#for some reason the trim is what surprised me most--thought i was gonna have to design it from scratch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypersonmyg · 4 years ago

Text

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

Text

The Pack: Silent Night, Holy Night

Summary- 3.6k Alpha Steve Rogers x Little One!Reader. Its your first Christmas with Steve. Preparing the tree you picked, Steve falls in love with the holiday once more.

Warnings- soft smut and feels shared between you two.

A/N- I know we are in mid January, but this fic was started for the Holiday Challenge Sage and I had going. And no entry is to late, so here’s some Christmas feels for those that might be going through with drawls. Much Love always. Happy Reading. 🐺❄️

Your boots crunched through the snow as you followed after Steve, the two of you had walked rows of trees trying to find one for the cabin. It was the first Christmas you have been able to actually celebrate and once Steve put two and two together, he was sure to go all out in a way he hadn't done himself in years.

So today was tree picking day, and it had to be a wild fresh cut tree. Not one from the lot in town, that had been perfectly manicured through its life to be the perfect shape. Of course Steve offered that for you, but you were insistent. No it had to be a tree from home, just as wild and imperfect as you two were. You would know when you saw it.

“What about this one Y/N?” Steve came to a stop, and you tilted your head, looking up at it. It looked full, maybe a bit bigger than the living room it was going into but Steve could easily trim it down to size. You were about to say yes when a head popped out of the top branches, chattering in a scolding manner at the two of you that had you shaking your head.

“It's the chipmunks home.” You said firmly and Steve snorted a bit, folding his arms over his chest.

“We’re saying no to the perfect tree cause of that?”

“Yup. Let's keep looking.” You started in which the Little Wolf was rolling laughing inside of you at the expression of disbelief you left on the Alphas face.

He glanced up at the tippy top of the branches where the chipmunk stared him down. “You're lucky it's me and not the Wolf, he make a snack out of you.”

The chipmunk seemed thoroughly unimpressed and darted back down into the branches. Turning to follow your trail, Steve really couldn't be that upset you bypassed it. Truth be told, he was thoroughly enjoying himself this holiday.

You had managed to dig out some of the old decorations he had stored away, careful with them in case any were fragile. You two had spent one evening going through them, you asking questions about them, where they came from, was there a story behind them. Some made it out into the garbage, memories Steve didn't want to carry anymore. You didn't push for a reason why. Just accepting that they no longer had a place at home.

Then you two went about decorating the front of the house. You shimmied up the ladder to sit on the roof and help strand the lights along the edge while he used the ladder. Streaming lights that looked like blue and white icicles were stretched along the porch and once finished you two sat on the roof for a few moments while it got dark, admiring what others had done from the higher vantage. “Think Santa come find us Alpha?” You teased him while your head laid on his shoulder.

“Were lit right up Little One, if he can’t then he's not doing his job.” Steve teased back before tilting his head back to go from the Christmas lights to the stars starting to dart into sight above them.

“And what do you want for Christmas Steve?” You asked, in which he tightened his arm around your shoulders and dropped his mouth to your temple, pressing his lips there.

“I already have what I want.” His Wolf could do nothing but agree. You chuckled softly and nudged at him.

“Come on, I really want to know Alpha.”

The night he came back late from the lumberyard, you were baking cookies. And not just any cookies, you had managed to find his mothers gingerbread cookie recipe in one of the cupboards and was busy decorating them with so much concentration you hadn't noticed him come inside. The tip of your tongue bitten between your teeth, brows furrowed as you filled in the top of the cookie with icing. He managed to sneak up behind you, arms circling you as you yelped and jumped a bit, Steve laughing deep from his chest as he pressed a kiss to your mark. “Sorry, what are you doing that requires so much concentration?”

You tried using your fingers to smooth out the icing on Frosty, but it just wasn’t happening. “Frosty is just gonna have three eyes instead of two I guess. Making cookies, but I don't know. Do you deserve them?” you teased him with a wiggle of your brows at your mate.

Steve arched a brow and let his hands fall to the curve of your ass, giving a firm squeeze. “Probably not, but you will give me a taste anyways.”

You try hiding your grin, but it's hard. You glance at the messed up cookie in your hand and squint at it. “This looks… exactly like you.” Then you sunk your teeth into the moist gingerbread, proceeding to bite off his head, which made Steve tilt his head back and howl with laughter.

“Should I take that as a promise or a threat Little One?”

“We will see later tonight, now let me finish these cookies!” You pushed him away gently while stuffing the rest of the gingerbread man in his mouth.

All of them just adding up to fill his life in the most unlikely of ways. All these moments could be felt in your bond. He was happy, because you were happy. It was like a soothing balm in his soul. The heaviness he had always experienced was simply gone when he was with you, connected with you. The Wolf was happily settled with your Little Wolf every chance he could. Both of them traveling the expanses of their human sides.

You finally paused, brushing your hands along a branch and tugging at it gently. It was slightly crooked, some gaps in the branches where the tree hasn't grown perfectly. You circled it once while Steve waited for your answer and when you stopped back in the front, you turned, beaming at him.

“It's perfect.”

Later that night You were carefully hanging ornaments, Steve had done the lights just so and was helping you fill out the gaps with twinkling lights, shiny balls you had picked up shopping with Sara and strands of tinsel to make it that much more festive. You step back, hands to hips looking at the tree while Steve closes the last box on the coffee table and moves up behind you. Tucking you under his chin and looking at the tree as well while wrapping you in his arms. “Our first Christmas tree is beautiful Little One.” He said softly, swaying slightly to the sounds of the radio playing Christmas tunes from the kitchen.

He could feel you lean back into his chest, your hands sliding along his arms wrapped around you till you were mimicking hugging yourself as well. The room had such a relaxing ambiance in the glow of the Christmas tree with its twinkling decorations lighting up the room in a soft glow. It even spilled out onto the deck, making the slow glisten just a bit. “It really is Alpha.” You tilt your head enough to nuzzle under his jaw.

The Little Wolf pushed past the barrier to meet with the Alpha, tangling around him affectionately to settle in with him for the night. Curled around one another as they both laid down, nibbling and nuzzling one another quietly.

Steve inhaled along your neck, letting himself drown in your warm scent that was tinged with that fresh snow scent. Clean and hinting on a cold sensation. The cider you had sipped from earlier with a tinge of fireball whiskey in it still lingered. Which Steve wanted more of it, more of tasting it heatedly on your lips.

You could feel Steve's fingers twist into your sweater you were wearing, the slight nips along the curve of your neck while he softly rumbled from his chest. “I got you something.” He pressed the words against your shoulder and then loosened to pull away. You spun at the loss of contact which Steve held up a finger. “Wait, right here Little One.”

You stalled reaching for him, biting your lip. “You have something for me?” You asked softly in a bit of surprise and Steve nodded, a grin forming.

“Be right back.” He stepped back and went down the hallway out of sight. Once he was gone, you breathed out and turned back to the tree, your head tilting as you could feel the moment filling you. It was something you had never thought you would get to experience, Christmas wasn’t celebrated at your old Pack. It was just another long winter day trying to survive.

Now it was filled with everything Steve could think of to do. You were dragged from your thoughts when you heard Steve come back in with a gentle request. Doing his best not to command you as he knew you hated choices taken away from you.

“Can you close your eyes Little One?” He went back to his spot, pressing behind you and rubbing your hip with one hand.

“Okay Steve, they are closed.” You assured him, and waited patiently, a held breath of anticipation burning in your lungs till you could feel him whisper in your ear while tracing the side of your face with the tip of his nose.

“Okay, open them up my Little Wolf.”

Which you did and dangling from his fingers was a frosted glass snowflake, dangling back and forth in which you reached for it, letting the delicate piece sit in your palm. “Steve… I love it.” You trace the patterns so gently that you were barely touching them, and stepped forward looking around before you went to your tiptoes, higher on the tree and slipped the ribbon around a branch, the blue light placed behind it playing the snowflake in a way that made you think of the winter winds sweeping over the lake outside.

Falling back into Steve’s hold, the two of you admired the way your tree had come together. Steve dropped to whisper in your ear soon enough. “Know what I want to see in the future? A couple youngin’s decorating the tree all in one spot, so we have to fix it later when they are asleep.”

You bit your lip while letting that image cross your mind. “What do you say we work on making that happen Alpha?” You twisted and pushed on his shirt, pushing him back to the couch. He didn't put up any kind of fight, letting you push him down to a sit on the middle cushion with a rather turned on look at you.

You move to stand between his legs, his hands slip up along the back of your thighs and cusp under your ass cheeks through your sleep shorts while your hand slide along the sides of his jaw, his beard making your palms tingle while he pulls you into his lap, straddling him with light nips to his lips. “While we are discussing making that happen. What's a good number.” He teased while sliding his hands under your sweatshirt, his favorite one that had their logging business logo on the front. You moaned while pulling away, and he was quick to get it off you and tossed to the side.

The glow of the tree lights illuminated you for him, his fingers dipping along the small of your back while tugging you in close to nip the tops of your breasts while his fingers found your bra clasp and drew it off of you as efficiently as the sweatshirt.

You let your head tilt back to enjoy the sensation of Steve's mouth fondling your chest. Holding onto the back of his neck while he teased you with his mouth, swirling a pebbled nipple with his tongue, he gave a pull to draw it into his mouth, making you growl softly in pleasure and your mind fog over while trying to think of his question. “I know you Alpha.” He gave another rolling twist with his tongue that caused another shudder to roll through you. “You are gonna want a whole mess of them aren't you?”

Steve continued on, soft bites turning into a lavished lick between your cleavage till he tilted towards your other one, his hand massaging with squeezes, his palm was so warm against you. “Only if you want that as well Little One.” He pulled away with a slow pull, letting himself lean back against the couch. His hands covered your breasts, fondling them while you started to rock your hips against him, clearly rubbing your aching cunt against his hard on straining the front of his sweatpants now. His nostrils flared, drawing in the scent of your arousal. Thick swallows bobbed his adam’s apple as he wanted to take a taste of you, but not as much as he wanted his cock in you. “What do you want?”

Your gaze dropped to his, and for a moment you were at a loss as your fingers gripped his shoulders. It was hard to really consider it at the moment as all you could think about was his hard on pressing against you and how wet you already were for him. How could he expect you to think at a time like this, it was clearly unfair and you bit on your bottom lip while sliding your hands against his chest, digging in slightly against his pecs to leverage yourself against him. “Umm, a few? Lets try for one and see how that goes?” You whimpered out while he took hold of your hips and started moving you in a way that really satisfied you, the right amount of pressure driving you wild. Already you were drenching through your shorts to the front of his pants, not to mention your inner thighs, your folds dripping with slick for him.

“I am good with a few.” Steve nipped at your collarbone when he leaned forward, lavishing his tongue in a trail to leave his scent soaking into your skin, further marking you as his. There was nothing more that he craved than filling you with his pups, seeing your belly swell while his babies were safely tucked inside until they were ready to join the world. His fingers dug in possessively and he ached even harder at the thought of filling you with his seed. You smelled so good and were so soft in his arms. He could spend a lifetime just loving you like this, lost in the moment with the Christmas lights glowing softly behind you, illuminating you while you arched back getting lost as his hands rocked your body back and forth against his thigh and aching erection.

Your hands slide down his chest and abs, your senses all heightened with the Little Wolf right at the surface while loving Steve. You tug gently at his sweatpants band and reach in to circle around his throbbing member, easing it out. Your Alpha hissed at the feeling of your hands gliding up and down his shaft, velvet smooth and thick in your palms. You knew he was feeling good at the way his head dropped back against the couch and his hands stilled from moving you. Deep groans would roll from him when you cupped his balls, tugging slightly and rolling them in your fingers. “I want that Steve, to carry your pups.” You confess, giving one last stroke to his cock before pulling away to stand, and your hips shimmy to pull down your sleep shorts and discard them. His own hand replaced where yours left off, tightening once in a while to hold himself in check while his eyes roamed up and down your body, perfection in his eyes.

“Then let me fill you up Little One.” He growled out while reaching for your naked body, easing you back to straddle his lap, kneeling above him while he slid his cock through your heated swollen folds and when you felt his swollen tip press against your entrance, you sunk onto him slowly with a jaw dropping sharp inhale at stretching around your mate.

Steve fought the urge to slide himself fully into your heat, your velvet welcoming walls fluttering tightly around him as he opened you. Made for him, the way you took him and he swore it took the very air from him to see your face screw up a moment and go slack with relief once you were settled on him. He heard you whimper as you rolled your hips. Steve knew you were feeling him completely and clenching around him in need. His hands roved up and down your back while you started to move yourself, arching up and sinking back down, Steve matched your slow pace with an upwards roll of his hips, matching your effort. This was a slow lovemaking, no rush to finish but just enjoy one another intimately.

Your hands roamed up and down Steve's chest and slid around to clasp your hands around his neck, leaning into Steve to catch his lips. Moaning against his mouth while his tongue filled your mouth, lapping back at him. Your fingers curled into his hair at the back of his head, arching into his chest to rub yourself against him while he sucked on your tongue, twisting your head to break from him panting while he flushed kisses down your neck. His teeth sinking into the curved hollow between your neck and shoulder as he grasped your hips and pulled you fully onto him.

Your forehead pressed against his, gasping as Steve took over. Dragging his cock through your fluttering channel, making the knot in your stomach tighten heatedly. Your eyes lifted towards his, which were lust blown and studying you so intently watching how you were coming undone. You whined out with his next roll, feeling his cock hit you in all the right places. “You know how much I love you Steve” You panted out, twisting your face to rub against the side of his face whimpering. His hand slid up your back and grasped the back of your neck to lift your head back up to look at him.

“I can feel it Little One in the way you're loving me right now.” He nipped at your lips with a deep growl, his fingers massaging the back of your neck while holding you in place, listening to those tiny growls and whimpers you were giving him in the soft glow of Christmas lights. “So beautiful right now Little One.” He whispered to you while grinding you against his groin. “Loving your alpha so sweetly, so trusting. I can't wait for the day you become my pups mother.” Losing his hand on his hip, he dipped between your thighs and slid fingers around where you two were joined, gathering arousal to drench your clit while rubbing in circles.

“Oh god Alpha.” Your voice pitched with the tingles racing along your body and Steve had you where he wanted you.

“I love you too my Omega… come with me.” He demanded, his own rush tightening his chest and heated through his body with tense muscles. You started breaking apart in the way he loved seeing you. It was the most raw form of yourself, no words could describe the way you cried his name sounded to him, or the roaring growl he gave as he painted you full of him, his knot swelling to lock you together. Steve pulled you into his chest while you shook out your orgasm, blissed out feeling yourself so full with him and you curled up into his chest while he rubbed deeply at your back and over your hips, his face buried in against your neck while inhaling deeply. Warm honeysuckle mixed with your satisfaction wafted through him, as much as he had marked you, you had marked him as well.

You two stayed like that for several moments, in the quiet of the night in just the glow of the tree lights. You were the first to stir, brushing a hand through his hair that made Steve hum against your neck before shifting back to lean against the couch and you eased up a bit to look at him. “You okay Little One?” He asked softly and you gave a nod, sighing with satisfaction still feeling his knot stretching you. It would be a while before you could move off his lap his time. Not that you minded, you were quite comfortable staying right there with him.

“Always with you Alpha.” you settled back into him, and he loosely circled his arms around you to rub your still shivering back. Remnants of your passion, but he still reached for an afghan draped over back of the couch and spread it over the two of you. He nuzzled the side of your head, brushing your hair back off your neck to flush possessive kisses against your mark. “Best Christmas I've had in a long time, Little One. You've been my greatest gift.”

You hid your smile for a moment, letting his words sink in. Your Little Wolf crooned in pleasure while swirling into the Alpha's embrace, the two wolves sharing love bites against the muzzles and rubbing against one another in a mates dance.

The bond between you two radiated each other's bliss, forming a stronger connection with each passing day. The evening slipped well into the night before you two pulled away from each other. Steve turning on the radio in the kitchen to turn up the soft Christmas music tunes while you tugged your sweater back on.

Once he approached you again, you thought he was gonna scoop you up to go to bed, but he weaved his fingers with yours and swayed slowly in front of your first shared Christmas tree, sharing whispered ‘I love you’s’ and nips of playful kisses until you led him to the bedroom for the night. You insisted on leaving the tree illuminated through the night.

Any wolves passing on the frozen lake could see the glow playing on the snow falling heavily, muffling any noises and encasing there part of the world in silence.

#the pack #alpha steve rogers #steve rogers #alpha steve and little one #amber writes #sweater writes #welcome to the pack #one shot #holiday #holiday 2020 #ssholidaychallenge

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starshine583 · 4 years ago

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New Girl on the Block (9)

(Happy New Years everybody!!! I know that was two days ago, but still! I hope all of you are doing well, and please enjoy this new chapter! also feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch.1 / Ch.8 / Ch.10

Chapter 9: Let’s Try That Again

“Claude, I’m not sure about this..” Marinette remarked, tentatively leaning over the brunette’s shoulder.

Claude waved off her concerns as he grabbed for the various chemicals on their shared desk. “Don’t worry! There’s no way I can mess this up twice.”

Marinette frowned. “Twice?”

He nodded and pulled out a plastic bag that they’d been given to hold the chemicals. “I took this class last year too, but I only got halfway through before they transferred me for being too disruptive.”

Marinette pulled her lip between her teeth, her concerns growing by the second. “Define ‘disruptive’.”

