#i whispered 'oh my god' aloud in my empty apartment

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

My Best Friend’s Brother (Part 5)

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You, Jun Ho, and In Ho walked to your apartment, grabbing clothes, your favorite throw blanket, and stuff for your cat.

“Why do you need so much shit?” In Ho, who seemingly had something to say all the time, spoke. He rolled your suitcase.

“She’s gonna be staying with us all month, dim wit” Jun Ho replied.

“Well that’s stupid. Don’t touch my shit while I’m at work.”

“Our room, our stuff” you said cheekily before you shot a look at him.

“No. My room, my stuff” he said.

“Wellllll I am staying there for a whi-“

“Whatever. Don’t touch my shit.”

“She touched your shit yesterday…” Jun Ho said.

“I dont give a fuck, i gave her permission to touch my shit.” In Ho snapped back. “Now, im telling her not to touch my shit when I’m not home”

“I don’t want touch shit at all”

“You literally scoop cat shit” Jun Ho says. In Ho snickered.

“Good one” he gave a fist bump.

“Can we stop talking about shit?!” You ask heatedly. The boys shut their mouths before In Ho whispered:

“Someone’s losing her shit.” Jun Ho laughed loudly, In Ho following suit.

“Seriously, In Ho? You’re literally older than us, get your shit together” they both snorted before laughing even louder. Making you laugh too.

Jun Ho left almost as soon as you guys arrived to the house.

In Ho pushed you against the door, barricading it shut. Breathing heavily in your ear, his cock leaking in his pants.

“I’ve been wanting to get ahold of you since you got out of bed this morning.” He growled in your ear. “I shouldn’t have let you go”

“No, you shouldn’t have” you reply, helping him out of his pants. You dropped to your knees. In Ho pulled your hair up, as you licked his tip. The feeling making him throw his head back, a low grumble from his chest accompanying it. You took his length, putting his cock deep in your throat. In Ho grunted primally as he pushed his cock in deeper. Forcing your head to hit the door. He pinned your hair up, thrusting into your mouth.

“Oh god, (y/n), why does your mouth feel so fucking good?” He coaxed in a low tone, fucking your throat. “I almost want to cum right now, fuck” the foreign feeling of his cock in your mouth was a long awaited day dream, you began to gag and choke on his thick member. The vibrations sending him into overdrive. He sped up, chasing his orgasm now, continuing his brutal assault on your throat. He braced his hand against the door, his hips stuttered. His body tense and convulsion with every thrust into your mouth. A low grumble”oh god” was uttered in the most sinful groan as he released cum down your throat. Thrusting slower now to fully empty himself inside you before putting himself back in his jeans.

“Your cum tastes almost like whiskey” you giggle.

“Well, according to last night… you really fucking like whiskey” he said. Your watery eyes looked up at him. “Ready to go pick out a new mattress your-annoyingness” he joked. You slapped his shoulder as you stood.

“Shut up.” You squint at him.

“Sorry” he kept laughing. “Mom, tell your son to stop laughing at me” you said as you walk into the kitchen.

“I would but, I haven’t heard him laugh this hard since he was younger.” She giggled lightly.

“Where Mr. Hwang?” You ask. “we might need his help.”

“He’s out betting on the horse races. Just have them deliver it to the house, the boys can do all of that.”

“Okay.” You shrug. You hear a loud groan as your cat emerges from In Ho’s room.

“Come back! I wanted more cuddles!!” He shouts chasing after the animal.

“Awww he’s so precious!” Mrs. Hwang exclaims. “What’s his name?”

“Wiseuki” you say aloud. The cat rubs against her legs as she repeats his name, looking at you knowing why you named him that… after her whiskey drinking son.

“Come on (y/n), let’s go pick that mattress” In Ho says pushing you out the door.

As soon as you entered the mattress store, he threw himself onto a bed. Immediate disgust etching on his face. You could tell this was going to be a long trip.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @player279achlys @watasinekoru @galaxygurlll @angelofthorr @whamzou

[marilynthornhilllover]

Hi! Can I have a request on "mommy!marilyn x Reader"? like when Marilyn teaches reader how to drive but R messed up and Marilyn get angry and decided to spank r at the back at the car trunk and f***k r until r know what she did was wrong? (NFSW, spanking, and strap-on)

Kinktober fanfic #1

Was it casual then?

Mommy Marilyn T. X Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW smut, praise kink, degradation kink, mommy kink, spanking, use of strap, fingering, jealousy,cliffhanger, moms friend, etc.

The bell rang announcing the end of another boring school day. As students rushed out of their class rooms and into the hallway to exit the building you could feel the relief of not having to worry about anymore crazy assignments and the urge towards wanting to punch people’s children because they weren’t pulling their weight in group projects creeping in. You walked quickly towards your locker to empty your book bag, you had plans for tonight and you didn’t want anything holding you back.

“ hey girl, you’re coming to the new club downtown tonight right?” You may have turned around too quickly because you swore you just gave yourself a huge whiplash, but no way on gods green earth was the ‘Rebecca o’olva’ talking to you right now. She was like the Beyoncé of the school and in her world you had to look a certain way in order for her to even acknowledge your entire existence. But anyways there she stood looking gorgeous as always, short dark blue denim shirt with a cute star hemming style, a fuzzy cropped zipper sweater and of course her minions standing behind her like she was their military patrol officer.

Becca was cool. you weren’t allowed to call her that aloud, her group would probably punch the shit out of you if you tried to get too friendly. She wasn’t mean though, just a ‘shy trying to maintain good grades because I come from a uptight family full of assholes that are rich self maker’s who would burn the world to crisps if I didn’t become a millionaire too kinda girl’.Though sometimes she didn’t mind lavishing herself in the wealth and acting like a spoiled brat.

“ oh— uh—I hi?” You said awkwardly, her crystal blue eyes tore you apart as she stood there grinning at you. Her friends giggled but immediately stopped when she turned to flash them look with a not so kind face. Rebecca took a small step closer to you and smirked.

“ you must be y/n. You know me already but anyways there’s a new club that’s opening tonight and everyone’s going” yeah no shit cause your inviting them, but by all needs carry on. “ and I wanted to know if you’re interested in tagging along because I’m one of the host” she finally said with a victory smile as if she won the lottery, well she kinda already did. Well… her family did.

You stood there as stiff as stage four rigga morris. You blinked a few times maybe trying to analyze maybe if you had zoned out or maybe was daydreaming and needed to come back to reality but she was still there with that goddamn hideous creepy Halloween coded smile on her face. And her friends sharp eyes weren’t helping your nerves to cool down . And then you decided to do something even more stupid and life threatening.

“ sorry but I don’t drink alcohol and I already had plans for the weekend with my friends so with all due respect Beyoncé I think I’ll p—“ before you could finish your sentence her four friends corner you and push you back hard against the cold metal of your locker. You winced and tried to seem as tough as possible by standing back up but a Barbie looking one with wet lashes and overlapping Matted lipstick pulled you closer to her by your collar.

“ listen here doormat, she’s kind but we’re not so you better take up the offer” she whispered eerily.

“ and we better see you there” another muttered. You involuntarily nodded and in a sharp instant she released you. Rebecca was still fucking smiling at you but then they all took off laughing. These crazy fucking bitches. You proceeded to quickly empty your bag, deciding to just leave the entire bag in the damn locker since you didn’t have any homework to worry about and school doesn’t reopen til Tuesday so you had time to come back for something just in case . Walking briskly out of the empty halls you waved goodbye to the elderly janitor Mrs. Hanson on your way out.

You sighed as you felt the cool air pressed across your skin and the warm afternoon sun as it escalated down your face and body areas. All the busses were long gone, with the last one pulling out of the drive and taking off into the distance. You sighed again but this time one of stress and agony. You looked around the parking lot and suddenly your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide. Standing not far out was your mom’s best friend. Not the weird old ugly ones that asked you weird questions, hot and steamy mommy coded Marilyn thornhill.

Marilyn always thought you were a rude rebellious teenager when you were younger but it was just you trying to hide your feelings from her. And soon eventually she caught on. There were times in the past when she would tease you, get under your skin. Push you past your comfort zone in more ways imaginable. And you loved it, you neeeded it, you craved it like a drug. You two had a little fling, she was your first and then she just left town and you never say her in the light of day again. So seeing her here now was like seeing a past lover, like the crazy teary scenes in the movies.

Except your heart was going 100mph and your private region suddenly grew a heart beat making you swallow thickly. And you could feel the saliva go all the way down there and soon enough you were becoming insatiably wet.

“ come here baby” you heard her say, leaning against the hood of her car with her legs crossed she took an inhale of her cigarette before it got lost under her boot on the ground. You felt a familiar shiver that only she made you feel. You knew how these interactions ended but your feet betrayed you and you started taking slow strides towards her. And the closer you got the more the temptation of what could happen, what has happened seemed soul demanding.

When walked closer to her you made sure to maintain a perfect gap space in case you needed to run away from her. Far away from her destruction that you so desperately craved. But sensing your hesitation Marilyn smirked and chuckled softly under her breath and in one swift motion captured her lips with yours by using your tie to pull you closer towards her. Your lips fought against each other in a slow passionate fight at first, just feeling each other closer then Marilyn became hungry. She bit down on your lips which caused you to moan as she used the opportunity to push her tongue pass your lips gate.

She wrapped the tie around her hand more tightly pulling you onto her even more. Being so flush against her again did things to you. You felt hot and desperate. Her body heat, her perfume a mix of lavender and something dark and citrus like. Something dangerous, like her. Your nipples slowly awakened themselves to the new found intimacy and a desire that raged war in you. Marilyn’s tongue fought against yours in a war of dominance and obviously she won leading you to just submitting to her, as your chest flattened and your body went limp against hers.

Marilyn smiled against your lips before she pulled away, wiping away any salvia trails that may have connected both your lips like a bridge. She looked down at you and you squirmed under her gaze. She chuckled and gave you a quick peck on your forehead.

“ well hello to you too, my love” she whispered against your lips before they connected with yours again and you had to push her off you before her thoughts got the better of her and she couldn’t control herself.

“ stop it Mari, there’s still staff members here.” You told her and she straightened up, fixing her posture. She looked at you with those ‘ I don’t give two fucks eyes I literally fucked you in your mom’s bedroom when she was cooking’ eyes but she stopped because she respected your boundaries and your body.

“ nice car” you finally said after fixing your clothes and putting a few inches between the both of you so pass byers wouldn’t have rumors to spread.

“ thanks it’s s yours” she said looking at the car then back at you, you laughed for a moment shaking your head at her joke before you realized that she wasn’t joking. Your eyes widen and you felt your feet betray you once more because all of a sudden you start jumping like a like kid who just got told that they were officially going to see Santa. You wrapped your arms around her neck and began kissing her all over her face, the older woman chuckled at your childish behavior and wrapped her arms around your waist pulling your closer.

“ but I can’t even drive yet” she must have saw the disappointment in your eyes because she squeezed your sides tighter forcing you to look at her.

“ I’ll teach you darling, maybe we can even test it out to see if it’s fuckable in” she said whispering the last part, you rolled your eyes and swatted her chest.

“ your hopeless you know that” she chuckled and lead you to the car, not just any car by the way a BMW M8 competition. You loved having a hot milf mommy that’s smoking rich.

——————————-

“ fucking damn it y/n what’s so hard in just putting your goddamn foot on the pedal” Marilyn was starting to piss you off, she had taken you out on some abandoned racing track in the middle of nowhere to practice you on driving and yelled at you every fucking time you messed up. You rolled your eyes and sighed. You looked over at her who was staring daggers at you as her breathing elaborated more and more each time she inhaled. It was like she was the big bad wolf in the three little pigs story.

“ are you fucking stupid or deaf? Put your fucking foot on the pedal!” She shouted more sternly this time, her tone taking no softness. She was angry but so the fuck were you.

“ you know what Marilyn fuck you , how about you take your car and shove it up your ass if you’d like” you opened the door and got out slamming the door after. You heard her grunt as she got out too but you didn’t pay much attention to her as you made your way around the car. You didn’t even know where you were going, there’s no where to go. You were in the middle of no where and she was your only was back to civilization. Before you could process it all you felt a firm grip in your hair as your body got slammed onto the cold surface of the car trunk.

You groaned in slight pain as you turned your head to the side to stare at the culprit. Marilyn’s grip remained in your hair and her other non occupied hand bunched up your platted skirt around your hips and in one swift motion pulled down your panties til they fell around your ankles. You couldn’t lie, something about being in the middle of nowhere all alone with Marilyn made your insides churn and your pussy pulse. Flash backs of you riding her cock at your friends party in her bedroom closet to sucking her off at a birthday party, to her pounding into your pussy out in a dressing room and yes of course the first time she made you cum on your moms bed when she was cooking.

