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teawaffles · 3 years ago

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The Adventures of John: Chapter 4, Part 2

TW // Mention of abuse

Also, a note for language.

Without even an opportunity for Laura to resist, Sherlock pulled his hand out — and revealed a gorgeous necklace. It wasn’t as if John could remember that necklace itself, but from its elegant sparkle, he judged that it’d been one of the items from their flat.

The despair on Laura’s face only deepened. Beside her, the detective spoke.

“This was stolen from my flat. Since the jewellery was in such a mess, you probably thought it wouldn’t look amiss if just one piece went missing — but that was naive of you,” he said. “Because I have a full grasp of everything that was put there.”

When Laura arrived at their flat, Sherlock had made a show of being indifferent to her request, while making sure that she had taken one of the stolen goods.

To have fully comprehended that chaos — John marvelled at the strength of Sherlock’s memory. During the conversation in the flat, he had persisted in looking out the window, away from Laura: that must’ve been to create a deliberate opening, and test if the girl would help herself to the pile.

Laura had stolen a piece of jewellery from their apartment. Moreover, she’d made up the request to find Dolly. Inevitably, from the two points above, it followed that her goal from the start had been to steal the jewellery. Hence, it formed definite proof that she was one of the thieves’ accomplices.

Confronted by that irreversible reality, Laura was stunned. As for the man, his eyes went bloodshot from anger.

“Y-You’ve gotta be kidding me, you good-for-nothing……. I told you to do it without exposing us—”

Hearing that, Sherlock piped up in a cool voice.

“Shall I take that as a confession? Though, there is still the argument that this kid Laura here is just another one of you vagrants, and you guys have nothing to do with the ring of thieves.”

The man spat on the ground.

“Hmph, I’ve no interest flogging that argument anymore. ——Let’s settle this the fast way.”

Saying that, he drew a small revolver from his pocket, and levelled it at Sherlock. Following suit, a few men among the group also whipped out knives and guns. The remaining crowd cried out softly in fear.

“If we dispatch the both of you right here, the truth’ll remain buried, eh?”

At that unsettling line, his armed accomplices also broke into twisted smiles.

But despite being held at gunpoint, Sherlock seemed particularly unmoved. He observed their actions, and narrated his own view.

“From the looks of it, you lot are the ringleaders, while the rest seem to have been threatened into compliance.”

“Yeah: with just a little bit of a beating, they’ll do anything we ask,” the man smirked.

But Sherlock was calm as he replied.

“From that, I gather not all of you are friends. And seeing how you resort to violence to settle things right away: you’re probably a hoodlum accustomed to crime, aren’t ya?”

“Hoodlum? You’re not wrong, but call us a group of clever thieves if you can. After all, I’ve skilfully manipulated these scum and carried out some brilliant thefts.”

Drunk on his own accomplishments, the man threw a glance at Laura. She hadn’t budged from where she stood; protecting her head, she cowered on the ground in sheer terror. From that, one could easily imagine what maltreatment she and the others had suffered at the hands of these thugs.

His heart filled with rage, John glared at the man.

“That means you forced them to commit crimes, didn’t you?”

“Call it making effective use of them, Doctor Watson,” he drawled. “These people all live on a pittance of a daily income. No one would care if they’re gone. I’ve given them a rather fine job until now, but this time, she just had to screw up. ——As I thought, brats are useless after all!”

“……I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He shouted at Laura, and she repeated that apology over and over as she sobbed.

“You……”

“John, you’re right to be angry, but please calm down.”

At the unforgivable sight before him, the detective’s assistant had balled his hands into fists, but Sherlock persuaded him to keep his cool.

“Ah…… Sorry to get back to the topic, but let me give you some clarity on this case.”

“Huh?”

As before, Sherlock’s demeanour lacked any sort of tension, and his opponent frowned. But the detective paid no heed to that as he continued.

“To sum up the story thus far: the bunch of louts brandishing their weapons here are the ringleaders behind the thefts, and the other vagrants and street merchants were forcibly…… ‘used’, if I were to borrow your words?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You could say that they’re all expendables to be exploited as I please. To have so skilfully manipulated them — I bet my abilities rival those of that rumoured ‘Lord of Crime’ or something.”

“……Well.”

At that name, Sherlock’s eye twitched. But he showed no further reaction than that as he replied.

“In other words, to you guys, their names and faces aren’t even worth remembering?”

“That’s an odd way to put it, but exactly. They’re all disposable — do you really think I can remember all of them? ……That said, how long are you gonna keep prattling on like that? I don’t know if you’re just trying to buy time, but it’s time for you to die.”

Running out of patience, the man broke off their conversation, and moved to pull the trigger: fully intending to shoot the detective and his assistant.

However, Sherlock’s smile remained bold as ever.

“——That’s it then. I’ve gotten your word.”

That instant, John couldn’t believe his eyes.

Among the crowd of vagrants, the ones who were shrouded in hoods — separate from the ringleaders — were now aiming guns at the criminals.

“……Huh?”

“——Don’t move.”

One of the mysterious figures commanded sternly, keeping his gun trained on the lead criminal. Stunned by this sudden development, the man complied; and with his other hand, the figure slowly drew back his hood.

“……Inspector Lestrade?”

Out of sheer astonishment, John murmured the person's name.

The man in the hood, was Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. Facing the lead criminal, he spoke in a determined voice.

“From the conversation earlier, it’s clear that you have threatened the poor and coerced them into crime. I’ll hear the details at the station. Don’t even think about resisting.”

Then, the other figures removed their hoods and revealed their faces. One after the other, they confiscated the weapons from the stunned hoodlums. Though they weren’t wearing uniforms, from their practised actions, it was clear that they were police officers.

“W-What the devil is going on……?”

Tonight had been a night of many surprises for this detective. John was yet unable to wrap his head around the situation, and once again, he asked himself a question he’d thought about countless times today.

“Everything’s exactly as you’ve witnessed, John. When I identified this place, I contacted Lestrade at the same time, then got the officers to disguise themselves as tramps and hide among the crowd.”

“But why?”

“If I’d just called in the Yard as usual, we wouldn’t have been able to identify the ringleaders among this large a crowd.”

Sherlock stated that conclusion in brief, then began to explain.

“As I thought about the thieves’ actions, I judged that there was probably a mastermind separate from the ones committing the actual crimes, who was controlling them from behind the scenes. Hence, there was a need to identify this mastermind; but even if the Yard were to round up the entire group of vagrants, like what that ruffian told me earlier, they could just say that they had no relation to the ring of thieves — and that would be the end of it. Moreover, it still wasn’t clear who the ringleaders were, and the ring members who were being threatened would’ve likely been warned not to blab. So, in order to smoke out the ringleaders and elicit a confession, I added a bit of an act.”

Then, the detective looked at Lestrade, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“——Well, about the disguises: I’d thought about where the police squad could hide themselves, and decided it would be better for them to mingle with the crowd, so they wouldn’t have to sneak about all weirdly.”

“W-Wha— What a stupid……”

Upon hearing the truth, the man’s earlier triumphant attitude had devolved into a disgraceful, incredulous one. This time, Sherlock laughed out loud.

“Sure, you can make people follow you, but you’ll also have to keep tabs on them properly. In the first place, when this location was discovered, didn’t it occur to you that I would call in the Yard? You can pretend to be a mastermind, but with your lack of foresight, even the Lord of Crime would laugh.”

“S……Shite.”

“Oi, watch what you say from here on. It’ll be used as evidence against you in court.”

Lestrade warned the man as he clapped him in irons; accepting his defeat, he hung his head bitterly. For a villain who’d exploited people in poverty, and boasted of rivalling the Lord of Crime: it was a downright dreadful ending.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“I’ll always be in your debt, Holmes. And the same goes for you, Dr Watson.”

As he watched the arrested criminals being taken away, Lestrade thanked the detective duo.

However, in contrast to the inspector’s earnest attitude, Sherlock put a hand over his mouth as he tried to suppress his laughter.

“Lestrade. Sorry for saying this when you’re being so serious, but…… you looked surprisingly good as a tramp.”

“H-Hey! That’s rude, Sherlock!”

“By Jove, Sherlock……”

John chided the detective, and Lestrade let out an astonished sigh.

“……Anyway, I’m grateful for your help in resolving this case.”

“Yeah, let me know when you have another interesting mystery next time.”

After that simple exchange, the inspector left to join the other police officers.

Then, Laura — the central figure from today — and an old woman from among the vagrants walked over to them.

“——U-Um, Dr Watson.”

The girl stood right before John. She bit her lip, and sank into a deep bow.

“I’m so sorry for tricking you!”

Laura blurted that out in a loud voice. Then, the old woman also bowed solemnly.

Met with their sincere apologies, John spoke up in a kind voice.

“It’s alright. You had no choice — all of you were being threatened.”

“B-But…… I……”

“Don’t worry about it. In any case, won’t it be tough for you all from here on?”

With a start, Laura realised what he meant, and dropped her gaze. Though they had been coerced into thievery, it was still a fact that they had broken the law. Hence, in order to furnish the details to the Yard, all of them would be taken in for questioning.

The atmosphere turned slightly gloomy, and Sherlock piped up.

“You don’t have to be so serious about it, y’know. Seeing as all of you had been forced into those crimes, the Yard’ll treat you more leniently.”

“Y-You’re right.”

John knew that Sherlock was deliberately being optimistic, in an effort not to worry them both. Hence, though it was a little awkward, John agreed with him.

Perhaps the matter wasn’t as simple as Sherlock had described, but the events from now on would be out of their hands entirely. Hoping that Lestrade would speak well in their defence, John changed the topic somewhat forcibly.

“……By the way, is this lady a relative of yours?”

Hearing that, Laura brightened up, and introduced the old woman.

“Yes, she’s my grandmother; we’ve been making a living together selling food.”

“Truly, please accept my sincere apologies for what happened.”

Hearing the old woman’s husky voice, John finally understood the awkward exchange he had witnessed between them at the park. Seeing as they were family, it was only natural for Laura to be more relaxed around her; moreover, the old woman’s faltering tone had surely been due to her guilt at deceiving him.

John nodded in understanding. Then, Laura took out a small pouch.

“That and this…… Here’s the full amount we’ve taken from you, Dr Watson. Please accept it.”

“Ah, I see. I’d forgotten all about the money. Thank you.”

John was about to reach for the pouch, when all of a sudden, a thought struck him — and he stopped.

“……Um, is something the matter?”

Seeing him freeze up, Laura tilted her head. Then, John withdrew his hand, and instead held up the bag full of items he’d bought from the street merchants.

“‘Taken’? What’re you saying? I bought these of my own accord. I can’t see any issues with them, so I’ve no intention of getting a refund.”

“……Eh?”

“Isn’t that right? I negotiated properly with the merchants in the parks, and bought these items as a customer. There was no trickery at all.”

John asserted that proudly, and beside him, he heard Sherlock chuckle.

Of course, what John said was by no means a show of bravado that he hadn’t been tricked. Laura had been moved by his kindness throughout the day; in an instant, she sensed the emotions imbued in his words. But even so, she knitted her brows, looking troubled.

“Still, I really should return this to you.”

She then offered him the pouch again, but John gently pushed it away.

“Laura, in all honesty, the walnuts your grandmother sold me were delicious. For products that good, it’s only right that I pay a fair price for them.”

His smile was full of warmth as he continued.

“If I happen to see your stall again, I’ll be sure to buy from you.”

“Dr Watson……”

This time, Laura did not press the matter.

She held the pouch as if it were a treasure, and her face brimmed with smiles.

“——Alright. When we see each other again, I’ll be sure to prepare lots of walnuts for you.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that.”

Then, John bade goodbye to Laura and her grandmother; and with his “loot” in hand, he left the scene with Sherlock.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #a study in scarlet

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marvelstarwarsetc · 4 years ago

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I’ll Be Seeing You - B. Barnes

Summary: In which the reader was in WW2 with Steve and Bucky, and she and Steve realize that Bucky is still alive during the fight on the bridge.

Warnings: Fight scenes, Angst.

A/N: I am absolutely terrible at summaries but this has been floating around in my head for so long and I finally finished writing it. I set it up so that there could be a Part 2 if people like it enough and want me to write one. I could definitely turn this into a series if I was motivated enough to do so lol.

A ghost. That’s how Natasha had described him at the hospital, with a look of fear in her eyes that was rarely ever present on the former assassin.

Ghost was certainly a perfect way to describe him. He came out of nowhere, striking hard and fast, aiming to kill.

His face was completely concealed under a mask and a pair of black goggles, dark hair hanging loosely around his face. He wore a black tactical suit, the left sleeve missing in order to showcase a metal arm with a red star painted amongst the silver plates.

It was clear he had some form of the super soldier serum running through his veins, his strength and agility close to if not beating that of mine and Steve’s. He was a skilled fighter, each of his fluid movements calculated and thoroughly thought through. Each blow Steve and I dealt was dodged expertly, the assassin known as The Winter Soldier never missing a beat. Had it not been for the fact he was trying to kill us I would almost be in awe of the way he moved.

As my back collided with yet another parked car I sighed, taking the brief moment Steve had allowed me when he started another assault on the soldier to refill my lungs with the air that was just knocked out of me. Then I was back in it, striking the soldier from behind, in time with Steve’s blows at the front.

But the soldier was good, he was fast, and not nearly enough of my hits were actually landing. If they were ever landing at all.

It was when he turned to face me that I finally got the upper hand, using the momentum from his turn against him, I slammed my fist into the side of his head. The force was enough to send him stumbling back a few steps, and it caused his goggles to drop to the ground. His eyes met mine with a murderous glare and I felt my body still completely, my own eyes widening in both horror and recognition.

I knew those eyes. A stormy mixture of blues and greys, colder than I had last seen them. But I knew them. I knew those eyes a lifetime ago, stared into them more times than I could count. Watched various emotions pass through them the longer I knew the person those eyes belonged to. They held little to no emotion now, just pure anger. A pain resting so deeply in his stare that you’d miss it if you didn’t know the person those eyes belonged to. But I did. I knew those eyes, and they held no recognition as they regarded my own covered face.

I wore the mask to help keep my private life private. To separate the Avenger from the person. It was bad enough when someone recognized me from the exhibit at the Smithsonian and had more questions than I had answers. The tech Tony had installed in the mask was also an added bonus, the assistance of Jarvis more than welcome in a fight. But right now, the mask felt like a mistake.

It felt like a barrier between me and the man who fell from that train all those years ago.

He had been dead for about 70 years. Him standing here in front of me was nearly impossible. But then again, Steve and I were both meant to be dead ourselves, and we both were standing here fighting with him now. He regarded me curiously, no doubt wondering why I had stopped fighting back, those familiar eyes taking in my relaxed stance and my arms hanging limply by my sides. He threw another punch and I could hear Jarvis’ voice in my ear reminding me that the fight wasn’t over yet and offering assistance if I needed it. I could hear Steve yelling in the background, voicing his concerns on why I was no longer fighting back. Steve was begging me to continue fighting back. But Steve hadn’t seen his eyes yet. He didn’t know.

The hits kept coming and as hard as Steve tried to fight him off of me, as loud as Steve’s shouts got for me to fight back. I couldn’t. The memories of eyes filled with hope and longing paralyzing me as my body hit the ground.

I was running late, as usual. The briefing with Captain Rogers and the rest of the Howling Commandos once again running later than expected. We were meant to be going over the schematics of our mission for the next day, but everyone kept getting distracted by the news of the band the army was bringing in for tonight. An effort to raise the troops’ spirits. It was what everyone on the base was discussing, each of the soldiers trying to find a date for the night’s festivities. Peggy and I had already turned down several invitations from various desperate soldiers.

Every time Steve tried to bring the attention back to the mission, Dum Dum would bring up whether or not Steve planned on asking Peggy to be his date for tonight, and all of the guys would tease the captain as he blushed helplessly.

It was inevitable that he would ask her, that much was clear. But the guys just loved to ruffle our captain’s feathers, which would have been fine if I wasn’t meant to meet with Peggy and Howard an hour ago about about some new weapons for the mission tomorrow.

Seemingly noticing the annoyance on my face Steve’s turned to a look of recognition and he apologized for keeping me from my meeting with Peg and Stark, and dismissed me from the briefing.

I was about halfway to my destination when a familiar voice called out after me, stopping me in my tracks and causing me to roll my eyes in mock annoyance at the pet name he refused to stop using.

“Hey, Doll! Wait up!” Turning, I watched as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes jogged towards me with a leather bound book gripped tightly in his left hand. My journal, I recognized.

“Don’t call me that,” I said softly, for what felt like the millionth time since we had met at that gym in our home town of Brooklyn all those years ago. He smiled at me, a mischievous glint in his eye since we were both more than aware he would only continue to call me that.

“You left this on the table, you were in such a hurry that you must’ve forgotten it.”

I take it from him with a small smile and a quiet thank you, and then continue to walk towards where I knew Peggy was waiting for me. No doubt thinking of all the ways she was about to murder me for being so late. I expected Bucky to go back to hangout with the other guys, but was surprised when he fell into step beside me, his hands resting in his pants pockets as we walked.

When the building came into view his left hand reached out and gently gripped onto my right arm, causing me to halt and turn to him.

He looked at me softly, a longing resting in his blue-grey eyes that I had seen numerous times before. A look that was shared between the two of us more times than I could count.

“Doll-”

“Don’t call me that.”

A laugh left his nose in a huff as the sides of his mouth raised in a smile, his eyes looking towards the winter sky before looking back to me.

“Y/N, I actually came looking for you because I wanted to ask ya something.” He started, his voice soft as he continued to look at me with those same eyes that I couldn’t help but feel myself get lost in.

“I thought you came to give me my journal?” Another laugh, and then his eyes once again focused on me.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in going to see the band tonight?” His voice was nervous, his eyes full of hope and something I couldn’t quite place. I knew what he was asking. I was hoping he wouldn’t.

It’s not that I didn’t want to go with him. In any other scenario I would have said yes in a single heartbeat. However, this wasn’t any other scenario. I was the only woman in the Howling Commandos, the only woman on the front lines in the entire U.S army. Getting them to accept me even after Dr. Erskine gave me the serum was almost impossible. Every day that I am here I have to prove myself. I have to be better, stronger, faster. I didn’t need to show my true feelings for another soldier and have everyone use it as a means to try and get rid of me.

And if that wasn’t enough of a reason there was the obvious one. We were in a war. A war where people died constantly and there was nothing to do but keep fighting. I had already lost my father and three brothers to this war, my twin included. I refused to let myself get close to someone and then lose them too. Losing my twin brother almost killed me. And looking into Bucky’s eyes I knew that losing him would be more than I could handle.

Still, not being able to find the strength in my heart to turn him down directly I did what I always did. Deflected.

“I fully intend on going to the band tonight,” I stated in a matter of fact tone, my eyes betraying me when I had to look away from his stare.

“You know how I meant it, Doll.” His voice was soft, yet steady, and his gaze never once faltered as his blue orbs bore into mine.

“Don’t call me that,” I said meekly. My eyes cast completely at our boots in the snow now, not being able to find the strength to look at him any longer. All it did was make me falter in my reserve.

I heard him sigh, and then he said my name so softly I almost didn’t hear him. The softness in his voice cause my eyes to meet his, and his smile was kind, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“At least save me a dance, Doll?”

I simply nodded my head slowly, words not coming to me in that moment. The way he was looking at me was causing my brain to malfunction, I was sure of it. I couldn’t go as his date, but what was the harm in one dance?

“I’ll see you tonight then, Doll.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts before I turned around to see a smirking Peggy standing behind me, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at me knowingly.

“Alright then, since you’ve managed to skip our meeting almost entirely I don’t see the point in trying to start it now. Stark will just have to explain things to you before your mission tomorrow. Now, we have a dance to go get ready for.”

I smiled at my friend thankfully, before the two of us made our way to our shared tent to try and find something in her closet to wear tonight.

By the time we finally walked into the large tent the band was playing in, the party was in full swing. Men and women were dancing and laughing gleefully, something that had become a rare sight in recent years. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been to something like this, or even had worn a dress.

Peggy had leant me a sea green number, with long sleeves and had what Peg called a “floaty A-line skirt” that came to just below my knees. It was possibly the most comfortable dress I had ever worn, which is what made me agree to keep it on even though I much rather would have put my trousers and boots back on. Peg had even done a little makeup on me, and it made me realize that I don’t think I’d ever worn makeup in my life.

“Y/L/N, You might finally give Barnes a heart attack tonight looking like that.” Dum Dum called from behind me, making me shake my head with a light laugh as I turned to my fellow Howling Commandos. They were all regarding me with curious looks, no doubt wondering how Peg got me to agree to wear this.

“Forget Barnes, I think I’m having one right now!” Morita clutched at his heart with a dreamy look on his face, causing Dum Dum to hit him on the back of his head with a laugh. I only chuckled at my friends’ antics.

Peggy went off to find Steve, and I found myself getting lost in the crowd searching for a familiar pair of blue eyes.

Dum Dum must have recognized what I was doing, because he only made a sound of disapproval before taking my hand and leading me over to the dance floor, guiding me in the steps to the dance that everyone here seemed to know but me.

"I thought you turned him down when he asked you to be his date?” Dum Dum asked me in between steps, and I rolled my eyes softly.

“I suppose I should have guessed he’d go back and tell you all of our conversation.”

“When are you gonna stop pushing him away and realize what everyone else already knows?” My friend asked me softly, knowing it was a touchy subject for me. Dum Dum knew full well why I was so reserved about admitting my feelings for a certain blue-eyed soldier. One night with a bottle of bourbon and the man had me confessing all of my greatest fears to him.

“Timothy, you know why I don’t.” The use of his first name caused the man to let out an additional sound of disapproval as he led me through the next part of the dance.

“Aren’t dames supposed to know how to dance? You step on my foot again and I might lose it!” He joked, my hand coming out to swat at his arm.

“Call me a dame again and you’ll lose more than just your foot!”

Over the course of the next few songs I found myself dancing with each one of the Howling Commandos, excluding Steve, who was dancing with Peg happily. Both wore big smiles, and the sight warmed my heart and made me question myself for a moment.

Peggy and Steve were clearly in love with one another, and it was clear that they would end up spending the rest of their lives together when this was all over. Their love for one another was so clear that everyone who took one look at them knew it, and no one thought of Peg as any less strong because of it. So why would it be any different for me?

My thought was cut off when the song ended and the male singer took a break, a woman taking the stage in a beautiful dress, the sparkles making her seemingly shine. The band started a new song, something much slower than the last few. I let go of Jim and thanked him for the dance, before excusing myself and heading for the exit.

We had an early mission in the morning. An important mission at that. We finally got a good lead on where Zola would be heading next, and were going to board the train and stop him before he could get to his next destination. If this mission was successful and we captured the scientist, it would give us a leg up on The Red Skull. A leg up that could possibly mean an end to this war.

I had just exited the tent when my body collided with another, nearly knocking me off my feet before a large pair of hands grabbed my forearms and stopped my body from colliding with the snow covered ground.

I went to apologize, but stopped when I looked up to see Bucky standing in front of me in his uniform, his hands still lightly grasping my arms. His smile overcame his entire face when he looked at me, and the sheer happiness in his eyes was enough to make my heart swell.

“All these years and I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya in a dress, Doll.” His tone was playful, yet warm, and in that moment I couldn’t find it within myself to argue with him about that name.

“You’re late.” I informed him softly, his hands now leaving me and causing a cold feeling to fill my body from the loss of contact. Though he didn’t pull away from me, and was still so close I could feel his breath on my face.

“Had some stuff to do before tomorrow, but I made sure to come down to dance with my best girl.”

Ignoring the fluttering in my chest I took a step away from him, reminding myself of why I couldn’t get close to him.

“I was just leaving-”

“Just one dance, Doll. You promised.” And before I could say anything Bucky took my hand in his, his right hand moving to my waist to hold me delicately, starting to sway us slightly to the new song that was just beginning to play.

I recognized the song. It was a soft one, with a pretty melody. I think the original singer’s name was Billie Holiday, but the woman on stage sang it just as beautifully. The words reaching something deep inside of me.

I'll be seeing you In all the old familiar places That this heart of mine embraces All day through

I wound my free hand around the back of his neck affectionately, bringing the two of us closer than we ever had been before. From this angle I could see every shade that nestled inside of his blue eyes, the colors swirling as he looked at me with that look in his eyes that I still couldn’t place. The look that set my skin on fire every time he looked at me like that.

In that small cafe The park across the way The children's carousel The chestnut trees The wishin' well

“Doll, there’s something that I’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while now,” He began. A nervousness setting in his eyes and mixing with that unknown feeling.

“What is it, Buck?” I asked, my voice in a near whisper. The nighttime air was cold, yet comforting as the soldier held me in his embrace, the band’s song wrapping around us as it floated through the air.

I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day In everything that's light and gay I'll always think of you that way

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Doll.” He let out in a breath, his nervous eyes still focusing on mine.

“You’ve been wanting to tell me that I look stunning tonight for a while?” I joked lightly, causing him to laugh.

“No. Well not no, you do look stunning tonight. So stunning. Absolutely beautiful, not that you’re not beautiful all the time! I think you’re always beautiful, which kind of has to do with what I’ve been trying to tell you-”

I cut him off with a soft whisper of his name, not wanting him to finish his sentence because I didn’t have the strength to hear it and then have to walk away and pretend that I didn’t.

I'll find you In the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you

“Buck, Please don’t.”

“I know that you’re scared, Doll. I know and I understand it, I do. I understand it because every time I look at you, I am so terrified of losing you. I know that things are tricky right now-”

“Things aren’t tricky, Buck! We are in the middle of a war. Either one of us could die at any time. We could die tomorrow, and I can’t lose you. That’s why you can’t finish your sentence, because there’s just too much we could lose if you do.”