“Oh, you know,” Claude shrugged, carelessly throwing the chemicals into the plastic bag, “You try to listen as best you can, but there are so many chemicals to look at! It’s hard to pay attention. Anyway, one spill ends up in a gas explosion, and another shaking-instead-of-stirring ends up in acid all over the beaker and the desk, and after a while, Mlle Arquette decided that I might be able to pay more attention in Chemistry next year.”

“A-A gas explosion?” Marinette squeaked. She knew Claude could be chaotic from time to time, but she had hoped that his antics in the classroom wouldn’t range anywhere beyond ‘classic class clown’.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t toxic,” Claude insisted, “Just thick. Besides, we have this lab gear to protect us! We’re fine.”

Marinette clutched the sides of her lab coat. Sure, they had lab gear, but exactly how much could it protect them?

“Claude-”

“Alright, it’s shaking time!” Claude announced. He held up the now-sealed bag with a grin and started shaking it as hard as he could. Marinette flinched back, covering her face despite already wearing goggles. She had a bad feeling about this.

The phenol red inside the bag quickly mixed in with the Sodium Bicarbonate and Calcium Chloride, but he didn’t stop shaking until the plastic bag was almost completely red. By that time, the chemicals had merged into a deep red color, and the plastic bag had inflated to its maximum capacity.

“Hey, check it out!” Claude said, holding up the bag. “It looks like it's starting to bubble up.”

Marinette peaked between her fingers, though she still couldn’t see what he was talking about from her angle. She did, however, notice that the bag looked like it was about to explode any second.

“Um, Claude?” She began cautiously. “I think you’re supposed to let some of the air out now.”

“Oh, yeah.” He pulled the bag back down, getting ready to pull it open. “I almost forgot about that.”

Marinette gasped and stepped forward. “Wait, you need to be care-”

The bag popped open, and the poor pair weren’t able to react as fast as the chemicals inside. Everything shot up within a matter of seconds, splattering chemicals all over the desk and the students. Thankfully, it didn’t burn, but Marinette deeply lamented the fact that they were only in third period. Was she supposed to go through the rest of the day as a mess?

“Claude Herolds!”

Marinette and Claude’s gazes snapped upwards to their Chemistry teacher, Mlle Arquette. She fixed them both with an equally cross and tired glare.

“How many times do I have to tell you to open the bag slowly?”

Claude offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Mlle Arquette.. Would it help if I told you that it kind of popped open on its own?”

The teacher narrowed her eyes. “No, it most certainly would not. Because that means you didn’t mix it correctly, and the amount of chemicals on your clothing suggests that you put too much into the bag!”

“...I couldn’t remember which measuring spoons to use for the chemicals..” Claude admitted, reaching up to rub his upper arm.

Mlle Arquette sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s why I gave you a list of instructions. Didn’t you read them?”

Marinette and Claude both tensed. In the heat of the moment, they may or may not have forgotten that they were given specific instructions on what to do. Well, Marinette remembered. It was just that Claude seemed so sure of himself that she forgot to check the instructions.

The teacher took their silence as an answer and shook her head. “Claude, I don’t know how to get it through your head that you need to do what you’re told. So for now, I’ll give you detention and hope the extra time has you put more value on focus.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “D-Detention?”

She’d never gotten detention before, not at Rosemary anyway. Was it different from Dupont? Would it knock down her grades? Would she have to do extra homework on top of it?

“Not you, Marinette.” The teacher assured. “I’m letting you off with a warning since this is your first incident.”

Marinette blew out a sigh of relief, but Claude groaned.

“Awe, man! I’m gonna be in detention all by myself?”

Marinette gasped. “You want me to be in detention?”

“Oh, no!” Claude hastily amended. “No, it’s just so boring being in there by myself.”

“Maybe the lack of company will give you incentive to be more cautious during our next class session.” Mlle Arquette cut in. “Now use the sink to wash up.”

Marinette and Claude moved to the front of the classroom as told and took turns using the sink. Unfortunately, Phenol Red is not known for coming out easily. They used as much soap as possible, but their lab coats remained stained, along with their cheeks..

“Well,” Claude said as they walked back to their desk, “since our cheeks are stained anyway.. Wanna try again?”

Marinette pursed her lips. At the very least, it couldn’t get any worse, right?

“Okay, but this time I’ll mix the chemicals.”

“Deal!”

~~~~~~

Felix blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. When he went to get Marinette for their next shared class, he expected her to be the same way she was when he’d left her earlier that morning. What he found instead, however, was a couple of classmates that had both their hands and the lower halves of their faces covered in red, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask why.

“Hey, Felix!” Claude greeted casually, as though he and Marinette didn’t look like walking tomatoes. “You look a little surprised. Is it my new haircut?”

“Oh, you got a new haircut?” Marinette asked, genuinely curious.

The brunette nodded and reached up to touch the curled tips of his bangs. “Yeah, but I didn’t do much. They just trimmed me up.”

“I thought something looked different.” Marinette hummed. “It looks nice.”

“Why, thank you.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Felix finally cut in, “why, exactly, are you two covered in red?”

Claude pulled a sheepish smile, and Marinette chuckled nervously, neither of which gave Felix any clarity.

“I kind of.. made some chemicals explode again.” Claude admitted.

Felix’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“Okay, not really explode.” Claude said. “They more of splattered everywhere.”

Felix’s gaze darted to Marinette, briefly scanning over her figure for injuries. She didn’t appear to be in pain, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t. What type of chemicals did they use? Were they toxic? Was anything ingested? The red on their faces didn’t look like burn marks.

“We’re fine.” Marinette assured, noticing his concern. “Mlle Arquette had us wash off right after it happened, so the only thing that affected us was the Phenol Red.”

Felix sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Phenol Red? No wonder their skin was dyed. “And what was Mlle Arquette's reaction to this?”

“Oh, she gave me detention,” Claude said point blank, “but I don’t blame her. I know I can be a bit much.”

Felix rose a brow. “Just you?”

The two nodded.

“She let me off with a warning.” Marinette explained.

Felix hummed. That sounded like Mlle Arquette. When he had to be Claude’s partner for Chemistry last year, the teacher had been extremely understanding then too. In hindsight, he probably should have warned Marinette about Claude’s tendencies in class. “Well, at least she was reasonable enough to know you weren’t at fault.”

Claude scoffed and crossed his arms. “You weren’t even there! How do you know she didn’t give me the wrong instructions?”

“Call it a hunch.” Felix replied flatly. He pulled a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and handed it to Marinette. “Here, use this to wipe off the chemicals.”

“Oh, no thank you.” Marinette politely declined. “I already washed it off as best I could.”

“Yes, but have you tried using a cloth yet?” He asked. When she shook her head, he continued, “Then some might still be able to come off. Rosemary holds their student’s presentability in high regard. I’d recommend trying.”

Marinette held up a hand insistently. “Thanks, but I really don’t need it. The dye’s already settled by now anyway, and I don’t want it to ruin your handkerchief if I get more off.”

Felix shrugged, tucking the handkerchief back into its respective pocket. “Mother’s gotten rid of worse, but I won’t force you.”

“I could use a handkerchief.” Claude spoke up.

Felix rolled his eyes. “Find your own.”

“But you were going to let Marinette use it!” Claude remarked, a grin growing on his lips despite his accusatory tone.

“She didn’t make the mess, did she?” Felix shot back.

Claude waved a hand at the remark. “Yeah, yeah. I can see how far our friendship goes.”

Marinette giggled, drawing the boys’ attention back to the ravenette.

“As fun as this is, I need to stop by the lockers before class.” She said with a smile. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Felix replied, stepping forward. “I need to switch out a few books as well.”

“As if you wouldn’t walk her anyway..” Claude muttered under his breath behind him.

Felix glanced over his shoulder at the brunette. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Marinette asked, turning back as well.

“Oh, nothing.” Claude said, averting his gaze with a slight smile. “I’m gonna head to my next class too. See you guys later!”

Felix narrowed his eyes. He’d heard what Claude said. He just didn’t understand it. Or rather, he didn’t understand the tone. Felix walking Marinette to her classes was common knowledge at that point, yet Claude stated it as though it were some sort of secret. Why? It’s not as though the others didn’t walk her to classes as well. Claude himself would fight over whether he got to drive Marinette to different locations or not.

The class bell shook him from his thoughts, along with Marinette’s light call, and Felix moved to follow behind her. As they walked, she rambled on about the full story behind her red-colored cheeks, which allowed Felix to push Claude’s strange comment to the back of his mind. There was no reason for the brunette to have a hidden meaning in his speech anyway. So there was no point in overthinking it.

~~~~~~

Ah. The Cafe de Flore. Claude’s favorite place to eat. It had the best sandwiches, delicious pastries- tough not at good as Mlle Sabine’s -and wonderful, customer service. He’d always received a welcoming smile when he visited.

He drew in a deep breath, relishing in the smell of chocolate and dough that wafted through the air. It made his mouth water and his stomach growl with anticipation. His food should be ready any minute now, and he could hardly wait.

A giggle brought his attention to the line behind him. Marinette was shuffled in with a few of the other customers, happily chatting with Felix, who’d gotten in line with her.

Claude narrowed his eyes at the blond, remembering their talk at the aquarium. He’d been so insistent that he had no idea what Claude was referring to, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Felix never took the time to talk to people, never listened or sympathized or smiled the way he did with Marinette. Every action, every sentence, everything he did around her screamed that he liked her. Normally, Claude wouldn’t care, since everybody had one good friend, but Felix didn’t like anybody. Heck, they’d been with him for three years, and he still fought tooth and nail before he agreed to do anything with them. But the one time Marinette, the person he's only known for three weeks, decides to ask him to something, he agrees immediately. No fuss. No arguing. Nothing. His crush on her was so obvious that when he played dumb last weekend, Claude nearly tore his hair out in frustration. How stupid did Felix think they were?

“I’ve got a BLT for a Claude Herolds?”

At the waitress’ call, Claude whirled around to grab his food with a ‘thank you’. He then moved back through the other customers to get to the group table, where Allegra and Allan were already seated. Marinette flashed him a smile and said ‘hey’ while he passed, but Felix merely rolled his eyes at Claude’s presence.

Of course, that didn’t stop the blond from turning right back to Marinette, all traces of annoyance washing away in an instant.

Yeah, he definitely had a crush on her.

“Tell me you’ve noticed.” Claude said to Allegra as he plopped down in the seat next to her. He couldn’t keep this to himself any longer, or he was going to explode like those chemicals in Chemistry class this morning.

Allegra glanced up from her soup questioningly. “Noticed what?”

Claude scoffed. As if she didn’t already know. Allegra was twice as observant as he was. If he saw something interesting, she was bound to have already seen it at least ten minutes beforehand.

“What else?” He replied impatiently. “Felix’s crush on Marinette.”

Allegra and Allan both gasped and shot up from the table, slapping their hands onto Claude’s mouth.

“Are you crazy?” She hissed at him. “Why would you say that out loud? What if they’d heard you?”

Claude pushed their hands away. “What does it matter? We all know.”

“Yeah, but they don’t.” Allan pointed out. “Even if they did, you can’t just say stuff like that without permission.”

Claude furrowed his eyebrows. “You expect me to believe that Felix doesn’t know about his own feelings towards Marinette?”

He could understand Marinette being oblivious. She hasn’t known Felix as long as they have, hasn’t heard the snide remarks and snaps and sarcastic comments that used to shoot from Felix’s mouth on a regular basis, hasn’t seen the constant glares they used to receive. (Emphasis on used to. They still get looks and snarky replies, but it's not nearly as venomous as it was before Marinette showed up.)

Claude didn’t blame Felix for liking Marinette- there was no doubt about her being a literal saint -but to say that Felix had no idea that he liked her was insane.

Allegra shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Felix clearly hasn’t had a crush before, and he’s extremely logical. He probably just thinks that she’s more fun to be around than we are.”

Claude tisked and crossed his arms. “He would think that, wouldn’t he?”

“To be fair, she doesn’t push his buttons as much as we do.” Allan commented.

“..Yeah, that’s true.” Claude admitted, a small smile coming to his lips. “She doesn’t push anyone’s buttons. She’s great like that.”

Allegra nodded in agreement. “Which is why we should try to figure out if she likes him too.”

Claude’s eyes widened. He.. hadn’t thought of that. How did Marinette feel about Felix?

As if on queue, all three of them subtly turned to glance at the pair. They were at the front of the line now, helping each other pick their food. Felix held another small smile, causing Claude to grip the edge of his chair with slight scowl. Love can do strange things to a person, but after three years of friendship, one would think that Felix could be a tad nicer to them too.

Marinette smiled brightly up at the blond as she always did. She seemed to enjoy talking with him, but then again, she enjoyed talking to everyone. That could hardly be considered a sign of love or affection. The only thing that might be related to a crush was that time in the library when the two shared headphones. She got all flustered and embarrassed after getting really close to Felix, but in all honesty, Marinette tended to blush rather often. When embarrassed, when bashful, when caught off guard- It was just another quirky thing about her that they all loved.

“We wouldn’t want to force this on her.” Allan said, taking the words from Claude and Allegra’s mouths. Marinette was too kind and sweet to be put in such an uncomfortable position.

“So how do we find out? Should we ask her?” Claude questioned, twisting back to face the table again.

“Yes, but we need to be subtle.” Allegra cautioned. “Crushes can be a sticky business, especially when someone isn’t quite aware of their feelings towards another.”

“In other words, Felix can’t know we asked,” Allan added, “and Marinette can’t know about Felix’s feelings. At least not until he knows that he has them, and we know that they’re requited.”

Claude nodded thoughtfully. “That still doesn’t tell me how we’re going to ask her.”

“Ask who what?”

The trio jumped at the sound of Marinette’s voice, each snapping to look at her for a reaction. She couldn’t have been there long, right? How much had she heard? Where was Felix?

“Uh..” Claude gaped. “N-Nothing. I mean, we were-”

“We were going to ask my mom about a sleepover.” Allegra cut in. “Do you think you’d be up for it?”

Claude couldn’t help the smirk that curled onto his lips. Clever Allegra. Having a sleepover meant everyone would get together, but it also meant the boys and girls would be separated by the end of the evening. That would leave Marinette and Allegra alone for a good eight hours if they played their cards right. Plenty of time to ask about Marinette’s feelings towards Felix, and plenty of time to ask Felix about his feelings towards Marinette.

Clever, clever Allegra.

“Oh, a sleepover?” Marinette echoed, a spark of interest gathering in her eyes. “At your house?”

“Yeah!” Allegra smiled. “We’ve all been to your house. I want you to come to mine.”

Marinette returned her smile, but before she could respond, Felix spoke up behind her.

“You’re having another sleepover?”

Marinette flinched, just as Claude and the others had done moments prior, and Felix took a step back as a silent apology.

What a considerate thing to do, Claude thought. If only Felix were that considerate towards literally anyone else.

His bitter thoughts were pushed aside when Allegra nestled her chin in her palm, saying, “Don’t act like I have a sleepover every other day. Our last sleepover was on New Years Eve.”

“Yes, and that sleepover is exactly the reason why I won’t be attending another one.” Felix stated with a scowl. “That permanent marker didn’t come off of my face for a week.”

Claude stifled a laugh. That mustache and monocle drawing had easily been the best part of the evening.

Marinette full-on giggled at the remark and sat down in the chair between Claude and Allan, amusement and curiosity seeping through her tone as she asked, “You guys drew on his face?”

Felix’s scowl deepened- he hated being called out on embarrassing things -and his gaze shifted to the side. “While I slept. It was absolutely dreadful.”

“Oh~ it was a joke.” Allegra cooed, waving off his bitterness. “You know you want to come.”

“Why would I?” Felix scoffed as he sat between Allegra and Allan. “The hours I’m forced to spend with you on a daily basis are torture enough.”

Claude smirked. Bold words for someone who was crushing hard on the newest member of their group.

“Because deep down in that cold, shriveled heart of yours, you know you love us.” He said, subtly wrapping an arm around Marinette’s shoulders as he said ‘us’. “Besides, we’re all going to be there. You don’t want to miss out, do you?”

Felix shot Claude daggers, but Claude only gave an innocent smile in response. He knew that he had the blond cornered. Marinette would be expecting him to go to the sleepover, the same way she’d expected him to go to the aquarium. Felix said yes to her then, and he would say yes to her now. Because he liked her.

Slowly, Felix’s gaze slid to Marinette, the spite in his eyes fading away as he glanced at her. Claude’s smile widened. He was thinking it over, contemplating whether it would be worth it to ‘suffer’ an extra night with them or not for Marinette’s sake.

This was the moment. This was the moment where Felix’s true motives would be revealed, even though he was doing his best to hide them from everyone else, including himself.

“Fine.” The blond relented, just like Claude knew he would. “But I better not wake up with marker on my face again.”

Allan smirked. “Don’t worry, man. We promise there won’t be any markers for you this time.”

“Nope.” Claude Grinned. “Just some quality time between friends.”

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598

#felinette #Rosemary AU #Quantic Kids #Marinette #Felix Culpa #New Girl on the Block

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dakarimainink · 3 years ago

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Dancing Under The Stars

WARNING: Fluff, friendly, slight angst, cute

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x You (Reader)

Wordcount: 2.5K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

This was a request by anon:

"If possible could you do a sequel to “Happy New Year” I really liked it and thought it was so cute!!"

Thank you, anon 🥰 Here is part 2 to "Happy New Year". This was fun to write. I hope you all will enjoy.

