid?"

Everybody looks at Dee. He sits up in his seat. "Who me? Yeah my position..."

"But you feeling like I'm cheating though." MiMi says.

Dee chuckles. "That's my ego. Just testing..."

"Trey's suicidal thoughts started after a birth and after hearing rumors of infidelity. We don't take anything lightly in this circle of friends. It's a very open environment. If you say you are okay mean it." Wanda says.

"I mean... I'm good. Why we talking bout me? This not..."

"It's about marriage right now." Trey says.

Dee was definitely uncomfortable. "Just saying I'm good."

"What about your wife?" Wanda asks. "How does she feel? She knew you wouldn't like talking about emotions? What about hers?"

"She just wants to be in California."

"We are here." Wanda says confused.

Dee cuts MiMi a look. "Aight, fine." He says sits up in his seat. "I used to sell drugs and all that now I'm making legal money in Atlanta. Good money. Taking care of my family planning a wedding, by myself. All she wants to do is move to California and I don't want to. Don't want to walk away from my new means."

"What's in California, MiMi?" Wanda asks.

"Dancing job. My best friend."

"Wait Dr. Ross? Why are you in California?" Cammie snaps.

"Conveniently a medical conference with Jim's practice." She smiles. "It's in a few days. We came early when he heard about the babies being sick. He wanted to see them himself. You've changed your life around and now your wife wants to change it again."

Dee shrugs a bit. "I'd walk away from money for her. Right after I buy everything for this wedding."

"Sounds like you and Trey are both making some executive decisions around the same time in life."

Dee sighs. "I think we married the same woman that's forcing us both in the same direction."

"That's a positive thing. You will have each other."

"Dee has been playing with his life for years though."

"Past tense." Dee says. "I go to work fearing my life as much as a mother packing her kids in a car to go to a grocery store."

"And you were scared to open up. We won't attack you. It's safe. My advise to everyone is to remember those around you that want to help. Don't try life alone. Trey you get me a good solid plan in writing. I don't want to be worried about your well being as you travel away from your family."

Trey nods his head. I look at him. Caden was getting bored with Trey and trying to see how far he could reach in other directions. I play with his foot distracting him. I can't say that this has been a bad session. It would have been nice to get deeper into Trey's thoughts but maybe that's for an even more private breakfast. Maybe just between us later.

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badwolfwrites-sometimes · 5 years ago

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Drawn Together: Chapter 17

Almost halfway done with the plot yayy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18923374/chapters/58648660

"Then when Lovi comes home, we tell him the plan." Lovino returned from his date with Antonio to find his brother Romeo talking about him.

"What plan?" He asked, entering the living room where Feliciano and Romeo were seated. The look on their faces staring at his own told Lovino something was up. "What did you do now?"

Feliciano and Romeo exchanged glances before they both spoke at the same time. "We-" "See-" Silence. Feliciano nodded to Romeo to proceed with what he was going to say, since he was the first to receive the news of their grandpa's return.

"We were coming up with a plan." Romeo explained. "Nonno will be back the day after tomorrow and we want to avoid what happened last time."

Lovino's face collapsed, what little hope for the world he had was completely gone from his eyes. Since the incident everytime their grandpa was mentioned, Lovino felt like he was being choked, just wanting to escape and hide for the rest of his life. He sat on the lowest stair.

"Lovi?" Feliciano called for him, snapping him out of what darkness his thoughts produced now.

"Why?" He simply asked. "Toni was supposed to come over the day after tomorrow, but now..." He had no strength left to finish that sentence, memories of what happened last time flooding back in his mind.

Romeo stood up from his place on the couch, moving to sit by his brother instead. "I'm sorry, Lovi." He spoke and Feliciano nodded in agreement. "We can deal with Toni easily, right now we need to deal with the situation with Nonno." Romeo patted his brother's shoulder, but got a harsh reaction from him.

Lovino just wanted to be left alone, to hide in his room and not come down again the whole time their grandpa is there. They did talk after last time, but it was never anything too serious and always via text. They never talked about Antonio or Lovino's relationship with him, something Lovino wished would stay that way. But of course life was never nice. Of course he would have to deal with everything that happened last time. "Tell me the plan." He finally spoke, eyes hidden by his hands.

Feliciano sighed. "We thought about acting like nothing happened in the first place." He said. "So no mentions of dates and relationships."

"That's not going to work and you know it." Lovino said, done with everything before it even started. "There's no way in hell and beyond that Nonno will let that go."

"True." Romeo started. "But he let you see Toni in the end so maybe he won't bring it up."

"He would!" Lovino shouted, startling the two other boys. "He's an old man, they are all like that!"