“Doll, Y/N. Me not saying it won’t stop either of us from losing the other. Whether I say it now or don’t one of us could still die. And don’t you think it would be so much worse to lose each other without having told each other what we both already know?”

I'll be seeing you In every lovely summer's day In everything that's light and gay I'll always think of you that way

The song continued to play but we had stopped dancing by now, just desperately holding onto each other as Bucky’s words hung in the air.

“You are everything to me, Y/N. My light, my laughter. The reason I get out of bed every morning to face another day of this war is knowing that I get to do it beside you. I look at you and I forget every bad thing that’s happening. I look at you and I’m not in the middle of Siberia fighting a war that we might not win. I look at you and I’m back in Brooklyn, watching the cluelessly beautiful girl sweep around the gym just waiting until everyone leaves so she can start throwing punches at the bag. I look at you, Doll, and I’m home.”

By the end of his confession tears were lining my face, freezing against my skin as the cold Siberian night air brushed against them. His hands let go of me and instead came up to hold my face delicately, his thumbs reaching up to brush the tears away.

“I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever loved anybody else. More than someone can love another person. It fills me completely. Every ounce of my being is you. And I know that you’re scared. And I know that you probably won’t say it back to me because you’re the most stubborn person I have ever met in my life, and that’s okay. It’s okay if you can’t say it back right now. It’s okay because I know that you love me too, even if you can’t say it.”

He finally ends his confession with a lingering kiss to my forehead, pouring so much love into that one simple gesture, and then he lets me go. He gives me one last smile before telling me he’ll see me tomorrow, and turns back towards his tent.

I'll find you In the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you

I’m shocked back to reality when this version of Bucky’s fist lands a hit so hard to my face that the metal of my mask cracks, finally making me have to take it off to avoid it slicing into my skin further.

The second the mask leaves my face his assaults stops coming. When I open my eyes he isn’t the winter soldier anymore. The look in his eyes is a mixture of hurt, anger, confusion, recognition, and that look I haven’t seen in nearly seventy years.

It’s clear that whatever Hydra’s done to him had jumbled his mind. If they hadn’t, he would have recognized Steve right away.

I lay motionless beneath him, not daring to make a move as his mind tries to process what’s going on. I can see the confrontation going on in his head as every emotion presents itself in his eyes.

Finally, he focuses back on me and removes the mask from where it covered his nose and mouth. Physically, he has barely aged in the last seventy years. But all the innocence that remained on his face then was completely absent now. His features hardened by heartache and death.

In the background I can hear Steve’s gasp as he finally realizes who we had been fighting and why I had stopped the moment I saw his eyes.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, drawing Bucky’s attention from me as he gets up and turns toward his once best friend.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #captain america

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word-scribbless · 4 years ago

Text

Oh Baby part 3

Masterlist | oh baby Masterlist

—————————

Amelia was about 10 month old when Y/N was finally fully back to consulting, and quickly after that she was already needed by NCIS. Gibbs and the team had been working a tough case. They were in need of a translator with some agent and profiling skills, in other words, they needed Y/N.

“Hey Gibbs,” Leon called as he walked down the steps toward the team “your girl back in action?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yup” Gibbs answered back as he took a swig of his coffee.

“Call her” Vance said as he walked away.

Gibbs nodded, trying to school he happiness to have her back with them.

“I’ve been wondering where Y/N’s been, she alright?” McGee asked.

“It’s been about 9 months boss, you got something to tell us?” Tony joked and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

“Check your math DiNozzo, and she’s fine.” Gibbs answered. He held back the laugh at how true Tony’s question was as he stepped away to call Y/N.

“Y/L/N” Y/N answered.

“Hey,” Gibbs said softly. “How are my girls?” He asked. His heart had clenched the first time he called them that, thinking of his original girls, but he couldn’t help but love the smile Y/N gave him after hearing it.

“We’re good! I swear she’s so close to walking J! I know she probably won’t for another month or so but she won’t stop moving. Mostly dancing, she’s a dancing machine.”

Gibbs couldn’t help but smile and he knew his team noticed. He was far enough away that they couldn’t hear him, but they could see him.

“She gets that from you.” He chuckled

“Oh yeah I’ve got dance moves!” She joked. “You calling for my assistance Agent Gibbs?”

“I” Gibbs began to speak before Amelia began squealing from hearing his voice.

“Your daughter wants to say hi!” She held the phone to Amelia and she squealed something that sounded similar to hi.

“Hi baby! I love you” he said and chuckled at her little baby giggle.

“Sorry you were saying?” Y/N laughed

“You guys are lucky you’re cute! I’ve got a case.” He laughed softly.

“Oops say sorry Poppa” she said and Amelia squealed again.

“Sorry, so do you really need me?” She asked and Gibbs laughed.

“Always, but yeah. You feeling up to a case?” He asked.

“Heck yeah! I’m gonna miss this girl though” she said, loudly kissing Amelia’s cheek.

“Give her one for me too, and tell Andi thanks”

“I will” she kissed Amelia again and said “we love you!” Amelia cooed in agreement.

“I love you girls.” He said softly. “See you soon Y/N/N”

“Be safe J, see you soon.”

Gibbs hung up and put his boss face back on, ignoring the looks from his team. He’d been smiling more ever since he was with Y/N, but he had usually hid it more than this. They’d find out soon enough, he thought to himself.

Y/N dropped Amelia off with Andi and Riley (and Andi’s husband Josh) and headed to NCIS.

She walked in to NCIS while the team was going over Their latest briefing. By the time gibbs called y/n they had already cleared the crime scene and started working.

She snuck in and stood next to Gibbs who smirked at her and waited for the rest of the team to notice.

“Gibbs I-“ ziva started before uncharacteristically shrieking and hugging Y/N. “You’re back!”

“I am! Hey guys. I heard most of that briefing so just fill me in on the way to talk to the victims parents?” Y/N asked and Gibbs nodded and hid a smirk while Tony and McGee hugged her.

“Since I know it’s killing them not to ask... go ahead tell them before we go.” Gibbs said.

“But Abby” she said and Gibbs pointed behind her as a squealing Abby ran in followed by ducky and jimmy.

“Wow, we have changed you” she said low enough for only Gibbs to hear. He shook his head and gave her the ‘we’ll go ahead’ look.

“Soooo I know I’ve been MIA and you all want to know why and Gibbs isn’t a sharer.”

“We do have a case Y/N.” Gibbs said in mix irratation.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned her phone around to show the team a picture of them with Amelia.

“This is why” she said and the team looked dumb founded.

“I was right?!?” Tony yelled, earning him a Gibbs slap.

“I’m guessing you weren’t.” Y/N laughed. “Amelia is my brother Ryan’s daughter. I was given custody 8 months ago, after his death and officially adopted her a month later. So officially this is our daughter, Amelia y/f/n y/l/n Gibbs. They had all the legal paper work together for her name change and Gibbs half of the adoption, but the appointment wasn’t until after her birthday. Y/N refused to wait to refer to her as anything else though.

They were met with gasps and oooh and ahhhs and requests to meet her. They told everyone they planned a big meet on her first birthday. That way everyone could gather and have time to meet her properly.

“So you have a new daughter?” Ducky asked as Y/N went with Ziva to talk to the family.

“I do” he smiled

“Officially? I mean Y/N said her name was gibbs”

“Not legal yet but it’s been official to me since I met her.” Gibbs said and Ducky nodded.

“And Y/N? Will she be a Gibbs too?”

Gibbs nodded “hope so”

Ducky smiled and walked away. He knew his friend said he’d never marry again, but that was befor Y/N.

Y/N was do doubt being grilled by Ziva in the car and he knew Abby would question him when he went down in a minute, but he had to admit, his girls were his favorite topic, even if he was a private man.

Y/N had helped interview the families and watch a few interrogations. Then she gave her input said goodbye, heading to pick up Amelia.

They were sitting at home with her after eating with Andi’s family when Amelia started crying. She wouldn’t stop until Y/N played a video she had taken about a month ago of Gibbs rocking her to sleep and singing her favorite lullabies.

She couldn’t help but text Gibbs a quick ‘your daughter misses her favorite parent, and I miss my man! We love you.’

She figured he must be having a rough night with the case when he actually answered her text.

‘Needed that. Love ya too’

She knew the case was rough and involved a family. Those always hit him the hardest. So she called in a favor that she knew would help both her favorite people.

After 2 rings Abby picked up.

“Hiii beautiful awww is that the lil Gibbs I hear in the background?”

“Yup she’s disgruntled that I stopped playing a video of Gibbs to use my phone for it’s intended purpose.”

“Awww what do you need dumpling?”

“Can you do me a big favor?” Y/N asked.

“Ofcourse”

“Can you answer a video call and then give Gibbs your phone? Make sure the team isn’t there and promise not to mock him?”

“Yes to all of the above. You okay?”

“Yeah can tell the case is rough and he loves being here to say good night to Amelia... thought this could help.”

“Oh you’re so sweet!” Abby gushes, and laughed as she heard Amelia stop crying to squeal along with her.

“Just don’t go telling people gibbs has a soft side okay?” Y/N joked.

“Fineee okay go ahead and video call me and I’ll take it up.”

Abby walked up to a grumpy Gibbs, hunched over a case file, going over whiteness statements AGAIN.

“Gibbs there’s a call for you” she said going to hand him her phone.”

“Abbs I’m busy”

“Oh come on, answer the phone Gunny.” Y/N’s voice rang from the phone and he looked up to see his girls on the screen. Amelia was all ready for bed and y/n was in her ‘after work’ clothes (his sweatshirt and a pair of leggings) snuggled up with her in the rocking chair in her room.

“Hey you two! Everything okay?”

“Yup, just called in a favor from Abby! Now go to your ‘office’ and promise Abbs we’ll have her phone back soon.”

Gibbs looks at Abby who nodded with a smile before turning to go back to her lb. Gibbs quickly went to the elevator and flipped the switch.

“What do I owe this surprise to? Hi baby girl” he cooed the last part at Amelia who smiled wide at her dad.

“Well I know this case sucks so I wanted you to be able to partake in your favorite thing! Plus our girl learned something new today.”

“Oh yeah? what’d you learn princess”

Y/n turned to Amelia and said “meals, who is that” pointing at the Gibbs on the screen

“Puh-puh-puh-puh!” She said clapping and blowing kisses to Gibbs, who had tears in his eyes. He looked at y/n who was full blown crying.

“Yeah baby, I’m Poppa! Good job meali! I love you sweet girl!”

She shrieked and y/n smiled at him “you only won by a few minutes” she said and laughed at Gibbs confused look. “Mealies’ who am I? She asked sweetly “muhmuhmuh!!!” Amelia yelled and Gibbs laughed.

“Wish I was there!” He said, sounding him a little sad.

“I wasn’t even there, this little sneak was asking Andi for us all afternoon!”

They laughed and did their nighttime routine with Gibbs even singing her a hushed lullaby through the camera.

“Thank you Y/N I love you”

“I love you! We both do. Now go catch this guy and come home to us.”

She said and he hung up to do just that.

Later that night (closer to earlier the next morning) he came home after wrapping the case to find his girls both sound asleep in Y/N and his bed. He took a minute to just look at them, before changing and curling up beside them.

Y/N woke a bit and smiled when she saw Gibbs settling in on the other side of Amelia.

“You catch ‘im” she mumbled, barely awake. “Mhm” Gibbs assured, tucking them both under his arm and getting comfortable.

“Go back to sleep baby, I love you” he said, carefully leaning over their daughter to gently kiss her, he huffed a laugh when she smiled and mumbled “okay love you” before falling back to sleep with his arm draped over both her and Amelia.

—————-

Next chapter

@averyhotchner @andreasworlsboring101 @mac99martin @kittenlittle24 @hopscotchandlemon @gibbsandpridegirl

#ncis fic #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs imagine

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miss-dr-reid · 3 years ago

Text

Another Gubler Story... #3

Not too long later, we were on our way. The radio playing softly, provided background noise for our conversations. We spoke about our days of work, and I filled him in about how brutal customers can be sometimes.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day at work." he pouted, tapping his hand on my thigh before resting his elbow ion the center console, continuing to drive with one hand.

"It's okay! George brought doughnuts and then you called, and now here we are!" I cheered.

"Is George your secret boyfriend?" Matthew joked, bumping me with his hand, a smile across his lips.

And while, I wanted to answer, I knew there was no point, instead changing the subject. We ended up talking about old friends, family and childhood memories. Matthew was so easy to talk to. He was always listening to every word I spoke.

We finally arrived, pulling into the car park of a park/playground. and Matthew selected a park closer to the playground. I reached for my door handle, but Matthew's hand on my shoulder caught my attention. I looked over at him, and he shook his head at me, climbing out and opening the back door. He pulled out something, it looked like a picnic basket, stood back and closed both doors. He made his way around to my door, opening for it and standing back allowing me to get out.

Shutting the door and linking his arm with mine, we made our way over to an open area of grass where Matthew unlinked our arms. he put the basket on the ground, opening it and pulling out a blanket, spreading it over the ground. He sat down on the blanket, bringing the basket onto the end of it and looked up at me.

His eyes glistened behind his glasses which were lit up by some light posts surrounding the playground. The Spring breeze was soft, fresh and fragrant, blowing the loose curls of Matthew's hair. I took Matthew's hand as he held it out to me, helping me to the ground. The blanket was cool from the slowly dampening ground. The sun was almost setting, oranges and purples filling the sky. I sat down on a lean, sitting almost on my hip, facing Matthew who mirrored me.

He leaned over to the basket, where he pulled out a bottle of bubbly white and two glasses. Placing the glasses between us, he opened the bottle and poured some wine in each glass. He put the lid back on the bottle, laying it on the ground against the basket.

"To new beginnings and fun risks!" He toasted, lifting his glass up in the air. I returned the gesture, clinking our glasses together.

We each took sips of our drinks before placing them down onto the blanket in front of us. He went back for the basket, shifting himself into his knees. He pulled out a loaf of bread, setting it next to the bottle of wine. He then started pulling out small containers, placing them around the loaf of bread.

I sat up fully, curious to see what he was doing. I lifted one container, inspecting it to see what was inside, surprised to find sliced tomato. He continued to pull out a few other small containers and finally a plastic packet, which he handed to me seeing how intrigued I had become. A packet of sliced ham is what he gave me. I put it all together, seeing all the ingredients laid out and figured we'd be making our own sandwiches.

"I didn't know what you liked, so, I picked something that you could make your own!" Matthew said, finally sitting back, gesturing over the spread. He handed me a plastic plate, holding onto when I tried to take it. I looked up into his eyes, wondering why he didn't let go. He smiled at me softly as his eyes wandered my face before finally letting go.

"Help yourself and let me know if there's anything missing." He pointed to the food.

"Thank you, Matthew." I grinned before turning to the food. I laid my plate down, reaching for the bread, my eyes scanning over the now open containers, seeing what options I had.

On one slice of bread, I layered, ham, cucumber, lettuce, tomato and finally another slice of ham before another slice of bread.

I sat back, allowing Matthew to make his own. I watched him make his sandwich as I had felt him doing to me. He glanced back a few times, at my sandwich before adding another topping. I noted that he was copying the layers of my sandwich.

"Why?" I asked, cocking my head to the side slightly.

"Why what? Why the same layers? You looked like you knew what you were doing. I trust you." He said, answering his own question. The reply took me by surprise as he added the last slice of bread. He lifted his plate and sat back, facing me with his legs crossed. I laughed as he sat his plate in my lap, copying me.

I picked up my sandwich, securing the back of it. I took a big bite, bigger than I had intended, the smell of the salads caused me to realise how hungry I actually was. I hummed a moan at the flavour, and Matthew did, too. I could tell that he was genuinely enjoying the sandwich, and not just copying me anymore, the expression on his face as his eyes rolled back were all tell tale signs. We sat there, not saying a word, only eating our sandwiches. Small moans and the occasional sounds of chewing filling the air between us.

The sun setting, caused the whole scene to become even more romantic as the moon gently lit up our figures and glistened on the dewy ground. We both finished eating and Matthew collected our plates, stacking them to the side as he packed up the containers, putting them away into the basket, setting the stacked plates on top. He took my now empty glass and set it next to the wine bottle along with his own. He turned around, looking at me and stood up.

"Come." the word simple, effective, but gentle. His hands were pointed out toward me and I took them. My own hands becoming nearly entirely enveloped inside his.

His arms draped over my shoulders, his hands resting on my lower back, pulling me flush against him. My head resting on his chest, his heart beating in my ear. My own arms wrapped around his waist, my hands reaching as far around to the opposite sides as possible. I felt his chin rest on my head for a moment. He lifted his chine off, replacing it with a kiss, his heartbeat in my ear speeding up as he did so. I gave him a squeeze in response, the smile on my face growing bigger.

His arms lifted from me, his hands grabbing my shoulders as he pulled me back slightly. I looked up into his eyes, his glasses has fallen down slightly so I pushed them back up, allowing my fingers to trail gently over his lips and jaw before returning it back to it's spot around his waist. We stood there in silence for a moment, staring into each others eyes, smiling at each other.

Matthew finally pulled away, the warmth of hi body being replace by the cool night air and goosebumps formed over my skin. He had caught one of my hands in the midst of pulling away, leading me over to the playground. We walked to the swing set, where he released my hand and sat on one of the swings, an empty one next to him. I followed his actions, sitting on the free one, seeing how happy he was, swinging with anticipation.

We both started swinging, keeping in time for a bit until Matthew decided to go higher. I took that as a challenge, and tried to go even higher. Eventually, we were both swinging so high, the chains slacked as we reached our peak height before we were caught with a jolt at the bottom. We were both laughing from just how silly we were being, and soon I started to slow myself. I stopped swinging my legs and soon the swing calmed. I jumped off the swing, landing in on the barks chunks with a small 'crunch', I posed while saying "Ta-Da!".

I turned around to look at Matthew, who was mid-air jumping from his own swing. I started clapping, doing small jumps in excitement. My eyes closed for a brief moment, Matthew taking this opportunity to run to me. His footsteps quick, reaching me before I knew what was going on. My heart leapt from my chest as I was lifted into the air, holding on for dear life for a moment, my eyes squeezed shut, until Matthew said,

"You're beautiful." The words took me by surprise. I looked down at him from my place in his arms, the biggest goofiest smile on his lips.

"You are!" I replied, booping his nose with me own, pulling back to look at him. My face turned hot from the feelings rushing around inside me, butterflies in my stomach.

We were caught in that moment, staring into each others eyes. I couldn't help it when my eyes wandered onto his lips, my face being drawn towards his. Matthew had been glancing at my lips, too, licking his own lips once before his own face was drifting forward. With one final look at each other's lips we-

*FLASH*

We snapped away from each other, looking in the direction the flash had come from. Soon, there was another and Matthew put me down, telling me to stay put. He headed in the direction of the small group of trees where the flash had come from. The person who was hiding there ran off before Matthew had the chance to say anything and he headed back to me.

Reaching me, he cupped my face in his hands, looking deep into my eyes,

"Let's get out of here." was all he said. The words simple, but effective and we headed back to the picnic.

We packed up the rest of the picnic and I folded the blanket as neatly as possible. Matthew carried the basket and we walked to the car. We got in, throwing the stuff we were carrying into the back. The car started and Matthew drove out of the carpark without saying a word.

"Where are we going?" I asked him, breaking the silence.

"To my place." he said, and kept driving, his eyes on the road.

#mgg fanfiction #mgg fluff #mgg x reader

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liquorisce · 4 years ago

Text

reading between the lines (High School Years, Ch 2)

pairing: eren x mikasa (shingeki no kyojin) // mild erehisu, yumihisu

rating: t

summary: (modern au) Junior year is difficult, especially for Mikasa, because it turns out Eren’s decided to test the dating scene.

(banter, jealousy... and lots of feelings)

part 1 | read on ao3

A/N: this chapter has been a long time coming (5 years omg), and tbh I have a lovely anon to thank, who messaged me asking for a sequel to hsy, which made me actually want to put down my scrambled headcanons on paper. if you're reading this anon, i'm truly grateful for the push you gave me.

NOTE: although i intended a sequel, this is a COMPANION fic to chapter 1, it is meant to fill up the gaps in the story that the previous chapter didnt tell you. i hope you enjoy :)

Today was not one of Eren’s favourite days, for 2 reasons. For one, the day started off with … an encounter. Two, today they would be getting the results of their final trig assessment, which Eren knows perfectly well he didn’t have a chance of passing.

The ‘encounter’ happens pretty much without preamble.

…

“… Hey, it’s Eren, right?” He turns around from his conversation with Armin, to see the same guy from a couple of weeks ago, the one who was talking about Mikasa, and her pretty hair. (he wasn’t wrong)

“Yeah?” He does his best not to let the subconscious irritation seep into his tone.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” the guy with the oddly horse-shaped face says, “… My name’s Jean.”

“… Nice to meet you,” he says awkwardly delivering his dishonest words.

“… So, I wanted to be straight up with you,” Jean says, cheeks oddly pink. “About Mikasa… and you. I’ve heard some rumours, and I thought it best to address it with you directly, because I really don’t want to cause any trouble.” Clearing his throat, he says, “Are you guys… y’know, together?”

It’s in the way Jean speaks, he thinks, or the way he talks about Mikasa (or even thinks of her?) - it makes him want to ram his fist right in the middle of his ugly face. And because he was too busy clenching his fists to actually respond, Armin says with a laugh, “… Ah, don’t worry, Mikasa is totally single.”

And then proceeds to wink at Jean.

Eren can barely believe his eyes and ears. And once Jean is out of earshot he hisses, “… what the fuck, Armin?”

Armin blinks up at him innocently. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“… You didn’t have to encourage him,” Eren mumbles petulantly, when he admits to himself that Armin did, in fact, say nothing wrong.

“Erm, why not?” He sighs, “Look, I know you… worry about Mikasa,” Armin keeps his tone as neutral and veiled as possible, because worried is definitely not all Eren feels for Mikasa, “… but Jean is a good guy! And if anyone deserves attention from a good guy, it’s her.”

…

ii.

She finds him lurking near his locker, stuffing his crumpled papers in, probably wishing away their existence.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, hiding away her grin at his predictable reaction. Eren has always been predisposed too sulking - whether he was a 7-year-old who wasn’t the fastest on the field or 16-something and having just received his trigonometry results.

“… You look like you did just fine,” he mutters, not having to see the A+ on her paper to know that Mikasa had no problem acing the trig test (or any other test).

“You could just ask me for help, Eren. I could help you out for the retakes,” she offers softly, not for the first time.

He sighs. When he glances at her, dark eyes offering earnestly, he knows she means it without any pride or arrogance, but he isn’t able to suppress the prick of his own ego that has him mumbling, “… the mandatory remedial lessons should do just fine.”

…

iii.

When he shows up for class, he sees only a couple of others unfamiliar faces, so he curses under his breath at his own ineptitude towards mathematics for getting him in this situation and takes a spot at the back of the class.

The Support teacher - Erd, he calls himself, apparently too young to be addressed ‘Mr.’ or any of that - seems just as tired as the rest of them, sighing at the lack of answers, obviously frustrated at the complete lack of interest or gratitude of the teenagers in front of him.

So, 20 minutes into the 1-hour lesson, when the short blonde walks in, out-of-breath and apologetic, the sarcasm in his tone is biting. “You’ve already missed 1/3rd of this class, you might as well have stayed out entirely and practiced your cheer routines.”

Eren watches sympathetically at the visible cringe on Krista’s face and offers her an empathetic smile as she takes the seat next to him.

Later when they’ve been informed that the retake is just an assignment filled with proofs and average difficulty problems that they can do in pairs, he looks at Krista, the only known person in the room.

They weren’t that close, but they had quite a few mutual friends what with him playing basketball and her being part of the cheer team. So, when she says, “… see you at the library tomorrow evening?” with a pretty smile across her pretty features, he grins gratefully.

She doesn’t struggle with trig even half as much as he does. In fact, she seemed to be happy to do most of the work herself and explain her solutions - if he actually had the interest to understand them.

“I don’t understand,” he admits after she solves the 5th problem in a row effortlessly, “you seem to have everything down already. How come you didn’t pass the test?”

Her eyes skittered nervously away from him. “I was… sick,” she mutters. “I couldn’t really focus.”

He eyes her closely, observing the sudden change in her countenance. Usually Krista was all easy smiles, twinkle in her blue eyes. Now, she looks uneasy, unwell almost. Deciding it wasn’t his place to pry, “… Well, I guess I turned out to be the lucky one in all this,” he grins, “… I get to hang out with you and have you do my assignment.”

She rolls her eyes. To be honest, she’d enjoyed the past couple of evenings with him. Eren was easy to talk to, despite being somewhat of an airhead and being completely incapable of anything remotely math related. But regardless, he made her laugh and just about forget what happened the morning before she showed up for this test, with fresh tears choking her throat, and purpling bruises on her thighs.

“I guess you owe me then,” she quips back, smugly.

“… I definitely do,” he says smoothly, green eyes watching her in a way that makes her feel warm. “How can I make it up to you?”

Flustered, because she hadn’t expected his easy response, she mumbles, “… Dinner?” And with red cheeks hidden by her blonde bangs, she whispers, “I like pizza.”

…

iv.

She finds him at the end of the day, on one of the wooden tables outside the basketball court, chin resting in his hands, eyes glued to his laptop.

“… Hey,” she breathes, giggling when startled green eyes flash up to her, body jerking in surprise.

“Damn, you got me,” he grins, pushing his laptop away and leaning up for a brief kiss. She’s happy to return it, and she lets her fingers wind into his hair, enjoying it for a moment longer.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, “I saw you closing that browser window,” she teases, wrestling control of his laptop, “watcha lookin’ at?”