💛 Every reblog is highly appreciated and help out writers a lot! 💛

Masterlist

You had met Pedro twice now. The first time was at the coffee shop right after New Year. You had stumbled out of bed, freshened up and found him standing outside, keeping an eye out with his hat resting atop of his head. Once he had seen you, he had instantly embraced you and wished you once again, a happy new year. He had taken you in to the coffee shop where he bought you something warm to drink and you sat down in a quiet corner where he actually told you the somewhat thrilling story of his hat.

Between your first and second time meeting up, you had been exchanging some texts here and there, but Pedro being the person he was, he rather wanted to call you if you texted him. You didn’t mind at all, as it would usually turn into a facetime call and he would make some funny faces to make you smile, especially if you had a tough day.

The second time you had met up, almost four months had passed since the first meet up. You had opted for a nice walk in the park, as it was all you had time to, due to him having a tight schedule. He had been open about his career and you respected it by not poking your nose too deep. You took what he gave of information and usually spoke of everything else than his current projects. He was more interested in your life and what you were up to every day.

Today was the third time to meet up with him. You were nervous as you hadn’t seen him in a very long time and exactly five texts were exchanged during that time. He hadn’t called you and you hadn’t called him.

You were surprised when he suddenly called you late one Wednesday to ask to meet up with you. He had apologised profusely as he had woken you up with his call, not realising the difference in time zones from where he was and where you were. That was a month ago and you had finally found a timeslot appropriate for the both of you, even though it was Pedro who mostly never had time. You didn’t blame him though.

You had dressed up for the occasion and you stood in front of your mirror, looking over your form to make sure everything was perfect. You snapped your head to the side as you heard your doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath to calm you nerves, you walked to the entrance to answer.

You met a bright smile and warm brown eyes as you opened the door.

“Hey.” Pedro chimed as he met your gaze.

You opened the door wide and stepped into his open arms, feeling the warmth envelop you immediately. You inhaled deeply and slowly, sensing his earthy musk and spices of his perfume. Reluctantly letting go, you took a step back and gave him a once-over.

He looked amazing as always, with his trimmed beard, slightly rough hairstyle, black trousers and a black shirt with the two top buttons open. He had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and were wearing a silver watch.

“You look amazing.” He smiled and gestured to your clothes.

You blushed. “Thank you. So do you.” You admitted, your cheeks ablaze as you couldn’t stop staring at his arms. The shirt was perfectly hugging his form and you couldn’t help but note the slight outline of veins up his hands and arms.

You grabbed your coat and purse, before locking the door behind you and following Pedro over to his car. He held the passenger door open for you and assisted you in getting in. He went around the car and got into the driver’s seat.

“So, where are we going?” You asked as you clicked in the seatbelt.

He chuckled at your question as he secured his seatbelt and put the car in drive. “It’s a surprise.” He answered and you drove off.

You had no idea what his plans were for you, all you knew was that you had to dress up, not ballroom style, but date night style. Wait, was this a date? No, it would be strange if it was a date and he didn’t say anything about it. Right? You hadn’t seen each other in so long and Pedro didn’t seem like the man who would suddenly take you out on date without a warning.

You shifted in your seat and leaned your knees towards his side. You noted the lit up display in the middle of you with small icons of different apps covering the screen. You recognised most of them, but your eyes widened at the text message icon.

“Uhm…” You pointed at the screen with an amused smile.

“I can explain.” He chuckled as his eyes were filled with panic.

“Please do, because to me it looks like you’re ignoring people.” You laughed.

“It’s just that people text me and instead of me texting back, I call them.” He explained hurriedly. “I’m not ignoring people, but for some reason the texts won’t appear as read.”

You supressed a laugh. “Sure, sure, sure, if you say so.”

“It’s true!”

You both laughed, him trying hard not to drive off the road as you begun to drive out of town. You watched as the buildings became smaller and fewer, the amounts of cars and people grew scarcer.

When you had finally managed to get out of town, he drove uphill. Thoughts flew through your head. Is he gonna kill me? Oh god, what if he’s a murderer. No, don’t be foolish, he’s too kind to be a killer. Shake it off!

Without thinking you shook your head. In the corner of your eye, you noticed him glancing at you and a flush of red crept up to your cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He asked, shifting his grip on the gearstick. You watched his fingers caress it and it was almost like a trance.

“Uhm, no. I mean, yes. I am okay.” You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from his hand and out the window. “Where are we going?”

“We’re there soon.” He smiled reassuringly, and that’s everything you needed to know.

He finally stopped the car and you looked out. It was dark, very dark and you turned to him anxiously.

He just smiled at your worried look. “Come.” He simply said and got out of the car.

You climbed out of the car and closed the door behind you. He held out a hand to you and you grabbed it, feeling the heat envelop you immediately.

“I remember you told me, one of the items on your bucket-list was to dance under the stars.” He begun explaining as you walked towards a bushy area. “Well, I saw there would be a meteor shower today, which would hopefully make it a little more special than what this day already is.”

You suddenly noticed the sound of music in front of you. Leading the way, still holding your hand, he pushed aside some branches and revealed an open spot decorated with candles and a speaker playing soft piano music. But it was the view that made you gasp as you stepped closer.

“It was Y/F/N who helped me set it up. I hope you like it.” He smiled and let you step ahead of him, your hand covering your mouth as you looked out on the city you lived in. You turned around to look at him. “Happy birthday.”

Your eyes widened. It was your birthday? Last time you had even noted the time was New Year’s Eve. You blushed at the fact that you had forgotten your own birthday.

A confused but amused expression spread across his face. “You know it’s your birthday, right?” He almost chuckled at the sentence he just spoke.

You cleared your throat and looked down in embarrassment.

He laughed and took a step closer to you. “Oh, Y/N…” He cupped your face and tilted it back, meeting his eyes. You were both smiling at this point, amused about the situation. “Lost in time, huh?” He mumbled, more to himself. He let go of your face, took one step back and held out his hand to you. “May I have this dance?”

You nodded and placed your hand in his. He pulled you to him, placing his other hand on your hip while you raised your own free hand to his shoulder. The soft piano music hummed through the speaker and you began to move slowly.

He spun you around once, before pulling you to him again and feeling the heat radiate from him.

“Thank you.” You beamed up at him. “No one has ever done this before. I am actually surprised you even remembered my bucket-list. Especially how briefly we talked about it.”

He chuckled. “I believe it’s safe to say, I remember most, if not all, we talk about.” He seemed proud and confident in his statement. “Mostly because I have good memory, but also because I enjoy your company.”

“Really?”

He scoffed. “You sound surprised.”

You cast down your eyes to his chest. “Well, I suppose a little.” You caught your lower lip with your teeth, slightly chewing on it.

He stopped for a moment and held your chin between his thumb and finger, lifting your head to meet his gaze. He hooked your lip loose from your own grasp, softly tracing it with his thumb before saying: “I mean it, I enjoy your company greatly.” He let go of your chin and grabbed your hand again to continue your slow dance.

A slight blush crept up your cheeks, feeling almost short for breath. Without another word, you continued to slowly move in silence together, listening to the soft hymns from the speaker and the very distant sounds of the city.

“You’ve danced before?” He asked with a warm smile.

You looked up at him, holding his gaze. “Very little.” You admitted. You scanned his face, he seemed calm, except for a small strain in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

The smile faded from his lips for just a moment as he assessed your question. “I just feel bad for not being more in touch.” His fingers twitched once against your body. “I have had you on my mind quite often since we last met.”

Your lips parted at his honesty.

“And I wanted to apologise for last time we met up. A short stroll wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it was-”

You shook your head with a giggle, stopping him in his tracks. Your movements stopped, but you held the position and you looked up at him. “Pedro, you don’t have to apologise. I understand you are a busy man with a hectic career.” You began and you could see his shoulders fell down. “And I know you have a family and friends you would prioritise spending time with than some random woman you met at a party.”

His eyes darted back and forth, not quite sure what to say next, so – you continued.

“Besides, the little walk in the park meant a lot to me and I really enjoyed myself. It is always nice to do something that doesn’t involve a lot of… everything. Just two people walking, talking and enjoying the scenery around them is what I prefer. In fact, I rather sit down in a park and have a lunch than go to some fancy restaurant, all dressed up and pretending that everything is perfect.”

A contempt smile had widened on his lips as you had spoken. You continued your slow dance to the soft music. Sometimes your eyes catching each other and sometimes staring out on the glittering city.

A warmth spread out across your chest as you actually realised what he had done for you tonight. You couldn’t remember last time someone did something like this for you, with no expectation to reciprocate.

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” He suddenly said. “I did too.”

You beamed up at him and he pulled you just a little closer to him.

Pedro escorted you up to your front door. You unlocked it and opened it, before turning to him.

“Thank you for an amazing evening and the lovely birthday-gift.” You smiled and walked into his open arms, hugging him tightly and taking in his deliciously spicy musk.

“It was a pleasure to spend the evening with you.” He emphasized as he let go of you. He fished in his trouser pockets with a smirk on his face. “But I have another gift for you.” He pulled out a small black box and your eyes widened. He noticed your change and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I am not about to propose.”

You rubbed the back of your neck and chortled nervously. You didn’t actually believe he would do it, but a small sting did shoot through your mind when you first saw the box.

He handed you the case and you darted your eyes up to him in question. A nod of confirmation let you know to open it and so you did.

A smile widened on your lips as you looked down at a long silver necklace with a pendant of a hat.

You couldn’t help the supressed giggle escape your lips. “A hat?”

He grinned widely at you as a small flashback of New Year’s Eve popped into your mind.

You shook your head with a smile, closed the box and pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

He pressed you tightly against him. “I promise it won’t be long until next time.”

“I am already looking forward to it.” You said with a low voice.

You let go of each other and gave one last smile and wave before he walked back to his car. You locked the door behind you and leaned back on the door, breathing out slowly. You rose the black box up to your chest and pressed it against yourself. Closing your eyes, you slowly sank down onto the floor.

Your chest felt somewhat heavy as you saw Pedro in your mind. It was painful to know he was the only one who had wished you a happy birthday. Not even your family had reached out to you, not that you completely blamed them, you had even forgotten yourself.

You opened the black box and looked down at the small brown hat handing on the necklace. A wide smile stretched across your lips and the warmth you had felt earlier, came back and spread out across your body. You were truly looking forward to seeing him again.

Suddenly, three knocks on your door made you shoot up to your feet. You straightened your clothes before opening the door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Your friends and family stood huddled outside with wrapped gifts and cakes. They were all dressed up and wide smiles across their faces.

You gaped at them in surprise. One by one, they hugged you, stepped inside and made themselves at home, preparing for a celebration of your day.

You went to bed that night, filled with warmth and happiness, and with a necklace hanging around your neck.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @xoxo-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44, @stevie75, @mswarriorbabe80

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal x you #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal x Y/N #fluff #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #rpf #real person fiction #ao3

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years ago

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Third Times The Charm~

Characters: Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Chishiya Shuntaro, Last Boss, @a-simp-20 , @niragis-right-hand-rabbit, and Me

Genre: Dunno, but Hatter's out for blood. ♥️ Hey, at least there's some fluff at the end!

1.3k words

We're back at it again, except this is more aftermath than actual heisting. Time goes by and this rendition of Hatter is gonna murder us one of these days.

Hatter thought it was the end of it all, he really did. The three that kept managing to slip underneath his nose, past the militants, would stop after a few times. No use in challenging fate too many times, there was always bound to be a slip-up somewhere.

Yet it happened again, and this time it was getting far too out of hand. He had just come back from a game, just as many of his loyal and dedicated people were doing at the same timeframe. Sweaty and exhausted from the Spades game he just had to push through — with an overwhelming success, he should add — he wanted nothing more than to sit back, relax, maybe have a nice bottle of that black cherry vodka he managed to win last week. What better way to relax?

Well, he wasn’t getting that privilege, as he steps into his room only to find something amiss.

“ Where. Is. My couch.” Hatter says to an invisible audience, eyes staring at the spots where his couches were. The funny part was, through the slow realization of the scene in front of him, was nothing else looked remotely out of place. Every little thing that he remembered leaving on the floor was still there, and nothing looked to be moved. The only evidence that anything was missing was the blank spaces, perfectly aligned in the sad shadow of his purloined couches.

Hatter slowly takes a slow, deep breath, eyes fixated on the spot — and perhaps a little bit of bloodlust was forming in his body, perhaps even more — and he lets it out, a smile of doom forming upon his lips. Oh, those three were definitely on his Super Duper Traitors list. Nobody was gonna steal his couches. Especially a second time.

Hatter strides away to his bathroom to wash up a little, finding zero reasons to not look good before he sends a search party for these three so he can finally get his hands on them. He splashes cool water on his face, washing away every bit of grime and sweat that remained on his face, sighing in relief as the water cooled him just a bit.

Not cool enough to dissipate the fire in his system, of course, but it was a good attempt on the water’s part. He straightens up, staring at himself in the mirror, smile curled on his lips as he nods to himself. “ Oh, this’ll be the day you’ll regret betraying me. I’m going to make sure traitors pay.”

Hatter turns around, his kimono swaying rather spectacularly as he begins his walk down to call a surprise manhunt. Sure, he felt a bit bad that he was sending out people just after finishing harrowing games for their lives, but it was for the greater good of him! After all, he knew what was best for everyone to get out eventually, and they all listened to him. He loved these people, how they willingly fought for the greater cause in support of him and the safe haven he created for all of them.

That support he got was going to a great cause, and that included finding the traitors. He passes by a few people, smiling as he relays the call to them, to spread the word to come back to the lobby so he could tell them all the important news. He doesn’t bother to check if they do as he asked, knowing full well that they’d do anything to help like the good people they were, making his way up to the floor where he usually spoke to the members of his beloved utopia.

Within minutes, the crowd filter left and right to hear what Hatter had to say next, Hatter smiling down at them as they all waited patiently for his news, a few chattering amongst themselves. Hatter raises his arms, a wide smile on his face.

“ Greetings everyone! I do sincerely apologize for calling you all here once more when you all deserve time to relax! Trust me, so do I, but this is quite important for you all to hear!” Hatter starts, voice clear and concise to attract even the most distracted of people. Eyes look up at him from below, Hatter raising his arms and clenching one into a fist. “ As you all know, there are three rules to this Beach!” One hand holds up three fingers, each one going down as he repeats them. “ One! You must always wear a swimsuit! Two! You can do whatever you want here! And three! Traitors will be killed.” Hatter lowers his arms to rest on the railing, leaning forward with a calm smile. “ This is about the third rule~”

That gets people chattering again, fear in their tone and faces. Hatter laughs, and he waves a hand to shush them. “ Do not fear! This isn’t about you, my beautiful and beloved members! No, this is about a certain group that continues to escape my grasp, ones that you may have seen before! They come in and out like cats in the night, frisking away my items like it is nothing more than candy in a candy shop! The horror!” He puts the back of his hand against his forehead, dipping down as if the sheer thought would make him faint. He straightens up again into that relaxed position near immediately, waving a hand out towards the crowd. “ But fear not, for I have a task that will require all of you, militant and guests alike! I want you to work extra hard in locating these dastardly fiends and bring them here so that I may properly hand them justice!”

The crowd grows louder as they continue to gossip amongst one another, and Hatter feels a wave of glee pour through him from the thrill of getting one step closer to catching these robbers. “ If you bring me them, I will reward you graciously! Consider this a bounty, a game without consequence on your end! You are all smart, capable people, and the power of many overthrows a few!” People begin cheering, Hatter looking through the crowd with his award-winning smile. “ Thank you for your patience and ears, you may all go have fun now~” He says, ending his rather passionate little speech as people cheered for him and chattered loudly, Hatter stepping away with a flourish.

Perhaps like this, he’ll finally capture the little thieves and he could finally rest.

Meanwhile……

“ Holy fuck your fucking nails hurt-“ There was a light chuckle, Niragi scowling with his eyes shut tight as his hair was massaged with shampoo, head tipped back into the water basin as he rested on a reclining chair. “ Sorry! I haven’t trimmed them yet, wasn’t expecting you to have a slip ’n slide for hair so it was a last second decision! Now stay still so I can wash your hair-“ They said, going back to trying their best to be gentle but firm.

Niragi pouts, but he lets it continue. Besides him was Chloe, who was casually humming the Mentos ad song while trying to give him a manicure, having already finished his other hand. In the background was Last Boss and Chishiya, the latter of which was just there for the free strawberry milk that was brought in. Last Boss was merely waiting for his turn for a head scrub, despite having absolutely zero hair to actually scrub. The both of them were chilling on the freshly stolen new couch, with multiple empty bottles of milk and a few empty water bottles at their (freshly water foot massaged) feet.

“ So…. are we ever going to tell Hatter that we’re borrowing his couch?” The last member of the heisting squad, Ila, asks. Chloe shakes her head. The one still scrubbing the giraffe lizard merely shrugs.

“ Eh, he’ll never figure out anyways. We’ll get away like we usually do, and these three are not allowed to spill because we’re nice and offered them a free spa day.”