All the memories came back. And this would fit perfectly to the list. You were already completely soaking, probably dripping just for her.

“ you fucking whore, all mommy wanted to do was surprise her baby and teach her how to drive but now mommy got put someone in their place” she whispered against the skin of your neck, her hot breath making you tremble under her hold. She yanked your hair making you prop yourself up onto your elbow. Her hand rested onto your lower back carefully arching your back for you and you complied. Marilyn stared at your ass cheeks for a moment, your round curvy ass bent back, all for her. She couldn’t help but bring her hand to the flesh fumbling with it before a hard swat came down causing you to cry out at the unexpectedness.

She felt you shiver against her and did it again. You whimpered and tried to lay down to give yourself some comfort but she held you up. Tears pricked at your eyes and the wind blowing in your face made it worst.

“ god i missed you baby” she muttered under her breath mostly to herself but you heard and it only turned you on more. She spanked your ass again and the pain slowly started mixing with the pleasure allowing a moan to coarse through your throat and out of your mouth. Marilyn smirked to herself and did it again this time for harshly, making the sore and redden flesh jiggle. You let out a more choked moan this time and she chuckled darkly.

“ yeah moan just like that for mommy” she let lose of your hair and grabbed the underneath of your neck forcing your head backwards to look at her. “ I wanna hear you fucking scream while I milk that pussy like the olden days” she used her forearm to push you against the hood of the car.

“ suck” she spat roughly as she shoved two fingers into your mouth, you gave her digits a few sucks seductively taking your time to draw out slow swirls across her knuckles before she pulled them from your mouth. She thrusted three digits into you in one swift motion causing your eyes to roll back completely. A grutal moan escaped from your mouth and it was a good thing that you both were in a secluded place or maybe the both of you would have been on the news…..

Marilyn’s pace was detrimental. She kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear as her fingers rutted deep inside of you with no mercy. Your nails scratched the hood of the car as a familiar pressure from deep within your stomach started to come back.

“ there she is, i can feel you clenching baby girl, go ahead and let go for mommy” she whispered against your ear, she placed a soft lingering kiss behind your earlobe, your back arched when you felt her cross curl her fingers deep within you as she increased her pace. It was only a matter of time before you came on her fingers with a loud cry. Marilyn smirked to herself and slid her fingers out of you. She gently licked the juices off her fingers while she watched you squirm before the wave of your orgasm. Your breathing was shallow and rigid as you tried to keep it under control and brace yourself for whatever was to come next.

You could hear Marilyn unbuttoning her pants, looking over your shoulder you see her slide her pants down to her ankles before her gaze met yours. What really caught your eye’s attention what the huge purple strap that was attached to her waist ready to absolutely destroy you to pieces. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at the strap and then back up at her, she had the most devilish grin imaginable and you knew her intentions. Marilyn wasted no time as she spread your legs apart, placing one of them up on the car’s bumper giving herself a better access to your cunt. You heard her spit on the strap before quickly dragging her hand up and down her length.

She wasted no time and inserted her cock into you. Your head fell against the car and your back arched. Marilyn held the flesh under your thigh as her hips bottomed out inside you. You felt so full of her. Her cock was pressing against the spongy spot inside you and it felt so fucking good. You missed her and her dick so bad you wished she had a real one. Marilyn withdrew her hips slowly as she watched in awe as your juices coated her length. She grabbed a fist full of your hair pulling you back against her chest as she slowly began thrusting.

“ oh god please—“ your sentence was cut of by a soft moan that was quickly followed by a whimper as Marilyn increased her pace.

“ you stubborn girl, can’t follow simple driving instructions but you sure can take dick” she spat with a small chuckle causing you to whine. Her praises and dirty talk will soon have you spurting to the edge and you didn’t wanna be seen as a slut. But you wouldn’t just be anyone’s slut. You’ll be her slut. And right now, with her cock buried deep within you and her tight grip in your hair you didn’t mind at all. Marilyn released her hold on your hair and used her hands to toy with your nipples. You cursed out a shallow moan and cried. Marilyn laughed mockingly and twisted your nipples between her fingers.

She looked down at where your cunt and her cock was connected and bit her hips before she too released a soft moan of her own.

“ fucking pussy so good” she whispered under her breath. She watched as your pussy pulsed and creamed on her length, sucking in a breath she grabbed your hair again.

“ you gonna fucking cum again? Mhmh? Fucking whore mommy treats this pussy too nice huh?” She tutted as her hips found a new speed now pounding your guts fast and deep, she curved her hips in an angle that made her tip bend against that sweet point deep within you. Watching as your eyes roll back and your legs tremble she spanks your ass cheek and runs her hand down your spine before slipping it around infront to play with your small bud.

“ fuck I—OH GOD MARILYN PLEASE—“ you croaked out, panting you reached your hand around and gently placed it on her abdomen in attempt to slow her hips but she was unstoppable. Your body fell limp against the car as you laid there and took her dick with grace.

“ fuck yes, take it baby, fucking take my cock, your gonna look at me and cum on my dick, fucking look at me” she said firmly going even deeper as her hips rocked faster within you. The sound of her cock moving in and out of you and your moans, the way she was speaking to you and her hands roaming your body and playing with you clit at some point it all became too much and you obeyed her. Turning your head to the side your gaze met hers in a pleading attempt to which it fell on deaf ears. Her pace was brutal and her thrusts were snapping sharp.

“Mary—I can’t—fuck I” she knew what you wanted to say, and she felt it. She leaned down and connected her lips with yours as you neared your edge. In one swift motion she deepened the arch in your back which allowed her strap to be driven even deeper into your cunt and that was it. Your body spammed as your cunt clenched down hard on her cock. You felt your juices release on her cock as you shuttered. You were completely out of breath and tired. But god did you wanna go again. You forgot just how good Marilyn has made you fell, can make you feel. And man did you love it. You turned around and sat up properly on the cars trunk and looked at her.

Her eyebrows quirked and she smirked at you. She kissed you softly but soon it transformed into something rough and passionate. She gently pushed you down back against the trunk and opened your legs to where disaster just occurred, to the mess she just caused you to make.

“ I wanna taste you now…..”

[podcast-official]

Old Partner In Crime, Chapter 1: Running Away Just Made Sense

Author's Note: This fic was inspired by Arms Unfolding by dodie so y'all should go listen to that first. Also this is my first fic that I've written since my middle school LoTR phase so please be nice, haha. It's not super heavily edited, so some things might not be worded quite how I want them to be, but all my grammar and punctuation should be good because personally that pisses me off lmao.

Relationship: Juno Steel/Peter Nureyev

Tags: Cuddling/Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Juno Steel is a Good Significant Other, Peter Nureyev is a Good Significant Other, Healing, Recovery, Communication

CWs: Mention of SH (cutting), mention of alcoholism, (everything turns out okay, I pinky promise), arguments, miscommunication, very non-explicit sex, references to past trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms

It started all fell apart one night when Juno was out late and didn't call. The last few months had been... tense. More arguments. Less communication. When Juno was an hour later than he said he'd be, Peter started to spiral. He's left before, his mind told him. And he was right to. Peter went to the mirror in the bathroom, clutching the edges of the sink, letting the cold porcelain dig into his skin. He felt sick as he looked at himself.

Not so pretty anymore, are you? the voice in his head taunted. He deserves better. He swallowed. "I'm being ridiculous," he said aloud. "Juno's coming home. He's going to come through that door and wrap me up in his arms and kiss me like he has every single day for the last year and a half. He's just running late."

He shut his eyes tight. "He's just running late," he whispered, trying to quell his fear. He twisted the ring on his hand, the one that promised that Juno would never, ever leave. It felt too tight all of a sudden. A chain instead of a tether. He turned from the mirror and grabbed his coat from where it lay on the couch. He had to get out. He had to leave. He had to run. Every single nerve buzzed with the message that he was in danger.

He walked for two hours before he made it back to the apartment, spiraling deeper and deeper. He'd already made up his mind to go back and get the emergency bag he kept packed in the back of his closet. It was better than sleeping in an empty apartment. When he got back, however, he saw Juno on the couch, head in his hands, a glass and a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him on the coffee table. Peter would've sworn that bottle was full this morning. Juno had been drinking more than usual, now that he thought about it.

Juno looked up at him. "Nureyev, where the hell have you been?" Juno snapped and Peter flinched.

Then something hard and angry and bitter lodged in his heart. "I could ask you the same question, Juno. I went for a walk, that's all. You were late and I was worried and-"

Juno gave a little disbelieving laugh. "You were running away, weren't you? Or planning on it, at least. God, Nureyev, it's been, what, three years now, and you still can't fucking trust me? I come home an hour late and you completely lose it?"

"Why are you angry at me?"

"Because you can't seem to believe for a moment that I'm not going to leave. And now I can't trust that you weren't. I bet you were just about to grab that bag you think I don't know about from the closet and run off to who knows where if I wasn't here."

"Juno, I'm sorry, but you didn't call or message or anything and I had no idea where-"

"Oh, grow up, Nureyev."

"Juno, I don't want to fight-"

"Fine! Then we won't! I'm going to Rita's."

Peter's face hardened a little. "Fine."

Peter thought in that moment that if this was one of those romantic dramas Rita watched he'd realize that if he let Juno walk out that door right now, their marriage would be over, that he should run after him and grab his arm and tell him he loved him.

But he didn't. He watched Juno leave and then silently poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bottle on the table, downed it, and poured another. He stared into space for a long while, feeling the urge to do something he hadn't done since he and Juno had reunited. He wanted to feel cold, sharp metal against his skin, to-

No. He couldn't do that, because Juno would notice next time they-

Wait.

It's not like he loves you anymore. You've known it for months now. It's not like he'll see you with your clothes off anytime soon.

An hour later, Peter was glad that Juno had bought bandages recently.

He curled up in bed and wept until he fell asleep.

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello                      Salut

Goodbye                La revedere

Thank you              Mulțumesc

You’re welcome      Cu plăcere

Good morning         Bună dimineata

Good afternoon       Bună ziua

Good evening          Bună seara

Good night               Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you?          Ce mai faci

I love you                 Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I���m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

[ppersonna]

thunder - ksj | m

your voice was the soundtrack of my summer. do you know you're unlike any other? you'll always be my thunder. - thunder, boys like girls

↳ summary- you allow your best friend Jin to take you backpacking once per year.  apparently, this year’s outing would be the wettest yet.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

↳ word count- 6k

↳ genre- fluff, tiny angst, smut, comedy

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, light dom!jin, light sub!reader, fucking in tents haha ha ha ha, cum play, cum eating, possessive dirty talk

↳ a/n- wow hello! its been so long since i uploaded a fic i almost forgot how to do it! i would like to give you a fic that i’ve had in my storage since march, and one i’m excited to finally finish. i’d be nowhere without @taetaewonderland​ @xjoonchildx​ @ladyartemesia​ for hyping me up to post it in the first place.  thank u to @shadowsremedy​ for being my fav beta ily ily ily. enjoy my babes! pls feel free to message me!

 “Kim Seokjin, if you got us lost, I’m going to murder you,” you seethed as your pulled your booted foot out of a slick puddle of mud. 

“I didn’t get us lost, dear. The map is wrong,” he replied coolly as he twisted the crumpled map from portrait to landscape, and back again. “I’m an excellent navigator, but when the tools I have are faulty…”. 

You grumbled, stopping your walk to sit on a fallen log. You sighed audibly at your best friend, still maneuvering in the small clearing in the forest, trying to match the map to where you were. You chanced a look at the sky as you sought to catch your breath and sate your anger. Dark, heavy clouds were forming, the kind that didn’t just indicate a sprinkle but a torrential downpour. 

“Shit, Jin. It’s going to storm soon,” you warned.  

He stopped his map seeking and glanced at the sky, frown buried deep in his face. 

Instantly, as if it never changed, he returned to his bright and cheery demeanor. 

“Well! Looks like we should work faster to make it back to camp, huh?” 

Seokjin would be excited for an unexpected kink in your plans. The boy was obsessed with “roughing it”. You agreed to one weekend with minimal hiking. Camping, in your opinion, was meant to be spent drunk around a fire eating s’mores and telling scary stories, not walking for miles through nothing but trees, mud, and probably bears.

Camping had never been your favorite hobby, and you allowed Seokjin to take you off trail backpacking once per year. The man looked forward to it, planned it several months in advance, and counted down the days until he stuffed you in his Jeep down a deserted forest highway to the campsite. 

Only, Jin never took the “minimal hiking” thing too seriously. 

“It’s an easy hike,” he had promised you that morning as you set up camp. “More of a stroll than anything.” 

You kicked at the dirt beneath you now, upset you had listened to the dark-haired man’s empty promises. 

“How about we just go back the way we came from?” You suggested as you stood up and brushed the dirt off your backside from the log. 