No one said anything, no one even dared to open their mouths to say anything. Lovino just stood up and made his way up the stairs. "I'll be in my room until he leaves." He said, disappearing from his brothers' sight, groans and sighs accompanying his footsteps.

Lovino dropped directly on his bed the moment he entered the room. His mind wanted to cry until he could drown in tears, but his body lacked the energy to do so. Relaxing, he drifted off to dreamland, hoping that everything that would happen soon would be just a bad dream.

A loud sound woke him up hours later, his phone reading 11 a.m. Whatever those two were doing was just way too early for Lovino to deal with, so he tried to escape in the best way possible...

Lovi: Oi

...by texting Antonio.

Knowing his boyfriend, it was unlikely he was going to respond anytime soon. Lovino was fine with that. They were both busy men with their busy lives in this busy country. He might just become allergic to the word busy, but that is beside the point. The point is that his boyfriend would take hours to text him back and that his stomach would kill him if he didn't put enough coffee and food in it.

Making his way down the stairs, Lovino saw that his brothers were quite... busy. With cleaning. Seeing them so frantic about it reminded him of their talk yesterday, just as he was starting to forget about it. Normally, he would disturb them and order them around, but today he was just... busy. With not being in the mood.

"Lovi!" Romeo spotted him. "Bad news, Nonno will be coming late tonight instead of tomorrow."

And there goes the escape plan he didn't even think of. "Tell him I'm asleep when he comes then." Lovino thought that should settle it in a way. "Whose turn is it to do the dishes?"

"Yours." Romeo answered.

"I don't do dishes. Feli, you do them."

"But I did them yesterday!" Feliciano complained.

"So?"

"At least be useful if you're not going to greet Nonno. We don't have to do everything by ourselves." Feliciano argued.

Lovino raised his eyebrow. "You're really talking to me about usefulness when you've been on the phone this whole time. You're still texting that German bastard? You don't need that pathetic waste of air."

Despite knowing Lovino was always like this when it came to his and Romeo's friends, Feliciano lost his cool. "Take that back right now."

"Why should I?" Lovino shrugged.

Before Feliciano could argue any more, he felt Romeo's hands holding him down. "Stop! We have work to do, this is neither the time or the place to fight." Romeo said, looking between his brothers.

"He started it." Lovino was quick to answer.

Romeo once again had to restrain Feliciano from saying something he would regret. "You're both at fault here!" He turned to Feliciano first, nodding. "Do as he says, Feli. It's better that way."

Feliciano sighed in defeat, dropping his brush harshly to the floor. "Ludwig isn't a waste of air." He mumbled as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Don't come crying to me when you see him how he truly is." Lovino called after Feliciano before his eyes met with Romeo's, an unusually bitter aura in his otherwise kind green eyes.

"If you're not going to help clean, don't bother us." Romeo said. He pitied his brother for the situation he was in, but that didn't excuse his behavior towards Feliciano in the slightest. "And leave Feli's friend alone."

Lovino couldn't respond to that, Romeo was rarely ever angry like this. He got annoyed quite often, but would forget about it most of the time. This was different. Lovino decided he wouldn't deal with this, leaving Romeo to finish cleaning the living room.

By the time he returned to his room, hungry and prideful, he felt his phone vibrate in his hand. A text from Antonio.

Tonii: Good morning love

Well, at least it didn't take him too long. Seems like he wasn't... busy after all.

Lovi: Its anything but good

Tonii: Are you okay darling

Lovi: Obviously not Lovi: Nonno is coming home tonight

Tonii: Oh Tonii: Do you want to come over until you know its safe to meet him again

Lovi: Too late for that Lovi: And i think those two would kill me if i leave the house after what i did

Tonii: Did you yell at them again

Lovi: Feli is being stupid Lovi: He talks too much with that german guy his brain is corrupted

Tonii: They are friends love Tonii: Its natural that they want to talk so much Tonii: Remember how we were like

Lovi: Thats different we didnt talk all the damn time and ignore our family and chores

Tonii: I guess so Tonii: Is there anything i can do

Lovi: Keep me company until night time Lovi: I dont want to be alone

Tonii: Of course my love Tonii: We'll get through this together

Time always seemed to move faster whenever Antonio was involved in his day. It has been like that ever since Antonio's family moved from Spain to Italy years ago and the two became close friends. Lovino disliked him at first, distancing himself from Antonio as he played with Feliciano and Romeo, but he could never escape the Spaniard's friendly smile. With more and more time passing, they grew closer to each other and, before they knew it, Antonio confessed his long term feelings for Lovino. Lovino refused at first, but he soon realized that he would rather spend his whole life with Antonio than spend it with any woman in the world.