“ You said you’d break my dick with a baseball bat.” Niragi mutters, just loud enough for them to hear. “ The offer still stands~”

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #hatter #takeru danma #niragi suguru #last boss #takatora samura #chishiya shuntaro #hatter means business now he's got a bounty on our asses~#unfortunately for him this is my land and he's never getting us #hatter wants us gone because we keep stealing his shit ✨#but hey! at least the squad is having a spa day with three of the boys!#yes we stole his couch again but this time for good reason #we may have also stolen a small bit of their milk supply but shhhh #who will win: a whole building of people who basically worship a surfer dude celebrity #or three humans who are up to crimes against one person and one person only #last boss is here to get fucking PAMPERED for spa day #he can do whatever he wants it's his life after all

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songsformonkeys · 4 years ago

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Conference Call (maxwell lord x reader)

summary: Maxwell fucks you while taking a conference call. There’s no plot here. None. Just stupid filth

word count: ~4100

rating: explicit

warnings: Slight soft!Dom Maxwell if that needs to come with a warning.

notes: Sooo...this happened. I don’t know how to feel about it...

Ao3

Conference Call

”I want you to wear this,” Maxwell says and gestures towards a big white box on the table. The two of you are in his penthouse apartment. It's after midnight but neither of you have clocked out from work yet because you had been forced to schedule a conference call with a rivaling company in Europe and the different timezones are a pain in anyone's ass.

Maxwell isn't too happy about the arrangement but had agreed on the condition that the telephone meeting could be held in his home office. You had agreed, knowing which battles that were worth picking with Maxwell and realizing that this wasn't one of them.

You had showed up with plenty of time to spare before the call, hoping that you and Maxwell would have a chance to go over the Paris proposal once more. That had been twenty minutes ago and so far the only things that have happened are that Maxwell has insisted on having a drink, has quizzed you on next week’s meetings, and now has revealed that apparently there is a dress code for the evening.

”Maxwell... Mister Lord, may I remind you that it is a conference call and that the other participants won't actually be able to see us. I hardly think that a wardrobe change will be necessary,” you point out, a little annoyed at his unwillingness to focus on the task at hand.

Maxwell sets his drink down and stands up from the barstool where he's perched. He walks over to you and steps so close that you can smell his expensive cologne. The scent reminds you of other times when he's been this close and you briefly close your eyes.

”And may I remind you whose job it is to set the rules here. The outfit is for my benefit, not theirs, and I'm telling you that I want you to wear it.” There's no mistaking the order behind his words and you suddenly worry just what might be in that box.

”Am I making myself clear?” he continues and you nod.

”Crystal clear, Mister Lord,” you reply and he smirks.

”Good girl. Now go change and meet me in the office.”

You pick up the box and head to the guestroom down the hall.

As you set the box down on the bed and open it, you are immediately met by a vision of pale pink tulle and your eyebrows raise in surprise. You take the tulle garment out of the box and hold it up in front of you. It's a short, see-through, maribou robe, complete with the feather trimmings and everything. It's...angelic, for a lack of better word, and very much what you have come to learn that Maxwell appreciates.

You carefully set the gown down on the bed and return your attention to the box and the other things it contains. The next thing you pull out is a lace balconette bra in the same pink color as the gown, along with a pair of matching lace panties.

When you hold the panties up you notice there's an odd seam down the middle and... oh wait that's not a seam, but a slit. Your cheeks feel hot as you run your finger over the fabric, before setting them down and picking up the last thing that's in the box. It's another box and you can tell just from the design that it contains jewelry. When you open it you almost gasp. Resting on black velvet is an absolutely gorgeous diamond choker necklace. The symbolism of that doesn't escape you.

You look at the items on the bed and don't dare to wonder how much money Maxwell has spent on this ensemble. He is, for the most part, smart about what he spends his money on, but this isn't the first set of expensive lingerie that he's bought for you.

Worried about keeping him waiting for too long, you quickly slip out of your own clothes and into the ones Maxwell has provided for you, even though clothes might not be quite the right word for it.

You look at yourself in the full-length mirror of the guestroom, and have to admit that you look good. The color suits you and you feel more at home in this than the black ones he'd bought for you last time.

You debate whether or not to leave the gown open or tied closed with the silk band around the middle. You settle for tying it closed, thinking that Maxwell will probably enjoy untying that for himself. Studying your face closely in the mirror, as you fit the necklace snugly around your neck, you come to the conclusion that the lipstick you've been wearing all day doesn't quite fit with the image and you grab some paper to wipe it off, leaving your lips bare but stained slightly pink.

You take a deep breath and adjust the diamond choker just a little, before you leave the guestroom and walk towards to Maxwell's home office. The apartment isn't cold but you still feel your skin tightening into little goosebumps.

Maxwell is bent over a file, reading, when you stop in the doorway. You know he knows your there by the way his hand twitches for just a fraction of a second before turning the page, but he still makes you wait for a few more seconds before looking up. He doesn't say anything as he eyes you up and down, and his face is impossible to read as always. Then he lifts his hand and beckons you over with a finger.

He pushes his chair back when you reach him and a pleased smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. The relief makes your shoulders relax slightly.

”They suit you. Do you like them?” he asks, pursing his lips to keep a smile in check. You nod

”Yes, Max-.” He raises an eyebrow at you. ”Yes, Mister Lord. They're beautiful. But...forgive me, I don't quite understand...”

”What don't you understand, sweetheart?” he asks, reaching out to smooth a hand over your hip, pulling you another step closer. He touches the silk band tied around your middle, grabbing the end of it and slowly pulling.

”We have scheduled a conference call with Paris, in 15 minutes. There isn't any time to...” you trail off as the bow is untied and the robe falls open, revealing the rest of your lingerie to Maxwell's hungry gaze.

”I am well aware,” he says, ”And as you are well aware, Perrault and the morons he calls his team are exceptionally boring so I'm gonna need some additional entertainment.” He lets his eyes rake over you in a way that makes it perfectly clear that you are that additional entertainment.

”Take a seat,” he orders. He smiles at you dangerously and leans back a little further in his leather seat. You feel your cheeks heat up as you sit down on his lap. Maxwell spins the chair around and pushes it closer to the desk.

”So, since you've been begging me for it all evening, let's go over what my stance on this is again, before they call,” he says, as if this is just another briefing in the office, as if you, through the slit in your panties, can't feel the fabric of his pants drag slightly against your folds every time he shifts.

”Well,” you begin, clearing your throat, and Maxwell reaches around you to hand you the file that you have meticulously put together for him over the past week. When you've accepted the file, Maxwell lets his hand rest halfway up your thigh, heavy and warm.

”Well, their offer is very generous, ” you start over, then stop, as his fingers inch a little higher.

”Go on,” he says, and you can practically hear the smirk in his tone. He pulls the pink tulle out of the way so he can caress the inside of your thigh softly. This isn't the first time Maxwell has touched you, but it is the first time he's wanted you to comment on the details of a business proposal as he does so. You try and collect yourself and speak with confidence.

”But I think we should be a little worried about their connection to St Petersburg. Their...uhm...their revenues have been in decline ever since la...last October.” You try to keep your voice steady but Maxwell has carefully pushed your thighs apart and is now dragging his index finger along the opening in your panties. The featherlight touch makes your voice hitch and your hands shake.

”So the offer is an attempt for them to save face?” Maxwell comments, thoughtfully, slipping his finger between your lips to stroke the hard nub of your clit. ”A way to get to sit at the table with the big boys.” You keen quietly.

”What was that?” Maxwell asks, rubbing your clit a bit faster.

”I mean, yes... I'm sure that's their reasoning behind...oh... behind the proposal. But you...ah... you have been looking for a way to expand to the European market and... and this...this could provide an opportunity for you as well.” Your thighs are quivering and you're gripping the file so hard that the edges dig into your palms. You want to grab Maxwell and pull him in for a kiss, but that's a mistake you've made before and aren't dumb enough to make again.

”So I'm considering it?” Maxwell says with curious hum. You have been over this several times together already and you have no doubt that he knows where he stands in all of this, but just wants to hear you say it out loud. His finger is still lazily stroking you and it feels so good. You allow yourself to lean back against him, just a little, and he lets you.

”You want them to sweeten the deal,” you tell him as you feel his lips barely graze your neck. Maxwell isn't much for kissing during foreplay so it takes you a little by surprise. You continue. ”Find a way to get them to... ditch St Petersburg and we'll reap all the benefits from acc...ah...accepting this proposal.”

”And we'll run St Petersburg into the ground,” he finishes for you, and you nod.

”That's an additional bonus,” you agree and Maxwell chuckles.

”Ruthless,” he says but his tone is appreciative.

”I thought you hired me to look out for the company, sir, not to be kind,” you can't help but comment, a little sarcastically.

”Watch that smart mouth of yours,” Maxwell whispers into your ear and pulls his finger out from between your legs. He holds it up in front of your face. ”I can think of far better ways to use it.”

You open up as he presses the finger against your lips and you suck the digit into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks slightly, you can taste your own arousal in the pad of his finger. You swirl your tongue around it and make a soft hum at the back of your throat because you think Maxwell will appreciate it. You let your lips move back and forth, slowly, over the ridges and knuckles of his finger. Maxwell just watches you silently.

When the telephone rings a couple of minutes later, it takes you by surprise, and you start. Maxwell pulls his finger out of your mouth and wipes it on his pants. You move to stand up, but he pulls you back onto his lap, securing you in place with an arm around your waist. You can feel the hard line of his cock press against your ass.

”Did I tell you you could leave?” he growls, low and dangerous, in a way that sends shivers up your spine the way this tone of voice always does.

”I'm sorry, Mister Lord,” you apologize.

Maxwell picks up the phone to answer

”Perrault! Bonjour! How are things in Paris?” he greets the person on the other side, immediately dialing up the smarmy businessman persona. You hear the person on the other side mumble something in response and Maxwell laughs, loud and fake. They exchange a few more pleasantries as a couple of other people connect to the call. Maxwell is tapping his fingers against your side and you can tell that he's already bored.

You strain to hear what is being said on the other end of the call but it's difficult and Maxwell's responding hums give away little information. He's loosened his grip around your waist and is now running his fingers along the edge of your bra. Your own hands are gripping the fabric of the gown lightly. Maxwell hasn't told you what to do and as much as he appreciates you taking initiative at work, he's usually of the opposite mind in these situations.

Maxwell continues to talk and you continue to sit perched on his lap, anticipation mixed with a hint of worry, building. He's pulled one of your breasts out from its lacy confines now and is absent-mindedly rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. Every now and then he gives it a pinch and you jump slightly. You don't need to see Maxwell to know that he's smiling.

Suddenly, Maxwell pats the desk in front of him and it takes you a second to realize what he wants. When you do, you stand up from his lap. Maxwell stands too and you can see his erection straining against the pants of his suit.

He pushes the gown off your shoulders and it falls to the floor. Then he places a hand on your chest and guides you to sit down on the desk. You do, but Maxwell keeps pushing until you are lying flat on your back across the cold and smooth surface. He stands hovering above you, phone in one hand as the other push your legs up and apart. You feel incredibly exposed but would be lying if you said there wasn't a part of you that really got off on just that.

Maxwell holds a finger up to his lips in warning and then, without much preamble, he reaches down and pushes that very same finger into you. You have to bite down hard on your lower lip not to gasp out loud. Maxwell pulls his finger almost all the way out before inserting another. Your brows draw together in a frown and your mouth falls open on a silent moan.

”So run that by me again, exactly what you think the benefits would be for me and my company, in this scenario of yours,” Maxwell tells the people on the phone but his eyes are locked with yours as he sets a slow pace for fucking his fingers into you. His eyes look almost pitch black from lust and as he curls his fingers slightly upward, you feel like your own eyes are about to roll to the back of your head.

The speed of Maxwell's fingers steadily increase when the people on the other end of the line are talking but slow down when he makes his own replies. It's the most delicious kind of torture and you feel your pleasure building and building. You suddenly know that there is no way you will be able to stay silent when you come, and so you desperately tug at Maxwell's arm to get him to stop. But instead of pulling his fingers out or stopping, he just shifts the phone so he's holding it up against his ear with his shoulder and uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth. You watch him with wide eyes as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers and you barely last a minute before you come so hard your vision blacks out for a moment. Maxwell's palm doesn't manage to entirely muffle your loud keen and you panic as you're sure it must have been heard on the other end of the call. The whole world is completely silent for a couple of seconds as you wait. Then there's mumbling on the phone.

”What's that?” Maxwell says, looking completely unfazed as he rests a sticky hand on your stomach. You're still frozen in the spot. Maxwell chuckles, ”Oh that. Just a little kitten I'm looking after...Oh, you have a dog?... you don't say? Well, pets sure do bring a certain kind of joy to our lives, don't they? Now, will you gentlemen excuse me for just a minute so I can make sure that she is happy and won't interrupt us again? One minute.”

He sets the phone down on the desk and you immediately start mouthing silent apologies. He covers your mouth with his hand again.

”I'm trying to work here, Kitten,” he says, keeping up appearances, in case his voice can still be heard on the phone, ”And I can't do that if you're gonna continue to mewl like this, you understand? I don't want to have to lock you out.”

You nod furiously to show that you have understood. Maxwell removes his hand. He picks up the phone again and looks like he's just about to speak when a dangerous grin suddenly stretches across his face. You feel a lump of dread grow in the pit of your stomach.

”Gentlemen! Sorry for the interruption...oh you are too kind!... Well as I was just saying, the proposal is not bad, but it needs some refining. Why don't I hand you over to my assistant and she can help you go over the numbers?”

If you thought there was anyway you would have gotten away with running, you would have. You shake your head as Maxwell holds out the phone for you. You giving the most begging look you can muster, silently asking him not to do this. Maxwell's hand doesn't move an inch but his eyes soften a little and, in a gesture of kindness that's slightly out of character for him, he mouths you've got this.

Hesitantly, you grab the phone and clear your throat, attempting to get your voice in order. Maxwell sits back down in his chair to watch you. You start to sit up but he shakes his head and you admit defeat, lying back down and holding the phone up to your ear.

”Good morning, Gentlemen,” you say, in a voice that sounds more normal than it has any right to sound, considering the circumstances. You actually hear Maxwell chuckle in the background and close your eyes to shut him out. You can do this, you tell yourself, almost echoing Maxwell's encouragement. You've gone over these numbers so many times over these past weeks that you could probably write them down in your sleep. If only you can focus on them and not the fact that you're currently spread out and mostly naked on your boss' desk then things will go just fine.

Maxwell sits back and lets you do your thing, looking slightly impressed at how you're adapting to the situation. However, in true Maxwell fashion, he soon gets bored with listening in on just half a conversation and you feel his hand run up your calf, caressing it. You bite your lip as his hand goes past the knee and smooths down the outside of your thigh. You have a sneaking suspicion where this is going.

Maxwell positions himself between your legs and as you listen to the accountant on the other end of the line, you lift your head slightly to meet Maxwell's gaze. He gives you a dark smile and lowers his face, just slow enough for you to brace yourself for the first touch of his tongue. You still start when it comes and Maxwell reaches up to place his hand on your stomach again, holding you in place.

You brace yourself for more but his tongue is surprisingly gentle and Maxwell alternates between licking and kissing along your folds. It feels nice but it isn't enough to drive you crazy and you know he's doing it on purpose. He's keeping the touches light enough that you're still able to talk. For all his attempts at seeming threatening, Maxwell doesn't actually want you to make a fool of yourself, or him for that matter.

This feels more like a reward than a punishment. Not that you have any plans on pointing that out to Maxwell, in case he's unaware.

He lets you finish up discussing details with the accountant, it’s gone well and you feel surprisingly proud of yourself, but then Maxwell impatiently stands up and motions for you to hand the phone back to him. You do and he demands to know if there are any questions regarding your counter-proposal. You hear the person on the other line begin to speak and Maxwell rolls his eyes.

”Monsieur Perrault,” he interrupts, ” I can hear we're not quite in agreement on this yet. So why don't we go back to our respective teams, see what adjustments we can make and I'll have my assistant schedule another meeting in about a week? Sound good?”

You hear the slightly confused mumbles of agreement on the phone.

”Excellent! Well, in that case, I wish you, gentlemen, a good day, and thank you for your time.”

Maxwell just about slams the phone back on the receiver and when he turns to you, there's something feral in his eyes. Before you have time to say something, Maxwell grabs you and drags you off the desk. He spins you around so that you're standing with your back pressed against his chest. He reaches around your throat and pushes your head back so he can whisper in your ear.

”You did so well, sweetheart!” he praises and you feel pride swell in your chest, ”Their fucking incompetent excuse for an accountant didn't stand a chance against you.” He grinds his hips against you and lets out a low moan.

”Bend over,” he orders and you do as you're told, leaning over the desk and resting your cheek against your forearms. You hear Maxwell get his pants open.

”Gonna have them eating out of our hands by the end of next meeting,” he says as he lines himself up. Then he thrusts home and you cry out as his cock fills you up, in one rough motion. Realizing just what kind of fucking you're in for, you reach out and grab the edges of the desk to keep yourself steady. Maxwell is already gripping your hips hard and pumping into you. You gasp with each thrust. The gentleness of his tongue during the call is gone. This is him, taking what he needs. And you, willingly giving it.

”So fucking good,” he praises again. You're not sure if he's commenting on your performance during the conference call or your current performance. His breathing is getting more ragged with each thrust.

Maxwell leans over you and presses his lips against your shoulder. It's not quite a kiss but right now you don't care because he's fucking you senseless and that's enough. Enough to have a second wave of pleasure crash over you as you come, clenching hard around Maxwell's cock.

Maxwell's thrusts are becoming erratic. He says something against your shoulder that you can't quite hear through your daze of pleasure.

”What?” you gasp as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

”Tell me you love me!” It's more of an order than a request but right now you are willing to give him anything he wants so it doesn't matter.

”I love you...” you pant, ”I love you, Maxwell”

That's all it takes and in the next second Maxwell presses his face hard against your back and comes, deep inside you.