When she manages to open his browser history – much to Eren’s protest – her eyes widen. “Women’s dresses, spring collection??” She waggles her eyebrows at him.

“… It’s not for me,” he grumbles, deciding to make it painstakingly clear before Krista enthusiastically begins to tell him what dress would suit him the most – he knows his girlfriend, crossdressing would be absolutely acceptable, if not encouraged – and he watches her eyes feign disappointment.

“… Boring,” she sighs, rolling her pretty blue eyes, “I don’t see how you’re not curious about how you look in a dress,” – she gasps, hand flying over her mouth, “Wait… was that… a surprise… for me?”

“… Um,” Eren starts, intelligently, because the situation that was already awkward in his opinion, just became even more so. “Well,” he gulps, taking in the sparkle in her eyes, knowing fully well just how much she likes surprises, feeling guilty even thought he needn’t be, “itsformikasa.”

He hangs his head in apparent apology, but more so because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment flit across her features.

“… Oh.”

He chances a glance at her, and there’s no particular emotion per se, and it worries him, because she gets this faraway look in her eye sometimes, and he can’t really tell what’s going on, and they’ve only been together a few months and he’s not an expert in reading her silences –

“I see, is it for her birthday or something?” Her tone is measured, and she’s looking pointedly at the screen.

“Um… yeah.” Eren sighs, wondering what the hell was up with his own reaction. He had nothing to feel guilty about – where did that even come from anyway? – Mikasa’s his… family (or something). Shopping for her was normal. He did it every year. This isn’t something he needed to hide.

“Yeah, it’s next month,” he says, giving her a smile. There was no need for this to be awkward if he didn’t make it so. Besides, it wasn’t like he was buying her lingerie or something! (he brushed this thought aside faster than the red blush crept up his neck)

“Do you think, you could help me with it?” He blurts this out, partially in an attempt to distract the weird atmosphere, and also partially because he could really use the help.

Krista blinks. “Err, yeah. Sure.” She pulls up Mikasa’s profile on Instagram. “Let’s see,” she murmurs… Turtlenecks… Jeans… a ridiculously modest swimsuit that she wore to a pool party two years ago. The sexiest outfit on her entire profile was probably her in her tennis shorts and that had more to do with Mikasa’s undeniably ripped body than anything else.

She looks up at Eren, who’s still looking at her tentatively, green eyes unsure.

This whole thing was silly anyway, she thinks, offering him a genuine smile. He and Mikasa were close (and they lived together, which she did her best not to think about), but this wasn’t a surprise so it’s about time that it came up in some way in their relationship. In any case, she hadn’t felt any hostility from the raven-haired beauty and Eren was usually quite forthcoming about everything, so she didn’t really have anything to worry about.

“So, um, does she have a favourite colour or something?” She’s eager to kill the awkward mood and is grateful to see his shoulders visibly relax as he ponders.

“… Red, I think. Maybe, like, a darker shade. Sort of… maroon, y’know?” He thinks of the scarf he gave Mikasa when they were younger. It was a ratty, yet fluffy maroon thing which she was absolutely terrible at tying, but she wears it everywhere during the winter, even though his father had a bought her a better one at some point.

They peruse their options for a bit, and Krista picks out a deep red number, a shimmery satin one, with slinky straps and a slit that travels up an already high hemline. It wasn’t really a spring dress but more of a cocktail night outfit, and Eren is weirdly embarrassed thinking of Mikasa in it.

He eyes the screen incredulously. “… Somehow, I just can’t picture Mikasa wearing something like that.” He opens up another link, to a denim overall dress, “… now this, she would wear.”

“And that,” Krista retorts, “is why she’s still single. She has an amazing body; she should flaunt it.”

“… What would she wear it to?” Eren asks, unconvinced. (Also, what was wrong with Mikasa being single?) “… Student council meetings? Debate competitions?! I just,” –

“Parties, Eren,” she says, exasperated, “… it’s high school!”

“You know she doesn’t” –

“Drag her to some! C’mon, we’re going to be seniors soon. She’ll thank you for it!”

…

Six hours later, she’s closing up her shift at her part-time job. It’s a job she’d rather keep hidden – from her friends at school and the law – because she isn’t sure what the age policy was in these kinds of establishments. It worked out because it was close enough to home, and between her and the bartender, the tips compensated the poor wages. Plus, the bartender – a slightly older girl named Ymir with a pretty fringe and a sharp tongue – was genuinely fan to hang out with. And she was surprisingly protective of the small blonde, particularly with the rougher customers, whom Ymir scared off quite effectively with her glares.

“So,” she says, as she scrubs the counter clean, “… I helped my boyfriend buy a dress today.”

She doesn’t turn back to see her, but she can hear Ymir’s raised eyebrows as she says, cheekily, “… I didn’t realize you guys were into that stuff.”

Snorting, she replies, “Well that would be interesting. But no, it was for his, um, friend. Or something.” Or something, because sometimes Eren refers to Mikasa as his best friend, sometimes his family, and sometimes it just felt like… something else, basically.

She turns around to look at Ymir, who says nothing, continuing to rinse the rest of the glasses. “Her name’s Mikasa,” she continues, her voice getting oddly unsure, “They’ve known each other forever. They even… live together.”

“… What,” Ymir stares at her in disbelief.

“It’s not like that,” Krista finds herself sounding defensive, “Eren’s dad is her guardian… or something. Has been for some years. So, it’s not like they moved in together…”

She elects to skip the part where Eren’s dad is a doctor with Doctors without Borders and is barely home for more than a couple of months a year. She didn’t like the look Ymir was giving her anyway.

“So… they’re like brother-sister or what?”

“No,” she says, realizing that the word came out more vehement than she intended. But she knows that was definitely not the way Eren saw their relationship.

“… Krista,” Ymir starts, and the blonde can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s going to get all protective on her, “… I know you’re in high school, and… you’re dating – as you should – but you don’t have to waste your time on shady boys.”

At this she laughs because, “Eren’s not shady, he’s a nice guy,” –

“… You could get anyone you want; I mean look at you, you’re beautiful.”

The defense that was bubbling up in her throat suddenly stilled, because there’s something about the way Ymir just said that – called her beautiful – earnestly, quietly, and it made her feel funny. It took her breath away for a very brief second and replaced it with a warm flush that creeps up her neck.

It’s strange, she’s heard it before from so many boys with obvious motivations; Eren’s always calling her pretty, and complimenting her eyes or whatever… But when Ymir said it, and looked at her like that, honey brown eyes, deep with unnamed emotion, all she could do was avert her eyes.

…

vi.

It’s 7pm and the library’s home only to the nerds by now. The librarian is lax (and underpaid) enough to ignore the low buzz of two over-enthusiastic AP chemistry students that grates on Mikasa’s ears.

Ordinarily she’d just plug her earphones in and ignore the world to focus on the assignment at hand. But today she accepts anything to distract her from the scene earlier at home. And even though Armin’s sitting right next to her, supposedly doing his own thing, she doesn’t miss the worried glances he sends her every now and then, which she really doesn’t want to address.

Her feelings for Eren were a well-known secret by now, just as well-known as the fact that he clearly didn’t return those feelings, so she wasn’t particularly in the mood for Armin’s indulgent pity… regardless of how well-intentioned it was.

So, when its 8pm and the librarian is shooing them out, and she bumps into Jean, she’s grateful for the few extra minutes of conversation surrounding absolutely nothing important.

When they continue to the parking lot, their conversation having progressed from awkward conversation starters to an animated discussion on Jean’s tennis form, Armin’s well and truly realized that he has no place here.

After Armin’s said his goodbyes and Mikasa recognizes that she doesn’t mind staying away from home and possibly Eren and Krista in the middle of their 5th round, she asks Jean, “… so do you like Chinese food?”

…

When she walks in a little after 10 pm, cheeks cold from the night air, there’s a small grin on her cheeks, because she’s made a new friend today, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

But when she enters the living room to see Eren fast asleep on the couch, she finds herself staring in the face of the reality she’d tried so hard to escape. It’s difficult to ignore the ruffled quality of his brown hair, mussed up in a way that could only have been achieved by someone (a very blonde, very beautiful someone) raking their hands through it.

She can’t help the wave of irritation that sweeps through her - so she doesn’t bother to soften her footsteps as she walks up the wooden stairs.

Minutes later, she hears his sleepy voice at her door. “Hey,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice, “you were out pretty late, so I left you some dinner. We made pasta, it’s not as good as yours but,” -

“… I ate already,” she says, tone clipped.

“Oh.” He’s quiet, just watching her put her things away, and there’s irrational tears pricking at her eyes, anger, and frustration that she knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “… Mikasa, are you…,” he clears his throat, “… is something wrong?”

When she says nothing, he sighs, turning, “… Well, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m always here,” -

“… Could you please go over to Krista’s house next time?”

She colours, surprised at herself for her outburst of honesty. But her blush pales in comparison to Eren’s as he processes what she’s saying. “… This is my house,” he sputters, “… I don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to want to bring my girlfriend over.”

“Well, it’s not just ‘bringing her over’, is it?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “… What I do with Krista, in my personal space, is definitely not your business, Mikasa.”

“It is when I can hear it, Eren,” she retorts, as he shuts the door forcefully behind him.

…

vii.

It’s been two weeks since that… confrontation, and Mikasa’s barely spoken to him since.

She leaves before he does, makes sure dinner’s left out on the stove for him, whether he needs it or not, and locks her door when she’s done. And although he’s found himself staring awkwardly at that shut door multiple times, he’s never had the courage to actually knock.

He simply cannot comprehend this situation because despite the numerous arguments they’ve had in the past - it was always him, whining about something like a petty child and sulking till he got his way - she’d never truly been mad at him. And she’d never, ever, gone days without talking to him. And as he stares at the locker next to his (it was Mikasa’s) with a horrible ache in his chest, he is well and truly sure that he loathes this situation.

So, when small hands reach around his waist, enveloping him in a tight embrace, his subconscious reaction is to jerk back in annoyance. “I didn’t realise it was you,” he murmurs apologetically, rubbing her hands softly.

“… Who else would it be?” Krista asks, somewhat thrown off by this mood that had been festering for days now.

“You ask some very valid questions there, babe,” he mutters, a distracted half-smile on his face.

Taking a deep breath (determined to shake him out of his pensive aura), she whispers, “… You know, I don’t have work today.” She leans against him, reaching up to murmur in his ear, “we could hang out at yours for a while, if you want?”

She makes it clear what she means by “hanging out” by the way she presses up against him, and even though he’s responded with fervent enthusiasm to a similar invitation in the past, today he just averts his gaze, awkwardly.

Swallowing the rejection with a graceful exterior, she puts an arm’s length of distance between them. “… What’s going on, Eren? Your head’s been somewhere else all week.”

And before he starts to stay that it’s nothing, just that he has some stuff going on, she says, “… does this have something to do with Mikasa?”

His green gaze jerks up at her, startled with unfortunate honesty. “… I haven’t seen you talk to her all week.”

“…I,” he starts, but his throat closes up, for some reason, unsure whether he should really tell her what happened. He doesn’t want to put her in the middle of something that was clearly between him and Mikasa.

But with every passing second, the guilty look on his face only begins to feed the fears that she had successfully kept dormant all this while. “… Did something happen between the two of you?”

And when he looks into her eyes, bright blues seeping insecurity, he says, hurriedly, “… wait, I hope you aren’t thinking that we,” - he inhales sharply, wondering how he manages so successfully to upset the women in his life - “God, no. We had a misunderstanding, that’s all. She said something, I was pretty rude to her, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“And,” he murmurs, admitting it to himself, finally, “I’ve just taken too long to apologize.”

…

She’s barely finished washing the vegetables for dinner, when she hears the thud of the front door closing loudly.

(She remembers Carla reprimanding him every time, for not being gentler)

Mikasa has managed to avoid Eren successfully these past days, because she knows his schedule, knows that despite his complete lack of organization, he’s fairly predictable. And with his recent interest in a particular cheerleader, he almost invariably never comes home before 8.30 PM. So, when she hears him enter their kitchen at little over 7, she isn’t prepared.

She isn’t prepared because she’s been quite cowardly, saying things that she had no business saying, and then being unable to own up to it, unable to apologize to him. Because she knew that when she looks at him, she’ll feel the way she feels right now - taking in the sight of him, drizzle droplets fresh in his brown hair, as he runs a hand through it, his mouth twisting into an awkward grin. She knew she’d realize that her feelings for Eren were never really much of a choice, they just were.

“… I brought your favourite dumplings from Li’s,” he announces. “And I brought an extra serving of the spicy soy sauce so we don’t have to fight over who gets the last bit.”

…

He’s grateful for the small smile that forms on her face when she accepts the dumplings (the peace treaty as he calls it in his head), and for the small banter that she indulges him in as they eat.

After they’re stuffed with dumplings and inconsequential conversation, he clears his throat, because he remembers he came home early tonight with a certain conviction.

But as she does with most things, she beats him to it. “… Eren, about the other day,” she looks at him earnestly, “… I had no right to demand that of you. I’m sorry.”

And when he’s still quiet, she mumbles quickly, “I don’t know what got into me that day, honestly, I,” -

“Don’t apologise, Mikasa,” he says, a strange disquiet taking over him as he replays her words, “… the last thing I want, is to make you feel uncomfortable.” Or to make you feel like you can’t demand what you want from me.

This is the part that settles into him slowly, that somehow, the one person in his life that he’s always felt he could ask anything of, could demand anything of, and actually receive it without fail… she didn’t feel that she could count on the same from him. And it twisted painfully inside of him.

“I appreciate that, Eren. But honestly, I’ll get used to it… so don’t worry.” She smiles, in that genuine way of hers, small lips, curving shyly, “… and who knows, maybe someday I’ll want to ‘bring someone over’ too.”

She laughs as she does the air quotes and even though he manages a small grin in response, all he can say, without really meaning it, is –

“Yeah… Of course, yeah.”

…

viii.

She takes her frustration out on the cash register. “… Damn thing doesn’t open when I need it to, and doesn’t close when I want it to,” she mutters under her breath.

“You just need to show it some love,” Ymir says, amused, promptly closing the problematic register without any difficulty. “… Go sit, I’ll close up here.”

She does as she’s told, pouting slightly, but she’s grateful for the older girl’s help and understanding. “So… want a beer before I close the tap?” Ymir asks with a wink.

“You need to stop offering underage girls alcohol,” Krista whispers, scanning the room hastily.

The brunette rolls her eyes. “You need to stop with the innocent act every time. You’re a hot cheerleader for god’s sakes, everyone knows what goes on at your high school parties,” -

“Ok ok,” she acquiesces, suppressing the blush at Ymir’s offhanded compliment and deciding that that there was no point in panicking every time they did this, “… but only if you join me.”

“Cheers,” Ymir says, offering her glass to Krista’s and taking a generous gulp. “So, tell me. Boy trouble, again?”

Krista nurses her drink slowly before taking a sip.

To Krista, Eren was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t hover, he didn’t foam at the mouth every time she spoke to another guy, didn’t hound her if she didn’t pick up his phone call.

Does he even care? Ymir had asked her once scathingly, but she had disregarded it, grateful for the freedom she felt in his embrace. Freedom from toxic attachment, from past trauma or unresolved baggage like the one she was destined to carry. When she was around him, she had felt different. Lighter almost, as if this persona that she had created for herself could actually have a shot at happiness after all.

But lately she’d begun to wonder if she’d just been fooling herself… again. She’d begun to question if she had just convinced herself to see the promise of something that was never there.

“… I thought this guy was one of the good ones,” Ymir says, watching Krista closely.

“He is…” she sighs, “He is one of the good ones. It’s just…” she trails off, unsure if she should give voice to her thoughts. “Ah fuck it, I’m just feeling a little insecure, it’ll be fine…”

“… Is this about that sexy flatmate of his?”

She winces, feeling exposed. It often felt that way with Ymir. Like there was no point to any of the barriers she had worked so hard in constructing.

“She is attractive,” Krista admits, begrudgingly. “… I’m only surprised Eren hasn’t noticed that.”

“… But that’s what you’re worried about, aren’t you? That he has noticed that of late?” Ymir narrows her eyes at Krista. “You should just ask him about it!”

“I did,” she states defensively, “… and he said there was nothing,” -

“… Oh, sure there’s nothing. I can’t believe he thinks he can lie to you and get away with it,” -

“Ymir, I trust him, he’s my boyfriend,” -

“But that’s the problem with you. You just trust everyone, and you let them walk all over you. You did this with Reiner and now with,” -

“Ok,” she whispers, “Stop it, Ymir.”

“… Krista, you need to trust your gut about this sort of thing. If your gut is telling you that he’s a lying asshole, then you should just dump his ass and,” -

“… See this is why I didn’t want to tell you about this,” she cries, her voice rising In frustration. Because this is how it’s always been with Ymir, no one she dates is ever good enough, no decision she makes is ever smart enough.

“You’re always shitting on my boyfriends. And I know you were justified about the last one, but,” her voice cracks just a little bit, because at the end of it all, she just feels weak, “… it feels like you’re just taking a massive crap on me as well.”

“I didn’t mean,” Ymir starts apologetically, brown eyes remorseful, “… look, that wasn’t my intention.”

She takes her hand, slowly, lets her long fingers intertwine with Krista’s smaller, dainty ones. The crumpled expression on Krista’s features has her regretting ever opening her big mouth. But she was tired of seeing one person after another, enter her Krista’s life, and undo the progress she was trying so desperately to make.

“… The truth is,” she takes a deep breath, ready to unleash a truth that’s been stifled for so long, she can’t even remember when it first sprouted, “I think you’re pretty fucking amazing. And I see you wasting all your time and your feelings on these stupid boys who don’t deserve you.” The words come out quickly, rushed almost. A sharp contrast to how long they’ve festered in Ymir’s chest, growing and growing until these feelings knew no reason.

Ymir doesn’t look at her, she keeps her gaze focused on Krista’s hand, afraid of what might happen if Krista understands the depth of feeling behind her words. But more important than her feelings, there were some things she wanted Krista to see clearly.

“Did you tell him about your father, Krista? What he does to you when his wife isn’t looking?”

Krista tugs on her hand, a wave of unbridled panic spreading at the mention of her father. “I trusted you with that information, Ymir, you promised you’d never bring it up,” -

“… Did you tell him your real name?”

She can’t answer this question, even though she knows the answer, knows it’s an emphatic ‘no’ - but she cannot answer because there’s an overwhelming lump in her throat, and it’s taking everything from her to barely keep it together.

“… Let go of me, Ymir,” she pleads, and that’s when Ymir loosens her grip.

“… You trusted me to keep quiet about your secrets - and I’m fine with that. I’m fine with doing anything you ask of me,” her teeth grit together, because she doesn’t know, Krista doesn’t know just how much she would do.

“You asked me not to do anything about the fact that your father is hurting you, and it even though it kills me, I listened to you. But now I see you hurting yourself in this farcical relationship with fabricated feelings for some boy who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, and I don’t know if I can be quiet about that anymore.”

And because it’s grown too large, too much to keep inside of her anymore, she whispers, “I love you, Historia. And if you want me to let go of you, I will. But,” she brushes her lips gently against Krista’s cheek, “… You can trust me with your secrets, and your heart, if you’d let me, because I could take care of you.” She feels a warm tear roll down Krista’s cheek and her heart clenches, “… I could make you happy.”

…

ix.

“… I really appreciate you making time for this,” she murmurs, as she watches him lay the white lilies at her parent’s grave.

He always remembers, without her prompting, because the first time he’d come with her, she’d spent hours crying at their gravestone, telling him tear-filled anecdotes of the dishes her Mama cooked, the bedtime stories her Papa told, the flowers that they used to grow in their garden together (white lilies).

“C’mon Mikasa,” he rolls his eyes at her, “… we do this every year. Why wouldn’t I make time for this?” And why the hell are you thanking me?

She can’t really explain it to him, the possibly childish notion that she thought he might be too busy with his girlfriend to remember the death anniversary of her parents. She regrets doubting him, regrets that of late she’s been so clouded by petty jealousy, that she hasn’t truly appreciated how little he’s changed around her.

“It’s ridiculous,” she confesses, softly, “… you’ve given me everything. A home… A family.” She smiles at him, somewhat blurry. “But I can’t help it, every year on this day, my mind always goes back to that… moment. I lost them… in what felt like the blink of an eye.”

He tenses, as he always does when he sees her upset, or shedding a tear. There is a fundamental part of him that deeply despises the sadness on her features; it makes him feel helpless. So, he does the only thing he can - he wraps an arm around her, tucking her face into his shoulder as she snuggles into him.

“I miss them every day. But you saved me, Eren,” she whispers, dark eyes looking up at him with a gratefulness that he has never known how to accept, and never felt worthy of. “… and now I have you.”

Her voice trails off, almost wistful. “… I guess the world really can be cruel but beautiful at the same time.”

…

When he stops to think about it, he supposes it really is ridiculous it took them so long to get here. And by here he means - Mikasa wrapped securely in his arms, in his lap, on their couch, taking advantage of the privacy they’ve had all along.

He feels her tongue flick against his - it makes him shiver - and he can do little more than just wrap himself around her tighter, and sigh into her kiss. Her fingers make their way into his hair, cradling his head, pressing sweet kisses on the side of his mouth, on his jaw, and on the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

And because Mikasa’s always been a quick study (she’s learnt what he likes, what he’s weak for), he stills her exploration (very reluctantly) before she goes too far.

“Are you okay…?” He whispers, rubbing a thumb along the dried tear stains on her cheek – a reminder of her tears, of knowing the pain that he’d caused her, bubbled quietly within him, having been quelled temporarily by the glorious feeling of having her in his arms.

She laughs, shaking her head, “… I love you. I can’t believe I finally get to say it.” She rests her forehead against his, a happy smile forming on her lips.

“… You could have said it ages ago; you know. No one asked you to keep it inside for this long.” Even though he teases her with his words, his lips drift back to hers, brushing softly, unable to stay away for too long.

“… Well, you never know, I actually might have said it. If it wasn’t for, you know, you having a girlfriend.” He senses the eye roll, the teasing lilt of her voice, but he can’t help but regret the time he wasted. Because even though Krista was a dear friend, and there were no ill intentions there, now that he is here, chest to chest with the girl he loves, he only wishes he’d been here sooner.

“You’re going to use that against me forever, aren’t you?”

She grins in response. “… I have a question though.”

“Shoot,” he murmurs, nibbling against her lower lip.

“… Why’d you guys break up?”

He groans, kissing her jaw testily. “… Do you really want to go into that right now?”

She hesitates, torn between potentially ruining the mood and needing to know what happened. God knows, she had spent countless nights losing sleep over the details anyway. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay, I guess…”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, realising that if he wanted to set a precedent where she could ask him anything, then it‘s best he starts now, “… She’s in love with someone else. A girl, actually.”

Her eyes widen, not having expected that turn of events. “… Please tell me you didn’t ask for a threesome.”

“What the fuck, Mikasa, of course not!” He pulls back, offended.

“Good,” she murmurs cheekily, “I’ve raised you well.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “Speaking of ‘raising me’, you should probably stop saying stuff like that. Do you know that Connie asked if you were like a ’sister’ to me?”

He grins, seeing the shocked expression on her face. That’s exactly how he had felt when he was posed that question, with a little mortification added to the mix. “… Is that really how everyone sees our… relationship?”

His fingers drift to hers, where they rest on his chest. “We’ve been living together for a while now,” he caresses her knuckles absentmindedly, “Kids our age… they don’t really understand it, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“My turn: I have a question for you,” he murmurs. This is a question he’s long considered, stopped only by his embarrassment, fielding it from others only to put the vaguest labels on it.

“… What am I to you, Mikasa?”

The question throws her, because even though she’s told him candidly how she feels, that she loves him, she always has, he is asking her, right now, to define their relationship.

The very notion, the expression that flits on her tongue, bubbles up in her heart with an exciting warmth, even though she hopes this is just temporary, that it will grow, that Eren is so many things and will be so many things to her that she cannot possibly define right now - “… My boyfriend, of course.”

- fin -

A/N: i've been really nervous to post em, because its just been so long, and the writer that wrote chap 1 is different from the one that wrote chap 2, and honestly i dont even know if there are inconsistencies. so my request to you, dear reader, is to please let me know if i have made any fuck ups in writing this - or if you have any ideas for pacing, or storytelling that could possibly help me improve.

also there will be a chapter 3 focusing on eremika’s sexual exploration~

#eremika #erehisu #yumihisu #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #liquorisce fanfiction

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makeste · 4 years ago

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some brief musings on why Kacchan is still going to lose his quirk

(and why that may ultimately be a good thing.)

so first of all, let me just say that Deku and Kacchan are still very much in danger. much as I hate to say it. thing is, Horikoshi didn’t go to the trouble of separating them from the others for no reason. so while it may be a few more chapters until they fall under the cool, calculating gaze of our bloodthirsty mangaka once again, they’re definitely not out of the woods yet.

and in the meantime, while their encounter with Tomura was so brief you almost have to question whether it was completely inconsequential, it did accomplish several things of note:

it scared the absolute SHIT out of the both of them and maybe now they will take this seriously???

it gave Endeavor the chance to learn that there is a thing called One for All, and that whatever the hell this thing is, apparently Midoriya might have it...? kids these days and their nonsense.

it gave Aizawa the same opportunity. ‘Midoriya and Bakugou... is he... after the two of them...?!’ and seeing as those are his kids, it’s a pretty safe bet he’s not going to drop this until he actually gets an answer. (which, honestly, about time??)

and last but not least, it allowed Bakugou to give a rousing speech and to have an internal monologue about how he’s been keeping up with Deku so far and he intends to keep doing so.

which brings me to the main subject of this post.

sorry kiddo. but having an entire scene devoted to establishing that you’re still full of pride, and still keeping pace with your rival, and how you won’t lose, and how he’s still trailing in your shadow same as always...

...doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence that all of that optimism isn’t about to come crashing down around you.

he has come so far. he has grown so much. he’s learned how to save others. he’s learned to acknowledge his own weaknesses. he’s learned how to work alongside his childhood friend rival. and he’s learned how to be selfless in the heat of the moment, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. slowly learning the meaning of “my body just moved before I could think.”

but his ego is still holding him back. his pride, and his desire to win, which I should stress is not at all a bad thing in and of itself (on the contrary, it’s what spurs that very growth I was talking about. it motivates him to keep striving forward, and inspires the others around him to also do their best). but what is bad about it is the way that it’s consistently at odds with his better self. how it hinders his compassion and empathy. because he sees those things as “weak”, and weakness = losing. and nowhere is this more starkly apparent than in his relationship with Deku.

even now, even after all the progress the two of them have made, he still stubbornly persists in doing this bizarre and ridiculous thing of framing every single aspect of their relationship, and every single one of their interactions, solely in terms of rivalry and power levels. of winning and losing. like, it is wild, though. to better illustrate this, please consider the following sample selection of Bakugou Thought Processes.

working together with Deku = losing to Deku (so I won’t do it)

oh no wait, working together with Deku = passing the exam = getting stronger = beating Deku (so I’ll do it)

getting kidnapped = being weak = losing to Deku (so I will be very sad and frustrated about it)

Deku being chosen as All Might’s successor while I bring about the end of All Might = ...do I really need to explain this one lol

[new input!!]: learning from Deku = getting stronger?? = becoming the best hero = beating Deku!! (so I will do it!)

feeling guilty about being a giant shit to Deku = needing to ask for Deku’s forgiveness = losing to Deku (...shit)

worrying about Deku = admitting that you care about Deku = see above = (so I won’t do it) (I won’t) (I won’t)

I really am grateful to this latest chapter for providing that rare bit of insight into the workings of his mind. lulz.

so yeah! that’s where we’re at, apparently. where we are still at. so how, then, do we eventually move forward from here? and if you look at all of Katsuki’s previous breakthroughs (after his loss to Deku; after he was forced to team up with Deku in the final exam; and after Kamino), all of them only happened after he was brought down a peg. after his walls of ego and pride were cracked, and he was humbled and forced to look at things from the perspective he hates more than anything else. the perspective of “losing.”

and so now his relationship with Deku is being thrust back into the forefront again. and we’re being shown that for him, all of the things he’s learned about What it Means to Be a Hero and What Our Strength is For and etc. etc. etc. are all still jumbled up in this tangled web of thoughts about beating Deku, don’t lose to Deku, I’m keeping up with him, I’m not gonna lose. and again, the problem isn’t that he wants to win! the problem is that all of his own self-worth, his entire self-image, is completely caught up within this one concept.

winning is who he is. being the best is who he is. but that’s all he is. his thought process still doesn’t go any further past there. he can’t answer the question of “what is your strength for” because he doesn’t know. his sense of self is so intricately tied up in the concept of strength because he has always been strong. his fears are so intricately tied to the concepts of losing and weakness because he has always been strong. because he doesn’t know the answer to the question of: but who are you if all of that strength is ever peeled away?

and if he ever wants to be able to answer that once and for all, he needs to gain perspective once again. he needs to lose again. just this one last time.

Deku was once quirkless. Kacchan becoming quirkless would be the ultimate karmic act of balance between them, the ultimate humbling experience. it would force him to shed his remaining pride once and for all, the pride that’s still blinding him and preventing him from figuring out what it is that he’s missing. he’d be forced to reckon with the feeling of being powerless in a world where everyone else has power. forced to try and understand what it is that gives worth to people beyond just strength. forced to finally acknowledge that there are different kinds of strength, something he has always intuitively known since he was a young child (otherwise he would never have feared Deku), but was never was able to fully understand. because Deku’s strength was forged by him growing up in a world where he had no choice but to look within himself in order to find those core, essential qualities that truly make one a hero, with or without a quirk. compassion. selflessness. persistence in the face of doubt. kindness in the face of apathy. hope and courage in the face of fear.

so yeah. it may just be that in order to finally realize what true strength means, Katsuki needs to first let go of his old ideas of strength entirely. and I’d be lying at this point if I said I wasn’t excited about the possibility that this kind of storyline might really be about to happen now. not just because of the angst (although I won’t pretend that isn’t also a part of it because let’s be real), but because no other character in BnHA has come further than Bakugou. no other character has started from such an insane place of “holy shit they’re really doing everything wrong”, only to acknowledge that, and to say “okay yeah, I get it, I want to do better, show me what to do and I’ll do it”, and then to actually do it.

and I want him to continue to grow. I want him to successfully reach the end of his character development journey. and so if this is what needs to happen next in order for him to do that? to reach his goal? to understand what he wants to be, who he wants to be? then fuck it. bring it on.

#bnha 275 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #quirkless!bakugou #bakugou meta

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wanna-do-bad-things · 5 years ago

Text

On Purpose.

Summary: Henry has finished season one of The Witcher and his wife is in need of sex. Type: Smut. Detailed smut. Word count: 2589 Warnings: Frustration, coaxing, Henry using dirty talk, use of vibrator, restraints, unprotected sex, brief mention of creampie. A/N: So I’m pretty new here to this fandom and this is the first thing that I’ve written for him. If you read this, please give it a like/reblog and my ask is open if you’d like to drop me a message :) When I’m not writing reader insert, I write as an unnamed oc “she”. This was written as a request from someone on my Patreon but she asked that it was shared with tumblr. This was backed up by another friend who agreed it should be shared here, so I hope it’s enjoyed!.

The original request: henry Cavill, he has wrapped up season one of witcher. His wife is super horny from watching season 1 and needs him to come home asap and fuck her asap. But mr henry comes home, eats, plays video games, teases her with showing his thighs. She is annoyed so goes up to room, later on he goes up, ties her up, rips her clothes and goes slow at first then picks up the speed and watches her body shake and she cums right on him. He stops her, getting naked and shoves his dick inside her and pounds her to oblivion smacking her ass Sorry for any mistakes in this.

_____

She’d been on the set for a lot of the scenes, watching as Henry worked his ass off to achieve the most realistic scenes he possibly could. She watched as he worked off set with the choreographers for the fight scenes, heard the way he shared his input for the way the weapons should look, feel and work. She’d felt her heart burst with pride as he held the attention of those within the room and felt her underwear soak as she watched him in action.

She knew oh too well what he was capable of, had been manhandled by him on more than one occasion and watching as he moved with ease, the way his muscles flex beneath his skin and his expressions had her feeling weak. The cast and crew spent the final week going over everything and had a viewing of the full first series and all it had done for her was leave her even more sexually frustrated.

He had a few more things that he needed to do before season one was fully wrapped up and had been out of the house for most of the morning and afternoon. All it had done, leaving her with her thoughts and images whirling in her mind, was increase her desire for him. By the time Henry comes home, she’s ready to jump him.

“I’ve just got home, give me a few minutes yeah,” he kisses her on the tip of her nose and momentarily holds her against him.

“But I-”

“I know. But give me time to wind down.”

“I could help with that.” She trails her hand down his chest, but he captures it before it gets too low.

“Not that kind.” He gives her a small smile. “It’s been a long day already, I need to eat something – not you,” he adds quickly, “I need to eat, relax and shower. Maybe later?”

He moves out of her way, and though she understands his need and want for some downtime because of the strict schedule he’s had to adhere to, that doesn’t fix her craving for him.

She gives it time, busies herself with a few other chores that she can think to do and also showers. Slipping on a robe with nothing underneath, she makes her way downstairs to where she finds him, sitting in his study with his game is open, a plate of finished food beside him and his attention completely on the screen before him. He sits with his headset on, a plain white V neck shirt and some cut off sweatpant shorts. The way he sits, his shorts ride up, exposing several inches of his thigh as he sits with his legs open. This was unfair. This was cruel.

“How was your food?” She asks, stepping into the room and running her hands over his shoulders. Henry pushes one of his headphones out of the way so he can hear and briefly turns his head to acknowledge her.

“Nice. Good. Just what I needed.”

“Got your fill?” She asks as she rounds his body and places her thighs on either side of his knee. She allows the robe to fall open, just enough to let him know, let him see just a brief hint of nipple as she sits herself down on. She’d played ever so briefly in the shower, not that she’d intended to but as she’d moved, spray from the shower had hit her body and couldn’t help but use her fingers. Her wetness slicks against his thigh and this gets his attention.

“You’re something else today, do you know that.” He says after muting his mic. She grins and rocks her hips against him. It’s not the first time she’s rode his thigh and knows that Henry gets off on seeing her do this as much as she gets off on doing it, but she has no intention of reaching her orgasm this way. She leans in to him, wraps her lips around his earlobe and bites ever so gently, knowing it gets him hard when he begins to say, “let me ju-” he doesn’t have time to finish his sentence before she sighs, and climbs off him. “Hey wait. You didn’t let me finish.”

“Well I didn’t either. You play your game Henry and I’ll just go play.”

Her frustrations are making her crabby, but it’s been weeks since he last touched her, and her sex drive is higher than normal. All she wants is a little attention from him, but she’ll have to make do with thinking of the things she wants him to do to her instead of actually feeling it.

She makes her way back to the bedroom and kicks the door shut, feeling the walls shake with the force of it. That might have been a little harder than intended but oh well. She drops the robe half-way between the door and the bed and slips between the sheets, kicking them off as she fumbles about in the bedside drawer for her newest purchase from an online toy store.

With two sides on the top, one for precision and one with a curved yet flat side, designed to cover the whole clit, not just the tip like on the other side, she fully intends to play. This gets her to orgasm within a minute, two tops and right now, that’s what she wants. With its five settings, starting off slow and the highest setting making her lose her vision, her speech to no longer sound and her muscles to tighten up to the point where she had a cramp in her leg a few days later.

No sooner had she turned the dial to switch it on, Henry is opening the door, a smirk on his face and his cock straining against his shorts. “Nothing makes me harder than seeing my girl all frustrated, wanting me and acting a brat about it.”

“You did this on purpose.” Her eyes widen in surprise, her jaw clenches and she glares at him.

“Do you know how hot you are when you’re angry? Annoyed? Sexually frustrated?” he asks as he moves towards her. “When all you want is to be touched, licked and fucked?”

“Hen-”

“No, you’re going to listen since you made such a big display down there.” He’s above her before she can stop him, straddling her waist as she would his and he knocks the toy from her hands. it buzzes to itself on the bedding before he turns it off. “You want to be adored? Admired? Loved and fucked all at once? Is that what my wife wants? To have that bratty attitude fucked out of her?” She tries to move under his weight but doesn’t get very far. “Poor baby, guess you’ll have to lay there and endure this.”

She glares up at him, hating the wetness that builds between her thighs at his words. He always knows how to get her worked up, talking down to her like this, making her feel needy for wanting him in the most primal way. The way he looks at her - so bored, so unamused, only turns her on even more. “Touch me.”

“You’re in no position to make demands. In fact, since you need it so badly, I’ll give you exactly what you desire. I’ll give it to you repeatedly. How about that?” She nods eagerly, forgetting that she’s supposed to be mad at him. She willingly offers her wrists, allows him to bound them and tie them above her head to the solid wood bed frame. It’s not until he’s reaching for the toy that he so happily discarded that she realises what she’s done.

“Henry - no.”

“Going to stop me, are you?” She swallows hard when the buzzing starts, “tell me right now that you don’t want this.”

“I don’t want to be teased.” She specifies.

“But you want this, on your clit while I eat your pussy? Or maybe just inside of you, only just, to give you a taste of what’s to come as I pleasure you with my mouth?” He’s not pressed the toy against her yet and her eyes flutter closed at the mere thought of what his mouth can and will do to her. “Tell me you want it or you get nothing.”

“I want it. Please, I need it.”

“Only because you said please.”

He starts the vibrator off on the lowest setting, trailing over her nipples which harden instantly under the silicon. The smoothness of the texture glides over her skin, goosebumps appear in its wake as he slowly trails it down her stomach, over her thighs and teases over everywhere but her clit. He gets close to her exposed clit, her wet core and her ass but never close enough.

“I said no teasing.”

“And I said I’d teach you a lesson. You won’t learn if you’re just getting your own way all the time.” he dips it between her folds, the vibrations has her eyes closing completely and her breath slowly comes out as a long hiss. With her slick now coating the tip, he trails it up her slit and applies the lightest of touches to her bead. her thighs shake instantly, the build up starting in the shower finally taking its toll and before he can pull it away, she reaches her first orgasm.

“Disappointing.” He declares. “I thought you’d last longer.” He presses the flat side, the one that covers her whole clit and presses down as he speeds up the vibration setting. Her mouth opens, her eyes roll and her back arches as she tugs on her restraints. Her stomach muscles flex, her belly visibly contracting before him as her legs shake. She can’t speak, can’t cry out as the pleasure takes over her. She’s barely had time to recover from her last when another one builds even faster, wracking her body at such a pace that her head hurts from the blood rush. She knows she needs to breathe but all she can do is accept the euphoria which floods her system.

Henry pulls the vibrator from her, stares down at the wet bedding, her cum splattered thighs and takes in the sight of his wife completely undone. “Sensitive today. Abstinence really suits you.”

“Don’t.” she manages to croak out, trying to close her legs but he holds them apart, running his fingers over her soaked core.

“Thought you needed me?” He asks, his cock straining against his shorts as he kneels before her. “You can either suck my cock or let me fuck you. The choice is yours which hole I use.” He makes quick work, his clothes almost ripping under the force in which he pulls them from him. She drinks him in, torn between wanting him in her mouth but knowing with the way he’s behaving right now, that he wouldn’t go easy on her.

She opens her legs, her knees lifting as she does so, watching as he palms his cock, pre-cum dotting at the slit. She wants to lick it away, take him between her lips but she’s not ready for the throat fucking that he’d give her and so prepares herself as he begins to lean forward, sinks himself into her in one long motion. He pulls her knee up to his chest and begins to thrust. He watches as her breasts bounce, the way she closes her eyes tightly and bites down on her lip. Clenching his jaw, he turns her body while he’s still inside of her and slaps her ass, feeling the way her pussy clenches around him at the contact.

“You wanted this, now look at me while I’m fucking you,” he demands, pulling all the way out to the tip before slamming back into her fully. He takes her hard and fast, not giving her a moment to consider anything other than the way he drives himself into her. He spanks her again, enjoying the tightness increase when he does so and the moan that escapes her lips. He’s half tempted to get the toy, apply it to her clit once more and watch her come undone around him but he wouldn’t be able to keep the pace if he was holding that in place too. He’d need her to do so and he’s not giving her hands access again, not until this is over.

The moment she’d sat on his knee - no, even the few seconds before she’d done so, he’d known that she’d be wet and how horny she’d been all day. Part of him really had wanted to de-stress in his own way but the other part enjoyed watching her get riled up, become so frustrated that she’d snap on her own accord. He loved that she became a victim to her own plan, suffering at her own hands. He knew she’d come up and play, get the new toy she’d denied purchasing but he’d heard her playing, seen the hazy post-orgasm eyes and blushed cheeks. He’d bide his time until this moment, not realising how effective it would actually be but it was a stunning reaction and one he fully intends to do again.

His hips continue to snap to hers, the sound of her wetness and skin on skin fills the room. She tries to hold back her moans but she’s mostly unsuccessful. The more she tries to hold it back, the harder Henry fucks her. He lifts her leg, her foot now on his shoulder, the slight shift in her position alters the way in which he enters her. It feels tighter and so he feels, if possible, bigger, now hitting spots which hadn’t been as accessible as before, or if they had, they certainly hadn’t come alive like this. His fingers dig into her skin, his short nails manage to nip at her, marking it with soft crescent shapes. His vocals reach her ears, his soft moans, deep grunts when she feels perfect around him and his growls when she tightens her core at just the right time. Hearing him is arousing, fresh wetness builds as she hears it and she pleads with him to cum. He grips her harder, one hand on her ankle, the other on her waist as he buries himself within her time after time until he halts, his cock throbbing as he climaxes, spilling everything within her.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asks when his breathing has calmed and she rests her legs on either side of his thighs.

“Mmmmm,” she moans softly, “something like that.” He pulls out of her, pausing for a moment with both hands on her inner thighs, holding her legs open just long enough to see the first drops of cum seep from her. “what a mess you’ve caused.” she comments and he grins.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you sample it.” He leans over her with ease, resting his weight into his knees as he unties her. As she strokes over her wrists, he places his hands on either side of her ribs and leans forward, pressing his lips against hers and giving her soft, gentle kisses, a stark contrast to the performance he’s just given. “Let’s get you in that shower.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I’ll cook us something to eat, share that bottle of wine that’s been calling to us recently to celebrate the completion of season one and maybe…” he runs a hand up her thigh once more. “Have part two.”

#Henry Cavill imagine #Henry Cavill smut #Henry Cavill one shot #Henry Cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill fanfiction

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iridescentjin · 5 years ago

Text

His Hands (m)

Summary: You hadn’t ever paid much attention to Min Yoongi until a stupid icebreaker at your office. Now, you can’t get him, and his hands, out of your head.

Genre: Smut and a little fluff

Warnings: Masturbation, hand kink/partialism, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up irl), a small amount of cum play (once again...idk), recreational alcohol use

Word Count: 6,694

a/n: this is inspired by the moment from the above gif, a conversation that I was having with a friend, and my undying love for Min Yoongi and his hands. I’ve been screaming into the void about this for a week, so I decided to just put it out there. (Also, the gif actually is mine :) )

All this started with one of those stupid office meeting icebreakers. You had been totally fine with everything at work up until that point. Great actually. You were good at your job at fairly large production company. You had been working there for years and had worked your way up from intern to a mid-level position in your department. You had your core group of work friends, and you all went out for happy hours together at least once each week.

There was one guy who was in your department but just outside of your group of friends. He was hardworking and dedicated but quiet. He was really passionate about music, and you could tell just from watching him work. He seemed polite enough to everyone in the department, though you hadn’t really ever spoken more than a few words to him, and the few times he had gone for drinks with the rest of the group had been the times you were unable to attend.

Still, you can't deny that Min Yoongi was gorgeous. He had pale skin and gentle features. He had a way about him that just screamed confidence. Yet you hadn’t ever really considered him much because he wasn’t part of your day-to-day life. Until that stupid meeting.

On that fateful day, the department head declared that, because there were some new faces in the room, you were going to do an icebreaker. You all would go around the room, and, when it was your turn, you would say your name and what you love about yourself. A simple enough concept, though it filled you with anxiety to think that you had to speak in front of all your colleagues and your department head about something you loved about yourself. You thought that you would say something like “my work ethic” or something else generic because it would be easy and not too personal. You liked to keep everything close to the vest.

It started slowly. The first people saying they loved their eyes or their smile. You zoned out for a moment thinking about what exactly you would say. Before you knew it, it was on the person 2 seats away from you. Min Yoongi. He paused a moment after he said his name. He looked at his hands, and then he said, “I love my fingers.” He held out his two hands in front of him with his palms facing away from him, and he spread his fingers as he gently smiled at them. Then your friend, Soomin, began to talk. You didn’t hear a word that she said because you were staring at Yoongi’s long digits as he continued to flex them. He let them rest on the table in front of him, still looking at them as he spread them and wiggled them around.

You couldn’t help but notice the slender delicacy of each finger. They were long, and each knuckle was prominent. He had fine hair between the first and second knuckle on each one. His palms were big enough that it felt like your whole hand would fit into the palm of his hand. His skin looked taut and smooth, though there were small cracks next to the perfectly rounded nail on his thumb on either hand. You couldn’t help but think how much you want to - “Hello? Earth to y/n?”

Soomin nudged you with her elbow, and you realized that everyone was staring at you. It was clearly your turn, and you had been too busy staring at Min Yoongi’s hands to notice. A scarlet flush crept up your cheeks and down your neck. You quickly said, “I’m y/n, and I love your hands.” You didn’t even hear it when you said it.

“I’m sorry...what?” your boss asked, and you looked, panicked, at Soomin. She looked just as confused as you felt. You flushed even deeper when what you just said fully processed in your brain.

“I’m really sorry. I was just lost in thought. I’m y/n. I love my work ethic.” You put your face in your hands as the person on the other side of you started talking and the game continued on. After you started to feel the heat moving from your face, you lifted your head, only to meet eyes with fucking Min Yoongi, chin resting against his hand, smirk across his face. You put your face back in your hands, and you made a mental note to never ever make eye contact with him again. You’d avoided having to talk to him by accident up until this point; it shouldn’t be that hard to do it on purpose.

*******

You had practically forgotten about the department meeting two weeks later when you’re at your desk typing away on your keyboard. Your desk sat near the copy room, so you often had friends say hello as they walked past to make copies.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you, so you turn around in your chair. Your eyes are immediately met with a slender waist, clothed in all black. Your eyes travel up the frame in front of you, and you meet eyes with Min fucking Yoongi. You feel the heat creeping into your face as you look into his eyes. You immediately stand up, so you are not sitting there looking up at him like a child.

“Can I help you?” you ask, slightly more curtly than you intend.

“Oh yeah. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Min Yoongi. You can just call me Yoongi. We’ve met before, but I never actually introduced myself.” And he holds out his hand to take yours. You look down at the hand, the thing that led you to all the problems to begin with. You swallow hard, and you take it and look up into his eyes.

“Y/n” in a shaky voice is all you can manage to get out. You are hyper aware of how warm his palm is against yours. Warm and smooth, not a hint of claminess. His pointer finger sticks out, and it is so long that it touches the sensitive skin on the inside of your wrist. You don’t realize that your eyes have dropped to the expanse of his hand cradling yours until he starts to speak again.

“So...uh...now we’ve formally met...” You snap your eyes back up to his face, and he has that same smirk spread across his lips that he had in that meeting. You feel the heat creeping up into your cheeks and down your chest and release his hand like it burned you.

“Yeah, thanks. I...uh...I have a lot of work to do, so can you…?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll go. Sorry. See ya,” he says as he turns on the spot and goes off to his desk, still oozing the same confidence as always.

You feel flustered for the rest of the afternoon, and you count down the seconds until 5 when it’s time to leave. You grab your coat and rush out the door, trying to get away from the stuffy office that’s making you feel even hotter from the ache between your thighs that you’ve been denying to yourself all day.

You tell yourself to forget about it. To stop it. To think about anything but the way that his fingers felt against your skin. You shake your head to try to get the image of the first time out of your head. It must have been way too long since the last time you had sex for you to be getting so flustered about Yoongi. It had been about 5 months since you hooked up with Taehyung, your work friend with whom you mutually decided that you’re better off platonic friends. Tae had been good, but there was something about Yoongi that just screamed “this guy fucks well!”

You finally let your mind wander a little bit after you’ve had a glass of wine. You can’t help but think about the delicious curve of each knuckle and the way it felt in your hand. You start to imagine what that warm, smooth skin would feel like on your neck and collarbone, gently dancing across the sensitive skin, culling goosebumps to the surface. You barely skate your own fingers over your skin, and it’s not the same but you still shiver in response to the touch. You shake your head again to try to stop those thoughts once again. You decide to put on a show to distract yourself.

Though your mind wanders a little, you are tipsy and tired and have to work in the morning, so you eventually fall asleep on the couch. It’s not a restful sleep. First, you just see the way your hand looked in his, then you start to see more. Your brain creates a whole scene in which Yoongi is spread out alone on your bed, with his hair mussed and his shirt tossed aside. You are in the room, but he doesn’t pay any attention to you. He undoes his belt and barely slides his pants down his hips. You can see the outline of his bulge through his black boxer briefs that he’s straining against. He runs his hand over his chest, letting his fingers catch on one of this nipples. His breath catches a little in his throat, and then he continues to move his hand down to his waistband. He rubs his thumb along the elastic for a moment, causing goosebumps to rise up on his stomach, then he slips his hand into his underwear and pulls out his hard cock.

It is gorgeous. The sight before you. Min Yoongi, topless, lithe fingers wrapped around his thick length, teasing up the whole length. He takes his hand from his cock and brings it to his mouth. You watch him slide his tongue up his palm and along the middle digits before he brings it back, slick with spit, to tease the pink-red head of his dick again. He focuses his movements on the head, and after several minutes of languidly twisting his hand gently over the tip, he begins to pick up speed. You see his hand tighten as his breathing quickens. You become aware of yourself in the moment, the wetness between your legs, causing your panties to stick to your core. You are so turned on for him, but you also don’t know if he realizes you’re there. You think to call out to him, but you don’t want him to stop. While you are deciding whether or not to call to him, he looks up from his dick directly into your eyes. You hold his stare until he throws his head back, cum spilling over his hand and stomach. He looks back at you, holding your gaze, and silently holds up his hand out to you. You take three steps forward and cross the space between where you stood and the bed. You gently take his wrist in your hand and tilt your head as you admire the beauty that is his hand coated in his own spit and cum. Your mouth waters at the thought of running your tongue along those fingers. You open your mouth, but, before you can take him in, Yoongi whispers, “It’s time to go” and you hear your alarm.

You had to masturbate this morning in the shower. You didn’t have another choice. You had soaked through your underwear and your sleep shorts, your nipples painfully erect when you had woken up. You were already flustered and embarrassed about dreaming about Yoongi touching himself, but you had to take care of it so you can focus on work. You closed your eyes tight and tried to picture the last time you fucked Taehyung. It didn’t work, and you ended up picturing the way Yoongi’s hand looked wrapped around his cock. You came, washed yourself, drank your coffee, and left, trying to put the whole dream behind you.