“Nonsense,” he sniffed. “I’ve got it right here. We can take this trail,” he gestured at a clearing through the trees, “for about a mile, turn left at the open valley, and we’ll be back at camp two miles after that!”  He proclaimed his findings as if it were so easy, so obvious. 

“Great, three miles of hiking. After we’ve already done four, at least.”

“Yes, my ever-positive sunshine, you should be happy I found us a shortcut.” He patted your head and smiled at you as he adjusted your backpack strap that was sliding off your shoulders. He lingered, eyes on you and your lips for just a fraction too long, before he turned and began leading you through the forest. 

Your heart was racing, unrelated to the elevation or the hike. 

You gave in so easily to Jin not because he was your best friend since childhood, but also because he was the man you were hopelessly in love with. 

You’d been smitten with the older boy since your senior year of high school, when he jokingly asked you to prom and you realized you wanted Seokjin courting you to be a regular occurrence. 

You stayed by his side through it all, all girlfriends and breakups. It hurt to watch him with another, but maintaining his friendship was more important than anything else and you weren’t about to lose him to a crush that you could easily just avoid. 

Seokjin was attached to your hip, a fact your friends never let you live down. They were relentless in encouraging you two to be alone, and for you to admit your feelings to him. They told you they were sure he would reciprocate it.  

Unbeknownst to them, you had admitted it. 

You and Jin once got messy drunk on the floor of your apartment, where you slithered up into his lap and whispered your secret devotion to your best friend. Seokjin merely laughed and kissed your nose. You were so embarrassed and rejected you never brought it up again. Best to leave it be, rather than bring a 15 year friendship to a screeching halt. 

So—you valiantly stood by him as his best friend and confidante. You were there when he excitedly told you about his new girlfriend, or when he called you crying over their breakup. Your heart twinged at both; you wanted to be the reason for his excitement and the balm to his wounded heart. 

You allowed Seokjin to take you on all his wild adventures. Like now—traipsing through the forest with no direction in sight, because you would have done nearly anything for the boy.

A crack of thunder shook you from your thoughts and you jumped at the sudden sound. 

“Ah, so cute,” he smiled at you, “still afraid of thunder?”

You blushed and pouted. “It just surprised me, is all.”

He smirked as if to say he didn’t believe you and nodded. “We should get a move on, don’t want to get caught in the rain.” 

You shivered at the thought. It was already cool in the forest; the trees providing enough coverage it locked out any sun, if there had been any. You quickly moved in step behind your best friend. It only took a few minutes of silence before the telltale pitter patter of droplets on leaves began. A fat raindrop landed on your forehead. 

“Fuck,” you groaned. “It’s starting.”  

“I know,” Jin suddenly looked worried, his confident demeanor cracking. He looked back at you and tightened the straps on his backpack. 

“Let’s run?”

You were powerless to deny any request from him. Plus, you didn’t really feel like getting drenched. 

You adjusted your own backpack and took off, running through the quickly dampening forest beside Seokjin. 

The rain came in a downpour. It hit you hard, blurring your vision. Seokjin slipped his hand into yours, not wanting to lose you in the storm. You pushed your legs in time with his, jumping around fell logs and rocks and skipping large puddles. 

You were drenched as Seokjin pulled you into a makeshift canopy of rocks, a momentary pause from the storm to catch your breath. Your hair was soaking wet, as if freshly showered. Seokjin’s hair stuck to his face, and you smiled as he looked at you with concern. It only took a moment until you were both bursting with laughter, finding humor at the moment. 

It was something you loved about Seokjin. He always knew how to make you laugh in times it seemed impossible. 

“This sucks,” you spoke through your joyful laughter.  He nodded in agreement. 

“I think we’re almost back. We need to turn soon, and then we’ve got about two more miles. You ready?”

You agreed and pushed back the slick hair in your eyes, before doing the same for him. His eyes sparkled. You didn’t know what it meant. 

In an instant, you were running again. The backpack bounced against your back and rain pounded your body. The things you did for Kim Seokjin. You were whipped, and you knew it. 

The trail seemed like it went on forever. You both became so tired of running that you slowed and trudged slowly through mud as rain pelted you, accepting your fate of soaking to the bone. You were sure you had never been this drenched in your life.  Your clothes were stuck to your body and dripping down into your shoes and socks. Your teeth chattered in the breeze—it felt as if the wind whipped right through you.  The sky rumbled again, as if warning you to hurry lest it dump more rain on you.

Seokjin was always the caring companion. He rubbed your shoulders and arms to warm them up and promised a roaring fire. You hated how much it made your heart burst.

You were very much looking forward to your one-man tent, stocked with a sleeping bag and blankets. You could strip down and dry off and slip into the warmth of your own personal nest. 

Seokjin waxed poetic about his own spacious tent—a lofty family sized one, and how he made sure he brought his sleeping bag along with 8 thick blankets, and how he couldn’t wait to snuggle down into his own.  Seokjin was the picture of preparedness. He even kept a locking box full of snacks in his tent because the boy was a foodie and couldn’t survive without the treats. It came in handy. 

“What would you do if we were stuck out here forever?” You posed to your best friend, curious about his response and desperate to pass the time as you hiked. 

“Well,” he thought aloud. “I’d miss the guys. But I’d be happy to be stuck out here with you.”  

Your cheeks flushed. 

“You wouldn’t miss, ah—what’s her name? Miya?” 

Seokjin shrugged. “She’s fun. She’s not you, though.”

You couldn’t help but grumble internally. She was good enough to date, and you weren’t. She was different in some respect. 

“Are things not going well with her?” You asked, secretly hoping they weren’t.

“It’s fine. She’s nice and all,” he sighed.  “Just, there’s no spark there, you know?”  

You knew all too well. Any man you tried to date paled compared to your best friend, and the fireworks behind your every heartbeat when you were near him.

“What about you?” He was peering into your eyes and into what felt like your soul. “You and Jungkook sure seem cozy.” His tone sounded annoyed, sarcastic even.

You couldn’t help but bark a laugh. 

“Oh god, no,” you shook your soggy head.  “Not my type. We’re good friends and that’s it. Plus, I’m sure he’s into Jimin.”

Seokjin shrugged again. “You sit on his lap and cuddle up to him all the time…”

“Are you jealous?” You smirked, nudging the man.  Please, god, please be jealous.

“N-No!” He was sharp. “I’m not.”

Ouch.

You remained silent, eyes downcast at your muddy boots as you walked alongside the man.

“Sorry,” he mumbled after a beat of silence. 

“Don’t worry about it, Seokjin. I got it—loud and clear.”

Seokjin looked hurt, a wave of dissatisfaction crossing his features. He wanted to say something, mouth opening to continue his apology. You ignored it wholly. He knew your feelings. There was no way he couldn’t remember that night. You pushed ahead of the man, walking in front of him to avoid his pained gaze and likely hurried apology.  

The light of day was leaving. Everything around you was steadily getting darker, and the rain showed no sign of giving up. You silently begged to be back to the safety of your camp soon, lest you become walking mountain lion bait.

“There’s camp!” Seokjin finally pointed and ran through the rain ahead of you.

“Oh thank fuck,” you sighed, feeling as if it lifted a weight from your shoulders. You couldn’t wait to strip out of your soaking clothes and slither into your blankets.

“Oh shit,” Seokjin whispered, stopping where he stood.  You followed his gaze, concerned about what stopped the boy so quickly.   

Your tent was ripped open, the insides of it exposed to the wind and rain. Everything you owned was soaking wet. You had set it up in a clearing with not too many trees above it, and it appeared the lack of protection against the wind and rain tore the poor fabric to shreds.

A worn-out and distraught sob left your lips.

“No!”  

You ran to the tent and nearly cried. Fortunately, beyond just being soaking wet and useless for the night, everything was intact. There was only no warmth to be had. No warm clothes to change into. Nothing.  

“What the fuck am I going to do?!” 

Seokjin placed a hand on your shoulder.  

“You can share with me?” He sounded hopeful. “We can hang your clothes to dry and when the storm passes, we can build a fire and let your tent air out.  But you should probably sleep in my tent tonight.” 

You bit your lip. You had slept with Seokjin in more beds than you could count, always being forced to share a bed as the designated ‘best friends who don’t care’.  And it was never easy for you. You always woke up with the delicious scent of his cologne and shampoo, and your body curled around his. His hardness would always be pressed up against you, and it took all you had not to wrap your mouth around it to wake him up.

“Yeah, thanks Seokjin,” you breathed. “I’m fucking freezing. And I’m tired. I just want to get some sleep.”

Seokjin slipped his backpack off and pulled yours off your frame. He hung them from a sturdy branch, protected by layers of trees overhead, to let them dry.  

“I have some towels in my tent, go on in. You can get dry and hand me your wet clothes to hang. Then you can get in the blankets and I’ll make us something to eat.”

You blushed. Seokjin hadn’t seen you fully naked, ever; at least not since you were toddlers.

Slipping into his blankets while stark nude would be a dream. It was something you fantasized about more than you’d care to admit. But, in the current conditions, being naked and clammy in the blankets next to your best friend who didn’t return any feelings for you sounded more like an awkward moment waiting to happen.

If Seokjin noticed anything, he didn’t show it. He acted as if making you strip in his tent was a normal thing, nothing out of the ordinary. 

“I’ll wait out here,” he nodded dutifully. 

You slipped out of your muddy boots and socks, and into his tent. It was nice and spacious, and the blankets looked incredibly enticing. It was kind of Seokjin to let you stay with him, even kinder that he would remain soaking wet to make you something to eat. Your body felt so worn out and drained, and you were sure he did too. 

You peeled the wet clothing off of you, every bit, before sticking your head out the door and handing him the clothes.  

“Don’t worry about food, okay? You should get dry too.”  

He wrinkled his forehead. 

“You sure?” 

You bit your lip and nodded. 

“I’m sure. Plus, we have your snacks.”

“Ah, good thinking,” he shot his finger guns at you. “I’ll be there in a minute, then. Hand me a towel and I’ll get undressed out here.”

You shyly handed him a towel, now very aware that you and Seokjin would be in the same tent—naked. The thought thrilled you as much as it scared you. 

It didn’t take long to burrow yourself into his freshly made bed roll, sliding into the neat layers. Seokjin was nearly military in his routine and order.  Everything was always tucked, pressed, and laid down perfectly. 

Your body wracked with shivers and chills—the blankets and sleeping bag were cold from the ambient air outside. You folded yourself together in a fetal position to maintain some warmth. It felt good to lie down on the soft bed mat, but the blankets were doing nothing to provide warmth. 

The sound of the zipper opening the front door flap of the tent made you shake harder. You could feel the wind blow through the opening now. The sound of the storm was loud, and you were grateful for the heavy tarp covering Seokjin’s tent. It provided some respite from the wind and kept all water off the tent. At least Seokjin had been smart in his setup. You ignored the man’s suggestions to set up better, and you were fully regretting it now.

Seokjin had the towel wrapped around his waist and stepped about the tent easily. He dabbed at his upper body with a smaller towel from his suitcase and rubbed his hair dry. The normally perfectly coiffed head was now static-y and sticking up wildly. It would have made you laugh if you weren’t so cold. 

Seokjin moved around you and slid into the blankets, leaving a large space between you, before he threw the towel around his waist onto the floor. He was naked now; you noted internally. You both were. A shiver ran down your spine, unrelated to the relentless chill.

It was silent. All you could hear was the beating of the rain on the tarp and your teeth chattering as you shivered. 

Seokjin stole a look at you, finally, and noticed your position, holding yourself to build warmth. 

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked. 

“I’m j-j-just col-l-ld,” you whispered. “And t-t-tired.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but you heard the scratching sound of a moving sleeping bag and rustling of blankets and suddenly felt a very warm, very naked body pressed against you. It was blissful, and you moaned out loud at the feel of him spooning you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You didn’t know what for, and couldn’t bring yourself to reply. 

You burrowed yourself down into his warmth and felt his arms wrap around you, securing you against him. He radiated heat. He felt like heaven. Your eyes closed—he had you feeling like you had stepped into a delicious sauna.

Seokjin’s muscular arms hadn’t moved an inch since they wrapped around you, but now his hands slowly rubbed at your torso, warming you everywhere his hand dragged. It felt electrifying and your body relaxed easily under his delicate fingertips. 

It started out innocent, rubbing along your stomach and side to warm you further. But his hand began straying north, reaching the crest of your breasts. Your breath hitched as he rubbed over the cold swells. Your nipples were hard from the chill and pebbled even further with the touch of his hands. It made a gasp stick in your throat.

His lips touched your neck, lightly. They were warm too. It seemed his entire body was twenty degrees warmer than your own, and every touch felt like a raging flame. His hands continued rubbing along your breasts as he laved and sucked.

 at the column of your throat.  