Lovino recalled their first date as the bright blue sky shifted to the dark starry one, a smile on his face. Despite knowing each other since they were basically in diapers, Antonio was nervous the whole time. Lovino knew that Antonio had every right to be nervous, considering Italy wasn't the most welcoming place for people of any sexuality other than straight, but he still found it silly and sweet. No girl was ever like that with him. True, no girl really liked him as much to begin with.

They chatted a few more hours, before Lovino decided it was time for his pretend sleep. And it seems he chose just the right time because as soon as he put his phone down for charging, he heard the front door swinging open. "Boys, I'm home!" The loud voice of his grandpa sounded off in his head for longer than he thought possible.

He had no idea how much time passed, he heard voices talking and sometimes yelling, but never enough to hear what they were saying. It was only when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs that he shut his eyes close and pretended to be in a deep sleep.

The door of his room was showed open and the light turned on. Lovino blinked a few times as if he was truly asleep, but dropped the act when he saw it was Romeo. He had a worried expression on his face. "Nonno wants to see you." He said.

Lovino's own green orbs of sight stared back at his brother's, rising to a sitting position. "Didn't you tell him I was asleep?"

"We did, but he didn't buy it. He's really angry about you not greeting him."

"He should have seen it coming after last time." Lovino still wasn't making any attempts to properly get up.

Romeo sighed. "You better hurry if you don't want your right to date Toni stripped away from you again. Feli can't distract him for much longer." With that Romeo left the room, leaving his brother to get properly dressed and prepare himself for possible breakdowns.

He sent Antonio one last text before he descended down the stairs to the living room, trying his best to hide the obviously disgusted face when his eyes met his grandpa's. "Oh, so he's alive." Grandpa Rome commented, but Lovino didn't laugh as he usually would. He continued his way down the stairs until they were face to face.

"You've got some balls, Lovino." Grandpa Rome started. "Not even coming down to greet me properly. Is that how you young people behave these days?"

"Sorry." Lovino answered. "I was asleep." His eyes were running everywhere but to his grandpa's. He noticed Feliciano and Romeo looking between each other nervously.

"Don't give me that. I raised you, Lovino Vargas, I can see right through your lies." Grandpa Rome forced Lovino to look at him properly. "Now, what do we say?"

Lovino felt that urge to cry once again, squeezing his neck until he was struggling to speak. He had to fight it off, he had to appear strong. "Welcome home, Nonno." He struggled out.

Grandpa Rome smiled, finally satisfied with his welcoming, patting Lovino's shoulder. "Good boy." He said as he walked back to the couch where Feliciano and Romeo were sitting. "Now come and join us. I have to tell you boys a story that concerns you as well."

Lovino sighed, he didn't have much choice anyway. Feliciano got up from the couch and threw himself on the beanbag beside it, while Lovino took his place on the couch. Luckily he was seated next to Romeo and not Grandpa Rome.

Once they were all relaxed and ready, Grandpa Rome poured himself a glass of vine and began his story. "Around the end of April, I was mostly finished with my work in France, so my superior gave me a few days off." This was a trademark of Grandpa Rome, he never referred to his boss as boss, preferring the term superior. "Do you boys know where Calais is?" He asked.

Feliciano and Romeo nodded, Lovino just kept still. "Good. Anyway, being so close to England, I decided to pay it a visit since it's been a while. And I'm in London walking by this cinema so I decide to stop. You know, cinema's in London are so different from ours. We're a lot more lively than they are. I swear, everyone was grumpy when I entered." Grandpa Rome trailed on, the rest of them just nodding along.

"So I go up to the counter and I see only one movie playing in the next half an hour and it's this typically teenage movie. You boys would probably love it, there's a lot of beautiful women in it. Anyway, I buy the ticket and everything and I watch the movie. I was bored most of the time, I just don't understand you kids and your taste." He continued, motioning for Romeo to get up. Which he did, only to switch places with Grandpa Rome.

Grandpa Rome threw one arm behind Lovino's neck, holding him closer like that. "This movie was about this gay kid and how his friend bullied him. But the scene that stood out the most to me was when he was telling his parents that he's gay."

Lovino's eyes widened. "In that moment, I wasn't seeing a character from a movie anymore, I was seeing my grandson right there on that screen before me." He spoke that part with so much pride in his voice. And he spoke it to Lovino only. Yes, Feliciano and Romeo could still hear it, but only Lovino listened properly. He felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Grandpa Rome hugged Lovino, running his big and old hands up and down his back just like he did when Lovino was a kid. "I'm sorry, my boy. I said some things I shouldn't have said about you. But I'm an old man, things weren't like this in my time. This movie opened my eyes and told me I still have so much more to learn."