He holds you through his orgasm, lingers for only a few moments after before standing up and pulling out, leaving you feeling empty. He tucks himself back into his pants and picks the robe up from the floor and hands it to you.

”You know where the bathroom is,” he says, voice a little distant, ”Go clean yourself up. And it's late so if you want to you can spend the night.”

You nod and thank him, not quite able to meet his eyes before you walk towards the bathroom on shaky legs. Maxwell calls your name before you reach the door and you turn back.

”Yes?”

”...My bedroom is the third one on the left... just so you know.”

#maxwell lord/reader #maxwell lordxreader #maxwell lord #wonder woman 84 fiction #my fanfiction

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Blind Date/Set Up By Friends

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Words: 1.6k

Rating: M

A/N: Hello! Welcome to the third day of my 7 Days of Valentine’s Drabbles, the 2021 edition!

This story contains swearing and two idiots in love.

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

—

Blind Date/Set Up By Friends

“No.”

The word comes out of your mouth before you can even attempt to stop it.

“Shit,” he says in reply.

The couple at the table next to you glance up before quickly looking away, not wanting to be caught and embarrassed on their special night. You don’t care at all, though, because you’ve been set up on a blind date with Jim fucking Hopper.

The most irritating man in the entire universe.

The exact same thoughts seem to be running through his mind because his jaw is moving and he’s staring at you. Stood there in a fucking beige (is that linen?) suit with a Hawaiian shirt on underneath, hair combed, beard trimmed. And he’s staring at you like you’re the anomaly here.

I’m gonna kill Jodie.

Raising your eyebrows, your hands lift.

“Right. Well. There’s obviously been a mistake here.”

“You think?” His eyebrows are also rising, hands going to his hips.

Even though you despise him, that irks you.

“Okay, so, you can just go, then.” You sit back down, hands returning to the menu you’d dropped on the table in your sudden standing.

“Me?”

You glance up at him, his tone and indignation surprising you. “Yeah. Bye.”

Your eyes drop back to the menu, looking at it but not exactly reading because he’s not moving.

“Uh, and why me?”

I’m dealing with a fucking child.

Lips parting, you look up at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, because it is.

“Because I was here first?”

Hopper snorts, arching an eyebrow. “What, you gonna eat on your own?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah, I’m going to eat on my own on Valentine’s Day and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Who even sets two people up on a date on Valentine’s Day?!

Before you can even think about looking at the menu again, Hopper scoffs.

“Well, I don’t want to go, you go.”

“No,” you shoot back incredulously, face twisting like you’ve tasted something sour.

He stares at you. And then he shrugs.

“Fine.”

Gripping the back of the chair opposite you, he pulls it back and sits in it.

“Oh my God,” you hiss, “Go and sit somewhere else.”

Adjusting his suit jacket, he then casts a hand around, gesturing at the restaurant. “Can’t you see it’s busy here? I’m not gonna find another seat.”

“Then go.”

“No.”

Then, he lifts up his menu and peruses it, a finger tapping against his lips. You just stare at him, feeling hot with frustration and irritation. Yes, you could just leave and buy something from the store on the way home and settle in for a cosy night, but you’d so been looking forward to a night out in a nice restaurant and some stimulating conversation from someone Jodie had said was perfect for you.

Perfect for you.

PERFECT FOR YOU.

That’s all you’d manage to get out of her about your date, apart from that it was on Valentine’s Day at Enzo’s and the employees there were aware of what kind of date it was.

You just can’t stop staring at him as he casually flicks through the menu while you quietly simmer with anger. This is why he gets under your skin so much; he’s just so stubborn. Exhaling a breath through your teeth, you force yourself to browse your own menu, even though you already know what you’re going to order. You’d arrived early, hating the idea of being flustered by trying to locate your date, and he’d... well, he’d arrived on time actually.

A pleasant surprise, but not enough to soothe your skin that prickles at the mere mention of him. Your friends and colleagues just laugh when the topic comes up.

Hop’? Hopper? The charming Chief of the town? Heart of gold underneath all that gruffness? Those big, strong arms and that flirty mouth? How could you not like him?

Well, you just... don’t. No reason. He’s not done anything to you, not said anything, you just... don’t. You can’t even really remember the first time you spoke to him when you moved here. Was it at a bar? The diner? You just remember the feeling when a friend had introduced you; prickly skin and a flipping stomach. His attitude towards you had left you feeling strange, too; you remember that he was blunt and eager to get away, barely looking you in the eye.

What an asshole.

... But, yeah, all right, maybe you had found him attractive, but then you’d seen him in bars picking up enthusiastically willing women left, right and centre and it had just... irked you, considerably.

Who does he think he is? I bet he thought whoever he was meeting tonight was going to be another one, that she’d be completely bowled over and was going to fall at his feet. Well, absolutely not, no thank you.

Every meeting you’ve had since, passing each other on the street, meeting each others gaze at the bar, having to converse in group conversations at parties, standing in line behind each other at the store, has been strained, with him either quickly looking away a little too late, so obviously not wanting to engage with you, or you just flat out ignoring him.

The waiter arrives with a smile which you return, somewhat forced, and if he’s noticed the more than slight tension at the table, he doesn’t let on at all. After he cheerfully takes your order, you then just have to sit and watch Hopper take his sweet time, one leg now balancing on the thick thigh of his other, menu in one large hand, talking to the waiter like he knows him, asking about what’s best and blah, blah, blah.

Crossing your arms, you stare at him, hoping the force of your gaze will somehow will him to hurry up. He glances at you once to just ask, “You want another bread basket?”

“Yes,” you grit out.

What kind of a question is that? Of course you do.

Snapping the menu shut, somehow the smooth motion of it just fuelling your irritation, he smiles at the waiter as he hands it back, and then the waiter leaves... and it’s just you two again.

You watch Hopper’s gaze travel the room, taking in all the laughing, chatting people, most if not all couples. He folds his own arms, the material of the suit stretching over his biceps, and you swiftly look away as his gaze reaches you.

“Guess Jodie’s a shit matchmaker, huh.”

Oh, God... You can’t just ignore him. Well, you can, but you imagine he’d just carry on talking anyway.

Taking a breath, which could be interpreted as exasperated, you nod. “Yeah. Didn’t even know you knew her.”

He shrugs. “We went to high school together.”

“Wow, she’s had to put up with you that long─”

“What is your problem with me?”

Your mouth remains open, your next word dying on your tongue as you stare at him. It stays open as you point at yourself, eyebrows shooting up, watching him just look at you, expressionless.

“Uh... What? You’re the one who has a problem with me.”

Now he frowns. “Excuse me?”

What.

Are you kidding me.

“Oh, don’t look so affronted, you always seem so irritated when I’m around and that you hope you don’t get stuck talking to me.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just makes half-laughing, half-astonished sounds. “... Me? I seem like that? You look at me like I’m the shit on your shoe!”

“If that’s true it’s only because of how you look at me.”

“And how do I look at you?” He says the words accusingly, challenging you, and it throws you for a moment because do his thoughts not influence his expressions?

It’s your turn to scoff as your eyebrows rise. “You... You look at me like...”

Nothing comes out of your mouth, every single encounter with him flashing through your mind, the filter of pre-conceived irritation and notions falling away.

Oh, no...

The times he’s looked away quickly after you’ve met his gaze... Not out of not wanting to engage but... not wanting to be caught looking. His curtness the few times you have spoken, not out of rudeness or wanting to get away, but because of awkwardness in your presence. The fact he’s sat down and has stayed.

Even the way he’d said ‘You think?’ minutes before... not said sarcastically, but stated. Asking you.

And he... he looks at you with tender eyes.

Oh my God...

Hopper shifts in his chair as he clears his throat, your thoughts and realisations most likely playing out across your features.

“... Uh...” Your mouth is still open, too, not knowing what to say.

I’ve been such an idiot.

He’s pushing his fork around on the table-cloth with his finger, waiting for whatever you’re going to say, probably expecting to be shot down or for you to laugh. Instead, you give him the truth.

“... I don’t have a problem with you, really... I just thought you had one with me.” Your voice comes out a lot quieter than you’d intended, but very much sheepish.

His head shakes as his jaw moves slightly, but there’s a light smile on his lips, and his gaze finally lifts to meet yours again; boldly and openly.

The tenderness is there.

“No. I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Okay.” The single word leaves you quietly, and something deep inside you relaxes.

“Do you want me to go?” he says, just as quiet as you had, and it’s like you’re the only two people in the room.

Licking your lips, you shake your head. “No. No, I’d... I’d like you stay. I think we should start this all over again.”

Hopper nods a few times, his smile lingering.

“Yeah, I think so, too.”

You find you’re smiling as well, your fingers lacing together in your lap.

“All right... What do you wanna talk about?”

—

Reblogs and comments make my day in a way I can’t describe.

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Masterlist

Tagged: @herb-welch, @punkpascal @davidkharboursex, @jobean12-blog, @warmbeardsandredwine, @mademoiselle-black, @scrunchinn, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @divadinag, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @deepsouth, @neganslittlebae, @ashphoenix105, @alahmorah, @daughterofthebrowncoats, @letsby, @kiwiphroot, @ashmely, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @unicornsandgliiitter, @lucifer-in-leather, @heyjudeinthesky, @sleepylunarwolf, @ambeazyyy, @countryfire22, @sithlordslut, @mondsafari, @norcula, @earinafae, @beltzboys2015-blog, @jinxiejenna, @justsimplevicky, @hellosupernaturaldoctor, @ginasellsbooks, @dwarvenbunnyears, @vale0413, @mrslydiaholden, @kimberliinabox, @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly, @allylupin, @cant-shake-this-feeling-off, @the-bitch-gotham-deserves, @warriorqueen1991, @thesurestthing, @zuni21798, @quietlovelovely, @maddieisaboredable, @windinyoursnail, @happy-hopper, @yedi16, @negansdirtygirl22, @slipperywhenwetsstuff, @my-rosegold-soul @madkskillz, @im-not-great-at-making-up-names, @sergeantangel, @bitchinsinclair, @dewy-biitch, @focusonspn, @wearethebrokenones, @sarcasm-is-my-native-tounge, @thatprettymvthafvcka, @pulplorrd, @gifsbysimplysonia, @opalsandlacemain @geordiequeen, @gothackedalready, @ayatimascd, @missaudreyhorney, @chiefharbour, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @saltandroot, @ollypopp @soyuncheez

Apologies to those Tumblr won’t let me tag!

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x female reader #chief jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #stranger things fanfic #my writing #flamehairedwritings #again i hope this is all right lads #my dissociation is wild atm so who knows what i've written not me

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

All That Glitters

Summary: Pandora’s box is a black box covered in silk and embossed with the initials R.S.

a/n: So uh this work is a follow up to my fic Better Die than Doubt but it can be read as a stand alone. This thing resulted from the combined might of @knightfall05x, @lucy-roo, and my thirst. I said the follow up to that fic would be fluffy. The chronological follow up will come out at some point. I just have a single braincell and it decided it wanted to write more Black Mask being an absolute bastard. Thanks to those two hoes for enabling and proof reading. See you both in hell

warnings: This is smut. I was being haunted. This work contains noncon, past noncon, violence, Roman being an asshole, daddy kink, size kink, strength kink (if you squint ), yandere themes, stalking, exhibitionism, a dude who cannot take no for an answer and choking.

masterlist

“Hey Jay,” You chirp into the phone, maneuvering it over your shoulder carefully so you wouldn't drop it while you held your soda can at an arm's length away from you hoping it wouldn’t explode on you when you attempt to open it.

“Hey, sweet-” You blow out a raspberry halting the correction in its tracks. You can practically picture Jason’s mouth swerve into an odd shape caught between proceeding with his correction or backtracking. He chose neither. You hear him swear viciously. You snort making him huff.

“What’s up, asshat?” He asks, endearingly. You can pretty much hear him rolling his eyes from this side of the world. You frown hearing how winded he sounded.

“Jay, if this is a bad time, I can-”

“You’re fine it’s just a little-”

“JAYBIRD, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE”

“Roy sounds like he needs help. I can call back later.”

“Roy can handle himself.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Jaybird, but I think I’d prefer if you kept shooting straight.”

You snort feeling warmth build up in your chest despite the chilly weather. You chirp delighted when you open the can and it doesn’t explode. You hear Jason chuckle. The smart remark he had on the edge of his tongue dies on his lips when your breath hitches audibly at the sound of his gun firing. Jason makes a noise, the kind you use to prompt someone to tell you if they’re ok without having to ask. You swallow and nod and curse remembering he can’t see you. You blow out a breath, making sure it comes out steady.

“Y/n...”

“I’m-” You wanted to say fine but you knew the word fine was wholly inappropriate and untrue for this situation. “I’m gonna survive. I promise.”

Jason doesn’t make a sound of agreement or disagreement. He simply acknowledges it. You silently thank him for the neutrality.

“JAYBIRD”

“SHUT UP, HARPER”

You hear Kory sigh in exasperation somewhere in the distance. In the background, you hear a shriek which you assume is from Jason. Then the line cuts out.

You try to redial.

Nothing.

You try again.

Nothing.

A laugh rips out of your chest. You cry out in pain, the fizzy drink rushing up your nose. You wince and curse and settle on blaming Jason. You suspect they somehow broke the phone. You wouldn’t be too surprised by that outcome. You sigh but there was no point in complaining about it. You might as well finish your lunch in peace.

You chew on your cheek as you walk back to your cubicle, everyone’s eyes are on you. You feel your breathing pick up a fraction of a second faster.

One

Two

Fuck

You dig your nails into your palm. Your footfalls become heavier and a little louder even against the white noise around you. You slowdown and shake your head. You haven’t had an attack at work so far and you aren’t about to start now. You inhale deeply, letting your chest expand as you run through the things Dinah taught you.

Take stock of the situation around you.

The world around you was buzzing with life-shuffling papers, ringing phones, humming of machines, and blips of voices here and there. The room is bright and clean under the light of sterile fluorescent lights. You take in all the voices around you. You’re not alone. The knot building in your shoulders loosens. You continue.

Take stock of your body.

Your body is trembling, the beginnings of a panic attack looming over you. Instead of cursing it, you let it. It was only natural to relapse once in a while. The trauma wasn’t fresh. Not in your opinion, at least. Dinah and, apparently, everyone else had a different opinion. You’re good at being ok but you were human. You let out a long breath, half-tempted to let your eyes slide shut but you’re afraid of finding yourself in that room again, of seeing him, of feeling him on you. Revulsion spasmed in your body in powerful waves. Sure, you’re a showboat, Jay had said as much, but showing off and causing a scene were two entirely different things and you weren’t entirely sure you could endure the looks of pity from your coworkers every time you came through those doors.

Stiffly, you walk towards your cubicle. Your neighbor, Chelsea, smiling conspiratorially at you while your manager glares daggers at you. You raise an eyebrow at Chelsea who waggles her eyebrows in return.

“This is how you tell me I got fired?” You sigh, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth.

Chelsea rolls her eyes at you. “Nope, but the boss man did want me to tell you to tell your boyfriend that he really shouldn’t be sending you gifts at work but honestly, I …...” Your brows knit in confusion, cold dread licking at the pit of your stomach.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You say slowly trying to keep the mounting panic out of your voice. You could hear your blood pulsating in your ears, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. Your feet are itching for you to run outside and call Jason or Dinah or anyone but the stupider part of you- the curious part of you was clawing at your mind to proceed.��

“Y/n, are- are you ok?” You blink and look at the clock. Two minutes. You blacked out for two minutes which, if you were being totally honest, was a huge improvement.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you say so” She shrugs, her eyes still not pulling away from you.

Mechanically, you turn to your desk. Your entire being freezes when your eyes land on the black box sitting on the desk and the large bouquet of red roses sitting next to it. The box was rectangular, black with silver trimmings embossed on it. Large ‘R.S.’ written in fancy lettering at the bottom right corner of the lid. You wanted to vomit.

You draw a breath and flex your fingers. You can feel your teeth digging into your cheeks.

“Hey, Chel?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow some tissues?” You ask your voice barely above a whisper but still miraculously steady. She frowns at your handing you a couple of tissues. Normally, you keep your vigilante habits out of your civilian life but considering the initials embossed on this obnoxiously expensive-looking box sitting on your desk, you think this level of paranoia is justified.

You stop to calculate the odds that the box contained explosives which turns up zero. You sigh but a shiver climbs up your spine when you run through the possibilities of what Roman could have thought of as a gift.

“Y/n, what the fuck?” If Chelsea wasn’t watching you before, she was now. You glance at her quickly and give her a weak smile. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. Cautiously, you lift the lid quietly regretting not calculating the possibility of anything toxic being in it. You’re honestly surprised nothing happened. You roll your eyes upon seeing the expensive-looking black silk covering the inside.

Yes, rub your money in my face while you scare me shitless why don’t you, you fucking asshole, you think grumpily peeling the fabric away.

Your heart comes to a full stop when you’re met with a pair of lacy lingerie. Your lacy lingerie. Your USED lacy lingerie. You blink trying not to focus on the white stains. You sincerely did not want to think about that. Moving them aside you find a bloody shirt, the sound of its shifting fabric making gooseflesh spread all over your body.

You recognize it. You didn’t want to, but here it was. The bloodstains were dry but they were still visible even against the dark fabric of the shirt. Your skin prickles where the scars on your body sit. The knife wounds sting and throb as if freshly cut. It takes everything in you not to vomit.