As instantly as it began, Seokjin stopped. His hands hovered above your breasts. 

He pressed kisses to your neck and face. “We should sleep, babe,” he sighed.  

You wanted to protest, to push him further, to take care of what he started, but you couldn’t find the energy. Seokjin’s warmth matched with the comfort of his bedroll, and the soothing rise and fall of his breath was lulling you into sleep. Even though it was still early evening, the hike and the run back to safety took it all out of you.  

Seokjin’s arms felt like safety. He secured them around you, slipping just underneath your breasts where his thumb could trace alongside the bottom as you easily succumbed to sleep.

It was still dark when you woke.  

The rain was still coming down, light this time. It sounded relaxing, soothing. Seokjin was still spooning you, sleeping soundly behind you. You twisted in his grasp to gaze at him. 

His hair was dry now, sticking out randomly about his pillow. You were sure if he saw it he’d panic, normally so precise with his looks. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, none of his chaotic energy and dramatic charisma. 

You loved every facet of Seokjin. You loved the flamboyance, the sensitivity, the deep compassion for his friends.  

You turned around, as gently and quietly as you could, and pressed a hand to his cheek—rubbing at the warm and soft flesh. He sighed softly in his sleep, moving against his pillow. An eye cracked open, and he stared at you. 

“Why are you awake?” He whispered, his voice gentle. “It’s still dark.” 

He was confused, and the look that graced his features was adorable. You wanted to photograph it and frame it, make it the lock screen of your phone. 

You shook your head. 

“Don’t know.”

Seokjin’s hand rubbed at your shoulder, then up to your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled at you. 

“You look so cute in the moonlight.”

You closed your eyes, letting his compliment wash over you. You couldn’t find the words to reply. You let him continue caressing your cheek, feeling as if you were living a fantasy where Seokjin touched you like a lover. 

You were so close to him, chest pressing against his own. Something about the quiet storm, the dark tent, had you disregarding any embarrassment you should have felt pressing your naked tits to the man's chest, but the spell of the forest had you pressing closer. Your lips were inches apart, and you could feel his breath on your lips. 

The feel of Seokjin’s lips pressing against yours was light, but felt as if all the fireworks in the world exploded behind your eyes and within your belly. It started sweet, gentle. You kissed him like you always wanted to, full of unrequited love and unwavering desire. Your arms slithered around his neck, pulling him even closer against you.  

The kiss turned deeper, mouths opening to allow the passage of tongues. He sought into your mouth, caressing yours with his own, pouring what felt like his very spirit into you. His hand left your back and slid up your sides to press against your breast. 

“Seokjin,” you murmured, feeling your brain swirl headily. “Feels good.”

He didn’t reply, only kept kissing at your neck and pinching gently at your hardened nipples. It made you cry out, gaping at the slight pain.

“If you want me to stop, tell me.” 

His words were gentle. His hands stilled, stopping all ministrations against you.

Your breath was hard and shaky, matching the erratic beat of your heart in your ribcage. Your unrequited crush of years was now roaming your body, touching you as a lover rather than a friend.

“Please, don’t stop.”

He was on you again, now bloodthirsty for any part of your skin to touch. He tugged at your nipples, suckled up your neck to kiss and lick at the shell of your ears.  You pressed against him, gasping at the feel of his now stiff cock. He circled his hips, relishing in the feel of you against him. You wondered how he would feel inside you. He was thick and long—it would be a stretch, and a most delicious and welcome one.

He pressed you back against the pillow, hovering over your body as he kissed down your neck and sucked at the pressure points there. A pleasured sigh passed through your open lips, reveling in the feel of him on your skin. It was something you dreamed about often. It felt unreal to finally have it. 

You were on display for him, and his eyes raked over you as if you were a Dalí in the Louvre. His hands slid up to cup your breasts, and you tilted your head back to moan. You didn’t care at all about how you looked, how this might be awkward in the next few hours. You cared only about feeling Seokjin within you, getting him off, succumbing to your own pleasure wrought by his hands and his cock.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighed. “Wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you gasped as he slid a finger down to your core, circling faintly over your slick folds.

“Have you?”

“Seokjin, I’ve been in love with you since high school.”

Seokjin closed his eyes and smiled, breathing through his nose in contentment.

“You weren’t just saying that when you were drunk then.”

You shook your head, and Seokjin opened his eyes to peer at you.

“No, Seokjin,” you whispered needily, his finger still so torturously close to your clit. “I meant it.”

He leaned down with a smile and planted gentle kisses on your cheeks, adoring and gentle.  

“I’ve been in love with you too. I thought you were just drunk. I never acted on it because I didn’t want to get my heart broken.”

He pulled up and allowed his free hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” He asked. “Like, really fucking hard. You good with that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. A deep, hearty chuckle passed between both of you, enamored with each other and the situation of being naked and intertwined together, the warmth of your matched confessions surrounding you.  

“Fuck me, please,” you begged.

And Seokjin would be loath to deny you.

His teasing finger finally slid into your core, fucking into you with ease from your slick walls.  You gasped at the welcome intrusion, eyes fluttering closed as he began a slight pace and watched the way you fell apart.

“So pretty,” he whispered. “So fucking pretty.”

He slipped another finger in, scissoring them open as he worked at you.  Your legs trembled, and it made the older man smirk.  

“Look at you,” he praised. “So easily turned into a *gushing* puddle for me.”

You nodded pathetically, back arching as he added yet another finger and pressed at the spot inside you that had your mind spinning and thoughts erasing.

“Oh—God, Jin!”

As much as Jin wanted to see you get off around his fingers, he was desperate for more. You were finally all his—something he’s wanted since he could remember. All he’s wanted was for you to be his.

He pulled his fingers from inside you and smiled as they came out slicked up with your own essence.  He ensured you made eye contact with him, then popped them into his mouth one-by-one, to suck them clean.

It made your mouth nearly fall to the floor as you watched him suck his fingers clean of you. Your body trembled with a need you hadn’t felt before. It was stronger than anything you’d felt before. It was unadulterated desire for Seokjin.

“Mm,” he sighed happily as he pulled the final digit from his mouth. “Delicious, as I thought.”

“Oh, my god,” you gaped. “Jin…,”

The man merely shook his head and smiled, crowding you down and hovering over your lips.

“You’re mine now, you got that?” 

His eyes tracked yours, watching your every movement. It took you a moment to swallow your nerves, to regain any ounce of confidence.

“I’ve always been yours, Seokjin.”

He held you down, watching you with a gleam of wonder in his eye, before surging forward and planting his lips onto yours. His tongue dove in instantly, seeking solace in the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him passage was easy, almost natural. Jin’s tongue swirled around your own as your arms slithered around his neck to bring him closer. Kissing Jin felt like everything you’d imagine it would be, and yet like nothing you could have even dreamed.

Jin didn’t just kiss you—he consumed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth like he couldn’t get close enough to you. His chest pressed against your body and he groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your perky breasts pushing into his own broad chest.

“Baby,” he whispered as he pulled away. 

It sounded like a dream—the pet name fell from Jin’s lips so easily, as if it were always meant to be spoken to you.

“You’ve always been the one I wanted,” he breathed as he pressed his lips down your neck. “Always the girl I wanted and could never have.”

“Jin,” you gasped as your fingers carded through his hair. “Jin, you’ve always had me.”

He lifted his head and peered deep into your eyes again, so deep it felt like he was glimpsing into your soul.

“I only want you. No one else.”

It knocked you breathless, and it took a moment for you to refill your lungs before nodding.  

“I’m all yours.”

There was acknowledgement in both your admissions. An understanding that there was no more separation of you, and of Jin. That after tonight, it would be a partnership, and the beginnings of something more, something you’ve only dreamt of with the older man.

“Mine,” he whispered, before pressing his lips back to yours.

The kiss was sweet, nearly cloyingly sweet, as his hands cupped your face. He kissed you with every intention, every desperate plea he’s held in his heart for you.

Jin’s length pressed against you—his hips rutting minutely as he kissed you.

“Jin,” you gasped as you pulled away from his lip locked embrace. “Please, I need you.”

Jin’s charming smile spread across his lips, blooming your heart along with it.

“As you wish,” he whispered as he pressed in for another soft kiss..

Instantly, Jin flipped around and switched positions, guiding you to sit atop his hips while he settled down into the mess of blankets and pillows.

“What?” He asked as he noticed your confusion at the sudden mood change, a smirk rising on his puffy lips. “You think I’m gonna let you lay back and make me do all the work?”

There he was, your Seokjin. Never able to keep a comment to himself, regardless of the situation—always working to make you laugh. It made your heart sing.

His hands slid to grip at your hips while you lifted yourself up to hover over his hardened length, lining up the tip to just graze the wetness there.

“You see what you do to me?” You asked with a coy smile. “You see how badly I want you?”

Jin bit his lip, mesmerized by the way your cunt slicked up the head of his cock, desperate to spear into you but holding back.

“Fuck—,” he breathed. “P-Prove it.”

A smirk crossed your features before you took the plunge and allowed his length to slip inside you as you sank to his hips.  The intrusion was welcome, and you gaped at the sensation of him plunging deep.

“Oh, my God!” Jin gasped as you had taken him to the hilt.  His eyes bulged for a moment before they closed in bliss.  “You feel so fucking good.”

You didn’t need to speak. The feeling of Jin’s thick length inside of you was more than enough agreement.  He felt so thick, so long, prodding at the spot inside you that had you weak and stretching you wide to make you gasp at the sizzle of pain.  After a moment of adjusting to his size, you let your hands fall to his chest as you began to slowly rise and fall and set a pace on his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he whined—eyes wide open and watching you bounce on him. “Shit, this is where you belong.”

You eagerly pinched at your nipples as your pace quickened, nodding at Jin’s encouraging words. Your mouth felt dry, and you felt unable to even vocalize your pleasure beyond your loud sighs and moans.

“Jin,” you breathed.

He nodded, assisting your pace by gripping your hips.  He tugged you down, face to face, to rest on his chest while your hips kept their quick speed of enveloping his cock in your tight heat.  He let a hand cup the side of your face, the other moving to grip your ass.

“You’re all fucking mine,” he grunted as he thrusted his cock up into you, matching the rhythm of your rise and fall. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good every day, baby.”

You nodded quickly, heartbeat rising as you quickened each pound.  Jin’s lips pressed to yours again, this time messier, hotter.  He licked into your mouth, desperate for any more of you he could consume.

“Fuck, you drive me fucking crazy,” he said, cock still thrusting deep inside you. “Let me fuck you from behind?”

You didn’t bother replying, simply removing yourself from his body and assuming the position on your hands and knees.  Jin scrambled to line up behind you, hand pumping his slick cock as he marveled at the sight of you presented for him.

“Take me, please,” you whispered, turning your head to peer at him with a desperate smile. “Fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

Jin hissed an expletive, before lining himself up in your sodden folds and plunging in without a second thought.  Your eyes widened at the new angle, gasping as you felt it hit different areas inside of you that had you squeaking with each hard thrust of his cock.

Jin’s hands gripped your ass, your hips, anywhere he could leave his brutal fingerprints.

“God, you take my cock like a fucking queen,” he gasped as the sound of skin slapping echoed around the tent. “Look at your pussy, so fucking wet for me.”

He marveled at the way his cock plunged deep inside you, then came out covered in your creamy slick.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let me claim this pussy with my cum?”

The pleasure was overwhelming—it felt like every nerve ending was lit on fire, and you were a burning fuse about to detonate into a thousand brilliant explosions.  Each thrust of Jin’s thickness had you crying for more, moans echoing off the trees outside.  You were suddenly thankful you were in the middle of nowhere, allowing you to be loud and needy.

Jin reveled in your desperate sighs and the way your body pushed back against his to match his pace.  He knew his end was coming, knew it was going to be short-lived from the start. He’s wanted your body for as long as he could remember, and wanted you in his life as his lover, his girlfriend, more than just what he had been relegated to for so long.  

“Mm, baby, you look so good on your knees for me, fuck,” he gasped as his speed increased. “I can’t wait to make you cum on my cock every fucking day, love. This is my pussy now.”

Jin’s possession of your body made you see stars, vision blurring as your cunt tightened its grip around his cock.  Jin gasped at the grip and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned. “I feel you, baby, fuck. Cum for me, angel. Let me feel this tiny little cunt milk me.”

The coil inside you was tightening, pulling tight and making you gasp and scream at the oncoming rush.  Jin’s pounding was relentless, making your entire body shake with the anticipation.  

Your hand dipped to circle at your clit, the ultimate piece to your end. 

The coil snapped, and your cunt pulsated wildly around his cock, vice-grip tight.  It felt as if you had been catapulted off into space, vision blurring and all sound indiscernible from the blood rushing in your ears.