Lovino wept like a little baby as his grandpa spoke. He couldn't believe the things he was hearing. Feliciano and Romeo exchanged glad smiles for their brother.

Grandpa Rome nodded, breaking the hug as Lovino was wiping away the last of his tears. "I won't be staying long, but I'd like to apologize to Toni as well before I leave." He said.

"Are you going to France again?" Romeo asked.

"No. They are shipping me off to Germany this time." Grandpa Rome said, confusion obvious on his face as Lovino groaned and Feliciano stared surprised. This was going to be yet another long weekend.

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zer0pm · 6 years ago

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Diverging Jealousy: Devil Hunters

A/N: The next part of the Diverging Jealousy multific that continues after V’s part. I was considering ending it as I don’t want to drag the story too long, but with how I left V’s part along with all the great feedback, I felt it better to write some scenes that would create a natural transition to the heart-pulling finale. Hope this keeps the hype up. Thanks a bunch to everyone that has been following this. Y’all are the best :)

You: “Wait, Dante. Stop.”

He was about to kiss you and you almost let him, but a nagging feeling tugging at your heart and mind told you to stop and take a step back. So you did, placing a hand against his chest to keep him at bay, allowing you to create some distance. He looks crestfallen at your rejection, but he doesn’t push it.

Dante: “Guessing you’re not feeling me.”

You shake your head.

You: “I don’t know what to feel. This is too sudden and it sure as hell not the right time and place to open up to something like this.”

When you were certain Dante wasn’t going to try to pull a fast one, you lower your hand and your guard.

Dante: “We may not have another chance to talk about this.”

You: “Well, we’re not going to do this in front of V.”

If he was hurt before, Dante certainly was now. Feelings aside, you had a job to do, and you were not going to cause a scene in front of your client. That’s what you convinced yourself anyways. You turn your head to apologize to him about how unprofessional Dante must appear but find him nowhere to be found.

You: “Where did V go?”

Dante: “...Guess he heeded my warning.”

You narrow your eyes at Dante suspiciously.

You: “What warning? You guys have been acting weird all day, you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

Dante’s body grows frigid. Him and his big mouth, but there was no point in hiding or lying about it now. He scratches the back of his head, trying to find the best words to put it.

Dante: “I didn’t like the way he acted around you or how you two talked to each other. It got on my nerves. So I told him to watch himself, ‘cause I already had my sights on you longer than he has and wasn’t going to let him just waltz in and-”

You: “Take what’s yours? Like you own me?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing and his eyes widen at your outburst.

Dante: “It isn’t like that!”

You: “Then what is it, Dante? ‘Cause it sounds to me like you two started a competition where I’m the prize and I didn’t even have a say in it! Now V’s fucking gone off to god knows where and we still got an asshole demon king to kill against which we’re going to need all the fucking help we can get!”

Your fists clenched so tightly, your body was shaking, and your head felt like it was about to burst from all the anger building up inside you.

You: “And you two thought it was a good idea to fight over what?! A chance with me!? God, you can be so stupid sometimes!”

That made his heart fall. Did they not have a chance with you? You storm off, sword drawn. You hear Dante calling out to you.

Dante: “Where are you going?!”

You: “To find our client!”

With a swing, you point your sword at Dante, annoyed rage in your eyes.

You: “And don’t think I’m picking any sides. He’s just as dumb as you for letting this rivalry get the better of both of your judgments! You’re going to fucking keep the office and we’re all going to live through this so I can smack both of you upside your thick skulls! Until then, I’m going to make sure that you two get the fuck along so that I can get back to fucking work!”

Dante knows you’re pissed when half of your sentences are filled with expletives. If he wasn’t legitimately scared of you right now, he would have thought your spirited anger was sexy. Empowering even. It was one of the things that made you so damn attractive while working, ‘cause you had nothing but feeling in everything you do. But he has thrown himself on your bad side and knew it was his fault. He scratches the back of his head in frustration.

Dante: “Fuck...”

He didn’t know how long or far he has been walking, trying to actively move to get his mind of over Dante being so close to you. But no matter how hard he tried, even reciting William Blake to calm his nerves, the quake in his heart shook him painfully. It was pathetic really how much it affected him.

Griffon: “Hey, uh...you okay, V?”

V: “Once Urizen is defeated, I will be.”

Griffon: “True, but what about...you know who, Walker, I think is what you call that other devil hunter.”

V: “Little Wanderer.”

Griffon: “There ya go, that’s the pet name.”