Unfortunately, the universe decided that it had other plans for you today. When you open your email, you have a message from the head of the department saying that he has put together a special project for some of the highest performers in your department. You show up to the conference room at 10am like his email said, only to find that you are joined by Taehyung, his best friend Jimin, and, of course, Min fucking Yoongi. You can’t even look at Yoongi because of your embarrassment. Your boss explains that the project will probably take about a month and the four of you will be working exclusively on this until it is finished. You let out a heavy sigh and immediately all four pairs of eyes are on you.

“Is there a problem, y/n?” Tae asks.

“No. I’m sorry. I just realized I hadn’t finished the report that I was working on, and I might have to use some of my free time to finish it,” you reply, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll have Soomin finish it for you. Just send it over to her, and I’ll walk her through it,” your boss says, looking proud of how much he’s helping you. You try to muster a smile that doesn’t look fake and thank him for coming up with a solution.

******************

“Okay, that’s it. What is your deal with Min Yoongi?” Tae asks you exasperated after Yoongi and Jimin leave the room to go get coffee.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a ‘deal’ with Min Yoongi. I nothing the guy,” you lie. You still hadn’t been able to look him in the eye over the course of the last two weeks because you kept having the same dream every single night. You felt needy for him when you looked at him when he wasn’t looking, and you felt embarrassed, a hot flush covering your face and chest, when he spoke to you. So you avoided interacting with him as much as possible. You feel that same flush creeping up your face as Tae watches you.

“Oh my god. Did you sleep with him?!” Tae practically shouts.

“Jesus Christ, no! What the fuck, Tae? I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay, well, as a guy in this office who you’ve slept with, I feel like I can say you absolutely would do that. And you’re turning all red, so something happened. Did you kiss him? Did he kiss you? Did he catch you fucking someone else? Did you catch him fucking someone else? Is he having an affair with our boss?”

Tae continues on questioning you rapid fire, knowing that it will wear you down quickly. He goes on and on with his ridiculous questions related to you, Min Yoongi, and sex. “Fine!” you finally exclaim in frustration.

“Yessss,” Tae whispers under his breath, “I am ready for tea.”

You roll your eyes and prepare to tell Tae the source of all of your embarrassment that you haven’t even told Soomin about. “I had a sex dream about Yoongi. Actually….like several sex dreams about him.”

Tae’s eyes get huge and fill with amusement. He starts giggling uncontrollably, his mouth open wide, eyes pinched shut.

“Stop it, Tae.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I ever slept with you. You’re so embarrassing.”

As you’re finishing your sentence, the door opens, and Yoongi and Jimin file back in. They both are carrying two cups in each hand, and they both look confused. “What did we miss?” Yoongi asks as he sets one of the cups in front of you.

“Oh nothing. Taehyung told a joke that he thought was so funny, he can’t stop laughing. Right, Taehyung?” You say look at him with a serious and stern look.

“Oh my god. I can’t wait to tell Jimin,” he responds through his laughs.

“No, I don’t think Jimin would like this one very much. I think it’s a joke just for you and I, Tae,” you don’t know how much more obvious you can be without straight up telling Taehyung that if he tells Jimin, you will castrate him.

“No I want to know!” Jimin cries, wanting to never be left out of anything. “I already know about what happened between you two. Yoongi probably doesn’t care. Just tell us!”

You throw Jimin the dirtiest look you can muster, stand from your seat, and storm out of the room. Taehyung’s giggles follow you until the door gently closes as you storm away. You find your way into the employee break room and lean against the counter. You take a deep breath and try to remind yourself that Jimin didn’t have any malicious intent in announcing to the room that you had slept with Tae. You close your eyes and focus on your breathing. You don’t hear the stealthy man enter the room, and you jump when you feel someone beside you. You snap your eyes open, and there next to you is the last person you want to talk to, Min fucking Yoongi.

“Look, um, I don’t know what just happened in there, and I certainly didn’t know that you and Tae are sleeping together, but you seem really upset. I know you don’t like me very much, but I wanted to come check on you,” Yoongi says in a sweet and sultry tone, searching your face for a hint of your real feelings.

“Oh um, Yoongi...I think I might owe you an apology. I don’t dislike you. I’ve been avoiding you because...well...I-I had a dream about you, and I’ve been embarrassed about it. Also, I’m not still sleeping with Tae. It’s been 6 months since we ended things amicably.” You hadn’t realized how much you distancing yourself from Yoongi made it seem like you just didn’t like him. You liked him fine, and, obviously, you thought he was really good-looking. You needed to be sure to make an effort to be nicer to him.

“A dream? About me?” Yoongi asks. When you turn and look at him with red cheeks and ears, with the blush creeping down your chest, his eyebrows shoot up on his face. “Oh!” he exclaims.

You bury your face in your hands and shake your head lightly. “Oh my god. I’m so lame. I can’t believe I told you that.”

“No. Come on. You’re not lame. You can’t control what you dream. I’m sure that if you could it would not be about me,” he offers. He puts his hand gently on your arm. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not that big of a deal, and, now, it’s out there so you don’t have to avoid me.”

You look at him. His eyes are filled with understanding instead of pity or disgust. You realize that Yoongi really is an all around good guy, and he seems to understand that if you could choose to stop the dreams, you totally would. You smile a small, genuine smile at him before you push yourself off the counter, ready to head back to the conference room to work more. Yoongi follows you out. “So...was I good?” he asks between giggles as you open the door.

“Min Yoongi, I will not hesitate to end you.”

************

After that day, things go a little more smoothly, and your team is more productive now that you’re acknowledging Yoongi. On Friday of the third week of working together, you all decide that since it’s the weekend, and you are close to the end of the project, you will all go to Happy Hour together.

When you arrive at the bar, the four of you find a booth that is a little secluded from the rest of the commotion, and Jimin goes to the bartender to get drinks for everyone. You slide into the booth next to Yoongi, and Tae leaves room for Jimin on his side. You all settle into the booth discussing small details for your project. When Jimin returns with shots and beers for everyone, he demands, “no work talk!”

After about an hour of drinking at the same pace as Jimin, which is never a good idea, all of you are feeling pretty tipsy.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Jimin squeals with glee. “Please! I love truth or dare.”

You finally acquiesce to Jimin’s whining when he pushes his bottom lip out and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. When the game starts, Jimin goes first, being dared to eat as many olives as he can for free before the bartender tells him he can’t have anymore. The bartender only gave him two, and Jimin came back to the table looking defeated. Next is Tae. He picks truth.

With mischief in his eyes Jimin asks, “how good is y/n in bed, honestly?”

“Hey!” you protest loudly, “That’s not a truth about Tae. That’s a truth about me. That’s no fair.”

“No. No. Because it’s a truth about how Tae feels about you,” Jimin retorts and turns back to Tae, who looks like he’s looking for the right words to say.

“Honestly? It was amazing. Y/n, you’re amazing. So hot. So warm and tight. And that stamina? How did you get that stamina? She does things that you wouldn’t even imagine. She’s like...she’s really freaky.”

“Oh my god!” you shout, face hot with embarrassment, “Kim Taehyung stop talking right now. I cannot believe you just said that in front of Jimin and Yoongi.”

Yoongi is surprisingly quiet through all of this, and, when you say his name, he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. He doesn’t look at you, just stares down at his hands on the table with a weird smile on his face.

“I mean… I already knew, but Yoongi didn’t,” Jimin giggles out, “Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth, I guess,” you respond.

“Okay, tell us exactly what happened in your sex dream about Yoongi.”

Next to you, Yoongi chokes on his drink. Coughing and wiping his face. He quietly apologizes as he grabs a napkin and cleans his face and the spot on the table where he spit some of his drink out. You are so distracted by Yoongi choking that you forget that you’re playing a game.

“Well…” says Jimin impatiently.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. Just give me the dare,” you say indignantly.

“Fine,” Jimin responds, sounding a bit like a petulant child, “I dare you to go dance with...that guy.” And he points at a young guy out on the dance floor who seems to be enjoying himself alone.

“Ughhh,” you whine, “fine. You’re the worst.” You stalk out onto the dance floor, flipping your hair a little bit and straightening your dress before you approach the man. You ask to dance with him, and he obliges, a surprisingly good dancer. Before you know it, you’ve forgotten that you’re dancing with him as a dare. Rolling your hips with his and swaying to the beat. You wrap your arms around his neck and grind against him before you feel a tap on your shoulder. You are surprised when you see it’s Yoongi.

“Can I cut in?” he asks almost shyly.

You say goodbye to your partner and turn back to Yoongi. He awkwardly puts his hands on your hips, and he sort of moves with the music.

“Yoongi,” you say, ��if you’re going to take me away from such a good dance partner, you should at least actually dance with me. If you don’t want to dance with me, then why did you even come over here?”

He grumbles under his breath something you can’t understand except “didn’t like,” and he grabs your hips. “You want me to dance with you? I’ll fuckin’ dance with you.” He pushes his body against yours, his hands still on your hips. He guides you to him, and he begins to roll his hips adeptly into you. You follow his lead and roll your hips back. You wrap one hand around his neck, putting your fingers in the hair at his nape, and you keep the other one at your side, leaning that shoulder out a little further from him.

His hand on your hip starts to ball into a fist, and he pulls the bottom of your skirt up into his hand. You can feel that his cock is half hard against you, and you can’t blame him because you feel the closeness going right between your thighs. You look up into his eyes, and they look hungry. He runs a hand over your cheek and leans in, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’ll do it,” he says with his hot breath against your ear.

“Do what?” You ask, genuinely confused.

“Whatever it is. Whatever you dreamed about. I’ll do it,” he responds, breathing rapidly and pushing harder against your body. You feel a heat slide down from your belly, straight into you pussy. That dream is all you fantasize about anymore, unable to get the images out of your head, and now real-life Yoongi is saying he’ll do whatever it is? You are so startled that you just blink up at him.

“Obviously you think about me. I think about you too. I think you can feel how much I think about you right now against your leg. So...let me do it,” he says into your ear.

“Min Yoongi, what has gotten into you?” you ask in a playful voice, letting your fingers tease the strands of hair on his nape. He grunts a little bit and rolls his body against yours, while slotting his leg between yours.

“I would say all those shots and beers that Jimin brought us probably play a huge part in this,” he says. When you think about it, you are pretty drunk too, and you would have been too embarrassed to let yourself grind on Yoongi if you were sober. He takes the hand that has the bottom of your dress bunched and runs it along your jaw, sliding his thumb across the curve of your bottom lip. “But also, I think about you all the time. I can’t get you out of my head. I want you. I don’t like the way that guy was touching you. I want to be the only one who touches you like that. Not that guy. Not fucking Kim Taehyung. Me.”

You feel dizzy from the alcohol and Yoongi’s words and the way that his thigh feels against your core. You are dazed and blinking up at him, when his expression changes. “Oh fuck. I read this wrong, didn’t I? Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles out. Dropping his hands from your hip and your face and putting distance between you. “I can’t believe I just did that. I never come on to girls, and now you probably think I’m disgusting.”

Before you can find the words to stop him, he’s already walking back over to the table. By the time you get over there, he has his hand on his coat, and Jimin and Taehyung look really confused.

“Is everything okay? It seemed like you guys were...doing fine...just a minute ago,” Jimin inquires.

“Yeah, it definitely looked like you were about to fuck!” Taehyung exclaims, drunk giggles spilling over his lips.

Yoongi just keeps his head turned away from you, gathering his things. You sigh.

“Well, you know, Tae. I kinda thought so too,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than you normally would be, “but it seems Yoongi here has other plans.”

Yoongi’s head snaps around to look at you. They, once again, are dark and hungry, and his pupils are blown out and distorting his irises. He snatches your wrist from beside you and pulls you along behind him. You turn and wave a confused wave to the boys, and you let Yoongi lead you outside.

Before you know it, he has you pushed up against the wall outside of the club. His body, once again, pressing against yours. “Tell me what you want” he growls into your ear.

“I want...I want you” you say, suddenly shy again in the cool night air,

His mouth finally makes contact with your skin. He places several small kisses along your jawline on your neck before he places a sloppy open mouth kiss there, pulling the skin with his teeth and sucking it. You know it’s going to leave a mark, and you don’t care. He lifts his head slightly, hot breath on your neck igniting a fire inside of you. “Say my name.”

“Yoongi, I want you,” you whisper back to him. He growls deep in his chest again before pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. He pulls back and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“My Uber will be here in 2 minutes. Are you coming?” He asks as he slides his phone back in his pocket.

“Yes. Take me home, Yoongi.”

“I’ll take you home if you tell me about that dream,” he says, lips quirked into a smirk.

You roll your eyes, and you press one kiss to his lips. “Fine. I watch you wrap those beautiful hands of yours around your cock, and you stroke yourself until you cum. I’m not really involved until the end.”

“Oh? And what happens at the end?” he says with a smirk, bringing his hand back to your face.

“I never get to finish it, so I guess we’ll both have to find out,” you say against his lips. As he runs his finger across both of your lips, you say, “And these things are what got me into this mess in the first place?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but he gets a notification that the Uber has arrived. He guides you into the cab with a hand on the small of your back, and you feel like your skin is on fire. In the car, he keeps his hand on your thigh, sliding it further and further up toward your panties, while holding a conversation with the driver.

Once you’ve gotten to his place and are inside the door, he body is on yours for the third time tonight.

He puts his fingers against your lips again and says, “since these caused all the trouble, why don’t you show me what you want me to do with them?”

You slightly part your lips and bring your tongue to meet the tip of his middle finger. You like up the length of it and swirl your tongue around it. Yoongi groans. “Please, Yoongi, put your fingers in my mouth,” you whine.

He obliges, slipping two long, delectable digits past your lips and presses down on your tongue. You suck on them hard and close your eyes at how good it feels to finally get what you’ve been dreaming about.

He slides his fingers back out of your mouth, and you put a little until he puts his lips on yours. He kisses your hard, full of passion and lust, and he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You reciprocate, tongue dancing with his. The kiss is sloppy and a little drunk and filled with all the things that have been unsaid. He moves his mouth down your neck and onto your chest. Against your skin he groans, “God, I’ve wanted to kiss here since that first time I saw that blush creeping down your neck. Wanted to follow it with my tongue. Wanted you.”

He picks you up and starts carrying you further into his apartment. He’s powerful for such a slight man, and he does not struggle to get you to his room. He throws you on his bed, pulls his shirt over his head, and climbs on top of you. “Can I taste you?” he asks.

You can only nod in response, and he pushes your dress up and pulls it over your head. You hadn’t been planning on anyone seeing your underwear today, so you are wearing a plain black cotton bra and plain black cotton panties. You feel a little self conscious in the moment, but you feel Yoongi’s eyes raking over you, taking you in. “Oh,” he whispers to himself, “so pretty. Even better than I imagined.”

He kisses your lips one more time then crawls down your body. He places one of his large hands on each of your thighs and pushes them open. He runs his fingers down your folds starting from your clit, then he gently rakes them back up. “So wet for me,” he says, as he continues to languidly run his fingers up and down, pausing each time he reaches your entrance.

“Yoongi, please. I need you,” you whimper, as he pauses once again.

He brings his face close to your cunt, millimeters away, and he spreads you open and blows cool air on your clit. You involuntarily buck up into his lips. He takes your clit between his lips and begins to suck lightly. He pushes two fingers into your cunt, while he uses his tongue to draw languorous circles around your clit, coaxing mewling moans from you. He pumps his fingers into you, and you feel like you’re going to cum already. The heat in your belly is turning to tightness that feels like a rubber band that is going to snap.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out, “gonna cum.” You reach out and run a hand through his dark hair. Losing yourself for a moment in watching the way that it looks between your fingers, tugging it gently.

“Cum for me, baby,” he says against your folds, and, as your hips start to buck up into his face, he flattens his tongue for you to take the lead. You grind against his tongue, and the heat floods to your cunt. Your muscles contract, and you throw your head back. The rubber band inside of you snaps. Everything in your brain goes black for a second and the only thing that exists is Yoongi’s tongue. You can hear yourself moaning loudly as you ride his tongue and your orgasm.

As you come down, your breathing starts to steady. Yoongi kisses you on your hip, then your belly. He kisses your chest, taking one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. He pops off and moves to the other nipple. While he sucks on the left nipple, he takes the right between his thumb and index fingers and begins to roll it. Even though you just had your orgasm, you can feel yourself getting turned on again. You watch his lithe fingers tweak the sensitive peaks on your chest, and when you look at his face finally, he is watching you.

“You’re really into my hands, aren’t you? You maybe even...love my hands?” he asks with a cheeky grin on his face. You are brought back to your Freudian slip in the meeting after the icebreaker.

You give him a serious look and roll over on top of him. You bring your legs on either side of his narrow hips, and you stare him in the eye. You take his hands and lace your fingers between his, placing gentle kisses on each knuckle.”I’m y/n, and I love your hands,” you say as you slide his thumb into your mouth again. He takes his thumb and hooks it behind your teeth, pulling your mouth open and angling your head down to look at him.

“Please fuck me,” he says.

“Whoa. I didn’t picture Min Yoongi as the ‘please fuck me’ type,” you say, genuinely startled.

“You’ve been teasing me since that first day. What am I supposed to do? I’ve tried everything. I went to talk to you. I asked to be on this project with you. I think now the only thing left to do is beg for it.” He’s exasperated, words flying out of his mouth, while his hips cause his clothed length to caress your bare folds, slowly and gently.

You hop off his lap, undo his pants and take them off, feeling a little disappointed that dream-Yoongi always still has his pants on. You see his bulge pressed against his boxer briefs, and you can already tell it’s thicker than you imagine it. You pull down his underwear and climb back into his lap. “Say it again.”

“Please fuck me. Tae said it was so good. Let me feel your pussy. Please.”

His begging goes straight to your core, so you take your hand and wrap it around his cock, admiring the weight of it for a moment. “I’m clean, and I have an IUD,” you say before you move any further.

“Oh shit. Are you gonna let me fuck you raw? Oh my god, yes. I’m clean. Please.”

You guide his cock into you, and as you slide down, you close your eyes and hear a sharp intake of air from the man underneath you.

“Oh my god. You’re so perfect. Holy shit. I don’t normally talk this much, but holy shit. I’m drunk and you feel so good. You’re so wet. Is that just for me?” he is rambling while you slowly slide all the way down him.

When you finally have him inside you to the hilt, you say, “I’m only this wet for you, Yoongi. Please move.”

He doesn’t take a second to ask or think twice about it, and he rolls his hips into your, holding on to your hips. His whispers of shit and fuck and so wet fill the room with your small moans. As you ride him, you feel him curving up gently to hit the bundle of nerves inside. He brings his thumb down to rub your clit was he starts thrusting faster and harder into you.

“Not gonna last long. Want you to cum again,” he manages to get out.

Before you know it, he has flipped you onto your back again and he is thrusting at your from above. His thrusts are a little erratic now, and his thumb is rubbing less rhythmic circles on your clit. You feel that rubber band snapping inside of you again. You cry out, and Yoongi’s hips stutter.

“Oh fuck. Your cunt clenching around me fuck. I wanna cum on those pretty tits,” he says as he pulls out of you. “Want me to make your fantasy real?”

He drapes his hand around his cock and, just as you imagined, focuses his attention on the head, running his thumb over the slit in the top, but then rapidly stroking the head. He cums in ropes on your chest, with your name on his lips. He breathes heavily, leaning on one arm into the headboard. He looks up at you, looking satisfied and fucked out. He swipes one of his fingers through the cum on your chest and brings it to your mouth. You wrap your lips around his finger and suck it until the sticky substance is gone.

“Fuck. I can’t wait to see what else you do. Tae did say you are down for anything.”

You groan as he sits up to go get you a washcloth.

“Well, Tae is not nearly as hot as you are.”

Yoongi looks genuinely surprised and flattered when he comes back into the room to clean you off. He gently wipes your chest and places kisses wear the warm, wet towel had just been. When he crawls into bed next to you, he pulls you to his chest.

“I can get going now if you want,” you mumble, not wanting to leave his embrace at all.

“Why would I want that? I want you here. I really like you. Also, I definitely want to do that again in the morning, and it’s easier if you’re just here already,” he says and places a small kiss on your lips.

You smile as you rest your head against his chest. “I really like you too.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi imagine #suga smut

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lemonjoonah · 6 years ago

Text

Beastly Gods (M)

Pairings: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader x ??? Word Count: 8K Rating: M Genre: Hybrid AU, Thriller, Drama Warnings: Smut scene (Unprotected Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Fingering, Cum Play), Blood, Captivity, Themes of Obsession and Ownership.

Summary: ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you've been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

AN: Not your typical Hybrid AU. At first I was going to release secondary love interest information, but then I thought, fuck it, you’ll guys will just have to wait until the end to see who watches over the forest *Cackles*. Story is dedicated to @lovelesscherry who reblogged a cabin room photo that started this whole mess of an idea.

...

A large oak stands in front of you as your best method to reach the sky, the only tool you have for your small calculated rebellion.

You’ve been taught since birth, ‘Don’t leave the forest. As long as you remain within the woods you are safe, but anything which goes out beyond the line of trees is his to take. ’ The lessons refer to the so called protector of your forest, a self proclaimed god, and the one you live to hate. Some have made attempts to leave over the years, to go past the tree line but none of them have returned. The people of your village believe them to be dead but you hold out hope that maybe they found something better.

You grab the first branch and haul yourself up. The first step is always the most difficult, with such a large distance between it and the forest floor. Going from there is only too easy, stepping from limb to limb as you make your rise to the top.

Three generations of your people have resided in this place. Some call it home but to you it is nothing more than a cage. The branches creating the bars which entrap you in this life. You wish to see the open sky unobscured by the reach of the trees, so everyday you make the climb to the highest tree top you can.

Those that had made previous attempts to escape left the forest perimeter on the ground, but you take your brief moment of freedom from up high. You delight in having found a weakness in his pen, one god surely would have difficulty watching all sides of the forest, why would he even bother to check the treetops? Up here you are safe, you are free. It may seem like a pointless rebellion but to you it’s everything, reaching beyond the branches has become your way of showing that you are not complacent.

On this climb you barely rise above the majority of the treeline. You yearn to go even higher but the next set of branches are too weak to support your weight. Settling in with your against the trunk you watch the birds soaring off in the distance, envying their wings and their freedom.

You’re only able to remain in your tree top few minutes each day, concerned that someone might find you up here. Those in the village believe you will bring the gods wrath upon them if you act out in any way. They have no wish to anger your keeper, fearing that your bloody history would play out once again...

In their effort to reach new scientific heights, your ancestors had brought on the downfall of their own human race. They thought to create a new species, one that was half human, half animal, with an intent to be used and to fill a variety of purposes. Little did your people know that they would revolt, a hybrid’s power could not be tamed, and they had no wish to be formed into a mould of a domesticated pet. The hybrids were so deeply ingrained in the lives of humans that it was only too easy for them to take control. They used all of the knowledge they had gathered and strength they had been breed to wield against their owners in a revolution.

The hybrids rose above their masters to take their place as gods. They took everything away that could be used against them, and divided your surviving race among their own. Your ancestors were sent to hide in the forest to live under the hybrids rule, their protection, while paying homage and give offerings to the new lords, and that is where your people have resided ever since.

When the divide first happened there were stories of these gods fighting each other for territory, trying to take humans from under another’s rule, or lay claim to land that was not their own. People say that they know each other’s weakness, that only gods can find a way to end the reign of another. But from what you know there has been no such question of your past gods’ or their descendants’ authority.

...

Once a week your village is expected to leave an offering at the edge of the forest. In exchange for the ‘protection’ given to your village you supply the beastly god with food. There’s no extravagant ceremony you simply leave the sack in the designated spot and leave. In the past you’ve been tempted to stay and see if you could witness the so-called-god, but he has never shown himself while you’re there.

Your walk to the edge is quiet, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. The usual sounds of the forest fail to reach this far with the only noise coming from the cracking of twigs beneath your feet. You are steps away from your intended location when your path becomes blocked, a massive feathered creature falling to the ground in in front of you.

In a panic you hide behind the nearest tree to observe the fallen beast. Your curiosity begs you to watch, outweighing the fear which orders you to flee.

Glossy black wings that could easily be twenty feet in span, sprout from a back of a male who currently lays face down in the dirt. The hybrid lets out a groan and a swear punching the ground on which he rests with a gloved fist. As he lifts his head you slide back to conceal yourself.

“Human?” He calls out to you. “I know your there, I can hear you breathing.”

You tremble and your back presses into the bark of the trunk. Your hand covering your mouth in a last ditch attempt to conceal yourself.

“I can still hear you.... I need your assistance.”

“I am to leave food nothing else, that’s the agreement.” You call out.

“Yes, you’re right, but I rather get out of here before the one who injured me comes to finish me off. I’ll make a deal with you if you assist me”

“Who injured you?” You asked with a quaking voice.

“A god who keeps you here, one who watches this forest.” His reply encourages you to poke out from behind the tree to view the beast. Could it be? Someone has finally come to challenge your gods rule?

His face is dirty and bruised but even that can not hide the sharpness to his facial features. His shirt is an unusual fashion, flowing down from over top of his shoulders and lacing just under the bottom of his wing. It appears to be intact with no wounds showing, but on his gloves you notice a dark stain, that of blood.

Wings splay out behind him, one fully extended but the other is curled and dragging on the ground slightly hidden from you. “I’m glad to see that I have your attention now.” A smirk crosses his face as he looks upon you with the same curiosity that you have for him.

“W-why are you here?”

“Property dispute.” He laughs as if it’s a joke, but it seems that immediately regrets his decision when a pained look crosses his face. His damaged wing shifts closer, allowing you to see several broken feathers at it’s crest along with the deep read stain of blood. “I need your help.”