It was probably the single-minded curiosity that kept you going. You maneuver the shirt carefully making sure it makes as little sound as possible. Underneath it is a collar, simple but clearly expensive leather with the tag R.S. glittering under the sterile lights. Your throat constricts. You tear your gaze away. Your eyes sting. Next to it was a stack of photos. The top photo showed you with your, shirt torn exposing your breasts. Someone was inside you, gripping your hips. You gag. You reign your mind in. You flip the stack over and gather your breath. Your heart stops again when you see Roman’s familiar handwriting on the back of a photo.

“Miss me?”

The drive back to your apartment was a blur consisting of what was most likely several severe traffic violations but you needed- you need to get out of town as quickly as possible. The odds of Roman himself showing up to your little town was low, very low. Not that you’ve actually calculated it. You don’t need to. The man walks around like his feet bless every surface they touch. The man has a loaded god complex the size of Russia to put it generously. Fetching you was simply beneath him. He had henchmen for a reason after all.

You wave to your landlady and her husband amiably as you walk past them keeping the nervous thrum out of your movement. Your landlady returns the gesture, elbowing her sneering husband. You know what he thinks of you and your habits. Take a few guys home with you and suddenly you’re a slut. Your promiscuity was none of his fucking business. Your body was yours to do with, to give, and to take back. It was yours. It’s yours, you assure yourself but the feeling of your body and mind hanging loosely off of each other feels painfully vivid at the moment.

You shake your head. This wasn’t the best time to sort out your hang-ups.

You press your ear to your apartment door then remembered just how thick it was and remembered that you didn’t exactly have super hearing. You sigh. What you would give to be Supes right about now. You enter the apartment careful not to make your steps audible. That, however, was rendered moot by the two very large and blocky men standing in your living room. You exhale both in frustration and relief. If Roman Fucking Sionis thinks he can scare you with two meatheads, he was clearly insulting you. Well, at least, he didn’t hire anyone actually competent considering all your gear was in a duffle bag tucked neatly away under your bed. Yanno, just for this sort of eventuality. Now that you think about it. You really should have just kept it in your car but small-town crime seems to have softened you.

You smile letting the irritation mold you into something sharp and venomous. You throw the box at one of the henchmen goading them to attack you. Its contents scattering all over the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care that some of the photos land right side up.

“Tell your chicken shit of a boss to come scare me himself,” You laugh, manic relief flooding through you. You feel like you’re going mad but you don’t care. It’s so much more feasible to deal with these men than it is to have to even think about Roman. “He doesn’t even have the balls to-”

“Well, it’s nice to see you too, Sweetheart.” comes a gravelly voice from the bedroom. Your stomach drops. Roman strides out of your bedroom adjusting the cuff link of his obnoxiously expensive suit. He looks down to the photos and gifts scattered on the ground, frowning he bends down to pick up the collar, dusting it off and stuffing it in his pocket.

Your fight or flight response freezes. You back into the door, the material feeling too solid for the moment. You inhale sharply, only managing short shallow breaths as Roman slowly closes the distance between you. His footfalls loud, heavy, and deliberately casual making your blood thrum.

No. No. No.

Your eyes flicker wildly around the room looking for any weapon within reach, your mind running through the numbers, the probabilities melding together into incoherent blotches of red in the back of your skull. Roman slams his large hands on either side of your head. The impact makes the door creak. You can’t stop yourself from flinching visibly, surprise and fear carving themselves on to your face. Roman barks out a derisive laugh as he trails a leather-clad finger down your chin, your throat, then to your cleavage. The contact against your bare skin makes you bristle.

“This here?” He emphasizes, his fingers playing with the top button of your shirt popping it carelessly revealing your baby pink, lace bra hidden beneath. “This is a little low cut for the office, isn’t it, princess?”

Annoyance overwhelms your sense of self-preservation. “I’m not about to take fashion advice from a guy who looks like he watches Scar Face daily.” You snipe, teeth bared. Roman hums the undercurrent of rage filling the air. Your ribs ache, remembering an old injury. Your mouth slams shut cutting off any other snide remarks.

“You wear these clothes to wind me up, don’t you?” Roman drawls, his leather-clad fingers tracing up the expanse of your thigh exposed by the slit of your skirt, bunching up the skirt and playing with the waistband of your thong as he does so. His thumbs pressing circles against your inner thigh, you can’t help but quiver under his touch. “Oh the fun hasn’t even started yet...just wait”, he bites your ear lobe and tugs it between his teeth. He pulls back and glares at you. “Do you want to know how I found you in this dead-end town, princess?” He asks tilting your chin with his gloved hand. You shake your head not really interested at the moment. You’re too distracted by how flush your body was getting as he presses you further into the door with his bulk. You note with disgust the arousal suffusing through your limbs.

“You were all over the news, sweetheart,” You’re trying to remember what he could possibly be talking about. He leans in closer, leather-clad hand brushing against his thumb against your bottom lip, your lips parting automatically for him. He places his gloved thumb between your parted lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that goofy smile of yours?” You shiver lips wrapping around the intruding digit. Your tongue flicks and swirls around it in a practiced gesture. “Good girl.” Roman hums, a grin spreading across his face while thick shame blankets you. You frown at how familiar the taste of the glove is against your tongue. You push your thoughts away wishing your mind would fall away.

“Baby,” He draws his hand away from your lips, wiping the thin string of saliva on your face. His hands glide down the sides of your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize these hips?” His hands grab at your hips roughly, lifting you and pulling them flush against his own. “Baby. I know what’s mine and this time I won’t let you get away from me.” He whispers against your neck, voice husky and rough. You swallow feeling his lips brush against your pulse.

Roughly, he wedges a thigh between your legs, the friction against your core making you keen. The friction woke something in you and loosened a few other things. Your hips roll desperately against the thick muscle of his thighs. Roman grins against your neck, loosening his grip on your hips and letting you fuck yourself on his thigh. You will yourself to stop but the heat twisting in your gut is too much. You hate yourself. You well and truly hate yourself. Your cheeks warm, breath coming out in pants.

Roman places a kiss on your collarbone, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh. Your tongue is caught between your teeth to hold back a moan but the shiver spreading throughout your body says it too loudly. Roman chuckles, vibrations deep within his chest making you weak. Roman licks a stripe up your neck, planting kisses and hickeys along your jaw. “God, you taste sweet, princess.” He murmurs hot against your neck, the smirk dripping from his voice. It feels like acid against your skin.

He guides your pliant arms to loop around his shoulders. You obey soundlessly, tipping your head back giving him room to ravish your neck. He does with unbridled enthusiasm. You feel trapped in your own body. You don’t want this. You want to push him away but the fear coursing through you leaves you a passenger in your own body. Your breath hitches with each bite and kiss.

“Mine.” He rumbles resolutely, sliding the cloth of your top placing a bite on your shoulder. It stings without even looking, you know it’s deep.

“No” You whisper, low and unsure.

“No?” He challenges pulling away from your shoulder.

“No” You echo voice frustratingly unsteady. He sneers down at you, smile condescending. A biting rebellious part of you demands that you snarl and spit something brisque and witty at him but it’s pushed down by something viscous filling your chest. How are you drowning and why are you not dead yet?

Just let it pass, your mind whispers to itself. Just let him get his fill and he’ll be on his way. You don’t even have to get hurt. You sincerely want to believe this. You just want this to not happen. The thought of it summons a wave of nausea deep within you. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes. You blink rapidly chasing them away. He likes it when you cry.

“Baby, you can’t tell me you don’t want this,” He emphasizes, pressing his thigh against your sopping pussy. The pressure makes you whine. “Not when you’re being all cute and fucking yourself on my thigh like the dirty slut you are.”

No. No. No.

Rat-tat.

You will your hips to stop their movement but they’re too lost in their momentum. Your eyes flicker to Roman’s men, large eyes pleading. They stand stiffly doing their best to ignore you. They’re doing a damn fine job of it.

“Oh they won’t do anything, they’re here to watch,” Roman whispers hotly against your ear. Your eyes flicker to them again. Your breath catching when your eyes meet one of theirs, seeing not an ounce of pity. You shove the bile rising in your throat and the quirk on their lips deep somewhere else, somewhere away from you.

You try to squirm away but Roman’s arm presses into your windpipe pinning you in place. You thrash and kick and hiss but your head feels light. You hear fabric shift and you still. The sound of the zipper is too loud and too real.

Roman takes your lips in a forceful kiss making you gasp. His tongue forces its way into your mouth. He releases your neck. You feel his fingers trail up the slits of your skirt. You try to focus on them rather than what’s pressing stiffly against your inner thigh. The fabric of your skirt bunch up by your hips. You feel your panties getting pushed aside by large fingers. You whimper again, clawing at the expensive fabric of Roman’s suit. “Please don’t do this.” You plead breathily against his ear.

He laughs, voice gravelly and harsh. Without further warning or preparation or ceremony, Roman shoves himself inside your warmth, pushing you further into the door. You gasp, the burning stretch making your body tremble all over. He bottomed out with a loud groan. You wanted to cover your ears or have your mind fall out of your reach but here it was painfully present along with your frozen body. He’s loud, groaning and panting as he fucks into you. He thrusts into you with wild abandon, hips clashing against each other with bruising intensity. You can feel his cock dragging in and out of you, hitting every spot violently. He wants this to hurt. You hope it would too.

Your cheeks burn with how your walls spasm around his cock. You want to push him away, to take him out of you but it feels so good. You try to smother the lewd sounds you make into his shirt. Roman’s hands squeeze tightly around your waist in warning. “Yeah, that's it, baby. Let daddy know how much you want this.” You don’t protest. Instead, you let your mouth hang open and let the lewd mewls and keens tumble out. He drills into you more violently seemingly spurred on by your sounds.

You come with a whimper. You want to bury yourself in a hole. He comes not long after still fucking into you as he does, making sure your pussy takes all of his cum.

He pulls out of you, the slick sound of it absolutely sinful. Your body is slack against the door, too drained to hold itself up. Roman pulls back, grinning down at you and whistling appreciatively as he admires his work. “Let’s dress you back up, sweetheart.” Roman coos locking something around your neck. You don’t need to look down to know what he’s put there. The cool metal of the R.S. hanging off the collar presses stark against your hot sensitive skin.

“You look sooo much better like this,” Blearily you look past him. Your duffle bag is already in the arms of one of his men. He grabs your face roughly making you look him in the eyes. “All mine- just as you should be.”

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Thanks for reading! I swear I will do more fluff in the near future. I just needed this out of my system.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

#yandere blackmask #yandere dc #yandere roman sionis #reader insert #dc reader insert #warning: smut #dc smut #black mask x reader #roman sionis x reader #yandere roman sionis x reader #my writing

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ashbrea381writings · 3 years ago

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Red-Eye to Destiny: Chapter 2, The Gala

Mari and Luka texted Damian as soon as they made it back to the house just outside of town. Upon receiving the return message, they promptly fell into bed and slept soundly until late into the morning. Lazily getting dressed for the day, the pair started unpacking their clothes, setting up for laundry and airing out coats that didn’t need washing but definitely needed some care. Going into her design studio, Mari checked on her dress that she’d completed before they left for the last few concerts before their holiday break. “Luka, why does your dad want us to go to this thing again?” Mari sighed, hanging the dress up to check for any last-second alterations she might want to make.

“It’s good networking. He’s hung out with the organizers a bunch and wanted us to meet them, plus tons of people are gonna be there. He said that one of the organizers has a bunch of sons who usually cause some scene or another so it’s usually pretty funny.” Luka walked into the room and rested his chin on top of her head. “Besides, it’ll be a chance to show off your skills to some people who might want to commission something.” “I suppose.” Mari leaned back into Luka for a moment before pulling away to pull out his suit. Mari had made Luka a custom Leather Tuxedo jacket with teal trim on the cuffs and lapels, a matching teal lining and a few silver studs on the collar. His pants were simple charcoal grey with teal lining on the pockets, and subtle teal stitchwork around the cuffs and waistband. His shirt was simple black with a teal pocket square and everything. “I’m still so impressed by you, Melody.” Luka sighed, pouring love into every word through their bond. Mari just giggled in response and ran her fingers over the seams in both his suit and her dress. The dress itself was a strapless, deep burgundy dress with black cherry blossoms embroidered and beaded in a sweeping shape from the hem to the bodice of the dress where it spread out to cover most of the bust in beautiful, 3d flowers made from thread and beads. A small bit of lace rose above the bodice and, when worn, would drape itself modestly over the top of the bust making the sweetheart neckline appear more conservative than it was. The skirt itself was more or less simple, full with the aforementioned flowers down the front in a curve before meeting the black velvet hem of the skirt. Secreted around the skirts where only Mari knew the openings, were several Kwami-sized pockets. “What does everyone think?” Mari asked the room, and all of the Kwami’s looked it over, giggling with delight over the pockets and giving their approval. “We won’t be able to take everyone, but other than Tikki and Sass, who wants to come with us?” Surprising Marinette and Luka, Plagg moved forward. “I know he can’t really wield me since we don’t mesh well, but do you think you could take the ring with you? I think I’m supposed to go.” “What do you mean Plagg? You haven’t wanted to be active other than saying hello and eating some camembert since Adrien decided he needed a break away from all this?” Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow at the Kwami. “Something is different. In you two, especially scales over there.” Plaggs eyes narrowed at Luka. “I think my kitten is in this city, and you two have met him.” Luka and Marinette grinned at each other before confusion took over their faces again. “But what does that have to do with the gala?” “I can do some recon if I’m there.” “Alright then, that’s one for me.” Mari laughed and put a little clip with a black cat on the end on the edge of one of the pockets. “There are 5 in total not counting Tikki, and Luka can only carry another two besides Sass.” In the end, it was decided that Mari would have Plagg, Mullo, Trixx, Pollen and Nooroo in addition to Tikki. Luka ended up with Wayzz, Duusu and Sass of course. The others weren’t interested in going to the party and would rather hang out in the box or around the house.