Jin’s climax quickly overtook him at the feeling of your delicious heat gripping at his cock.  With just a few strokes inside you, his cock pulsed hot stripes of cum within you and painted your channel.  Something primal in Seokjin loved that he was within you now, a piece of him deposited inside. 

He allowed a few moments to pass to catch his breath, before slowly easing his spent cock from your dripping walls.  He groaned as he watched a bit of his seed drip out, and he was careful to collect it on his fingers.

“Come here,” he whispered as he pressed his chest to your back and lifted you upright, sitting on your knees.  He presented his fingers to your lips, dripping with your combined slick, and wrapped his free arm around your stomach.

Obediently, you opened your mouth and allowed the man to swirl his cum-coated digits in your mouth. It made your stomach erupt in butterflies, the taste of you and the man you’ve only dreamt about for years now on your tongue.

A crack of thunder shook you from your silent reverie, and Jin removed his fingers from his mouth before wrapping both arms around you and tugging you down to lie face to face on the mused sleeping bags.

“Now, aren’t you glad we did this?” He asked with a chuckle and a kiss to your nose.

You wrinkled your brow and smiled coyly.

“I would have enjoyed it more if you hadn’t gotten us lost.”

Jin pouted and huffed.

“I didn’t get us lost,” he sniffed with indignation. “The map was wrong.”

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

the way I love you // tom holland x reader

a/n: hello my lovelies! it’s been a little while since I posted something, this piece has fully been kicking my butt but she’s finally here and I hope you like her even if she is a little rough around the edges. as always, love to know what you think. also, I will do an official post regarding rules but from here until I close them my * REQUESTS ARE OPEN * my 10th piece of writing (WHAT) is a requested piece that I'm so excited to share with you guys and the lovely human who requested it, so stay tuned for that but in the meantime, sending all the love, and I hope you're all staying safe out there, please enjoy! x 

word count: 2.1K warning: swearing, lil bit of angst if you squint summary: your best friend tom is helping you move in, but you have a secret and it’s been making things difficult. it’s time to fess up. 

The rain thumped against the windows, droplets eagerly chasing each other to the bottom. The wind whistled, branches reaching out as the trees shook. Soft wispy curtains were pulled tight to keep the cold, stormy weather locked outside. Yet the sounds of cars speeding through the flooded roads could still be heard from the storeys above. The room was almost bare, the orange glow of the streetlights casting warm shadows upon the wooden floorboards. A couple of unopened cardboard boxes were stacked up against one wall. One section of the room was lowly lit with battery-operated soft, twinkling fairy lights and flickering candles. The floor was decorated with a few cosy blankets and pillows. Half eaten cartons of sushi sat abandoned alongside a takeaway pizza box full of cheesy crusts. A laptop balanced precariously on one of the boxes, movie already playing. “Happy move-in day,” a voice whispers, just grazing past your ear. You lay on your front on the floor, wrapped up in an exceptionally fluffy blanket. Your best friend is sat semi cross-legged with his knees up, arms hooked around them, the pair of you only a breath apart. You turn your head lazily in his direction, unable to hide the grin from your face as he cocks his head, mimicking you with his own cheesy smile - noses almost touching. “Thanks for helping me out. Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite?” “Oh, not nearly enough.” He nudges your side, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. You laugh, causing his face to soften at your expression before you focus your attention back to the small screen. Tom frowns slightly as you turn away, keeping his eyes on you as he drinks you in slowly. Your hair was almost completely dry from the rainstorm, and had begun curling at the ends and around your hairline, one piece had fallen across your face which he ached to tuck back into place behind your ear. You had a light flush across your cheeks, eyes shining bright as your face slackened, concentrating on the film. He let out a soft sigh before swallowing, dragging his eyes away from you and back to the movie. **** It hadn’t taken long for you and tom to gravitate closer to each other, a chill making its way through the apartment as you were yet to install a new heating system. You were tucked into his side, head resting gently against his shoulder, breaths synchronising. You shifted slightly, yet Tom kept a protective arm around you. A black screen took over the laptop as the credits started rolling. Tom let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he slowly sat up, bringing you with him. “I better go, it’s late and I have a bunch of meetings tomorrow. Plus you still have unpacking to do…” he teases, collecting some of the empty cartons. You nod, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and gathering it around your waist as you hit pause on the laptop. Stretching your body out, you could already feel the twinges in your back from sitting on the hard floor. The sky had darkened considerably, storm worsening behind the curtains, rain lashing down hard. You glance across at tom, watching as he steps foot into the kitchen, tiding up the rubbish into a neat pile. You bite your lip slightly as you give him a once over. His hair was unruly, eager for a styling from Rachel as it attempted to curl against his forehead, and you could see where he’d been running his hands through it all day. You loved how relaxed he looked in your presence, allowing himself to be slightly unkempt and messy. You watched his mouth and eyebrows twitch animatedly as he cleaned up the kitchen, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie rolled up his forearms. Suddenly he looked up, eyes directly locking with yours and your felt your face flush. “Stop staring at me you div,” he teased, as his face breaking out into a grin, eyes creasing at the sides, still locked with yours. “Calm down movie star, you ain’t all that,” you laugh nervously, internally berating yourself for getting caught in a trance as you pick up the rest of the rubbish and join Tom in the kitchen, blanket slouched around your shoulders and trailing behind you. Truth was, something had changed during the last film Tom had been away filming for. Tiny butterflies would dance in your stomach whenever your phone pinged with a new message or silly photo he’d sent you. You brushed it off at first, thinking you were just missing his company. But by the time he got back, you felt nervous and giddy around him and everything was weird. It wasn’t until one day you found yourself waking up with a start as he began to infiltrate your dreams when you realised you were feeling very differently for your best friend than you’d ever felt before. “This place is nice, but I still don’t know why you turned us boys down though? Harrison said he asked before I came back and you said no?” he wondered aloud, miming an arrow through his heart as the pair of you make your way downstairs. You laugh at his antics but wrap the blanket that little bit tighter around yourself, finding the floor of your building suddenly extremely interesting. “Don’t tell me you’re sick of us lot already? We’ve been together too long for you to ditch us all now.” He gives you a little nudge in the arm with his elbow. You took a deep breath, shaking your hair out of your face. “I’ll still be round all the time. I literally live on the other side of the park,” you laugh as he pouts, “Tom, it’s not even 20 minutes away.” “Still doesn’t explain why you won’t move in with us?” You sigh, your frustration building. “Just leave it,” you snap, adding a quieter “please” after a beat. There’s a stifling silence as you both walk down the concrete staircase, you twist the mechanical lock on the front door and wait for the buzz as it clicks and opens up to the world outside.

Tom whistles at the torrential storm as he steps outside, trees were bending over, leaves billowing in the wind. The steps up to the building were gathering puddles of water and you could already see the road ahead was beginning to flood.

“Oh my god.”

The pair of you quickly throw the trash into the bin that was sitting at the bottom of some basement level steps.

“Listen, but I only ask because...it’s just, you’ve been a bit off since I came back from Atlanta. if it wasn’t for Harrison telling me he couldn’t make it today, you wouldn’t have even asked me to help you move in? What’s up with that?” he asks, standing behind you, shielding you from as much of the rain as he could.

“I just thought you’d be busy, y’know. What with being away for so long.”

“And? It’s not like that’s ever stopped you before. Seriously though, did I do something wrong? Did the boys? Because you can tell me.”

“Tom it’s nothing. Seriously, quit it.” Avoiding his stare, you shake your head and turn on your heel in an attempt to push the door back open but it stays firmly shut. You twist the handle multiple times as it jangles in response, remaining firmly locked. You freeze in immediate panic, feeling your pockets for your keys which were still sitting on your kitchen counter.

“Oh my god, no. No fucking way.”

“What? What is it?” He reaches a hand over your shoulder and gives the door a shove, “Is it stuck?”

“No tom, it’s locked! The wind must’ve closed it! I’ve left my apartment open and the keys are on the kitch – fuck! I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey it’s fine. Calm down. Hey, maybe if you lived with us we wouldn’t be having this problem…” he joked, pulling off his hoodie as thunder rumbled in the distance, the rain bouncing down onto the two of you.

“Now is really not the time Tom!” You exclaim, feeling your heart-rate spike, anxious about being locked out on your very first day living alone.

“Would you calm down, we’ll sort it. Your doors just unlocked, it’s not like you left it wide open.” 

“If you hadn’t been asking so many stupid questions, I wouldn’t have forgotten my keys in the first place!”

“Really?! You’re blaming me for caring about you? Alright listen, I just wanted to know what’s going on with you. I know you, and I know when something’s wrong! Why won't you just tell me?!”

“Oh my god, fine! You want to know so badly? It’s you, okay!” You shout, whirling around now standing chest to chest, you could feel your eyes burning with the tears you were fighting back, “You’re the reason I can’t move in with you guys! Because I hoped that this feeling would go away. If I avoided you it would go away and things would be normal and nothing would change. But that’s not the case!” You gulped in a breath, refusing to look into the deep brown eyes that were staring at you, so wide and confused, “That’s not the case, because every time I’m with you I feel like my heart is going to beat straight out of my chest. I get these stupid knots in my stomach whenever you so much as send me a fucking text. Sitting together in there side by side, alone together, casually watching a film and all I can think about is god, I wish he’d just kiss me! I don’t want to fall in love with you because this,” you gesture between the two of you, “what we are, it’ll all be gone and I’ll have ruined everything. And I can’t Tom. I can’t deal with that. So, there you go. I’m in love with you, and I hate myself for it. So, what? Are you happy now?! Does that clear everything up for you!”

Tom froze.

Your chest heaves, the tears that you let fall mixing in with the rain, leaving you sniffling. You push your soaking wet hair out of your face, roughly wiping your cheeks as you turn and hit the buzzer for the apartment block, banging your fist on the main door. 

“C’mon!”

Tom stood silently, still frozen outside your apartment entrance, the rain so heavy it was bouncing off of his clothes. His curls were flattened, droplets dripping from his hair, his nose, his eyelashes. his t-shirt was already drenched by the rain, fabric clinging to his frame. He blinks, once, twice then once more, his jaw unclenching.

He reaches forwards, fingertips lightly caressing your hand, his featherlight touch pulsating through your entire body.

You tear your hand away from him, a gasp letting loose, “Don’t.”

He perseveres, pulling you round, more forcefully this time until you are nose to nose again.

Your body shivers in the cold, wet air as you stare at the ground. Tom’s firm grip around your wrists.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as you exhale breathily.

He lets go of you, your hands curled into small fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

One hand lifts your chin to his level, his thumb softly collecting the mixture of tears and rain from beneath your eyes and brushing them away.

“I wish you’d just told me. It would’ve saved you all this hurt.”

His left hand comes up and tucks the soaking wet pieces of hair that has been whipping around your face in the wind gently behind your ear. Stroking the stray strands. 

Your teary, glistening eyes connect with his. They were alive with such care and concern. Before you knew it, that feeling was back in the pit of your stomach, pulling and twisting in knots as you stared into the eyes of the boy you loved. 

You blinked, eyelashes fluttering when all of a sudden, the hand that had brushed your tears away cradles the side of your head, bringing your faces together, the other hand lightly fluttering to your waist, pulling you in closer. 

The rain continued to fall, the two of you completely oblivious as your lips brush, foreheads pressed together. It’s soft and slow, almost uncertain at first before immediately intensifying, the two of you pushing your bodies against each other. You take a breath as he strokes your cheek and your lips with his thumb, pulling you back in for another gentle kiss with a hand to the back of your head, tangling in your soaking hair as he presses your faces closer together. 

The pair of you pull away, both your chests heaving as you exhale. 

“Why did you do that?” you ask, voice raspy. 

“Because. that’s the way I love you. Not just as a friend. And for years, I sat on it, too scared to ruin what we have.”  You shake your head, as a couple of bubbles of laughter spill from your lips. Tom’s face brightens up quickly, those little creases that you loved so much appearing at the outward corners of his eyes as he whispered, “C’mere. I got you.” 

He pulled you in, your arms immediately wrapping around his waist, his body cold under your hands. You could hear and feel his heartbeat, still in perfect time with your own. He tucked his chin so it was resting atop your head. His arm hadn’t moved, still cradling the back of your head, pressing you ever so carefully into his chest, the two of you just resting in each others embrace as the rain eased up slightly around you.

There was a beat, as you both relaxed into each other. 

“So, I'm glad we solved one problem, but you do know we’re still locked out, right?” Tom says as the pair of you burst out laughing. 

[simply-trash5]

Birthday Memories

Hello sweeties!

This is my submission for the Bakugo’s Birthday Bash event to celebrate our favorite boom-boom boy! 

This has been such a cool experience and I can’t wait to do another one!