“Why should I?” He might not be the god who has entrapped you here, but that doesn’t mean he is innocent either.

“You want to get out of this forest don’t you? I’m too injured to fly, I need you to hide me in the forest while I heal. Do this and I’ll take you out of here.”

He needs permission to set foot on the grounds of your forest, that was the deal struck when your race was confined, they have their space and you have yours. “How long before you can fly again?”

He looks at the damage to his wing carefully, “It’s difficult to say maybe a couple weeks, maybe month?”

“A month! You want me to hide you for a month?”

“I’ll need food and a place to rest as well. What’s one month when it will give you a life outside of this forest?”

You ponder his offer with a bite to your lip, the wings you have longed for have finally come to you, but unfortunately they are attached to... conditions. “When you’re healed, you promise to get me out of here?”

“When I can fly I promise you’ll never have to come back to these woods again.” He struggles to stand his wing weighing him down with him unable to lift it properly.

Emboldened by the guarantee of freedom you approach him carefully, ready to flee if he makes even the slightest aggressive move.

“Such a skittish little dove,” He remarks on your stance.

“That’s not my name,” You respond flatly.

“Oh then what is?” He pries, but you consider that information might be best to keep to yourself. He smiles, clearly seeing the conflict rise up in you, “No matter, you can call me Taehyung if you wish. We should get moving before he comes back. I may have injured him too but I don’t think it was as bad as my own state.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Come here,” he prompts you to move closer with an outreached hand.

Taking your arm he places you at his side, “I can’t hold it up very easily myself.” His injured wing nudges at your back, “May I?” You nod looking hesitant with the weight of the wing unsure if you’ll be able to support it either.

With a groan he stretches it out, the bridge of the wing comes to rest on your shoulders, the soft feathers tickling at your neck. It’s not as heavy as you expect, but there’s a warmth to it as if you’re wrapped in a down blanket. Relief breaks across his face, “Thank you,” he whispers with a deep sigh.

“I live a far bit outside of the village, you should be fine in my cabin as long as you don’t take any excursions.”

“Yes Little Dove,” He gives you a wide boxy smile, an indication that he might not be taking you as seriously as you hoped.

“I mean it, if someone even catches a glimpse of your face let alone your wings they’ll know something’s not right.” Your people would be furious if they found out you invited one of them in. They may obey the hybrid’s laws but it’s out of fear, not respect.

Your progress is slow, but that allows you to ease back to your door under the cover of darkness. As soon as you step inside you draw the curtains closed and light a couple of lamps in the small living room. “Sit down, I’ll fetch something for your wound.” You press him onto the couch while you find your supplies

Your kit looks grim. Alcohol and bandages will have to suffice, your stock has run low and the salve has reached the bottom of the tin.

As you return to him you can see that he is having difficulty reaching the wound with its location on the crest of his wing just behind his shoulder. “I think I’ll need your assistance again.”

“I-I don’t, I’ve never looked after...” You know the wings of birds to be fragile and the thought of damaging it more worries you.

“I can direct you.”

The cut for the most part has clotted and it doesn’t appear too deep, but this spot must incur a lot of strain during flight, making it impossible for him to fly in such a state.

Taehyung takes your hand hovers it over the affected area. He looks back to direct your touch as you stand in front of where he sits. “You see the broken and crooked feathers?” You nod touching the very tip of one. “Those are going going to have to come out.”

“What?!”

“They’ll grow back and it’s just a couple.” There are maybe five or six at most that look to be in terrible shape, but that doesn’t make the thought of what you are about to do any less daunting. You grab the first by it’s base and look back to him to make sure. Taehyung gives you a nod to proceed. As the stem dislodges he grabs your waist, his head leans into you while he gasps.

“Sorry,” You mutter unsure of what else to say.

“No it’s fine keep going.”

With the next feather his other wing unfurls and beats angrily knocking a chair over in the process. A slight whimper escapes him drawing pity from you. You had expected his kind to be strong and without pain but here he is exhibiting a weakness.

“Almost done,” You whisper as his long fingers continue to hold you.

After pulling out the last, you step back from him, with a half dozen quills in your hand. You examine the black plumage carefully, admiring their beauty and the way they shine in the candle light.

You can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you, watching you as your fingers glide over the feathers. You blush offering them back to the winged man.

“You can keep them Little Dove,” he chuckles, “I have plenty.”

You smile, embarrassed by the fact that he had caught your interest in them. Soaking a cloth in the clear alcohol you move forward again, with the broken feathers out of the way you have a better view of the cut. You perch yourself carefully not hovering this time but kneeling next to him on the couch with one leg between his to get a closer look. There a bit of dirt from his fall, you can only hope that the alcohol will be enough to prevent it from getting infected. “This is going to hurt too,” you warn him.

“I doubt it will be worse than... fu-fuck!” His good wing curls round closing in as he pulls you to his chest in reaction to the pain. You are the one to gasp this time as his mouth nips down on your shoulder.

“Taehyung?” You make an attempt to pull his hands off but his grip digs in like a pair of talons latching to its prey. “Taehyung, that hurts! You have to let go, you have to let me finish.” He releases you slowly but you can still feel him winch with every touch of the cloth. Finding a fresh linen you question how you should secure it. It’s not like you can wrap it in place that would have to encompass the entire width of his wing and might damage some of his other feathers.

You take a look through your cupboards looking for anything that might function as an adhesive. Your eyes settle on a golden jar of honey, it’s a decent antiseptic and hopefully it should make the cloth stick too. With the flat of a spoon you spread it over the bandage and place it carefully on, you smile in success when it appears to be secure.

“Thank you Little Dove, I guess you humans have a few more uses than I thought,” He laughs.

Your face falls at his comment, remembering what he truly is. What his kind have done to your people. “Get some sleep, you’ll need it to heal.” You growl standing to make a swift exit to your room.

“Wait, how am I supposed to sleep with my wings on a couch?” He whines back looking confused by the change in your tone.

“Figure it out yourself, I’ve just reached the limit of my usefulness.” You throw back at him in anger, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. He’s your ticket out of here, one month and your free, one month and you can escape this enclosed life and try to find something even greater. You look down to the feathers in your hand and set them on your side table, wishing that you could have your own and not have to rely on his.

Sleep does not come easy that night, every sound from the other room has you wondering what the beast might be up to, and whether you can actually trust him to keep his side of the bargain.

...

You rise with the sun peering in the large window of your bedroom. Carefully stepping out to your living room you find Taehyung sprawled out on the couch, cuddling one of the cushions while his injured wing lays flat, propped up by one of your chairs. On the stove fire you bring a pot of water to boil, using it to fill two bowls of oatmeal and a basin.

You try to wake him, but after calling his name and shaking his shoulder you find this task to be pointless. The bandage has to be changed before you leave, if he refuses to wake up beforehand he will within a minute or two after you start. You dip the rag into the basin of warm water and place it over the gauze patch melting the honey to allow for an easier removal.

You can see a sleepy smile creep onto Taehyung’s face, he abandons the pillow and allows his arms to trail over you instead. This all comes to a halt as you remove the bandage. His eyes fly open as a hiss greets you. “What the hell?”

“What? I tired to wake you, but I guess I can’t help you with that either.”

“Fuck,” He groans in pain, “I’m sorry okay? It was a stupid comment.”

“If you are going to stay here you either respect me as an equal, or I’ll throw you out of the cabin. I have to leave soon, so let me finish. I made you food, not sure if you’re able to eat it though.”

“I’m not picky, my kind can eat anything.”

You reapply the honey to a new linen square and dress the wound once again, as he takes the bowl of porridge.

After finishing you gather your cloak and boots that you discarded haphazardly the day before.

“Where are you going?” He looks up to you before taking another bite of his meal.

“I’m one of the foragers, I look for additional food that’s not grown on the smaller farms, mushrooms berries, nuts, whatever we can get our hands on.” You explain while tying a boot.

His eyes grow wide, “You shouldn't go out there it’s not safe for you.”

“Yeah well, your kind should have thought of that before you drove us into the second dark age.”

“That was for your safety too. It wasn’t just about our freedom, you humans have a way of destroying yourselves and everything around you, my ancestors were trying to protect what was left.”

“Then it should be perfectly fine now...” you goad him.

“Stay away from the edge of the forest,” He instructs. “And don’t climb any trees.”

“How did you...” You stop for a second stunned by his knowledge of your little secret.

“Please, just trust me.” Taehyung gives not further explanation, he only stares back at you with a distinct look of sincerity.

You wish you could question him more but you have to leave, or some of the other foragers might come to your cabin to find you.

...

You return that evening to find Taehyung wide eyed with worry. He smiles brightly at you but the stress and confinement has clearly left him agitated.

“Okay talk, you clearly know more than you let on.”

“I’m not sure what...”

“Don’t climb any trees?” You throw your cloak down on the chair beside you in frustration. You thought all day about the possibilities and the questions you need to ask of him, wasting no time before grilling him with your inquiries, “How do you know that I do that when no one else in this village does. Why are you really here?”

“I’ve seen you before,” Taehyung looks down at his feet while he exposes his truth. “When you were climbing. I had never seen a human do that before, you peaked my interest.”

“Really? That was why you came?”

“What can I say? My kind have a weakness for pretty things... and you’re little rebellion drew me in.” He looks back to you again with a side smile. “I wanted to come find you, maybe even take you from this place. Your god does not have your best interest at heart, or at least the type of freedom you desire.”

“What is he?”

“A winged creature the same as myself, a crow hybrid.”

“But today you said I wasn’t safe, what’s changed from all the days before?”

Taehyung takes a deep breath looking hesitant to share the next bit of information with you, “Rumour is that he’s looking for a mate, and has you in mind. I’m not the only one who saw you climbing. You look so very much at home in the trees, I can see why he chose you.”

You are beyond revolted by the thought, bile begins to rise in your throat, a panic sets in as you consider the imposing threat of a god’s affection. You sit down next to Taehyung cowering with you hands on your face, “But he can’t, he can’t take me. He made a pact with my people, he can’t even set foot in the forest unless we give permission.”

“No he can’t,” Taehyung removes your grip from yourself, and takes your chin in his own hands to ensure that you are focused on him, that you take in every word as cautionary advice. “Not unless you leave the forest with him, for your sake don’t leave my side. No matter what happens, no matter what tricks he plays or what he might do to persuade you, don’t leave with anyone else but me. If you step outside with him willingly you become his property. If that happens I can’t save you.”

“You were hurt before, do you really think we can leave if he is determined?”

“I do, I was caught off guard when he attacked. Let’s just say I have friends in high places who will prevent that from happening again.”

...

The weeks that follow are by no means unpleasant. Although the hybrid was arrogant at first he soon comes down to your level. While you tell him of your life here and your true name, he returns the favour of your honestly with tales of flight and what it feels like to soar through the sky.

You had no idea what to expect living with him, there some habits that of his you enjoy, and others that can be a little... frustrating. You once spent half an hour looking for your cloak only to find that Taehyung had stolen it to add to his bed. He apologized saying that it is a trait of his kind. Little things of yours still go missing though, most are found in the same place, wrapped within the nest of blankets that he has created on the couch, but there must be a half dozen objects which you’ve never managed to track down again. As an apology for taking your belongings he leaves feathers on your pillow. A smile crosses your face each time as you add them to the collection on your bedside table. This soft ink-black bouquet has become the focal point of your room, one from which you cannot draw your eyes away, a lure that leads your thoughts back to Taehyung even after you leave him for the night.

To your delight his wing is healing rapidly, everyday you feel one step closer to freedom. He couldn’t have come at a better time with the pressures from your village. They have been telling you that it’s time to settle down, to stop living with your head in the clouds, and start thinking about the future of this little town and how you can contribute. But every time they bring up the possibility of a match your mind drifts to Taehyung.

You haven’t even escaped with him yet but when you’re with him you feel unrestrained. How he rather observe your actions and listen to your thoughts rather than criticize them like those in your village. He is the only one to have ever give you a choice in what you wanted, and now because of that you find yourself longing for him.

...

“You shouldn’t go out there today Little Dove,”

“I won’t go near the edge of the forest.”

“No it’s not just that. There’s a storm coming.” You notice the slight shiver to his skin as he says those words. The feathers of his wings ruffle and puff out, he looks as if his instinct is telling him to flee.

You begin to worry but not for the same reasons, a winter storm this early could be devastating to the food collection.

“I have to, if there’s is a storm on the way we need to gather everything we can before it’s covered in snow. I’ll keep an eye out and come back before it hits.”

You know that Taehyung would want you to stay close but in all good conscience you can’t. Instead you push yourself even further into the depths of the forest, separating from the rest of the party. You reach areas to forage that you usually don’t use until later in the season. With winter on it’s the way sooner than expected you can’t afford to miss this opportunity to gather all you can.

It was a stupid thing to do you realize on your trek back, you’re not even a quarter of the way home when the freezing rain begins to pelt your cloak. Your hands grow painfully numb from the cold lashing against your skin. An hour later and you are still haven’t returned, your clothes are thoroughly soaked with parts of the cloth freezing in the frigid air.

The day goes from bad to worse when the snow starts, obscuring your vision as it falls from the sky. You can only pray that you are heading in the right direction, as your feet move forward. The world completely awash by the flurry around you.

Your progress slows as you step into the drifts. The icy chill penetrates deep into your legs, leaving you barely able to move, and your mind unwilling to focus on anything other than the warmth you crave. Your sight grows fuzzy, leaving you to question it as you catch glimpses of what you desire, black feathers, littering the ground and the path in front of you. You look to the sky but are only meet with the blanket of white that continues to fall. You can’t be sure if you are just seeing things, that maybe your mind has created a delusion of hope to lead you on. But you follow the trail of feathers regardless, wanting so badly to be embraced by the warm wings you know so well.

Between the gusts of wind you can almost here whispers of the name he has given you, ‘Little Dove.’ You follow the soft voice in a trance desperate to leave this frozen place by any means necessary.

It’s not until you hear shouting behind you that you are shaken from your daze.

“No Little Dove, that’s the wrong way!” Taehyung's voice and arm close in around you blocking out everything else. He shrouds you with a cloak which he too hides beneath. His wings forming a large mound of a back but still hidden from view.

He picks you up and turns back in the direction from which he came. Trudging through the snow drifts that had made you stumble.

Once you reach the cabin he pulls off your cloak and sets you in front of the glowing fire in your bedroom. Proceeding to layer it with log after log until it’s as tall as the stove will allow. Every candle and lamp in the room is lit by his hand. The warmth is slow to hit while your clothes are still frozen. Pulling a blanket from your bed you strip beneath leaving your undergarments on wrapped beneath the heavy fibres.

Taehyung to begins to undress too although modesty does not seem to be a concern of his. Exposing everything to the air except what lies beneath his underwear. He takes a seat next to you on the floor in front of the fire. “You promised you would be back in time. What were you thinking? He almost had you.”

“I lost track of time, when the storm set in I couldn’t see.” Your teeth chatter as you try to absorb the heat.

“You’re lucky I came to find you.”

Taehyung stretches out his wings behind you shaking them slightly to dislodge the moisture that seeped in through his cloak.

You turn to face one of the wings letting your arm reach up from beneath the blanket. Your fingers brush through his damp feathers, grooming them back into place. There’s a low vibration at the back of his throat as his eyes close.

“Why did you? You’re almost healed you could probably manage flight on your own. It would be easier for you to escape that way.” You pause with your fingers buried deep in down coat of his wing as you look up to his content face.

“Please don’t stop,” he begs looking down to place his hand on yours, urging you to keep going. “I told you I came to find you, I gave you my word. Do you think that I wish to lose you to someone else? Or that I would leave you to escape out there alone?”

Taehyung takes a deep breath causing his wings to shudder beneath your touch, “Little Dove, I’m sorry I should have told you sooner but the freedom which you were looking for, it does not exist for humans. Not outside of these confined spaces. Those who are found unaccompanied are either killed or taken to maintain control. I question taking you out there without you knowing that it truly is safer in here. I would rather rip these wings off than expose you to those who reside out there. I wish I could live with you in this cage forever, with you and you alone.”

It’s as the village has always told you, but even now knowing the definite truth you still find yourself wishing to leave, “Please keep your promise, I don’t care about the consequences anymore I just need to leave this forest.”

“I won’t break it. I just need to make you aware of what you might see out there. It’s a life of basic instinct, one that you won’t be able to survive alone. If you want to exist in safety you’ll be forced to stay by my side. Do you really think you can handle that Little Dove?” His deep voice echoes through you as his hands trail your back. “What would your people say if they saw you with a beast like me?”

“I don’t care. They are set in their ways with their feet rooted to the ground, they are part of this cage. I’ve never wanted to leave as much as I do now, I want to leave here with you, I want to stay with you.”

Your hand moves from his wing to touch his cheek, when you hesitate an inch from his face he leans in to meet your grasp. His lips graze the skin of your palm as he looks at you through narrowed eyes. It’s as if your touch has woken a demon inside of him, one who demands your surrender, which you are only too glad to give. He rips the blanket from your shoulders and crashes into your chest. His mouth finds yours and wastes no time before claiming the warmth behind your lips.

Taehyung rises up tugging you off the floor and into his arms, completely encasing you with the walls his wings as you stand against him. Feeling his feathers caress the bareness of your back as you are pressed to his chest sends shivers through you. His mouth nips at your neck with sharp bites. Your feel like the pain should bother you but you find yourself wanting more, more of him, more of this.

You are tired of this enclosure that you live in. How everyone considers the fact that they are being watched, causing them to act too good, too pure, and never giving into what they truly desire. Is it so bad to want feel everything at the hands of the man currently holding you?

“I long for the day where I can leave with you, and tell everyone that you’re mine. I want to show them how I can make you feel.” His hand trails to your chest, reaching behind to unlatch you bra, “The blush rising to your skin,” His hands continue downwards falling next under the band of your underwear pushing them down until they fall to the floor, “the dampness between your legs,” You fold into him as his fingers touch the arousal to which he was just referring, “The look on your face as I take you. Would you like that? To show your god that you belong to me?”

You smile at the thought, your little rebellion becoming far more than climbing trees, “More than anything.”

Taehyung growls with pleasure. “Little Dove.” He turns you around and guides his shaft inside you from behind as your legs wobble on the floor. His hand reaches down to rub the swollen numb at your crest. He stays like that for a moment, no movement no thrusting, just letting you get used to the girth between your legs. Your body begins to overheat, desperate with a wish for him to continue.

“Do you truly want to show him how I fuck you, how you enjoy taking my cock?”

“Yes.” You whisper back only able to answer with a single word while the rest of you voice is lost in a moan.

“As you wish.” Taehyung unfurls his wings and pins you against the large window of your room. A loud cry leaves you from the shock of the cool glass pressing against you. “If he’s watching, let’s give him a show,” He growls in your ear.

The exposure is overwhelming, the window pane is freezing against your sensitive chest, the thought that someone might see you is terrifying, but at the same time you can feel the arousal drip down your thighs as he shoves you against the glass with each thrust. His hands come to find yours against the window and cling to them. While your breath leaves a wave of condensation against the pane.

“Is this okay Little Dove? Do you like how I have you splayed out for all to see?” You nod giving him a whimper as he thrusts once again. “It’s such a pretty sight.” Taehyung whispers into your ear and proceeds to nip at your lobe.

He pulls out and flips you around forcing your back against the glass. Taehyung wraps your arms around his neck before taking one your thighs in each hand. He lifts you up and glides back in. “Fuck Little Dove, if I had known you would be this soft and warm I would have come to you sooner.”

His pace is relentless as he continues to swell inside you. Pressing even further against you, he helps you to lock your legs around his back. After the coolness of the glass, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours is so soothing that the tightness inside you starts to unravel. You clench down causing him to gasp and swear as you come on his cock. You quake in his arms unable to hang on as the pleasure runs through you.

“Tae-Taehyung...” You shudder in his hands your head drooping to your arm on the crook of his neck.

“That’s it, sing for me Little Dove.” He forces your head back and snaps down on your neck with his teeth. As you unleash another moan for him, you can feel his warmth spill inside you. He remains within while his lips begin to stroke across your skin, giving a soft caress to the area he just assaulted with his teeth. The rise and fall of his chest slows and matches yours as you both catch your breath.

He lowers you both down to the floor on the discarded blanket in front of the window with you resting on top of him. You make an attempt to reach for a cloth to clean up the cum seeping from you, when Taehyung stops you by folding over his wings to entrap you against him.

“No you don’t, you’re staying right here.”

You blush as you try to explain the reasoning behind your actions, “I’m going to drip all over you...”

“Good,” He reaches around your back, arching himself forward to lay his fingers against your swollen folds. “Why would I want to waste this?” You twitch as the tips run along you slit. “You are mine Little Dove and this proves it.” His index slides inside, drawing a whine from the sensation and twitch at his touch. His other arm wraps around your waist keeping you locked against him as he adds another finger to the first. You continue to writhe against him but he does not relent.

Your hands grip his chest as you find yourself chasing that release once again. Taehyung smiles down at you as you give into him for a second time. His wings draw even closer teasing your back with light touches as his fingers become more ruthless. Your walls close in and throb around his digits as the orgasm tears through you.

When his fingers pull out you are left with a breathless sigh. He draws his damp tips across your ass and lower back, as his mutters down to you with a smirk. “If you try to clean up again, I promise to paint you with even more of your cum and my own, is that understood?”

You relax against him nodding with a grin, you look to the cloth and consider rebelling for a third time before you fall asleep.

...

The next morning you wake still cocooned in Taehyung’s wings. The warmth of the sun absorbed in his feather is makes it a cozy spot. You poke your head out to look through the window, finding the forest bright with the light reflecting off the fresh snow and ice layered on the bark.

But as you look further up in the trees you still, unable to believe the sight. Resting on a branch you find a creature with an enormous black wings, a reach even farther than Taehyung’s mounted behind a pair of broad shoulders. The face peering down could easily be that of god, even if it is not truly divine.

In a panic you shake Taehyung while keeping your eyes on the beast, “Taehyung wake up.”

“Mmm, but you’re so warm Little Dove.”

“H-he’s out there...”

Taehyung shoots up to glance out the window, a look of disdain rooting into his expression as glares up. “Time’s up, we have to go,” He mutters pressing the blanket on to you for cover as you both get up.

“How is he even in the forest? He has no right.”

“You’re laws have holes, he has not set foot on the forest grounds, he has broken no rules by being there. This is why I asked you not to climb the trees.”

You closed the curtains and throw on your nearest outfit, before asking the most important question. “Are you healed enough to fly?”

“I can get you out of here, I can get you to safety, I promise. We have to get to the edge of the forest though, I need more room though can’t take off and fly with you through the trees they’re too narrow.”

You quickly pack small satchel with a few essentials. Your eyes linger on the stray feathers on your table before packing those too. They’ve become so valuable to you, you can’t bear the the thought of leaving them behind.

You both rush out the back door running through the trees heading south to the nearest break in the woods. A shadow looming overhead as you run.

Taehyung stops and looks up as your pursuer does the same, “Keep going I’ll take care of him, wait for me near the edge.”

“Taehyung...” You begin argue back.

“I’ll be fine, just remember what I said.”

Before you can give him another word he runs back towards the god, taking to the trees with one swift leap.

The snow is still deep and uneven in parts slowing your exit, so when the break in the forest appears in front of you, you feel a deep relief. Your freedom is almost here you are so close to touching it. You thought that your wait might be over as a set of black wings lower in front of you, but they are not Taehyung's, nor do they belong to the god who peered down at you from the trees.

The winged man offers you a hand, he puts on a friendly face with a bright smile. “You need to come with me.”

You back away knowing what will happen if you do.

Sensing your fear he urges your hand to come to his once again, “I know Taehyung, I’ll bring him to you once your safe.”

He may know Taehyung’s name but you still can’t trust him, “I’m not leaving with you, I know how your games work.”

“Oh Little Dove, you have no idea...” A wicked smile appears on his face, as he witnesses the rise in confusion with the use of your nickname.

Taehyung comes up from behind pulling you into his arms. “Nice try Hoseok, did you make a deal with Seokjin to distract me?”

“It was worth a shot.” Hoseok’s face falls to bitterness as he looks to the man holding you.

Taehyung looks ready to pounce upon this hybrid too, but Just as Taehyung fell on the day that you meet him another pair of wings darts down from this sky. Although this decent appears to be more calculated, taking down the beast called Hoseok.

“Yoongi...” Taehyung calls out stepping forward to help him.

“Go! I’ve got him.” The hybrid shouts pinning the other beneath him.

Taehyung turns to you, “If you want to leave with me, we have to go now.”

He holds out his long slender fingers, to take yours. You hesitate but follow through, knowing that you would give anything to escape the wooden cage behind you.

The second your hand touches his and you step over the line he swoops you up into his arms. Seeing the full span of his wings takes your breath away. He holds you close as he lifts from the ground, the smile on your face grows as you reach the unobstructed blue sky, leaving the forest behind. But your joy is short lived for you don’t even travel out of view of the forest before his pace slows.

“Your wing, is it okay?”

“Of course Little Dove,” you turn your head away from the sky to the direction in which you are heading, finding a house built high on the branches of a tree. He sets you down on the balcony of the wooden house and presses you inside with a soft kiss to you check. “Welcome home...”

You look around you surroundings and notice a few of your missing belongings scattered about, from clothes, to jewellery that had been passed down to you, as well as one of your favourite books. You take one of your shirts in hand as you question him, “What do you mean home? Why are we still so close...” Your heart stops as his smile grows. “No, you said you’d keep me safe...”

“My nest is safe, where it always has been, and always will be watching over the forest.”

The god you’ve always hated... the one you’ve always tried to rebel against... the one who was looking for a mate. Stands in front of you with a look of victory etched into his face.