***

Damian sighed and ducked around a column to get a moment to himself cursing the nosy people at the party in various languages. In his brief moment to himself, he began to notice that he wasn’t just feeling his own annoyance. Frowning in concentration, he turned to scan the ballroom, spotting them near the stage, talking to Jagged Stone of all people. He focused on them, and tried to be heard by just them across the ballroom. ‘I didn’t know you would be here.’ Both Parisians jolted, and looked around, spotting him in his little hiding spot. ‘Is there a reason you’re hiding instead of saying hello?’ Damian could hear the amusement in Lukas' voice. Both of his soulmates looked away and just quietly stepped away from Jagged, making it look like they were talking amongst themselves. ‘Yes, people are too nosy for their own good and they will ask more questions than I am prepared to answer.’ ‘Damian, we owe nobody an explanation for saying hello.’ Marinette chided gently. ‘Besides, Luka and I have mastered the art of getting people to leave us alone with just a look.’ ‘If you say so. Give me a moment.’ Damian straightened his jacket and made it seem like he’d been adjusting his wardrobe as he left the pillar. “There you are, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” Damian held back a grimace and turned to his Father. “Those camping trips I take once and a while? This is the man I go with.” Incidentally, the person Bruce was pointing to was Jagged himself. “Hell of a time getting away for both of us, but SO worth the quiet.” Jagged grinned and held out his hand. “By camping, Brucie means we go to my cabin in the mountains and sit around the fire pit complaining about life. Pleasure to meet you at last, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” “Thank you sir, it’s nice to meet you.” Damian’s smile in return was a bit forced, but thankfully Mari and Luka came to the rescue. “Someone interesting, Jagged?” Marinette asked as they walked over. ‘How much do you want us to say, Damian?’ Marinette added silently, her eyes concerned over how stiff he was and how tightly he was holding his emotions. Damian relaxed slightly, his fake smile relaxing into something a little more neutral but real. ‘I am alright. I will explain to the others later, but perhaps if we can get a quiet moment with my Father?’ Both Luka and Marinette raised an eyebrow at the fact that he’d left out that he was a Wayne before but took it in stride. With little more than a glance between them, Luka put a gentle hand on Jaggeds arm, and pulled the man away, asking him a couple questions about the tour they’d just finished. The man was bewildered, but Luka and Marinette planned things behind his back all the time when they felt it necessary, so he didn’t do more than give Damian and Marinette a questioning look as he was led away. “That was.” Damian commented out loud, shaking his head. “Surprisingly easy for you two.” Marinette laughed, “We’d been working together before we knew, so it took little time to figure it out. Now, Luka pulled Jagged away so the three of us could have a private word.” She turned to Bruce, glancing around for listening ears. “We happened to be seated on the plane next to Damian and, well.” She gestured between them. “I’m afraid you will have to elaborate, Ms. Dupain Cheng.” Bruce narrowed his eyes at the two of them, his face visibly confused. “What she is referring to, Father, is that they are apparently my bonded.” Damian explained. “Both of them.” He added after a moment’s silence. ‘You will explain the work you did together?’ He asked Marinette silently. ‘Soon enough, it’s a rather long story.’ Marinette’s face didn’t even change when she answered, and she started talking to Bruce over the end of her own sentence. “Luka and I had known each other for years before we found out our bond, and we’d always known that there was supposed to be a third for us. However, as we were in Paris, and Damian was apparently here, that obviously made it so that we didn’t meet until on the airplane here.” “And how did you figure it out? Not that I’m not happy for you three, but I know my son, and he tends to be reluctant to even speak to strangers.” Bruce was fishing, and Damian knew it. Marinette seemed to be able to tell too, as she was unphased by his question. “Easy, he was exhausted and fell asleep on the plane leaning on Luka. When Luka needed to move and was panicking because he didn’t want to wake up Damian, he was obviously exhausted and seemed comfortable where he was, Damian responded to his silent monologue about the situation and Damian responded in kind.” Marinette giggled, mentally nudging him when she made an edit to preserve his dignity. ‘Thank you for not going into detail.’ Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. “I had thought I’d talked to him out loud, and promptly fell back to sleep, when they woke me again shortly before the flight was over, and informed me that I had not -in fact- spoken out loud.” He then surprised both his father and himself by reaching over to put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “They were kind enough to give me time to process and after I gave them my phone number, texted me only to give me theirs and let me process on my own after that.” “To be fair, we passed out and slept till almost noon after we texted you, so it wasn’t restraint on our parts, just that we were too tired to stay up anymore. Especially since we didn’t sleep on the plane.” Marinette laughed dryly. “That’s an eight hour flight.” Bruce commented in shock. “You two were awake the whole time?” “Well yes, we hadn’t been up all that long anyway, and with Damian sleeping against Luka, he wasn’t sure if Damian would be offended if he woke up to a sleeping man holding him. Luka’s a cuddler and even if Damian started it he didn’t want to do anything that would make him uncomfortable.” Marinette shrugged. “If he was uncomfortable, why did he not simply move me to not be leaning on him anymore?” Damian asked, having realized that the only time he’d been moved was when Luka got up for the bathroom. “One, the only discomfort he had was not something that moving you would have solved, and two, we did.” She sighed, shrugging. “Every time he shifted you to be sitting upright, you just grabbed onto his arm and put your head back on his shoulder. And when he had to get up he tried a little harder and you got grumpy, but when he sat back down you were right there again. You were practically in his lap.” “And how many people saw this?” Damian asked with an internal groan. “If it gets put on the internet, I will never hear the end of it from the heathens.” “I think Luka and I were the only ones to notice, most everyone else was asleep.” Marinette reassured him. ‘I do have a couple photos and plan on one of them being your profile pic on my phone later.’ This was added as a teasing whisper in his mind and he internally groaned again. Luka broke into the conversation, ‘You have two guys inbound, tall, one of them is slender but muscled, the other slightly shorter and stocky.’ He added a look at where they were and what they looked at. “Grayson, Todd, what did you want?” Damian asked dryly as soon as they stepped close enough for him to hear their footsteps. “How did you do that, Demon Spawn?” Todd demanded as all three people turned to face the men who’d walked up. Marinette stiffened at the nickname, obviously offended at the nickname. ‘It’s alright, he says it because he cares.’ Damian reassured her, sending soothing emotions to her and Luka who’d been walking over as this was said. “I don’t feel like answering that question right now, Todd, but why did you come over here, this was a private conversation.” “Why did you and B need a private word with Jagged’s niece?” Grayson asked, frowning and looking between Bruce and Damian like he could figure out their secret. “That’s a conversation for home, Dick.” Bruce sighed. “And that’s when we decide to tell you, but it’s just something we needed to talk about before moving forward.” He glanced at Luka over Marinette’s shoulder, nodding at him to acknowledge that he’d walked back up. “Can you please not call her his niece? It’s rather awkward at this point.” Luka commented, putting his arms around Marinette’s waist. “She’s my soulmate, he’s my dad, it’s weird, you know?” That caught everyone’s attention, including Damian. “Wait, you’re Jagged’s son?” Bruce sputtered, his face astounded. “The way he talked about you, I figured you were like ten. Not an adult that was touring with him. He also didn’t introduce you as his son.” “I know, I didn’t grow up with him. My mom raised me and my sister, I didn’t really have any contact with him until I was a teenager.” Luka shrugged, “Doesn’t make it any less weird when he calls my soulmate his niece.” “Excuse you, I claimed her before you two even met.” Jagged laughed loudly, causing half the ballroom to look to see who was being so loud. “I think that gives me the right to keep calling her that.” “It’s still weird.” Luka shot back, shaking his head and leaning into Marinette’s hair. ‘This is why I pulled him away, he’s so loud about everything that the whole ballroom would know if he’d been part of it. You said you’d get made fun of if certain people found out.’ Damian smirked, looking down slightly, ‘Thank you, Luka.’ “Anyway, Luka, Marinette, these are two of my other sons, Jagged I’m sure you remember Dick and Jason?” Bruce pointed to each one in turn. “Wait, why does Damian call them by other names then?” Marinette wrinkled her nose a bit, trying to figure it out. “Damian… Has his own way of doing things. I’m surprised he doesn’t call you two by your last names.” Bruce admitted. “We never told him them.” Luka shrugged calmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Okay, I’m confused, how do you all know Damian?” Dick asked, crossing his arms as Tim came to investigate what was going on. “For the love of… Short answer, they met on the plane here, the rest of it we will talk about at a later time and place, when Damian wants to share. That is the end of it, go back to the party.” Bruce grunted at the boys, glaring at them in annoyance while keeping the rest of his face in a neutral expression that he’d practiced for years. “Alright, alright, we’re going.” Jason threw up his hands and grumbled about people being touchy as he walked away. “The one day he’s not in a grumpy mood he has to irritate the rest of us.” Damian clicked his tongue in irritation and shook his head as Dick and Tim also drifted away with shrugs and curious looks thrown at the Parisians. “Well, why don’t you guys enjoy the party, we can talk soon. After I’ve had a chance to wrangle the whole family into not bothering the heck out of Damian over everything.” Bruce gave a small, slightly sarcastic smile and then softened. “Glad things are good though. I’m happy for you.” He patted Damian on the shoulder and walked away to join Jagged who was now talking with a few women by the refreshment table. “So… I take it he approves?” Marinette asked. “Yeah, I think he does.” Damian had the urge to hug his soulmates, but he contented himself with sending as much warmth and happiness to them through the bond as he could.

#mgi trope tussle #maribat #lukadaminette #miraculous fanfic #miraculous au #soulmate #dc

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debbiechanclub · 4 years ago

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“The Worst Thing in the World” - Matt Jackson x OFC

Title: The Worst Thing in the World

Theme: @12daysofchristmas Day 12 - Mistletoe

Fandom/Character(s): AEW/Matt Jackson x OFC

Warnings: Some cursing and sexual language, alcohol use

Word Count: 2,514

Notes: I’ve done it. I’ve caved and written a Matt Jackson fic. BUT I’ve done it my way *smug smile* Also, I’m honestly pretty pumped about this because it’s sort of a prologue to something in the works? And I’ll just leave it at that. Enjoy!

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @champbucks @hotyeehawman @freshlysqueezedmox @comeasyoudar @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @librathepheonix13 @exe-sadboi-exe @gabbynorth98

“Do you think this is gonna be weird?”

Katrina felt her palms starting to get clammy as she and Violet got out of their Uber. She looked nervously up at the house in front of them, trimmed with festive bright white icicle lights that twinkled in the dark. Normally, she’d be all about a Christmas party with their friends. But the circumstances were a bit different tonight.

Violet gave her a curious look. “Why would it be weird?” she asked; and then she answered her own question as she shut the rear passenger-side door of the car. “Because we don’t work for WWE anymore?”

Katrina just nodded, the fluffy white ball on the end of her Santa hat bobbing with the motion. Violet frowned.

“It won’t be weird. They might not be our coworkers anymore, but they’re still our friends,” she reasoned. “Besides, it’s a blended party, anyway. You know Britt and Adam invited AEW people, too.”

Katrina rolled her eyes when she said that. “Don’t remind me,” she groused and started up the driveway. Violet followed, a cheeky grin on her lips.

“When are you gonna stop pretending you don’t have the hots for Matt Jackson?”

“I do not have the hots for Matt Jackson,” Katrina returned with a look over her shoulder.

“He thinks you’re hot.”

“What? No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. He told me so.”

Katrina scoffed. “When? Before you sucked his dick back in Japan?”

“Actually, yeah,” Violet bluntly returned. It made Katrina stop and blink dumbly at her as they arrived on the doorstep. She smirked. “And I did way more than just suck his dick.”

The front door abruptly opened. Britt Baker and Candice Larae beamed out at them, drinks in both their hands, red sequined reindeer antlers atop Britt’s head and a green Christmas elf hat on Candice’s. The sound of Christmas music floated out from the house.

“Finally, more girls!” Britt proclaimed. “It’s a sausage fest in here.”

Violet snorted a laugh while Katrina bit back a smirk. That was an ironic turn of phrase, given what they’d just been discussing. Thankfully, Britt didn’t question what was so funny.

“You two look festive,” Candice complimented. She smirked at Violet’s black and red checkered flannel. “You and Page are twins.”

Violet gave her a surprised look. “Paige is here?”

“Wrong Paige,” Britt returned. But she didn’t clarify before she motioned for them to come inside. They all exchanged hugs and proper hellos, and then Britt took their jackets and the bottle of wine they’d brought and told them to help themselves to the drinks and food in the kitchen. They’d arrived fashionably late—which was, as usual, Katrina’s fault—and the party was already well underway. She’d barely taken two steps toward the kitchen when someone called out to her.

“Kat!”

Katrina halted. There was only one insufferable person who dared to call her that. “Matthew,” she gritted.

“Long time, no see.”

He pulled her into a hug. She reluctantly lifted one arm and patted him stiffly on the back. “Yeah, I wish it was longer.”

“That’s what she said.”

She gave him a cruel smirk as he stepped back. “I bet you’re used to hearing that.”

“I’m actually not,” he returned. “And I’d be more than happy to prove it to y—”

“Hey, stranger,” Violet interrupted at the perfect moment. She wrapped her arms around Matt’s middle and gave him a much warmer hug than Katrina had. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I was just catching up with my best friend Kat, here,” he grinned. Katrina rolled her eyes.

“I’m too sober for this.”

She started toward the kitchen again—but Matt caught her wrist. “Wait. There’s someone I want both of you to meet.”

His hand dropped from her, and he motioned with his head for them to follow. Katrina exchanged a look with Violet, but she just shrugged and walked after him; Katrina expelled a sigh and did the same. He led them into the great room where most everyone had gathered. Matt’s younger brother Nick stood with Adam Cole and a tall, blonde man dressed in a black and red checkered flannel nearly identical to Violet’s. Katrina knew who he was, but she didn’t know him. She presumed he was who Matt wanted them to meet.

“Hey, guys!” Nick proclaimed when he saw them. He exchanged hugs with them both, as did Cole, and then the awkward pre-introduction anticipation set in. Thankfully, it didn’t last long.

“Violet and Katrina, it’s about time you met Adam Page,” Matt said. “Adam, meet Violet and Katrina.”

Adam nodded and tipped his beer toward them. “Hey, it’s nice to finally meet y’all. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Violet smirked up at him. There was a glimmer in her eye that Katrina recognized all too well. She wanted to climb him like a tree. “Only terrible things, I’m sure.”

He smiled a handsome smile. “Well, you’re both from Virginia, right? So you can’t be too terrible. Plus, you clearly have impeccable fashion sense.”

He glanced down at her matching flannel. Katrina watched as Violet fidgeted. Yup, she wanted to fuck him.

“I heard y’all had a pretty intense rivalry with Matt and Nick back in the day,” he added with a glance at Katrina. She grinned.

“Oh yeah, we totally whooped their asses.”

“No, you didn’t,” Matt countered.

“Did too.”

“Yes, we did,” Violet added.

Nick’s eyebrows arched. “Are you shitting me?”

“It sounds to me like this rivalry isn’t settled,” Cole grinned. “Maybe it should be revisited. Your non-competes are up soon, aren’t they?”

Katrina nodded. “Yeah. But as if the TNT execs would let an intergender match happen.”

“You never know,” Nick shrugged. “And even if we can’t make it happen, I’ve already told you that Kenny wants you two in AEW.”

Katrina’s stomach did a little flip. But then Matt’s voice cut into her thoughts like nails on a chalkboard.

“Seriously, let us know when your non-competes are up. I know you’re dying to wrestle me again, Kat.”

He fixed her with that shit-eating grin she’d come to know so well. Her eyes narrowed. “Again, I’m too sober for this.” She looked back at Adam. “It was nice meeting you, but I need a drink.”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll get along just fine.”

She gave him a smile and turned to head toward the kitchen. Violet called for her to get her a drink, too, and when Katrina turned to tell her alright, she saw that Matt was following her. She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

“Come on, I was just joking,” he said.

“That doesn’t make it any less weird,” she returned.

“What? What’s weird?”

“Are you serious?” she shot him a look as she grabbed two cups. “You don’t think it’s weird that you flirt with me right in front of my best friend who you’ve fucked?” She ladled out mulled wine from the crockpot on the counter into the cups. When Matt didn’t say anything, she glanced expectantly him.

“Not really,” he offered. “Vi doesn’t care.”

“Well, I care!” she proclaimed. “It’s weird, and you’re not cute, so.” She left it at that and grabbed the drinks to march back into the great room, nearly smacking Matt in the face with her Santa hat as she whirled around, a period on their conversation.

But Matt couldn’t leave it at that, because of course he couldn’t. “Come on, I know you don’t hate me as much as you act like you do.”

“Pretty close. You’re literally the most annoying person on planet Earth.”

He laughed. “Oh, literally? Okay, so you’ve met every single person on planet Earth, then? All seven billion of them?”

She stopped and turned to face him again. “You’re literally the most annoying person I’ve met, then. Far and away.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’ve met Nick.”

“Whoa!” Nick proclaimed, suddenly appearing before them. “I am not the annoying one.”

“Yes, you are,” Katrina and Matt simultaneously returned. Matt smirked at her; she scowled at him.

“You’re both equally as annoying as the other,” she clarified.

Matt’s grin widened until he looked like the Cheshire cat. “Well then I’m not the most annoying person you’ve met, am I, Kat?”

Katrina growled in her throat. If there was anything she hated, it was when Matthew fucking Jackson got one up on her. But before she could think of a scathing comeback, Nick cleared his throat.

“Uh, guys. Look up.”

They both glanced at Nick, curious, and then they both looked up. Katrina froze. Hanging from the lintel above them was a small bunch of mistletoe, tied up in a neat red velvet bow—and they were standing right underneath it.

She reeled back. “Sorry, I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“You two have to kiss now,” Nick said. “Them’s the rules.”

Katrina snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, not happening.”

“Why not?” Nick asked.

Her eyebrows arched high onto her forehead. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he returned. “If you ask me, I think it’s pretty obvious that you two have some pent-up sexual aggression you need to release.”

Katrina’s mouth dropped. One, that was ridiculous. And two, it gave her the willies just thinking about kissing Matt. He’d hooked up with her best friend! Multiple times! She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye and shuddered. It was weird.

She looked back at Nick, eyes narrow. “Well it’s a good thing no one asked you, then,” she bit, and she stalked away from them, ridding herself of the disgusting thought of kissing Matthew Jackson.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thankfully, Violet had been right: the party wasn’t nearly as weird as Katrina had worried it would be. She was happy to see all their friends, and most of them seemed excited at the prospect of her and Violet going to All Elite Wrestling once they could. Which was funny, because they hadn’t really discussed what was next for them. Impact had reached out, as well, and they had women’s tag team championships, and Katrina wouldn’t be opposed to going back to Japan. However, judging by the way Violet had been making bedroom eyes at Page all night, it seemed like he’d already been added to her list of pros for going to AEW. That was fine with Katrina—anything to get Vi away from that Carolina Bastard she’d been hooking up with.

She got what she could of what was left of the mulled wine and decided to step out into the Florida room for a little privacy. Truth be told, she was buzzed and thinking about texting someone, half for advice on going to AEW and half for other reasons; but as she pulled out her phone, the sliding glass door opened behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and let out a groan.

“What?”

Matt stuck his hands into his hoodie. “Jeez, I can’t come see why you’re out here all by yourself?”

She scoffed. “It didn’t occur to you I wanted to be by myself?”

He pursed his lips. “I know you pretty well, Katrina. You’re a social drunk.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t used the nickname she loathed for once. “Page and Vi seem to be hitting it off.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction. As long ago as their Japanese fling had been, she had a feeling Matt still had a little crush on Violet. But if he was jealous at all, he didn’t give it away.

“I expected them to.”

Her eyes widened. “Like that?”

His brow furrowed. “What, you think I’m jealous?”

She smirked and looked back at her phone. “You said it, not me.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Really? Because I think you have a little crush on her.”

“Why am I out here, then?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, because you’re chickenshit and you know that Page is way hotter than you.”

He gave her a flat look. She let out a laugh and brought her drink to her lips. But it died in her throat at what he said next.

“You know, maybe Nick’s right.”

She lowered her drink to look back at him in shock. He couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying. Could he? “What?”

He moved closer. “Maybe Nick’s right about what he said earlier, when we were under the mistletoe. Would kissing me really be the worst thing in the world?”

Katrina’s nose crinkled as she pushed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. A smart-ass comment sat at the ready on the tip of her tongue; but, before she could fire it off, Matt was right in front of her. Close. Close enough for her to feel his body heat in the chilly winter air.

“Because, for the record, I don’t think kissing you would be the worst thing in the world.”

His eyes lowered to her lips. She felt her pulse quicken. Matt had never looked at her like that before. It made her feel… something other than aggravation toward him, for once. She blamed the mulled wine. But then he raised his gaze to meet hers, and her senses returned to her.

“You’re full of shit,” she dismissed.

He smirked, crooked and cocky as ever. “Oh, am I?”