Make sure to check out the other submissions HERE, and enjoy <3

Warnings: alcohol--mainly just self indulgent fluff ^^

Word Count: 1040

“Happy birthday Katsuki!” You said excitedly as you threw your arms around Bakugo’s neck. The party had been going on for hours, most people had passed out by now, but not you. You and Bakugo were still coherent, albeit a little tipsy, but still stable. The two of you were sitting on the balcony of your apartment, because as Bakugo’s best friend (don’t tell Kirishima) you felt that it was your duty to throw him a party.

“Tch. It’s just another day,” Bakugo scoffed as he continued to drink his beer. You rolled your eyes at him as you nursed your own drink. Each year you and Katsuki spent your birthday’s together; it had been like that since pre-school. It was quiet, almost too quiet. 

“Oh my God, do you remember that year your mom dropped the cake at your party?” you asked Katsuki. You were giggling aloud and Bakugo had his own chuckle. You loved his laugh, hell you loved everything about him. His laugh, his small smile, the relaxed face he makes when he sleeps, the way he sings in the shower, and the way he managed to be perfect without trying.

You both were quiet again, reminiscing in your own heads. “Wait--do you remember the year that Kiri held the party at his house and we played 7 minutes in heaven?” Bakugo looked at you with wide eyes, you laughed but there was something off about your laughter.

You honestly remembered that day as if it were yesterday. You all were at Kirishima’s house in a big circle with an empty beer bottle in the middle. There were some interesting pairings that night; Iida ended up in the closet with Mina, Tokoyami with Tsu, Mina and Sero, but the one pairing you would always remember was Bakugo and Uraraka. 

You had a crush, a big one, but you managed to keep it secret, so when Bakugo gave the bottle a spin you silently wished it would land on you. To your dismay, luck wasn’t in your favor that night. You watched in silence as your crush walked into the closet with another girl, knowing that you would save your tears for your pillow that night. You almost made it through that night until Denki opened the door and you watched as Bakugo and Uraraka shared a steamy kiss. In minutes you had grabbed your bag and left, leaving the whole party in shock.

You felt that same twinge in your chest remembering the night. As the years rolled on you continued to fall deeper in love with your best friend. You watched in silence as he hooked up with people your heart breaking a little more each time.

Bakugo cleared his throat bringing you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong with you?” Bakugo asked concerned, his tone masking his true intentions. You just sighed and took another sip of your drink. You didn’t know if it was the liquid courage or the thought of Bakugo with another girl, but you knew you had to tell him. It was now or never.

“Bakugo, do you know why I left that night. The night of your 18th birthday?” you asked. Your face began to heat up and your mouth suddenly felt so dry. Bakugo looked out over the railing and thought for a few minutes.

“I always thought you felt sick; I mean you were drinking me under the table..” Bakugo answered, giving you a smirk. You shook your head and looked at the ground. You thought to yourself you know for him to be so smart he sure is dumb.

“Nevermind, do you want another drink?” You asked your best friend honestly, feeling hurt. You walked past him and he called your name. You continued toward the door into your apartment where you could pick up your pride for the millionth time, but you were stopped by a large, warm hand on your wrist.

“Y/N. I’m wrong aren't I?” Bakugo asked you sincerely, his tone softer than normal. You silently shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat. He knew you were lying to him, but he didn’t know why. “Was it one of those rejects we hang out with, if so I’ll kick their ass…”Bakugo said scrunching his eyebrows together.

“No, Bakugo. I left that night because I was upset that you kissed Uraraka.” you said pained.

“But why? I was just playing the game.” Bakugo answered again, completely oblivious.

“God Katsuki, I was upset because you were kissing her and not me. Happy?” you spit venomously. Bakugo looked at you in shock, he had never heard you talk to him like that.

“I have been in love with you for years Katsuki, and that night has been burned into my memory. There’s a reason I haven’t went on dates or the ones that I’ve went on always ended badly, it’s you. You’re the reason. So now you know my biggest secret. I’m just going to go inside and you can leave when you want…” you trailed off heading for the door.

“Don’t you open that fucking door Y/N.” Bakugo whispered. You felt his hand on your wrist again but this time he was pulling you to his broad chest. Your heart skipped a beat. You breathed deeply, inhaling his scent; it brought you comfort like it had your whole life. He wrapped his hands delicately around your cheeks and pulled you in slowly. You felt as if the whole world had stopped. 

When Bakugo’s lips finally met yours the tears in your eyes finally rolled down your cheeks. Bakugo took his thumbs and brushed them away, never breaking the kiss. When you parted it was your turn to look confused. 

“You’re a pain in the ass Y/N, but you will never cry another tear over me again, understand?” You giggled and shook your head. “I love you too Y/N...now let's get these extras out of here. We got some lost time to make up.” He gave you a smirk and his eyes were smoldering looking a deeper shade of red than you had ever seen.

You stood on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “Happy Birthday Katsuki.”

I hope you all enjoyed <3

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 1: The Beginning

A Loki fanfiction!

Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

It’s your third week back in school and you're slumped over a tower of textbooks as some kind of makeshift pillow. Your head rests on the 394th page of “The Dream Oracle” where you’ve begun to drool. You raise a hand to wipe it away, which takes up nearly as much energy as trying to stay awake.

It was cold in the dark.

Chills ran up your arms, from your fingertips to your neck as you floated through the darkness. It was frightening the first few times you dreamt of it but now it was familiar. The cavern formed slowly as your eyes adjusted to the minimal light emitted by a fire below you. Small sticks and papers created a meager flame which reflected off the black pool of water you looked into. You always wondered who made the fire, but there was never anyone there.

In the centre of the cavern was a small lake, its ripples moved like serpents. On queue, your body flew over to the middle of the lake and dove in. You swam - more like sunk - to the bottom. It may have enveloped you in utter darkness, but you saw the glow. The bluish light of the object drew you in like a moth to a flame and you reached out for it. Once again, you were thrown out of the lake just as you were about to touch it.

You looked around at the empty cavern and noticed the shadows moving. This was new. Usually, you woke up as soon as the lake threw you out.

Near the shore, by a dangerous jut of rock, there was a man. He was tall, with raven black hair and a proud nose. His expression was one of wonder and fear. There was a green light that emerged from his hands and he waved this light in front of him and beside him, almost erratically, as if he was warning someone - or something - to stay away.

“Don’t come near me!” he shouted. It echoed through the cavern.

You came closer and recoiled at what he was speaking to. Every dark shadow was, in fact, a body. The green light that the man emitted showed their decaying, pale faces. These bodies moved towards him. Not a sound, but each expression was contorted painfully. Their bony hands reached out to him, and he threw a green ball of fire at them. Some flew backwards into the lake, but there were so many.

They surrounded him. You saw him put up the fight of his life, and yet they came closer still. Until he had nowhere to run. You reached out to try to help him, but your body was already being pulled away. The last thing you heard was him scream your name, “Freya!”

Hands slapped onto the desk, and your head bounced on the pages.

“My god, have you been sleeping here this whole time?” An annoyingly familiar voice said. “You wouldn’t believe it! They’re finally getting a replacement for Professor Rattowl.”

It took several seconds for you to remember where you were. You lifted your head and look into a pair of inquisitive brown eyes and an aloof expression.

Her hair was braided on the sides and drawn into a high ponytail. Her robes were wrinkled as usual. “Valkyrie, how did you find me in the Hufflepuff common room? I specifically told Thomas to throw you off.” Your voice was thick with sleep.

Valkyrie snorted. “Thomas is a fool for a flirty conversation. You’d think that boy had never had a wank before…”

The memory of the dream hit you, and your heart sank. “Valkyrie, I saw something.”

She glanced at you and then to the wall of the hallway. A long shadow approached swiftly. “Oh shit, the prefect!”

“Quick! Hide!” You said to Valkyrie, pointing her to the coat closet.

A gleaming head of blonde hair turned around the corner and walked towards you. His eyebrows were raised, and he adjusted his rectangular glasses, glaring at you. You tried not to look guilty.

“Eves, what are you doing? This is a quiet area, and I heard voices.” he walked around your desk, looking around suspiciously.

“I must have fallen asleep. I had a poor sleep last night so…”

“Hmmm,” he said, walking near the coat closet.

You held your breath as he reached for the brass door handle. “You know we don’t allow any other houses in our quarters, Eves.”

“Of course.”

He turned to you, reaching away from the handle. “Then you also should know we don’t condone dirtying the sacred pages of our texts,” he said, gesturing at your books with a frown. “Clean this up and head to the Great Hall. Headmistress Frigga has announcements to make.”

He left, adjusting his glasses again but with his shoulders straightened out as if he had done a good job. You wondered if he would pat himself in the back afterwards.

Valkyrie all but crashed out of the closet and mocked Gerald. “Sacred texts! What a prat.”

You chuckled as she took a chair beside you. “Sacred or not, this damned thing cost me twenty galleons!” You wiped the drool away with the sleeve of your robe. The inside was a warm yellow. You glanced at Valkyrie. “How do you keep sneaking into our common room?”

She winked at you with a mischievous smile. “I have my ways, my sweet innocent Hufflepuff darling,” she said, reaching out and patting you on the head. “I wouldn’t dare want to corrupt your purity with treasonous talk.”

You punched her in the arm. “You are a jock in the land of intellectuals,” you said with a smirk, glancing at her red and gold tie.

She linked her arm through yours and dragged you away from the desk. “Alright alright, miss intellectual, now that you’ve stopped drooling, let’s go eat.”

***

The great hall was washed in the warm light of the candles that hung beautifully in the air above you. It was a sight that had never ceased to amaze you, no matter how many times you saw it. The flames flickered in a soft dance. You followed the path of candles over to the head table where all your professors sat.

Professor Odinson was there, with his chiseled youthful face that made all the ladies, Valkyrie in particular, swoon. He was a handsome man, though he did not occupy your thoughts as often as he did for others. Beside him was Professor Sif, laughing humorously at something Professor Odinson said. Then there was Professor Fandral nodding and smiling at Professor Hogun - whom you guessed was discussing the riveting growth cycles of the mandrake.

Headmistress Frigga was in the middle, in her silvery blue robes with sequins sewn into intricate patterns. Her aura was one of a Queen, with a gentle and kind face. On her one side there was an empty seat and on the other side was Heimdall, the divination professor, with whom she was in a deep discussion with. His sunset coloured eyes drifted around the room before settling on you. He always knew. You smiled back and waved at him. He nodded, though his expression was strained, perhaps even troubled.

For a moment you wondered if he knew what you had dreamed. Heimdall was one of the greatest seers of your time, and you happened to be his favourite student. He already knew of your repetitive dreams regarding the cavern, but you needed to tell him about the strange development - and the mysterious man you saw. Most of the time your dreams were fuzzy, but you remembered his face with an aggressive lucidity. Blue eyes that reflected the green magic in his hands before they disappeared into darkness remained on your mind. You took a deep breath and pushed it away.

“Did they already do the first years?” You said aloud to your table.

Mo, a fellow seventh year Hufflepuff, nodded. “Yep, and I guessed about 25/30, not bad, eh?”

You smiled at him and turned around to Valkyrie, who was right behind you, seated at the Gryffindor table. She winked at you when delicious food marvellously populated the table and you all tucked in. She filled her plate and then roughly rocked Mo to the side and sat down beside you.

“What were you saying about Rattowl?” You said, biting into a chicken hand pie. The rich flavour of creamy peas and carrots filled your mouth, and you reveled in it for a brief moment.

Valkyrie had half a mouthful of sausage and chewed loudly. “Well, it’s been what? A month since he croaked?”

A Hufflpuff girl across from you both, Nila, balked at Valkyrie. “How can you say that? He was...killed.” She could barely say the last word.

Valkyrie gave her a look. “What? It don’t make no difference, does it?”

Nila huffed indignantly. Mo interjected. “Well, it’s not every day a professor disappears for three weeks, only to be found ripped apart in the Forbidden Forest.”

You all wrinkled your noses in a few seconds of awkward silence. He was right. It was a bizarre and terrible thing to have happened. You had no love for Professor Rattowl. He was a cranky old man with awful manners, but he did not deserve such a fate.

Valkyrie said, “Well I heard that the Headmistress’s son is going to be the new potions teacher.”

You raised your brows. “Professor Odinson has a brother?”

Valkyrie’s eyes lit up at the mention of him. “If there are two Thor Odinson’s, then I will die this very moment.”

You, Mo, and Nila rolled your eyes at her when the doors crashed open in an echoing sound. All the chatter in the Great Hall was silenced when a lean and tall figure in a black cloak strolled into the room. His languid pace revealed a streak of arrogance - or confidence - as he walked down the hall, towards the head table. He walked between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and slowly removed his hood.

You audibly gasped when you saw the raven haired man with his high cheekbones and proud nose. His blue eyes snapped towards you, and you felt your face heat up in seconds. He kept his eyes on you briefly before looking back at the head table. You breathed again once he was well past you.