He started calling you that not too long after meeting you, a play on your exceptional scouting abilities. It also helped that it was an ode to one of his favorites poems, fueling his attraction to you. V supposes that he’ll have to come up with another nickname, one that would not serve as a symbol of his hopeless affection.

V: “Irrelevant now. Dante has made his claim clear.”

He sighs, stopping in the middle of an open area.

V: “Besides, he has everything to offer. Me...I have nothing to give. I cannot even give myself as I will simply either crumble away or reveal myself to be the monster that brought calamity to this city Wanderer loved so much. I don’t know which of these would be worse to see on that wonderful face, but it not a sight I can bare. It is better this way.”

Griffon: “V...”

Suddenly he feels a presence zoom right towards them. With amazing reflexes, V instinctively ducks, Shadow leaping from his marks to claw at the attacking figure. The familiar nicks the creature, revealing itself before V. A large, lizard-like demon with long, dagger-like claws and glowing red skin. Out of the all the species of demons in the underworld, this was the his least favorite to deal with and with his current state, he would ride victorious still but not before going through a bit of a struggle destroying it. His worst fear is realized when more Chaos demons fade into vision, completely surrounding them. Well, then...

Griffon: “Um... Now would probably be a good time to call in Nightmare.”

Not needing to be told twice, V summons the full force his demonic energy with a snap of his fingers, triggering the call of his most powerful familiar. Like a meteor falling from the sky, Nightmare crashes into the plaza. The Chaos demons were quick to move out of the way, hissing at the rising ink creature. In their venomous daze, V dashed on top of Nightmare, Griffon and Shadow in tow to defend him.

The Chaos horde engages them, V using his connection with his demon companions to guide their every move, taking extra care to make sure they do not attack too far from him. It was difficult as the enemies were too quick, using their superior speed to dodge most of the strikes and lightning attacks. Even Nightmare’s energy blasts and monstrous strength did little against them. One swiftly sneaks behind V, he could not summon Griffon back enough to knock it away and instead was forced to dodge. He barely missed the killing blow as one hellish claw scratched deep on his shoulder. If he didn’t move at all, that would have pierced his heart right through, yet it still hurt like hell, and he was bleeding profusely.

V: “Gahh!”

The reptilian demon stood atop Nightmare with him and moved to slice upward. V had no choice but to roll off of his own familiar to escape, he landed on the ground on top of his bad shoulder and hisses in excruciating agony. Nightmare beside him fades into a pool of black ink before merging back within him, turning his hair and some of the marks on his back to its dark hue.

He looks up to see Griffon and Shadow trying to get to him, but the surrounding Chaos demons kept them at bay with fierce attacks. He sensed that it is taking all their vigor alone to avoid their vicious offense.

V moves to get back up but feels his weakening body give, keeping him to a kneeling position. His dying core forces him to cough, he covers his mouth as if doing so would muffle the sound and steady his breathing but once he removed his hand, he sees nothing but the red proof of his fading life splattered on his palm.

V: “No, not like this... I can’t lose here.”

He thinks back on how this hell came to be. How everything fell to ruin, all because of him and his selfish pursuit of power. Even now, he wished himself to be stronger. But not just to right his wrongs.

But to see you again...

He was mentally himself for his foolish sentimental heart, but he honestly could not complain. On the brink of death and all he can think about is you. If you were to be his last thoughts, then he felt that everything was worth it. And he hoped even now, that and you and Dante would rise victorious, together. V smiles sadly.

V: “I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe.”

Behind him, a shadow approaches, the signal of the end.

V: “That made my lov-”

BOOM!

The demon behind him falls, fading into black ash. V’s look up to seek out the source and sees a familiar face beside him, helping him back on his feet.

V: “Dante-!”

Dante: “Don’t thank me yet, my partner is still going to kill our dumb asses. Until then...”

He was lucky to have found V first, his feet driven by the desire to beat you to him so that he could speak with the tattooed man first. Not to manipulate the situation between you all, he learned that lesson the first time. But to set it right and let things come naturally. If you chose V over him, if you chose between them at all, then he wanted V to give it his all for you. That would be worth it. The white-haired man looks back at the dark-cladded man with a profound determination in his eyes that told the latter that his pride has been casted aside.

Dante: “Help me out here, will ya?”

Understanding what he means, V nods. His cane in hand, he puts himself in his stance, Griffon and Shadow bracing themselves by his side to carry out their next orders. He eyes the demons that have formed around them with a newfound vigor and malice.

V: “Behold the taste of despair.”

Dante laughs, facing his back to V’s, both men making sure they had each other covered.

Dante: “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

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