“Yeah, you ar—”

He bent forward and caught her lips in his, cutting her off. Katrina made a noise of surprise into his mouth; but she didn’t pull away or stop him, and for a second he just stayed like that, his lips pressed to hers, unsure what to do next, as if he was just as surprised as she was that he’d actually kissed her. But then, slowly, he started to move his mouth against hers. His lips were soft, juxtaposed with the scratchy stubble on his chin. His hands found her waist. Her hand that didn’t hold her drink lifted to slide tentatively up his chest to his neck. He deepened the kiss, gently, testing if she’d let him in. She did. He tightened his hold on her, drawing her body against his. And then, unexpectedly, a breathy, muffled moan escaped her.

Katrina pushed him away like his lips had shocked her. She had not made that noise. Matthew fucking Jackson had not made her make that noise.

His grin was cockier than ever. “What, enjoying it a little too much?”

“It was the wine.” She pushed past him back toward the house, a scowl on her lips and a blush on her cheeks.

“Uh huh,” he smirked after her. “Sure it was.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “This never happened,” she said, and as she ripped open the door and went back inside, she decided that kissing Matt was the worst thing in the world. Because she knew he was never going to let her live it down.

#12daysofChristmas #matt jackson #matt jackson fanfiction #matt jackson fanfic #matt jackson fic #matt jackson imagine #matt jackson x ofc #aew fanfiction

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky X Reader

Summary: During a summer away from school, you head back home to the small town you grew up in. You quickly resume your job on the Farm where you spent most of your teen years, reconnecting with people you thought you might never see again.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3.7K

A/n: I like this idea. I like this title. I just like it. I hope y’all do too.

~*~

Student loans most certainly don't pay themselves.

That's something people tell you but doesn't fully hit until you see the big bills in the mail. Instead of dwelling, you climb into your rusty old car and set out down the highway, heading back to the town where you grew up.

Your parents have been bugging you about coming to visit, and the town always has job openings somewhere, easily the best place to go to rake in some extra cash during your summer break.

And that's how you find yourself here, standing outside the big white farmhouse that's something straight out of a magazine.

Your dad dropped you off at the start of the long circular driveway, leaving you to walk to the front of the house in your old farm boots.

As you approach the house, you feel yourself getting nervous as you see the figure sitting on the yellow porch swing.

"My Goodness! (Y/n) (Y/l/n)! Is that you?!" You smile at the familiar voice, hurrying towards her as she gets off the swing and clomps down the stairs towards you.

"You've grown so much! We've missed you 'round these parts!" She exclaims, throwing her arms around you as soon as you're in range.

"Hi, Winnie! I've missed you too." She keeps an arm around your shoulders and walks you up the step and through the blue front door of the huge house. You toe off your boots and she does the same, not bothering to put them away properly in her haste to get you comfortable.

"I'll get you something to drink. We've got so much to catch up on. And the boys! Oh! They'll be dyin' to see ya. James 'specially. He just ain’t been the same since you left for the big city. But look at you now, a grown woman, a big city girl." You grin, eyes flittering around the house.

It's changed over the years, but it hasn't lost its homey feel. The walls of the entryway are the same yellow-orange as they always were, the floors, the same deep oak.

You take a left, through the dining room and past George's office, through the kitchen and finally into the sitting room.

You take your time, admiring all the renovations they've done in the years since you've last been in here.

All the cupboards and counters are a bright pristine white, but the beams across the ceiling give it a rustic feel. The appliances are all stainless steel, and the hardwoods have been darkened since the last time you saw them.

Winnifred pulls you to sit down on the soft beige couch across from the windows, smiling brightly at you.

"I'll grab you a drink. Wanda squeezed some orange juice fresh this mornin' so we're in for a treat." She pours you a glass and you smile as she hands it to you, her hospitality warming your heart.

"How's the big city treated ya?" She asks, plopping down on the couch next to you. You take a sip of orange juice then sigh.

"It's... different than out here, that's for sure. The people mind their business and they don't stick out for each other the way we do. But I think that that's helped me really grow and become independent." She nods, smiling at you.

"Look at you. Always know you'd be somethin' great. And here you are, on the road to being a doctor. Hope you don't forget us while you're out there savin' lives." You shake your head.

"I could never forget you guys. This place is my home. You guys... you're my family." She nods, "you're darn right."

"That's uh... one of the reasons why I cam here, actually. Ma was tellin' me that you guys are looking for some extra help over the summer. I may not be as good as I was before, but I still remember how to take care of the animals and run the place."

"Oh Darlin', you'll always have a job here, whenever you want. You can help with paperwork or you can help the boys with the animals if you want." You nod, mulling over your options.

"Or if you're really up for it, you can help with both." You nod, liking that idea more than just picking one.

"And you'll stay here during the week. It's gonna be early mornings and late nights, just like before. But weekends you can go home to your family." You nod again, taking another sip of your juice.

"You'll be staying in the guest house with James. I hope you don't mind. There are two bedrooms so you won't have to bunk together. He got it done all nice and pretty, I think you'll really like it. And if you don't, I'll see if Wanda'll stay with him for the summer." You wave her off.

"I'm sure James and I will be fine to live under one roof for the summer." She nods with a grin, happy that you're back home where, in her opinion, you belong.

"The boys should be finished in the field soon. I'm sure they're hungry. Wanna help me whip up some lunch? It's been a while since we've had those grilled sandwiches you make. I'm sure the boys'll love 'em as a surprise." You nod, getting up off the couch and walking into the kitchen, falling into the familiar task of making lunch for the farm boys.

You and Winifred talk about the growth of the farm and about the new girl, Wanda. "Her family's from Europe. She moved out here for school but got a job working on the farm. Decided to take a break from school and work with us for a couple years before going back to school. Isn't that so lovely? Everyone who gets a taste of this ol' farm just can't stay away. You're no exception, are ya?"

You shake your head, a grin on your lips as you plate the sandwiches.

Boots trudge against the stone by the door and your heart races in your chest. The door swings open and the conversation the two men are having comes to a halt when they see not one, but two pairs of women's boots at the door.

"Ma?" a familiar voice calls out. You hear them taking off their own shoes and then they're coming through the dining room and into the kitchen.

You're not sure what you were expecting, but this certainly isn't it.

The two scrawny boys you used to play on the tire swing with have grown into huge men. Steve, the boy that used to be so sick all the time, with nothing but skin on his bones, is easily six feet tall and over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. His head nearly hits the top of the doorway when he walks into the kitchen, eyes as blue as ever. And the accentuate his muscles, he's wearing a skintight blue shirt that shows off every single curve and crevice in his body.

His mouth opens in shock when he sees you before a grin spreads over his pink lips. He rushes to you and engulfs you in a tight and sweaty bear hug, squeezing you tight in his arms.

You giggle uncontrollably as he spins you around.

"God, it's been too long! What're you doing 'round these parts?" He sets you down on your feet, hands on your shoulders as he drinks in your figure.

Winifred answers before you have a chance to, and you take the moment to look around Steve's arm to where you know James is standing.

Standing in place of the lanky boy who stole your first kiss is a grown man. His hair's trimmed and slicked back, and he's got a short scruffy beard growing. He's almost as tall as Steve is, still several inches taller than you, and even thicker, biceps straining against the tight fabric of his flannel shirt. His thighs are sinfully thick in his dirty jeans, and there's a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

You can't help but devour his figure with your eyes, greedy to drink up every detail of him.

He does the same to you, pink bottom lip tucked between his white teeth as his eyes rake over your figure.

From the tight white tank top that hugs your chest, to those damn jeans that hug your legs so perfectly, to the mismatched socks on your feet. He's missed you, that much he'll admit.

"...I just hope that the two of you get along like you used to." The two of you tune back in, turning to his mother as she continues speaking, oblivious to the moment you just shared.

"Wait what?" He asks, voice deep. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You and (Y/n). I figured that you've got plenty of room for her to bunk with you. And with Wanda stayin' with us, there ain't a lotta room for her to stay." You glance over at the man in question and he swallows hard before nodding.

"Yeah. Of course." Winifred claps her hands together happily.

"Perfect. Now, you boys must be hungry. Eat up!" Steve grabs his plate of sandwiches and sits down on the couch, sighing and relaxing with ease. Bucky, on the other hand, doesn't move as quickly. He waits until his mother leaves to turn something on the tv before moving, and when he does he only moves towards you.

You lean back instinctively, inhaling sharply when you find yourself pinned against the countertop behind you.

He looks you up and down again, nodding to himself. He's so close that you can feel the familiar warmth of him through the few inches separating the two of you. He leans closer for a moment, lips just hovering over yours, and your eyelids fall closed. Until he pulls back.

A soft whine falls from your lips and he chuckles quietly, grabbing his plate of food and plopping down next to Steve on the couch. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself before heading into the living room and sitting by Winnie.

"I suppose you'll need to go home and pick up some of your things, won't ya?" You nod, taking another sip of your orange juice. "I'll have my folks bring it over later on. If that's alright with you." She nods, grinning happily.

"You know what? I say we have a barbecue tonight. Invite your folks over, some old friends. Celebrate you comin' home for the summer." She's up and hurrying away before you can even say no.

It's silent for a painfully long moment before Steve clears his throat and speaks.

"So how's school been?" You almost roll your eyes. Same old awkward Steve.

"It's been good. I uh... finished my second year of med school. I've just got two years of clinical experience to go then I start my residency." He nods, leaning forward in interest.

"And you've chosen your specialty?" You nod, smiling as you talk about your passion.

"I'm going into Obstetrics and Gynaecology. So for my clinical I'll be pretty much just shadowing some doctors, delivering babies, helping and observing in the OR. Then it's a minimum of five years in residency before I can start my own practice." He nods thoughtfully, smiling suddenly.

"So in two years we'll be callin' ya 'Doctor (Y/l/n)'?" You nod, that fact scaring you more than it probably should.

"Yup." He shakes his head in disbelief. "You know, I have a hard time believing that the same girl who went to rodeo's with me and this punk when we were skinny little nobodies... can't believe she's a grown woman now, on her way to becoming a doctor. I've gotta say, (Y/n), I'm so proud of you. You've got no idea." Your eyes prickle and you blink furiously.

"Thank you, Steve. It feels so... surreal. Coming back here after all these years... it feels like nothing's really changed." He smiles, nodding.

"Yeah. Nothing's changed at all," Bucky mumbles, eyes on you. You look down at your lap, unsure what he means by that.

~*~

The first week of helping on the farm is exactly how you remembered it. Early mornings, heavy lifting, and the stench of animal crap that seems to stick to your hair even after you shower. But it feels like home. And spending time with your closest friends is worth it all.

You're walking through the tiny town's farmer's market, a list of groceries in your right hand, written by Winifred herself.

Just as you're paying for the last vegetables that you need, the sound of horse hooves on the gravel road makes you and everyone around you turn to the sound.

Sitting atop his prized mare is Bucky, a dark cowboy hat on his head and some fancy looking cowboy boots on his feet. He slows to a stop in front of you, grinning as you step closer.

"Well howdy," you tease. He chuckles and looks down for a moment.

"Ma wanted me to come pick you up. Says a storm's brewin'. She didn't want you walking home in it. Brought my pack so you can stash the groceries and we can ride back home." You purse your lips then nod, handing him the groceries so he can put them away.

"Now c'mon up. You remember how to ride?" The glimmer in his eyes makes you grin.

"As a matter of fact, James, I remember vividly how to ride." He chuckles softly and offers you his hand. You grab it with one hand and pull while bouncing to give yourself momentum. You grab onto his bicep with your other arm and swing your leg over the horse, pulling yourself up the rest of the way with ease.

"Huh, all that time in the big city hasn't made you forget," he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at you while his mare starts a comfortable walk back to the house.

"I uh... I haven't had a chance to tell you, but your place looks great," you say awkwardly, hands twitching to reach for him.

He hums, his right hand reaching back and grabbing onto yours, pulling it around his waist. "You'd better hold on tight. Don't want you to fall." You bring your other hand around his waist and lean your head against his back.

The ride back home is quiet and peaceful, and gives you far too much to think about.

When you're finally back on the property, Bucky hops off of his mare then reaches up and grabs your waist instinctively. And you let him.

He helps you down and the two of you stand like that for a long moment, chests touching and eyes locked together, the tension palpable between the two of you.

Thunder booms in the distance and it snaps the two of you out of your moment. Bucky ducks his head and leads his mare to the stables and you make your way into the house that the two of you are sharing.

When Bucky finally comes inside, his hat damp with rain, you've got two mugs of tea waiting. You hand one to him then make your way into the sunroom to relax as the rain falls gently outside.

You're sipping your tea, watching the rain, when Bucky comes out and sits next to you on the worn old couch.

"I've missed you, (Y/n). I really have. It just.... it ain't the same without you here." You look over at him and smile sadly.

"I've missed you too, Buck. So much." He throws his arm over the back of the couch, eyes on you as he sets his mug down on the coffee table.

"When you left... I thought you'd come back and be too prissy for me. Thought you'd realize what you're worth and you wouldn't wanna speak to me again, that's assumin' you'd come back at all. And I know it's shallow of me, but I didn't know what to expect. But let me tell you that I'm so damn happy that you haven't changed. You've filled out a bit more, and you seem more confident, but you're still my (Y/n) in there."

You look over at him, see the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes, and find yourself falling head over heels all over again.

"Bucky, I'd never think myself 'too good' for you. Or for anyone here. You guys are my family... my friends.... and..." you trail off , eyes darting down to his lips for a long moment before finding his eyes again.

His arm slides from the couch to your shoulders, fingers squeezing your shoulder gently. You lean forward, setting your mug on the table beside his then nuzzle back against him, sighing softly.

"I'm glad you're home," he whispers, eyes finding your lips. You nod, instinctively shifting closer to him.

You lick your lips and his eyes dart down to the movement. He looks back up to your eyes, asking for permission. You grant it, leaning forward slightly. He meets you halfway, lips warm and slightly chapped.

You melt into it, moaning softly against his mouth. He takes advantage of your parted lips and gently lets his tongue explore, re-familiarizing himself with every inch of you.

His hands grip your waist and yanks you over to him, helping you situate yourself so that you're straddling his thighs. You cup his cheeks and kiss him harder, inhaling sharply when he grabs your ass.

"Let's get you outta these jeans, yeah?" He asks, his voice gravelly and deep with lust. You stand up, legs trembling slightly, and quickly rid yourself of your jeans. He does the same, kicking off his jeans and unbuttoning his flannel. You pull your t-shirt above your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him, except for your panties.

He has his hand down his boxers, stroking his hard length while his hooded eyes stay trained on you.

You drop to your knees between his legs and smile innocently up at him.

"Can I suck your cock, Bucky?" He moans at the way you say it, nodding his head furiously. You're quick to help him out of his boxers, your jaw dropping as his cock rests freely against his abdomen.

He's so much bigger than you remember. You take him in your dominant hand, stroking him slowly. He throws his head back, taking deep breaths as you continue to slowly torture him.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, you lean forward and lick him from base to tip, then take him down your throat.

He lurches forward, hand grabbing onto your hair as you start bobbing your head up and down.

"Jesus fuck!" He watches you through hooded eyes as you give him what may be the best blowjob of his life.

"Fuck, stop." He pulls you off of his cock and takes a few shuddering breaths.

"As fucking fantastic as that feels, I wanna cum inside of you." You rub your thighs together as heat pools at your centre at his words.

He pulls you up onto his lap again and pulls at the flimsy lace of your panties, tearing them clean off of your body. He tosses them aside then pulls you closer to his chest, rutting his hips upwards to grind his cock against your folds. You moan and drop your head to his shoulder, the feeling of his hot length against your wet heat only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You gonna let me fuck you hard? Huh? You gonna let me show you just how much I missed you?" You nod breathlessly, grinding your hips against his and moaning every time he bumps your clit.

He lifts you up slightly, just enough to snake his hand between your naked bodies, then lines his aching cock with your cunt.

He doesn't make any further move, allowing you to take the reins at your own pace, and for that you're more than grateful.

It takes a while, lowering on him slowly, before you can settle comfortably on his lap, and even then the two of you are straining.

"Fuck," he rasps, fingers digging into your waist, no doubt leaving bruises for tomorrow.

You give your hips an experimental rock and moan as he rubs right against your g-spot.

"God, you're tight," he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. You glance down to where the two of you are connected then back up to his blissed-out face and make a decision in your head.

With determination and a loud moan, you lift your hips then drop them back down. He lets out a guttural groan and you repeat the action, gradually speeding up until you're bouncing in his lap, his cock hitting every single good place inside of you.

"I-I'm gonna cum," he whispers, moaning softly when you clench around him. You can feel yourself approaching the edge too, and when he brings his hand between your legs to rub your swollen clit, you see stars.

A long drawn out moan leaves your lips as your release slams into you like a brick wall. You collapse against his chest, eyes rolling back into your head as he grips your hips and fucks up into you, drawing out your orgasm while finally reaching his own.

His hips stutter a few more times before he stills, arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to his chest while the two of you stay locked together, his cock softening inside of you.

You push yourself up against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hums happily and hugs you tighter. Two fingers flick the tip of his hat and he chuckles, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

"Well, you know what they say," you whisper, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head. He shakes his head with a laugh. "No, what do they say?"

You grin and bring your mouth down so that it's just hovering over his.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy."

#bucky x reader #cowboy!bucky x reader #cowboy au #cowboy!au #cowboy!Bucky Barnes x reader #cowboy bucky x reader #cowboy Steve x reader #Steve x reader #bucky x reader cowboy au

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