Valkyrie looked at you questioningly. She whispered, “what’s going on?”

You could not take your eyes off of him and whispered back, “later.”

Everybody at the table rose, and Headmistress Frigga spoke with her wand pointed at her neck. “We will never forget our dear Professor Hubert Rattowl and the legacy he leaves here. The tragedy of his passing will remain a bitter memory in the long colourful history of Hogwarts. It has been a terrible time trying to fill this role, and our surprise guest has been gracious enough to accept our invitation. Professor Loki Laufeyson’s entrance may give you a taste into his exciting curriculum as the new Potions Master.” She gave him a warm smile.

He walked over to his seat and placed his hands on the table to look out at the students. There was something both inviting and dangerous about him. You could not look away.

He smiled widely and raised his hands. “Your potions saviour is here!”

The students clapped and eventually broke into applause. The Slytherin table was particularly ecstatic. There was no mistaking what house he belonged to. He looked at every table with a wide grin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. They rested on you and your heart stopped. They flickered away, and he moved on before sitting down as the Headmistress continued her announcements.

Your hands were still clasped together in mid clap as you looked at the same man that was in your dream. His screams echoed in your mind and you wondered if this was all a nightmare. Regardless, it was going to be an interesting semester.

[satingrove]

clear your thorns

pairing: frankie morales x gn reader

summary: words of affirmation on the porch.

rating: M 

content: lil bit of angst, alcohol, fluff n flirting, sexual references

words: 1.3k+

a/n: this was just a quick thing i wrote tonight, excuse the lack of meaning! we just all need frankie to love on us, don’t we? title taken from here.

gif: @uuuhshiny

He’s sitting by himself on the porch, beer in hand and an empty spot beside him. There, his hand rests — your thigh isn’t where it should be, under his palm. You aren’t where you should be. 

Frankie’s been quiet lately. You watch him through the window from your place in the kitchen, all the lights turned off, allowing the purple hue of the evening to reach further inside. He takes a slow sip, as if he’s not interested in it nor even interested in being outside right now. This is what he does after dinner. He helps you scrub the dishes and leaves a quick kiss on your temple, hands squeezing at your hips before he slips away to the porch and sits in silence. Though, sometimes, you can hear him listening to something from his phone. 

He shifts and you sigh.

It’s his alone time. You should let him have it. You should let him be with himself for as long as he likes — his gaze has grown wistful, but it’s not as if his doting tendencies have left you behind. Each morning you’re still awoken by his lips and the soft brushes of his eyelashes on your skin because he squishes his face that close to you. It tickles when he blinks and it makes you both laugh… and then he’s off to work. Is something bothering him there? 

You remind yourself, hanging a dish towel on the oven handle, that it can’t be you. But then again. He’s quiet.

You busy yourself with some laundry, folding his soft t-shirts that somehow hold his scent after being put through the wash. You find one of your favourites — a soft grey one that picks up his sweat when he mows the lawn and you stare at him comically, an obvious smile breaking your lips apart as he bashfully comes over to kiss you, knocking his cap off by your forehead.

You hold the fabric against your cheek and softly rub it, reminding yourself. Alone time. He’ll come to you.

Next is one of his button ups. You think of all the times you’ve pulled him close by the collar, how many times you’ve complimented the tan skin of his chest that peeks out of it, earning yourself a cheeky nip on the neck.

There’s no real reason to fold his laundry. Frankie isn’t lazy. Unless it’s a designated day for laziness and he keeps you locked in his warm embrace — strong arms squishing your back to his soft belly. It’s just that you need something to do that doesn’t feel like prying him open when he doesn’t want to be.

It’s possible he might, you think as you finish up, pairing his socks, one of them with little polka dots in blue and grey.

Coming out of the laundry room, you peek out the window once more, and Frankie looks to be dozing off on his propped fist, his nearly full beer bottle left on the wood panel of the porch.

You grin at him, or what you can see of him — the back of his head concealed by fine, fluffy curls, and the way his cheek juts out from being smushed against his closed fingers.

As you decide to finally join him, you grab his favourite hoodie from the basket of folded laundry. Something to keep him warm. And maybe you can be part of that too.

You’re careful as you open and close the front door, careful as you turn on the lantern, and careful as you join him on the cushioned bench. He slowly startles awake at the sensation of you beside him, his face contorting from a furrowed brow into a sleepy grin when he registers you looking at him kindly, his hoodie in your arms.

“Baby,” he croaks, reaching not for the garment but for you, pulling you snug into his lap. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

He’s warm and welcoming and it hurts your heart against his when he says this — you were wrong. He wanted you with him.

He stiffens as you apologize, one hand running up your back and underneath your shirt to soothe your concern for him. His other rests on the back of your neck and his stubble scratches on the side of your face but it’s the only thing you could want to feel for the rest of the night, the rest of your time. He takes a loud breath in, louder than it has to be, and you know from experience that it’s your cue to copy him. He never says a word during this, just presses his hand further into your skin to feel the way you breathe with him and whether they’re shaky breaths or unsure breaths, and once they’re steady he pulls your face to his and looks deep into your eyes.

He apologizes too.

And it’s hard.

His voice wavers and he’s so sorry that he can’t tell you what’s wrong. He doesn’t really know. His fingers toy with the hoodie at his side, despondent, discouraged.

“You don’t have to apologize either— at all,” you reassure him and he gains some light at that, “I just wondered that… maybe it was me. I wanted you to have time to yourself.”

His eyebrows shoot up in a guilty kind of surprise and he takes your arms and wraps them around his neck, whispering into yours.

“I don’t think it could ever be you.”

And it stays a whisper, because the sentiment is too soft and fragile to be said aloud. Too personal to let even the birds hidden in the tree branches at the edge of the porch catch wind of it, too loving to have the raspy edge of his voice harden it.

You only feel him, hear him, and when he finishes his murmur, you hold him a little tighter.

“I don’t really give a fuck what’s making me feel all... I just want you to remember,” he coos into your skin, stopping to press a kiss to your throat, “that I want you. Here. I like you here, and I know I could talk more.”

“I’d have asked sooner…” you begin, but the words fall away, or rather, he kisses them away with his lips on yours and this action means just as much as his words.

“Happens,” he slurs into your mouth, sneakily reaching his arm and blindly searching for the beer bottle. He grabs it and brings it between the two of you, and when your faces part he thrusts it to your lips, telling you to take a sip, tilting it up. You’re not ready for it and instead of drinking it, you laugh into it and the liquid spills over the both of you, Frankie’s own laughs vibrating against you.

“Francisco!” You scold him and he merely nips your chin. It’s cold and shocking and you can hardly find it in yourself to care. “How does it taste?”

“Like my second favourite thing in the world.”

“Second?”

He gives you that look that tells you not to play dumb, that you know what he means. He presses his palm against your shirt and you feel the stickiness against your stomach.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his big eyes searching yours.

You catch your breath and hold it as you kiss his forehead, your thighs squeezing his. “I’d rather not be sticky.”

“Oh? My bad. I guess there’s only one kind of stickiness you like.”

“Oh my God.”

In your happy exasperation you feel your muscles loosen around him — he sounds happy. It’s harder to see his face with the growing darkness, but there’s one side of it illuminated golden by the lantern and it paints such a beautiful picture, the lines and curves exaggerated. 

“I’m not wrong.”

“Stop talking like that,” you push his chin up and attach your mouth to his neck and a hushed you got it fills your ears before his hands ride the line of your back again.

You realize just how much you underestimated your effect on him. How swiftly he changes when he feels you and hears your voice reminding him he has you. That he has simple needs, all tangled up in you.

+

tags for our beloved frankie: @filthybookworm @queenbbarnes @ayamenimthiriel @princessxkenobi @mitchi-c @jettia @bookofbriar @nomanchesnoncreator @harrys-stan @meshlamando @jabbajambler @nakhudanyx @lycheemi @kj-holmes @goldengubs @mandoclan @lady-of-glass-and-bone @thehippiequilter @colddecember-night

let me know whether to add/remove you!

[detectiveriley]

Guard Dog: A RinchFest Fic

Rinch Fest 2021, Day Three: Established Relationship

Archive Link @rinchfest

Tags: Established Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Protectiveness, Protective Boyfriend

Summary:  John's nickname/persona of "Guard Dog" is something Harold has, up to this point, taken lightly. It's his job, his duty, to protect the numbers they've sworn to keep safe. But when John and Harold enter a partnership of a more intimate kind, John approaches anyone that threatens his precious Harold with his teeth bared.

If Harold thought John was overly protective before, he was unprepared for the shift that occurred after they'd officially become an item. John became something possessive, and fierce. He always placed himself between Harold and any perceived threat.

Part of it was left over from John's military and CIA training, but Harold knew there was more to it. John always had to be touching Harold in some way- a hand on his shoulder or his knee, ankles brushing under restaurant tables. When they were apart on a mission, John would collapse into Harold's arms when they were reunited. It caught Harold off guard, how affectionate John became when Harold gave him permission.

It was far from unwanted- Harold hadn't had any intimacy with anyone in quite some time, and it felt... wonderful, if slightly strange. He couldn't help but feel a flutter now, when John placed a hand on the small of his back, or a soft kiss to his temple. It was a frequent reminder to Harold, that John was his partner in more ways than one.

The point was really driven home when Harold was in the field. Well, "in the field" was a friendly way of saying being held at gunpoint," but Harold viewed it as a necessary evil, in order to rescue the Machine's designated number, who, as far as Harold knew, was in a safe house with John, while Harold was negotiating.

"I assure you, all of  your demands will be met, in exchange for Miss O'Brien's safety," Harold said, his soft voice echoing in the vast emptiness of the warehouse.

The mobster sneered. "Well, maybe I ain't done making demands yet."

Harold swallowed. He'd come prepared for the initial agreement and not much else. He was massively outnumbered. If the mob overestimated how deep his pockets were, he'd really be in trouble.

All at once, there was a pop, and the mobster in question fell to the ground with a shout. Two more pops brought two more mobsters to their knees.

"Was this your idea?!" one of the gunmen yelled, swinging his rifle around and aiming at Harold's head. "I swear to god I'll-"

The gunmen was dead before he could finish his sentence, collapsing at Harold's feet. Harold staggered backwards. All of the criminals had been easily dispatched, to Harold's surprise and great confusion.

From the top of a shipping container, John descended with his rifle in hand. He stormed forward with long strides, his eyes glaring and his expression dark. Dramatic shadows from the overhead lights cast harsh lines across his brow and cheekbones. And Harold knew why people looked so afraid when they spoke of "The Man in the Suit."

As John reached Harold, his demeanor changed completely. He slung his gun over his back and reached out to touch Harold, checking him over for wounds and bruises. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently, "Did they hurt you?"

Harold blinked, amazed to see John before him. "You came for me," he murmured.

John didn't seem fazed by this. "Of course I did," he said, not breaking his concentration, "You're my partner." He missed the softening of Harold's eyes when he turned, looking for approaching threats. "Let's get out of here," John added, guiding Harold with an arm around his waist, "I'll drive."

They were in the car before Harold found his voice to speak again. "I can't believe you came for me," he echoed as the warehouse disappeared in the rear view mirror.

"Before you chew me out," John started, "I left Miss O'Brien with Fusco. You can't expect me not to protect you, now that we're... you know, official."

"No, that's not it," Harold replied, "As much as I might not approve of you prioritizing my safety." John titled his head, and Harold sighed. "I spent a long time making myself invisible. In that time, I made sure that nobody cared about me, so that nobody else would get hurt."

John glanced at his partner. He knew Harold was thinking of Grace, and the life he left behind. He place his hand on Harold's thigh in a show of sympathy. Harold covered John's hand with his own before he continued.

"I did it to protect anyone I might come into contact with, but I also did it out of fear. I thought I was being selfless, but coming back from the dead was the hardest thing I've ever done." Taking a deep breath, he finished, "What I'm trying to say is that it's nice to be cared about again."

John smiled. He knew what Harold was talking about- letting someone close to him was terrifying, but being care for was worth it.

"I do care about you," John inserted, "and I won't let anything happen to you."

Harold pursed his lips. "Relationship status aside, you know that's not why I hired you."

"I'm not protecting you because it's my job, Harold. I'm doing it because I love you."

Harold gasped softly. His eyes glistened in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. "I love you, too, John," he replied. It was the first time the sentiment had been exchanged aloud, though they had both known for quite some time.

The car slowed to a stop at a red light, and John and Harold looked at each other. After a long moment, John cleared his throat. "Protecting people is what I do," he began, quietly, carefully, "If I can't keep the people that I love safe..." He swallowed, his voice thick with emotion. "If I can't do that... then what do I have to offer, to show them how much I love them?"

"Oh, John," Harold whispered, fighting back tears. Harold had always known that the impact of Jessica's death stemmed from John's unconditional love. Being on the receiving end of such ardent and unadulterated devotion was... powerful, bordering on overwhelming.