“You didn’t belong in there, your more like my kind than human. I could see it in your eyes, how you craved the open sky. I knew from the first time I saw you in that tree you would make the perfect addition to our nest, how pretty you would look woven into our midst.”

“Our midst?”

The three hybrids you had just seen in the woods descend upon the house... accompanied by three more. As they enter you back yourself into a corner, trying to keep your eyes on every face, every winged enemy that stands in front of you. Not just one god, but seven.

Taehyung follows you making sure not leaving your side, “My brothers and I, just like the crows we descend from we stay together. When we found you we made a deal, whoever took you from the forest by their hand, whoever could convince you to leave would take control of the flock..and you. I was given the first attempt.”

“Your injury, the fighting between you, it was all fake. You tricked me?”

“Oh the injury was real, Jungkook was not happy that he would have to wait. As I said we are beasts, he tried to stop me from meeting you. Just as my other brothers fought me to take their chance and leave with you.

“Last night, in the storm?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung glares over to the shortest male who looks to you with a smirk, “Wanted to see if he could tempt you before I could.”

“You should have continued to follow my voice Little Dove, you were so close. I would have kept you warm.” Jimin coos.

You stunned to silence you look down to the shirt in your hands, gripping in until your knuckles turn white, fear and anger coursing through you. Taehyung follows you sight, “Forgive me, I traded those things to keep my brothers complacent, to buy more time with you. They were so happy when you accepted their feathers in return, they’ll be even happier to know that you kept them with you.”

You immediately drop the bag that they are contained in, overwhelmed with the feeling that you might be sick.The tallest brother reaches out to you with concern on his face, but the thought of him touching leads you to pull back and him to fall away.

“Don’t worry Little Dove, Namjoon won’t hurt you, none of them will. They’ve dreamt of you just as much as I. They were so thankful for the display you gave last night they could wait no longer to have you too.” Taehyung takes your upper arm and tugs you towards him placing his lips on your neck in a soft kiss.

“Taehyung please, stop. I can’t... I don’t want this.” You beg in tears, trying to pull away.

He holds firm and brushing the dampness from your face, “Nothing has changed between us, I can still give you the sky. I didn’t want to frighten you, can you honestly say that you would have given me a chance if you had known the truth?”

“No, and I still wouldn’t!” You curse your stupidity, letting your desire for freedom blind you from the truth. You leapt from your cage, and landed straight into their nest. A nest high in a tree with no low branches for escape.

“You left off your own accord, you took my hand willingly. Resist if you wish, if it will make you content.” Taehyung smiles in no way dissuaded but your tone, he turns to hold you from behind allowing his brothers to look upon you while he traps you with an arm around you waist. A low whisper from him reaches your ear and seize your soul, “But you should know by now, you can’t climb away Little Dove, every rebellion only brings you closer to me.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #yandere bts #bts hybrid au #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #v x reader #bts reader insert #bts thriller au #bts hybrid #bts beastly gods

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monster-madame · 5 years ago

Text

Impulsive Decisions (Breanna x Jackson) | Modern Orc Boyfriend x Human Witch Woman

Hello hello!

Here is a hetero NSFW orc boyfriend story, featuring a human plus size woman witch and an orc named Jackson!

I couldn’t figure out how to photoshop the tempting rugby player photographed green (what a problem to have), so use your imagination. <3

Details: This is a reader insert story, but I do name the character becuase I find “Y/N” distracting.

Word Count: 6,305 [800 ish is smut]

* * * * *

You blew your hair out of your face, pushing through the kitchen doors into the dining area. You normally didn’t work lunches, as you were taking computer science classes at the local university. Classes made the lunch shift nearly impossible, but you were on break between spring and summer courses.

Walking through the packed dining room, you mentally noted to avoid taking lunch rushes during the future. You definitely preferred the more relaxed pace of the dinner shift. The lunch shift seemed mostly made up of patrons who were on a time crunch for their lunch hour. You winced as their stressed energy grated against your Senses.

“Here you are,” you said to one of your tables, putting down your tray. The guests smiled at you and continued talking animatedly to one another, they all seemed to be friends. Their energy was open, fun and a little mischievous.

Vinnie’s attracted a more diverse set than other restaurants, and the table sat a good assortment of humanoids – a half-orc, a tiefling, a human (probably a witch by the tattoos) and a minotaur.

“Did you see that Jackson Scott is here?!” the tiefling whispered to the table. “I can’t believe we’re lunching where JACKSON SCOTT lunches! Wasn’t he just declared one of the riches men in Boston by The Globe?”

You raised your eyebrows at that. Vinnie’s was a nice restaurant, but it wasn't nice nice, like 5 dollar signs on Yelp! nice. What was he doing here?

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” you asked the table. The minotaur asked for another side of Mayo. “I’ll go snag that for you and be right back,” you said, mentally noting what drinks needed to be filled.

Turning to go back into the kitchen you heard a crash in a far corner. Looking over, you saw that it belonged to one of your BFFs, Jill, who was red-faced and mopping up what looked to be marinara sauce around a really pissed off orc. Jill is a slight dryad, and you could feel her stress emanating at you.

Striding over, you slapped on your best Hospitality Smile, ready to flex your energetic charms as an empath to diffuse the situation. You strided over, noting that the patron was seated in what the staff called the “Do Not Disturb” table, that was situated behind potted plants and in an alcove.

Well, at least other patrons wouldn’t be able to gawk at the lot of you.

As you neared, you realized why he was seated at the DND table. Oh fuck. He was a VIP.

It was, of course, Jackson Scott. Jill had a knack for ticking off the wrong customers. He was ripped, with the kind of body that would make Jason Moma ask for workout tips. Beautiful tusks and a real energy of “fucking pissed off” about him. Nearing 7 feet tall with dark hair, he was seated in one of the special chairs designed to withstand a taller being.

“Hello,” you said greeting him. “We’re so terribly sorry for the accident. We’ll of course cover the dry cleaning bill and help you get into different clothes. We can send you home with a take out order and a giftcard on the house? We’ll cover the Uber, so you can get changed?”

“This,” he grit out, gesturing to his linen suit, “is bespoke. And ruined. Do you intend to cover the cost of a new summer suit?”

Um, no, the restaurant probably couldn’t cover a suit that would cover six months of rent. Seeing your hesitation, his frustration grew.

“Look, I came here for a quiet lunch between meetings, and if I had known the staff was so incompetent,” he said, looking at Jill, “then I definitely would’ve gone elsewhere. Do you typically keep on staff that are so bad at their jobs?”

Oh, no he fucking did NOT. Jill was one of their best servers! Accidents happen!!

“Jill is one of our best staff members, and we so apologize for this accident,” you said, upping your mental defenses, just in case his energy became more aggressive. “We have an excellent dry cleaner, and I so appreciate you helping us get this sorted out,” you said. Sometimes thanking someone for being on your side helped them actually be on your side.

Seeing your words had no effect, you let out a trickle of an calm energy to the restaurant.

Unfortunately, that little oomph of calm you tried to use totally backfired. His tension ratcheted up. Your Hospitality Smile vanished right off your face.

“Are you fucking magicking me?” he grit out, shoving his chair back from the table.

Technically, no. You were magicking yourself and the energy around you, but you didn’t think he’d see it that way.

Desperately trying to figure out how to fix a situation that had totally gotten out of hand, you saw Gio, Vinnie’s son, headed towards them. Oh, thank god. Vinnie was human, and he was able to effortlessly engage with all types of beings.

Gio arrived on the scene, strategically placing himself so that Jackson had to move a bit to address him, shielding their party from prying eyes.

“What seems to be the problem here, Jackson?” he asked, addressing the Orc.

“Your staff is fucking incompetent and magicking patrons, Gio,” he bit out. “What kind of restaurant did I just put money into?”

At the word “money,” you looked at Jill, shocked.

“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” shared Gio. “Breanna would never magick a customer, and her magick doesn’t even work that way –”

“Wait a moment,” you interjected. “He bought Vinne’s?!”

Jackson shifted his attention to you, realizing he had two shit shows on his hands. “I mean, he’s more of an investor–”

Well, crap. Spilling marinara sauce on one of Boston’s elite was bad. Ruining the suit of an investor was even worse. This could be disastrous for Jill.

Glancing at Jill’s face, you realized she had figured out the same thing.

Chewing your lip, your mind raced. BAM! You had a solution. Jill really fucking needed this job and, you, well, didn’t. The restaurant was trying to expand, and needed capital. Telling Jackson Scott to fuck off wasn’t an option.

You knew what you had to do.

Turning back on your Hospitality Smile, you turned to the Orc. Jackson. “Mr. Scott,” you said smoothly. “I so apologize for your experience today at Vinne’s. This is not the kind of service our staff is trained to give. Because I trained Jill, I take full responsibility for this issue. Faulty training isn’t up to our standards at Vinnie’s, so I’ll be replaced.”

You then took off your apron, and handed it to Gio. You then took out your mini-wallet that held your license, credit card and a few business cards. You peeled off one of your business cards.

“If you’ll please send the bill to the email address on that card, I’ll be happy to reimburse you.” You handed it to a stunned Jakson Scott.

The three of them stared at you.

“Miss, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding –” Jackson started.

“No, no totally my fault,” you said with your Hospitality Smile, emanating graciousness and competence. This needed to work. If he asked Gio to fire Jill, Gio would probably have to. Although to be honest, if a prejudiced Orc now owned the restaurant – excuse you, invested in it – you weren’t sure how long Jill would have a job.

“I’ll let Gio sort out your Uber and meal. Have a great rest of your day, Mr. Scott.”

And then you spun on your heel on and left the dining room, headed to the staff room to grab your bag. You felt hot tears at the back of your eyes as you walked back. No. You would not cry. You kept your Hospitality Smile firmly in place.

The people at Vinnie’s were your family, the only family that mattered. You knew you weren’t going to work here for the rest of your life, but you for sure thought you’d finish your degree before leaving. And even then you had planned to work the odd weekend shift or get more involved in the back office.

But Gio and Vinnie had been looking for an investor for ages, needing cold hard cash to update the restaurant and expand to another location, for Gio to fully run. They needed Jackson Scott. More than they needed you.

You grabbed your purse, dropping off a side of Mayo and a refill on the Iced Tea at your table, before heading out. “Another server will be taking over for me,” you told them smoothly.

You left out the front doors, and you didn’t start crying until you were a few buildings down the sidewalk.

* * * *

You wake up the next morning, blearily scrubbing your hands over your itchy and puffy eyes. What a crappy evening that had been.

You’d spent the evening googling the heck out of Jackson Scott. He was an MIT grad, and he had built and sold several technology companies, and he was an investor in a variety of industries. Photos showed him with his large clan, and he seemed involved in a good amount of charities.

Studying his photos last night, you could NOT get over how good looking he was. He was broad shouldered with muscles, he had a rugby player’s build. His gleaming tusks curved over his upper lip. Dark forest green eyes and great bone structure.

Plus, he had recently had an interview in GQ, and the stylist had had fun with a few shots – Mr. Scott was apparently a Calvin's briefs kind of guy. If those briefs (and what was likely under them) had made their way through your dreams, you couldn’t be blamed! You couldn’t control your subconscious!

He probably had a good PR team, but your Senses told you that this wasn’t the type of guy to make a scene at a restaurant. But he had made a scene, and you had had to quit.

You rummage around to try to find your phone in your bed, eventually snagging it.

*** 47 Notifications ***

You groan to yourself.

You’d turned your phone on airplane mode as soon as you left the restaurant, and promptly carbo-loaded as soon as you got to your apartment.

Sighing, you went to the kitchen to make some coffee. As it started brewing, you began cleaning up after last night’s pity party, loading your dishwasher and wiping down the counter.The buzzer on your apartment rang.

**** BZZZZZZT ****

You ignored it.

**** BZZZZZZT ****

Go away!” you said aloud.

Couldn’t the world respect your need to mope?!?!

**** BZZZZZZT ****

The buzzing became more insistent.

**** BZZZZZZT ****

You harrumphed and walked over to the speaker, pressing the button. “I’m not in the mood to see anyone today!” you snarked into it.

“Ms. Alexander, I apologize for disturbing you,” said the voice of the and only Jackson Scott. “We had a terrible misunderstanding yesterday, and I’d like to meet with you to remedy it as soon as possible.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise. What in the actual hell?!“How do you know where I live?!” you said tersely into the speaker. Surely this asshat had something better to do than creep on chubby witches?!

He cleared his throat into the speaker. “Ahem, well, yes I may have glanced in your personnel file. I grew worried last night when you didn’t answer messages from myself or Gio.”

You opened your mouth to speak. Closed it. Opened it.

Feeling like a fish, you cast your eyes desperately around.

Pressing on, he said, “Would you be amenable to a breakfast meeting? Or a lunch meeting? I have to go run a few errands, and then I could meet you at that little cafe down the street in two hours?”

Realizing he was determined to meet with you, yet respecting your boundaries by asking you to a public place, you decided to cut him some slack.

You pressed the buzzer. “Okay sure. I’ll see you there in two hours.”

“Great, thank you for being so accommodating,” he quickly replied. “I’ll see you there soon.”

As soon as the crackle of the speaker stopped, you were seized with a terrible realization.

You were going to brunch with Jackson Scott, and you had no idea what to wear.

************************

One hour and fifty-three minutes later, you were waiting outside the cafe. After agonizing over outfits, ou had gone for what you hoped was chic casual, high waisted jeans and a front tucked white cotton button down with keds. You put your long hair in a messy bun, braiding a headband to make it clear you put in effort – but not so much that you cared too much.

You went up to put your name on the list, “Hi, table for two? For Breanna?” The place was packed, and you weren’t sure how long the wait would be.

“Breanna Alexander?” the human hostess asked you. .

“Uhh, yeah?”

“Right this way please.”

She took you to the back garden, where tables were interspersed in amongst raised flower beds. The flower beds gave the feeling that each table was in its own garden, and also made the air smell divine.

You loved this cafe.

Turning a corner, you could see Jackson Scott seated at a table (in a corner, of course). He was almost too tall for the chair, one leg crossed flat over the other. He wore casual dark jeans and a light gray hoodie sweater.

You brought up your Senses, shielding yourself from any aggressive energy that may come your way.

You got to the table, and he stood to greet you. The hostess placed some menus down, murmuring something you didn’t catch.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said, his hand outstretched for a professional handshake. He seemed earnest and a little nervous.

“Well, I was a little worried you would stay outside of my building until I did,” you joked lightly, stretching out a hand and clasping his.

His hand engulfed yours. Oh dear.

He warmly grasped your hand, and then released it. You put your bag down, and then sat.

Okayyyyyy, you said to yourself. This is a professional breakfast meeting. You need to make sure you call him on his shitty behavior, keep it together and not drool.

He cleared his throat. “I want to start this out right. First of all, I want to apologize for my terrible behavior yesterday. This has been a month from hades, but that’s no excuse for howI acted. I apologized and made amends with Jill and Gio.”

Oh god is this going to be a non-apology? Wait, why had this been a month from hell?

“And now, I’d like to apologize to you,” he said looking deep into your eyes.

He looked at you steadily.

“I am so sorry for what occurred yesterday. I am sorry that you felt you had to quit your job to help resolve the mess, and I deeply admire your quick thinking in a tough situation. However, I’m not the kind of Orc who would expect or demand someone to quit over an accident. I know Gio has reached out to you to be clear your job is still yours if you want it, and I wanted to meet with you in-person to promise that I would not behave that way in the future.”

He finished and looked at you, waiting. You lowered the defenses a bit on your Senses, to try to get an idea of how sorry he was.

His energy was truly apologetic, truly apologetic. You were getting embarrassment, self-consciousness and a good bit of hope from him.

Just then, the waitress came by. “Have you decided what you’re having?” she asked, looking at you.

You hadn’t even looked at the menu.

“Can you give us another few moments?”

“Sure!” she said brightly. “I’ll just bring around some coffee if that’s okay?”

You nodded and then looked at Jackson.

“Have you had the waffles?” he asked. “Not that I’m biased or anything, but I think the combination of sugar and carbs could help put you in a more forgiving mood.” His eyes sparkled at you with humor.

“Or a food coma,” you joked back.

Now that the tension had eased a bit, you realized you didn’t really hate him. His apology had been full and fair, and hadn’t been one of those half-ass apologies you were used to the men in your life making. Aaaand, truth be told, you probably should’ve offered to quit and let him get a few words in, before marching out of Vinnie’s yesterday. You could be a tad impulsive.

“There’s no need for waffles to inspire forgiveness,” you said to him. “You acted like a total asshat, but I really appreciate you going above and beyond to fix things.”

His shoulders relaxed. “It’s good to hear that,” he said. “Do you want to look over the menu? I know what I’m ordering.”

“Me too,” you said instantly.

“Waffles?”

“No, pancakes! Which are better in every way.”

This then sparked a debate about breakfast foods, which turned into you talking about food in general and travel. Jackson was really smart and witty, and he was so fun to talk to.

As the meal winded down, you realized that you didn’t want brunch to end. You really liked spending time with him. And looking at him.

“So, there was another reason I was hoping to talk to you,” he shared, as the waitress took away the plates. His energy wavered, and you could tell this was important to him. “I invested in Vinnie’s because it’s one of the only restaurants in the city that accommodates different species, and I wanted to help grow that.”

You nodded. This was one of the many reasons you loved working there.

He continued. “That said, there have been limitations. Species that aren’t as humanoid, say Driders for example, are welcome to come – but the staff has to move around furniture and it can make booking complicated. Many beings want to come, but are worried about putting the staff out by having them have to go through extra work. I know you’re studying computer science, so I was hoping we could design some sort of online reservation system – like an app – that would help us better plan for and accommodate different beings. Someone could book through the app, and their profile would signal staff as to what changes need to be made. There’s a lot of kinks to work out – wait, before I go on, is that something you’d be interested in?”

Wow, you were NOT expecting this. You did have experience in app design, and you could probably license an existing reservation platform and modify it to your needs. Your mind starting whirling.

“Breanna..?” he asked, uncertain as to what you were gonna say.

“Oh, sorry!” you said, your face scrunching in embarrassment. “I would be absolutely LOVE to work with you on this project. How do we get started? How do you see this working, from a meetings and timeline perspective?”

His energy perked immediately, and you could feel his excitement.

“Well, we’d have to start with user interviews….”

****

About a month later, part of your apartment was covered in frameworks and sketches. Jackson had given you a small team to lead, and you were having a blast learning how to delegate different parts of the platform to the other freelance contractors on the project - as well as learning a lot in the coding and design portion. Jackson was pretty involved, meeting with you throughout the week and staying updated on progress.

Jackson acted more like a collaborator than a boss, trusting your experience and know-how. But, technically, he was your boss (client?) as he was approving your invoices for freelance development.

And you had a giant huge crush on him. You’d been having steamy daydreams about him for weeks, many of which involved you, him, the restaurant and a variety of sexual positions involving the bar.

Luckily he was an Orc with zero empathic abilities, or this would be really awkward. Guys like Jackson Scott did not go for chubby computer nerds, they dated, like, supermodels. Or high powered business women. Or high powered business women who were ALSO supermodels.

UGH.

Your pity party was interrupted by your phone chiming, and you jumped to grab it. You had assigned a specific ringtone to Jackson. You told yourself it was because this was your first fully professional project, but the butterflies in your stomach said differently. In a positively Pavlovian move, you scampered over to your phone, eager to see what it said.

Hey, Breanna – I’m going to need to move our meeting next week. I have to go out of town.

Ugh. Probably to take his supermodel-tycoon girlfriend on a trip.

The phone chimed again.

A screenshot of his calendar popped up.

Is there a time you see free that would work for us to meet? I realize it’s a lot to ask, but maybe in the evening?

Shoot. Looking at his schedule you realized your classes, study nights and group project meetings all happened when he was free.

The only time he was and you were free was tomorrow night, which was a Friday night.

Hey, no problem! You texted back. Our schedules almost totally clash, unfortunately. IDK if this works for you, but I could do tomorrow night? I realize you probably have some event or probably forgot to put something on your calendar, but I can move my Netflix marathon to a different night.

You sent it without thinking, then read it back as you waited for him to reply. Reading back over it, you groaned.

Great. You had just told Jackson Scott you had no life. You usually kept Friday night free to decompress, socializing on Saturday night or during the weekend.

Then another, even worse thought hit you. What if he thought you were trying to finagle this into a DATE?!

Nope, nothing on Friday night! He replied.

Thank all the gods.

Would you prefer to meet at the office? My home office? Wherever works for you.

Eugh, go into an office building on a Friday evening? No thanks. But also you were pretty sure you’d feel super nervous and out of sorts at his home. You didn't know what his setup would be like, and you’d probably get all jittery worrying about his tech working or having a whiteboard to brainstorm on or or or

Then it hit you. He could just come to your place. You had everything here already, and your walls were practically ready for a presentation. You had met with a few of the other contractors in your apartment, Skyping in the others who didn’t live in the city.

Would you be okay to come to my place? I already have everything taped up, gantt charts and all. You texted back, knowing it was definitely the best solution for you.

Sure! He instantly replied.

We could do a 6-9pm meeting? Order takeout and eat while we work?

Perfect! You replied. Just no waffles. ;)

****

“This is not a date,” you told your reflection sternly to your reflection in the mirror. “This is a professional project update. You are a professional. You are a leading business woman.”

You jabbed your finger at your reflection for emphasis.

“You are an empowered and capable business woman!”

**** BZZZZZZT ****

It was show time.

“Come on up,” you said through the speaker.

In a few moments, Mr. Jackson Scott was in your kitchen.

Righto.

“Hey,” he said. He swung his laptop bag off his shoulder and put it on the counter. Your mouth went dry seeing his shoulder muscles flex as he put it down. He wore his usual uniform of dark jeans and a button down dress shirt. You were wearing a jersey jumpsuit, your hair in a high ponytail.

“Food should be here any minute. I realized it would be faster if we had it delivered instead of me picking it up.”

“That makes sense,” you said. “Do you want to jump on in or should we wait for food to get here?”

**** BZZZZZZT ****

“Never mind,” you said with a laugh, and a few moments later you were dumping chow-mein onto a plate. You used your counter as a table, him on one side and you on the other, as your table was covered with project materials.

You chatted with him comfortably about school and Vinnie’s while you ate, and he told you some funny stories about his nieces and nephews. Whipping out his phone, he started showing you pictures.

“This is Carrie learning how to hula hoop,” he said laughing, swiping through photos of an adorable orc kiddo, who looked to be about 7-years-old. She was gleefully laughing in the photo, and she seemed pretty proud of herself.

“She’s so cute!” you exclaimed.

Just then a bubble notification appeared at the top of his screen. Before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted up to the top of the screen.

Just make a move already, dude!

Then another bubble

Just be honest with her, she’s not going to think you’re a creep…..

Then another bubble popped up

Waiting until the app is done isn’t gonna work, because it’s gonna need updates. It won’t ever be totally….. [read more]

Jackson made a choking noise, then pushed the lock button his phone, putting it facedown on the countertop. You stared at it. Why was his friend talking about making a move and their app…?

Oh.

Your face felt hot. Oh goddess, were you blushing? You bet you looked like a tomato right now. Your eyes met his.

He cleared his throat.

“So, um, this was not how I wanted to have this conversation,” he said, sheepishly running his hand through his hair. There were those dang arm muscles again.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because it puts you in a really awkward spot if you’re not interested in me, too.”

He glanced down at his phone. “But, since we’re here, I guess I’ll just try to be an honest adult about this.”

“‘I’m, uh, really into you. Like really into you. and I’m really attracted to you. You’re smart, gorgeous, funny, and I love spending time with you. I’d like to date, if, um, well, you’d be interested in seeing where this goes…?”

Your brain had fitzed out. Date Jackson Scott? Jackson Scott thought you were gorgeous?

Your daydreams and, ahem, sex dreams came running through your mind. Spending time with Jackson? Talking with him more? Kissing Jackson? Getting naked with Jackson? Sucking Jackson off on the bar at Vinnie’s–

“Breanna?” he asked. “If you need some time to think about this, I can totally go..? We can reschedule?”

You snapped back to the present, where real sexy-ass Jackson Scott had just told you he was into you.

“Oh, um, no! I’m sorry, I spaced out for a minute imagining jumping your bones. I’d love to, um, date you.”

His face broke out in a grin. “Jump my bones, huh?”

You felt your face return to its previous tomato state.

“Sorry, I definitely need to do a better job of thinking before I speak –”

He came around the counter, standing in front of you. “No, I think you did a pretty good job of stating your position,” he said, bending down a bit, so that his mouth was about an inch away fro yours. “I’m up for whatever you’re up for.”

Galvanized by his lips so close to yours, you leaned up into him. You kissed him hard, standing up and leaning into him. His hands came around you, starting at your waist.

You arched your back into him, going on your tip toes to get his hands to go a bit lower. He obliged, kneading your lower back as he tongued your mouth. His hands went lower, cupping your ass cheeks.

Needing to feel him against you, you jumped up on the counter, wrapping your legs around his torso. You had fantasized about this so many times, and you ached to just rub yourself on him. You loved the feeling of rubbing your clit over jeans.

He gasped into your mouth as he felt you grind your pussy over his crotch. “I’ve wanted to feel that for so long,” he said, panting and kissing his way along your neck.

“Mmmm, me too,” you moaned as he nipped where your neck met your shoulder.

Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples aching as they rubbed through your lacy bralette against his chest. God you really wanted his hands on your nipples.

You tore at the top of your jumpsuit, pulling it off your shoulders so you could feel his mouth on your breasts. He kissed the newly exposed skin of your shoulders as you shrugged out of it, his hot mouth making you ever more wet.

His hands traced along the edges of your bralette, teasing you. “Jackson,” you whined.

“Oh, am I allowed to see what’s under here?” he lightly teased you, as you writhed under his caresses.

“Yes, please,” you whined. “I need to feel your mouth on me–”

He shoved down your bralette, exposing your breasts. Your nipples were completely erect. He tweaked one breast and drew his mouth over the other. Sucking and nibbling your breast, you moaned low for him.

“Oh my god, just like that, please, oh my god I need more –”

“What do you need baby, tell me what you need,” he murmured.

“Harder, I need you to bite harder” you said, ending your words in a wail as he bit your nipple harder and twisted the other one.

“Oh FUCK,” you moaned, feeling an orgasm begin to build.

“Please, my pussy,” you whined, and his hand dipped down to your crotch.

“You want my fingers inside of you?” he murmured, his hand cupping you.

“Yes, please, fuck me, fuck me hard!”

He moved away from you, swiftly pulling off the rest of your jumpsuit in one fell swoop.

“You’re so wet for me baby,” he crooned in your ear, slipping a finger inside. “I can’t wait to have you ride my face. I can’t wait to feel you ride my cock.”

His finger pumped in and out of you. He added a second finger, looking at your reaction. “More, please!” you begged.

He added a third finger, and you could feel your juices running down your thighs.

“Please Jackson, please!! Fuck me hard!”

He growled, his chest rumbling. “Oh, I’ll fuck you hard, baby,” he said. He pistoned his hand in and out of you, and you met every thrust. Your orgasm built up inside of you, and he masterfully brought you to the edge, once and then twice – backing off before you could orgasm.

“Jackson, please!” you wailed.

“Please, what, baby?” he asked, grinning down at you as he continued fucking your pussy.

“Please make me cum!!”

His grin broadened, and he increased the speed. “Like that, baby? You want it like that?”

“Yes!” you screamed, the sound cut off as his mouth covered yours. You felt your pussy convulse around his hand, and you bucked with pleasure.

Wow.

Your head fell against his chest, as you tried to remember how to fill your lungs with air.

“How you doing?” he asked, tipping your chin up to be able to see your face.

“I’m feeling pretty ready for round two,” you said, your hand trailing around to cup his still hard cock.

He thrust into your hand.

“I have condoms in my room,” you said, rubbing his length.

He swung you up into his arms and into the bedroom.

“Jump his bones,” indeed.

I hope you enjoyed this story!! I’m excited to be writing more, and as with all authors, if you like it – reblog it! <3

Send me a KoFi here, or check out my fave erotic monster novels on Amazon here!

#orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #exophillia #exophilia creators #orc/reader #orc/human #modern orc

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coreymichaelsmithson · 3 years ago

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The Lights of Treasure Island

For the past few years, I've been living on a barrier island named Anastasia. A sandy, sleepy, slow place, just off the coast of our nation's oldest city, Anastasia Island features tall palm trees and gorgeous beaches, along with excellent sushi and a surprisingly active arts scene. Its most splendid attraction, though, is an old lighthouse, one striped with a black and white spiral and crowned by a bright red lamphouse. It towers commandingly over the dunes, casting a long beam that can be seen from nearly anywhere in town.

I've always liked lighthouses. In days of old we set these magnificent lanterns on the edge of the sea, to guide sailors through dark and treacherous waters, to show them the way home. Lighthouses represent so many things we need: safety, comfort, reliability, navigation. But in my mind, these structures hold the magic of candles, the magic of illumination itself. When we speak of enlightenment, we may be speaking specifically of rationality and discovery, but we are also conjuring images of light prevailing over darkness. And in this way the lighthouse emerges as a powerful symbol of the spirit.

This February, for my 47th birthday, I explored the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where I saw several amazing lighthouses. Impressive as they were, I did not think they quite compared with the singular majesty of the structure that stands on Anastasia Island. After a harrowing return journey, one in which I drove with no working alternator (and sometimes without headlights or windshield wipers) through nearly 700 miles of tornadic thunderstorms, I felt the most profound relief when I finally crested the peak of the SR-312 bridge, which connects my island to the mainland, and I saw those familiar black and white stripes in the distance, signaling that I had made it home. Less than half a year later, my feelings about this special lighthouse of mine would be forever changed by a chance encounter.

Just under two months ago, I received a brief and rather unremarkable message from a stranger on Scruff, a queer dating platform that I use. One might charitably call Scruff "a social club for discerning gentlemen" ... it appeals to men who are hirsute, meaty, perpetually horny, and even a few of us freaks who defiantly straddle the line between "butch" and "nancy". Since this man's profile didn't really offer all that much information, and his one available picture wasn't particularly compelling, I promptly tucked his message away and forgot about it, and went for my customary sunset walk on the beach.

I live exactly one mile from the southern boundary of a state park, which offers a four-mile stretch of pristine dune habitat, completely undeveloped and sparsely occupied. The only man-made objects in sight are a few empty lifeguard stands, the city's sightseeing pier, a radio antennae, and our lighthouse. Dolphins gather here, their dorsal fins rising and falling between the breakers. Squadrons of pelicans fly in tight formations, gliding only a few feet above the water's surface. Terns and sea turtles nest in its sands, and I've found many shark teeth among the sea shells and ghost crab burrows. This is a special place, a holy place, and I've made a daily ritual of enjoying its cloudscapes and crepuscular glow as I explore the edge between land and sea.

After a pleasant stroll, maybe an hour or so of blissful meditation, I turned around and started heading back towards my car when I caught sight of a man who had just walked out of the water and was now drying himself off. We locked eyes.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Arrestingly beautiful, the kind of handsome that stops you dead in your tracks. I just kind of gulped for a second, and then walked right up to him, with an audacity that I didn't even know I possessed, turned on every damn bulb in my Christmas tree, and murmured, "Hi!", making the word shimmer like tinsel. In a short amount of time, I learned that he was a Russian artist, born in St. Petersburg but living in Moscow. I had met him during a brief pause on his long drive from Jacksonville to Key West; he had only intended on stopping in St. Augustine long enough to explore our old Spanish fort and take a swim on our nicest beach. He possessed a keen intellect, a quick wit, and a laudable command of English. As we spoke, he kept giving me flashes of the most mischievous smile, and so when I finally asked him what he was grinning about, he revealed that he was the same man who had messaged me earlier. This came as a surprise, for I hadn't recognized him at all ... I had only been drawn in now by his gorgeous movie-star looks, the undeniable sex appeal of his dripping wet body, and some weird sense of destiny.

We talked. We talked some more. We went to dinner. And then he stayed for the better part of three days.

In my bed, we enjoyed the most astonishing kind of communion. Our nights and mornings were filled with such tenderness ... soft eyes, soft caresses, fearlessly sustained gazes, the kind of kisses that tell a hundred little stories. One by one, various secrets were brought to light. We shared toe-curling carnality, thunderous climaxes, an unalloyed and unembarrassed intimacy. We shared joy.

On our second day together, I took him to the top of Anastasia Island's lighthouse. We lingered on each landing to kiss and giggle, and our embraces grew more intense. We felt a stronger and stronger pull towards one another. I knew that this was more than just a simple infatuation. By the time we reached the lantern's round balcony, and stepped out together onto the most spectacular view of St. Augustine, I knew that I was falling in love.

I don't blame you for rolling your eyes at this. You may, in your justifiable cynicism, think it ridiculous for a man to utter such a powerful phrase within such a short time. But if you've ever known me, you've come to recognize by now my considerable capacity for love. My passions and appetites may rise to the surface with little interference, and will I admit some recklessness in how I've invested my energies, but I am no fool. I am neither naïve nor desperate. And I can say in all sincerity that what we felt then was, at least for a short while, genuine love.

From the top of the lighthouse we could see everything. The old downtown, with its mixture of colonial and Spanish Renaissance buildings. The Matanzas River, named for the 1565 massacre of shipwrecked Huguenots, separating my island from the mainland. The harbor of St. Augustine, crowded with sailboats and pleasure craft, a forest of masts. And then the sea, blue and inviting, the sea that would soon separate us. We held each other tightly and looked upon the Atlantic together, casting our dreams towards the horizon, into this vista of seemingly endless possibility and hope.

On our last night together, we took a naked midnight swim in my pool, which is lit from above by a row of blue lights. A light and warm rain fell on our heads as we twined our legs underwater, and our ardor cast a web of rippling refractive patterns on the pool's concrete bottom. He looked me in the eyes, kissed me with the utmost gentleness, and formally invited me to come stay with him in Moscow. I accepted with my new magic word, "Да."

The following morning, our parting was so sweet, and so warm. We solidified our promise to be reunited. He drove down to Key West, enjoying a music playlist I assembled for him, and then he flew up to New York for a week's visit with old friends. After he returned to Moscow, we embarked on a passionate long-distance affair via telephone and social media apps.

I plunged right away into the Russian language, practicing for hours a day, rediscovering my knack for linguistics. I bought books on the cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg, books on Russian verbs, flashcards, a portable dictionary. I subscribed to online learning programs, put apps on my phone, read up on the country's history. I was all in, bringing every available bit of my enthusiasm, work ethic, and inventiveness to the challenge. Every day, I would send him sweet little videos or text messages ... sharing good news, conveying small but significant events of my daily life, showing off my rapidly accelerating grasp of Russian. I sent him notes of encouragement, pictures of me looking my cutest, small but enjoyable details of my life on Anastasia Island. I sent him a short clip of the black skimmers that sliced back and forth across the thin swash of the surf, their beaks dipping into half an inch of water. I sent him pelicans, beach crabs, waves, paintings, difficult words, idioms, cute terms of venery, sunsets, clouds, kisses, evidence of my changing body. I sent him love, every day. "каждый день," I promised him, placing my hand on my heart, "каждый день." Every day.

My love deepened by the hour. I know this is going to sound so gushy and gross, but I really pushed the lighthouse metaphor pretty hard, calling myself "твой смотритель маяка" or "your lighthouse keeper". I meant this in all sincerity, without a drop of bathos or schmaltz. Our time atop the lighthouse was sacred to me. I promised him that I would keep its light burning bright.

Over time, however, things shifted. As my interest grew, his began to dwindle. He sent less and less of himself, slowly removing from our conversation his humor, his sexuality, his warmth, his trust. It was like seeing a fully assembled jigsaw puzzle get lifted into the air, and watching all the pieces falling out ... at first only a few at a time, then more and more, until there was only a jagged perimeter where there had once been a lovely picture.

The nadir came when he lost his temper with me over my visa. I was confused about the process, as the Russian consulate and other sources were providing patchy and often conflicting information, and his own explanations changed from day to day. During our last video chat, I asked one too many questions, and he snapped. He rolled his eyes, effectively called me stupid and childish, and hung up on me three times. My many attempts at reconciliation were completely rebuffed. It was both baffling and extraordinarily painful.

Two days after our fight he was in a terrible car accident, one from which he miraculously escaped unharmed. He posted on social media an impassioned paragraph about the event, and how it drew into sharp focus all the love he had in his life, how he felt that he wasn't deserving of such love, how grateful he was for his friends. Yet instead of contacting me, inviting me into this experience, or trying to repair our frayed connection, he spent his evenings logging back into Scruff, the aforementioned dating app. He continued to ignore me, choosing instead to pursue (or perhaps refresh) other opportunities. I tried in vain to reach him, to restore our bond, but was met with only the most chilling silence.

How had I been so wrong? Had my desire devolved into mere obsession, albeit one artfully disguised as love? Had my zeal somehow suffocated him? The irony for me was that this disastrous affair unfolded during a period of rapid and positive transformation. In the space of the last seven months, I'd already changed my diet, fixed my teeth, joined a gym, paid off a chunk of my debt, reorganized my home office, purchased a standing desk, resumed my daily beach walks, started seeing both a psychiatrist and a therapist. My relationship to my body was improving, I was working at a higher level of professional responsibility, gaining new clients, writing my fourth novel, and churning out the finest paintings of my career. A recent experience with ayahuasca had given me valuable insights into my adulthood. It seemed only right that this Russian should be the cherry on my sundae, a prize I had been working so hard to deserve.

And so, after admitting my own disenchantment, I surrendered. Reeling from an overwhelming feeling of loss, I wrote him a heartfelt letter in Russian, one in which I explained the hurt his indifference was causing me. I poured a lot of benevolent energy into this letter. And then I said to him the saddest word I've learned in Russian, "Прощай", which is the type of goodbye you use when you think you are not likely to see someone again. It translates, literally, into "forgive me."

Here is the letter I wrote to him, translated into English:

***

"V_____, beautiful V____:

Okay. I give up.

Your silence gave me a very clear and very painful answer. You have been entrusted with something rare and beautiful, and you have shown that you do not want it. So now it's gone.

I'm sorry my heart bored you so much. I will no longer annoy you with my desires.

The love that I offered you ... pure and strong, given without demands or jealous limitations ... does not come often.

It pains me to realize that you do not appreciate what I have tried to give you. It is even more painful to realize that I may have aggravated the situation with my zeal. But the distance that you put between us is your choice, and I must respect that.

It seems that the epiphany you experienced in the car accident, the moment you thought of all the love in your life, did not include my love for you. Your priorities are yours, and I accept that. But you almost died yesterday, V_____. And instead of choosing to bond with a man who cares about you so much, your focus shifted to Scruff. Your indifference is so obvious now. Please do not say anything ugly or cruel in response. There is already enough sorrow on my island. I feel both grief and embarrassment, but not anger. I've always wanted the best for you, and it's still true.

I sincerely wish you a long and happy journey. I hope you enjoy many successes and find many pleasures. I hope you stay healthy. I hope the man you choose deserves your best gifts. I hope you find a better lighthouse. I must direct my light now to those who are really looking for it. So now I must tell you the saddest word that I have learned in your language.

Goodbye."

***

Please allow me now to rewind a few years, and tell a correlative story.

In the autumn of 2019, during a period of intense sadness and frustration, I fled from Anastasia Island and drove impulsively across the state to the Gulf Coast. I didn't have a clear destination, I didn't pack enough clothes or supplies, and I was so blinded with tears and unexpressed rage that I didn't know where I was, or even care much about where I might land. While getting lost somewhere in the vicinity of St. Petersburg, I glanced at a map, dragged my finger along the squiggly coastline, saw the name Treasure Island, and thought, "That's gotta be the place."

I don't know what I was expecting to find there. Something about the name sounded so exciting, so exotic. And as the evening wore on, my anticipation grew. I thought, in my desperation, that everything would be all right once I got to Treasure Island. Over the next few hours, I convinced myself that I'd finally feel good again in such a place, that my pain and confusion would certainly evaporate once I reached this safe haven. I'd check into a nice hotel room, preferably one with 300 thread-count sheets and a coffee maker, and I'd dream about pirate ships and gold doubloons, and when I opened my eyes and yawned and stretched against the sun-dappled pillows my life would basically feel like a commercial for some bougie brand of almond milk. When I arrived, however, I was deeply disappointed to see another narrow stretch of high-rise hotels, littered beaches, rank seaweed, and greyish-brown water. I found the cheapest hotel room around, one of the few remaining vacancies on the shore, and there I found neither crisp bedsheets nor good coffee. The view from my balcony, however, was utterly amazing: I could see not only a broad curving swath of the beach, but also a glow of distant resort hotels, some of them reflected in the waves. It was strangely romantic, seeing these twinkling lights ... red, gold, green, blue ... and their silent conversation with the stars, a dialogue of jewels above the warm churning waters of the Gulf. But it wasn't the salvation I had been hoping for.

When I got up the next morning, I was still facing the same problems, the same irritations, the same heavy sorrows. Treasure Island would not, could not, rescue me from myself. So I drove back home to my own island, back to my lighthouse, and was relieved to discover that it was in fact even more stirring than I had remembered. During my absence Anastasia Island had become a magical and restorative place, quite different than the one I had left only days before.

What I should have learned back then, but have only come to realize now, was this: I didn't need to travel to a distant island of treasure and twinkling stars, for my own island already had plenty of both. I didn't need to seek the incandescence of a handsome man to light my way, as my own inner flame was at last beginning to shine without the shutters of inhibition or profligacy.

I am now recalling my disappointment with Treasure Island, while concurrently considering my grief over the Russian. At first, I wanted to hate him for his carelessness, for how he squandered my gifts. But I don't hate him. Not really. There's no need to wring my hands any further over his callousness. I don't even mourn his absence anymore. My mood has shifted today, and I no longer choose to see this abortive liaison as being so devastating. For I know, deep down, that the failure here was not really mine. I am not a loser for investing myself unreservedly in someone who could not fully appreciate me, nor I am not the weaker man for feeling injured. I will not be permanently depleted for having offered all that kindness to an undeserving recipient, as my wellspring of love remains inexhaustible.

I tried to share my lighthouse with the Russian. But he did not recognize how special it really was, and he declined to follow its beacon to a rewarding harbor. And thus, our romance was destroyed, and his memory became just another broken boat littering the shallows.

I have seen so many ruins in my years: bad relationships, lousy jobs, soured opportunities. My life story reads like a ledger of dashed hopes. It seems sometimes that both the island I occupy and the more elusive island I am eternally seeking are surrounded by shipwrecks. Yet the lighthouse of my spirit still stands, sturdier and stronger than ever. The waves may batter its bricks, salt may scour its surfaces, it may occasionally groan under its own weight ... but it will not crumble, it will not fail, and even in the darkest of hours this lamp of mine will continue to shine: bright, focused, undiminished.

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cavillunraveled · 5 years ago

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Keep the Geralt wig on

(A/N: Sorry if this is bad but I haven’t written one of these in a while. When I saw those gifs of Henry as the Witcher I couldn’t resist writing something so hope you enjoy!)

Warning: this post contains smut if you don’t like this please don’t read!

You knew nothing about the new Witcher series except how excited Henry was for you to see it. He’d read and been a fan of the book series for a while so when he got the role he started making plans. He met with his trainer and created a more complex training regimen and reread the entire series another time. He was always passionate and driven with prep for a role but this was particularly cute to see. You were slightly disappointed you couldn’t see filming from the beginning but you planned a brief visit midway through to surprise Henry.

You arrived on set after dropping your bags at the hotel and followed a production assistant to set. They gave you a chair to sit in and watch everything so you settled in as quietly as you could. You didn’t want Henry to see you and break his concentration. When you looked at the small monitor you saw Henry shirtless, a cloth wrapped around his waist as he laid beside a female actor. Damn he looked good.

“Action whenever you’re ready.”

You couldn’t hear anything being said but watched the small screen intently, smiling to yourself at Henry in his white wig and colored contacts. He looked not only imposing but sexier than you’d ever seen him. He had extra muscle on him from training and though you missed his curls the wig didn’t look half bad. You were so lost in your thoughts about fucking him in his Gerald attire that you didn’t notice the director call cut until you saw Henry move out of frame. You looked up and noticed him smiling as he made his way over to you.

“I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“I thought I’d surprise you earlier and I’m glad I did.” You smiled and gave him a kiss.

“I’m glad you did too.” He leaned in for another kiss. “I have one more scene before we take lunch if you want to stick around?”

“Alright but can I make a request?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Can we have lunch in your trailer?”

He looked at you questioningly “Okay...”

“And can you wear the wig?”

Henry laughed “Sure babe.”

You laugh and smack his ass when he walks away causing him to laugh and shake his head with a smirk.

You continued watching everything unfold on the small screen and among the director and actors until lunch was finally called 20 minutes late. Henry was finally done with his shirtless scenes for the duration of filming which made him very happy as he guzzled a bottle of water. The whole dehydration thing he’d been confined to was finally over.

“Ready to go?” Henry put a robe on over the skin toned underwear he’d been given.

You nodded and grabbed your handbag before walking with him to craft services. It was the taco Tuesday so you grabbed salad and two tacos while Henry grabbed his preselected healthy lunch of salmon, rice, and vegetables.

As soon as you got inside the trailer Henry took off the robe and began to change into his normal clothes.

“Wait!”

Henry froze midway putting on sweats “What-what’s up? You’re acting so weird.” He kicked off his sweatpants and crossed his arms.

“Okay” you sighed and stood up “don’t laugh.” You unfolded his arms and wrapped your arms around him “I want to...okay so...I want to have sex.”

Henry put his arms around your waist “Why was that so hard for you to say?”

“Because I want you to fuck me as Geralt.”

“You want to role play?”

You nodded unsure what else to say as you slowly began to feel stupid for suggesting it.

Henry tried to hide back his smile “Alright, but you can’t make too much noise.”

“Okay”

“Guess you’d better get undressed then.” Henry’s voice deepened and stared at you expectantly.

Hearing his voice deepen you suddenly weren’t sure this was the best idea “Um well maybe-“

“Make up your mind, do you want me to fuck you or not?” he watched you carefully awaiting your reply.

Your mouth had dropped open from his bluntness “...yeah.”

“Then get naked.”

You fumbled to strip off your leggings and sweater quickly. You were about to take off your bra when Henry stood up walked over and unclasped it. He turned you around and guided you to the couch and pushed you onto your knees. You were about to speak until he ripped your underwear and pushed your head into the cushion. Henry was never demanding in the bedroom so you were shocked and soaking wet in anticipation.

“Look at you wet and waiting for me.” He nudged your legs wider and put two fingers into your now pulsing hole. “I should just leave you like this and go back to set.”

That made you squirm and try to lift yourself up but he pushed you back down again.

“No. You wanted this so you do what the Witcher fucking tells you.”

You grunted as your hips involuntarily rocked back and forth trying to create more friction than his fingers were providing.

“Either you stop or I will.” Henry scolded.

An involuntary whine left your lips as you stopped and tried to remain still.

“You look beautiful like this you know. So greedy for me to touch you.” He removed just fingers and you felt Henry shift behind you. It took everything in you to refrain from turning around.

“You’re lucky I’m hard right now or I’d make you wait.”

Henry entered you without warning and you cried out as he bottomed out. “I told you to be quiet. Do you want me to pull out?”

“No!”

“Then follow instruction.” He pulled nearly completely out before rutting forward once again until he was fully sheathed inside you again. He quickly began such a rabid you were forced to hold on to the couch for dear life.

“Shit slow down” you panted trying to hold yourself up.

Henry completely ignored you and reached around to rub your clit not faltering his thrusts first a moment. The force of his thrusts blurred pain and pleasure and you became slightly embarrassed when you felt that familiar heat take over your body so soon. Fuck asking for permission, as soon as you felt your orgasm creep up you moved in tandem with his thrusts and let it consume you. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned so loudly the crew outside passing by the trailer glanced at each other questioningly.

“Fuck y/n.” Henry grunted as his assault continued. The sound of skin slapping and your mewls in the air, the trailer rocking from the force.

You couldn’t mentally process what had gotten into him as every inch of you was stretched to the brim as Henry chased release. Then Henry suddenly pulled out and smacked your ass making you whine from the sting as well as his absence.

“No please don’t.” Your hole was opening and closing on its own begging to be filled again. “No please don’t.”

Henry sat down on the couch and you turned to him. He grabbed your arm and pulled you over so you straddled him. “You didn’t listen. So if you want it you have to work for it not me.”

You sighed and leaned down to kiss him glad to finally have some shred of control. Henry’s hands rested on your hips bringing you closer. “Don’t think because I’m making you work that you can move so glacially.”

You rolled your eyes and reached down to guide his dick to your entrance. You looked at him and lowered yourself down slowly gasping at the tight fit. Henry grunted and pulled your hair to the side as he suckled at the skin on your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders as you began moving. It took a few moments before he thrusted upwards guiding your hips to move much faster than the pace you intended. He never could last long with you in the drivers seat. You felt him much deeper inside you in this position and whimpered as the twinge of slight pain made you gently bite the skin at his shoulder.

Henry grunted but still didn’t relent viciously fucking into you “For someone that wanted to fuck Geralt you sure are having a difficult time.”

You scoffed at him but it came out as more of a moan “Shut up you’re trying to kill me.”

Henry huffed “Not a bad way to go.”

Both of you were getting close now. Henry’s thrusts were sloppier and sporadic. You’d given in as you felt the familiar warm tingle in your lower abdomen. You were both so lost in the moment and the way your walls hugged his member snugly that neither of you heard the relentless knocking on the trailer door. Nor would you have cared if you had.

You gripped his shoulders tighter and tried to match his thrusts only making the warmth spread more and more until it was too much and you let out a cry as you came. Henry held onto you as your high died down and you slumped forward to lean against him.

Your walls tightened against Henry and he couldn’t hold off his own release swearing against your skin as he let go inside of you with a groan.

He pulled out of you but neither of you made a move to get up. Henry kept his arms around you and was kissing any inch of skin he could get to “Was it worth it?”

You nodded “Mhmm”

He grunted and stood up taking you with him as your legs wrapped around him instinctually.

You looked up when you felt him walking “Where we going?”

“To shower really quickly.” Henry put you in the shower and went to take off the Witcher wig before joining you.

You both helped the other get clean without speaking. It wasn’t until you were lying down on the couch wrapped in a robe and Henry was getting ready to leave that he broke the silence “You know at first I didn’t see the draw in fucking you as Geralt, but I think I may bring a spare wig home after filming wraps.” He winked making you roll your eyes. “I don’t think Geralt would approve of you rolling your eyes at him you know.” He started to walk towards you.

“No! Stay away from my vagina, I’m not trying to die today.”

He smirked and walked over anyways to give you a kiss “Don’t worry I have to go back, but I thoroughly enjoyed my surprise today thanks babe.”

“Yeah yeah you’re welcome I guess.”

Henry grabbed his lunch and wig eating as he left to head back to set.

You smiled to yourself as you felt the ache between your legs each time you moved.

#henry cavill #cavillunraveled #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #the witcher #geralt of rivia #henry cavill oneshot

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