Bringing John's hand to his lips, Harold pressed a tender kiss to John's calloused knuckled, before pressing John's palm against his cheek. "You have so much more to offer," he said, his words feeling fragile in the heavy stillness, "but you are worthy of love regardless of what other stand to gain. Do you understand?"

John swallowed again, nodding silently. Harold had been quite generous with affection and they'd crossed the threshold, but John was unprepared to hear that he didn't have to earn it.

Clearing his throat, Harold untangled himself, pointing out, "Light's green." He kept a hold of John's hand as they crossed the intersection. "Let's go home," he said, "and I'll show you just how much love you deserve."

[afeb]

Draco Malfoy - Still Your Girl

School reunions were only ever meet and greets for people who’d done better than you. It was almost comical: there was the jock who was now a desk-jockey, the underdog who became a millionaire and the sad divorcee using this as a pull.

Everyone was married to either each other or someone else: everyone but me it seemed. Everyone was practically beaming with excitement whilst I used this as a wonderful excuse to drink free alcohol.

I had caught up with old friends, Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, but quickly sulked off around the empty castle halls. Everything seemed smaller, more insignificant. I used to think this place was the world.

I turned the corner and jumped out my skin. “Merlin!” I yelled, clutching my chest. “I’m sorry!”

“Y/N.” His voice, still smooth and silky as ever.

“Draco.”

He looked fetching. His suit was fitted as usual, black with a white undershirt. He had grown and now towering over me. He’d become broader and thicker but his hair was still the same bleach blonde. Instead of slicked back however, it was styled into a middle part, longer than how he used to have it. Stubble was littering his jaw and cheeks. He looked very fetching.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he softly smiled. “I thought you would’ve left as soon as you could.”

I smiled warmly and nodded. “You know me.”

There was an awkward pause before he looked quickly behind him. “Hey...why don’t we find the Room of Requirement?”

I bit my lip. “You think we can still find it?”

He nodded and already began walking down the hall. “Come on!”

I giggled and raced after him, watching closely as his eyes scanned the old castle.

“Left...” he mumbled. “Then right...and...it should be here.”

We gazed up at the large empty wall. When nothing happened, my shoulders dropped. “Maybe it only appears to students.” I pondered aloud.

“Wait...” Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The door appeared, and a cocky grin graced Dracos lips as he opened the door for me. I cheekily smiled up at him before entering. Nothing had changed, it was still the mess we’d left it.

“God it’s a dump.” Draco breathed, gazing up at the stacks of old chairs. “We must be at the opposite end of the fire damage.”

I hummed. “God that feels so long ago.”

“It was.” Draco said as we slowly began weaving through the mountains of stuff.

“How have you been?” I asked, running my hand over an old desk.

He shrugged. “Good, I work for the Ministry now finding radicalised witches and wizards.” He said proudly. “I heard you have a shop in Diagon Alley?”

“That sounds like the perfect job for you.” I said. “I do indeed, it’s nothing really just some little shop that-“

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I’m sure it’s amazing.”

I blushed. “I collect stuff, old relics and things, and I sell them on.”

“See, very interesting.” He affirmed. “No wedding ring?”

I snorted. “Don’t remind me,” I gazed down at his left hand and saw it bare too. “But I’m not the only one I see.”

He chuckled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Too busy to get a wife.” He shortly said. “So have you just never found someone?”

“I did...” I sighed. “A long time ago.”

“What happened?” He pressed.

“We were kids...we needed to grow up.” I whispered, pausing to hop up on an old school desk. Draco leant against a chest of draws across the path from me.

“Were you in love?” He asked.

“Very much so.” I looked at him.

He didn’t say anything for a minute, simply pursed his plump lips. “Are you talking about us?” He finally asked. I nodded. “We were in love.”

“We were different people.” I sadly smiled.

“You don’t think we could work now?” He asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think we did back then. Don’t you remember how much we used to fight?”

He laughed a little. “But do you remember how often we forgave each other?”

“You’ve just got rose-tinted glasses on.” I noted.

“Or I remember the best parts.” He challenged.

I scoffed. “Like when you wouldn’t tell your father about me, even though you loved me so much?” I sarcastically said.

He sighed again. “I was a coward back then, I thought what my mother and father thought was all that mattered. I was wrong.”

“I-“ I went to snap but was suprised that he admitted his wrong doing. “Yes, you were.”

“I’m sorry.” He said. “Maybe if I hadn’t of cared so much, things would be different.”

“Maybe.” I whispered. “You’ve changed.”

“I have?” He cocked a brow, standing to move in front of me.

I nodded. “You seem...wiser, kinder.” I gently reached out and delicately touched his cheek. “And you’ve got a beard.”

He laughed. “That I do, do you not like it?”

I smiled brightly. “I love it!”

“I’ll keep it then.” His hand came to grasp mine, flipping my hand over to look at my palm. “I used to trace this line...”

I giggled as he tickled my palm, flexing my fingers around his. “My life line.”

“I used to think I’d be a part of that.” He whispered, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against the flesh.

“You are.” I said.

His eyes gazed into mine. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

His lips pressed to mine gently, tongue tracing over my bottom lips before dancing with mine. He moved my legs apart to rest between them, hands resting on my thighs as he sponged kisses down my cheek and neck. I gasped as he nipped the sensitive flesh, causing my hands to fist his shirt.

My hands skimmed down to gently rub his crotch, causing a deep moan to fall from Dracos mouth. His lips came back to mine, pressing sweet and small kisses against me.

“That’s it.” He praised. “Good girl.”

I whimpered at his words, my eyes locking onto his. I leant up and kissed him again, unzipping his suit trousers and pulling him out. His forehand rest against mine as I flicked my wrist, stroking him up and down slowly.

His hands rest either side of me on the desk, shoulders hunched as he quietly moaned again. My lips found his neck and began sucking, determined to leave any type of mark I could.

“You’re dress is pretty.” He strained. “You’re glowing.”

I giggled. “Thank you.”

“Please Dove, let me feel you.” He begged, hand winding into my hair, pulling me back to gaze down at me.

“Yes.” I whispered.

His hands moved quickly to skim up the skirt of my dress, looping around the band of my underwear and pulling them down. The undergarments were quickly stuffed in his suit jacket before his fingers gently began to rub the bundle of nerves.

I gasped and wound my arms around his neck, face pressed close to his. A smirk landed on his lips as he watched my mouth fall open, breathy whines and moans filling the air.

“There?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know. “Still get so wet for me, don’t you?”

I nodded. “Draco.” I softly cooed out, my eyes widening as he dipped a finger into me.

“Still tight.” He quipped. “This is mine, isn’t it Dove?”

I nodded again, biting my lip harshly. “Please.”

“Of course.”

He pulled me off the desk, tenderly cupping my cheeks and kissing me before spinning me around and bending me over the desk. His hands skimmed down my back before grasping my hips, slowly pressing himself into me.

His arm wrapped around my rib cage and pulled me flush to his chest, his lips going to my ear. “This good?”

“Yes.” My fingers laced with his.

His hips began a slow, teasing pace. His body was pressed so close to mine I could feel his rapid heartbeat through his chest. He was thicker than I remembered, stretching me in the best way.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since our last day together.” He moaned, snapping his hips harder. “You’re still my girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whined. “I’m still your girl.”

He chuckled darkly, fingers squeezing mine. “After all this time,” he mused. “Still mine.”

“Draco...I’m gonna-oh!” My moans got higher and higher in pitch as I began to tighten around him.

“That’s it Dove, give me what only I can do, give me what’s mine.” He encouraged, fingers dipping down to rub against my clit.

I screamed as he forced and orgasm from me, my moan bouncing off the walls. He darkly chuckled before pressing me down against the table, chasing his orgasm with his hand on the back of my neck.

He came quickly, hips stuttering as he emptied inside me. He fell on top of me, arms caging me in as he pressed his face into my hair. We didn’t move for a minute, both recovering from something we’d waited for years to have again.

He slowly retracted from me, standing up and tucking himself back in. I stood and pulled my dress down, blushing up at him.

Draco tugged me close to him, kissing me softly. “That was...”

“Amazing.” I finished with a giggle.

He searched my eyes for a moment. “What does this mean?”

I nervously smiled. “Well...if you’ll have me-“

“Yes.” He interrupted with a grin. “Sorry, but yes.”

I laughed loudly and wrapped my arms around his neck, smiling against him lips. “Everyone’s gonna know what happened.”

He growled. “Good, no one else will make a move on you then.”

I laughed again. “You’ve changed, but not that much.”

He pinched my behind before delivering a small slap. I jumped into his chest more, looking up at him. “Come on, if we stay here any longer I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

He began to walk away but I stopped him. “My underwear?”

He pulled my close again, nose bumping mine. “You’ll get those back when I’m done with you.” He darkly said before leading us out of the Room of Requirement.

[hercleverboy]

miss you, love you

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ spencer never came home from the case.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ major character death, depression, funerals.

word count ↠ 2.7k

“My heartbreak is grief that comes in waves, gruelling, stealing appetite and sleep alike.” — Angela Abraham

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Hi, you’ve reached Dr. Spencer Reid. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”

Y/N stared down at her phone in her hands. She listened as the dial tone rang out, before ending the call and dialling again.

“Hi, you’ve reached Dr. Spencer Reid-“

She wondered if she was insane, dialling same number over and over just so she could hear his voice again.

It had been 3 days since Spencer had left for the case. It was a more local one, so he wasn’t going to be thousands of miles away this time. That didn’t lessen the worry that consumed her whenever he left the house. She knew how dangerous his job could be, and while she knew he could handle himself, and that the team would protect him with their lives, she couldn’t help but worry. Spencer knew she worried, but he was always quick to reassure her that he would always come back to her. Before, he’d admit, he could be reckless in the field at times. However, that was before he met her, before he fell in love with her, before she became his wife on a warm evening last July. He used to come home from rough cases to a cold and empty apartment, left to tend to his cuts and scratches alone with his thoughts. But now, he had someone waiting for him to come home. He had a family, someone who depended on him, who needed him.

So he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t be so reckless, that he would always come home to her.

When he’d left for the case a few days ago, for what would be the last time, she made sure to say goodbye the same way she always did. (Though now she found herself wishing she’d said more.)

“Thank you for making breakfast baby, but I gotta go!” Spencer had exclaimed, rushing to throw his satchel over his shoulder and grab his coat. He shoved the last bite of his blueberry pancake in his mouth before moving to kiss Y/N’s cheek, then scrambling to the door.

“Spence!” She called after him, making her way to the front door, where Spencer had stuck his head back inside the door to see why she’d called him. “You forgot something.”

He gave her a confused look, patting down his pockets to check he had everything. “Did I? I’ve got my phone, my car keys-“

Y/N cut him off by pressing her lips to his, and Spencer melted into it, figuring that the telling off he’d get from Hotch for being late was worth it to spend a few more minutes with her.

“I love you. Be safe.” She whispered against his lips and he smiled, pecking her on the lips again quickly.

“I promise, Mrs Reid. I love you too.”

And then he was gone.

That was the last time she would see her husband alive.

She remembered the day vividly. The day she’d always dreaded would come.

It was JJ who had called her at 2AM, sobbing down the line.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m-“

“JJ? What’s wrong? Oh god, is it Spence? Is he okay?”

JJ had just cried harder at the question, begging her to come to the hospital. Y/N didn’t take the time to question her, instead pulling on her shoes and grabbing her car keys. She drove quickly to the hospital, tears clouding her vision. When she got to the hospital, she asked the receptionist for Spencer Reid, and she’d told her he was on the second floor. She’d taken the stairs, far too anxious to stand in the elevator. When she rounded the corner she was met with her husbands team, standing in front of the room she assumed was his.

Hotch noticed her first. “Y/N-“

“Where is he?” She asked, the tears slipping from her eyes.

“Y/N please, just let me explain-“

“I said where is he, Aaron? Where’s my husband?”

“Y/N-“

“I swear to god if you don’t tell me what’s going on-“ Her voice caught in her throat as she finally glanced over into the room that the team stood in front of, almost as though they were shielding her from what was inside. On the bed lied a body, covered by a white sheet. A still, unmoving body.

“Y/N-“

“I need to see him.” She murmured. JJ came toward her, placing her hand on Y/N’s arm.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N-“

“I said I need to see him.” She spat coldly, harshly shrugging JJ’s hand away.

Hotch led Y/N into the room and JJ followed, closing the door behind them. It was Hotch who gently pulled back the white sheet to reveal Y/N’s greatest fear.

Spencer.

Y/N didn’t recognise that the heartbroken scream that filled the room was coming from her lips until Hotch’s arms wrapped around her, to stop her from falling to the floor as her knees buckled beneath her. She sank to the ground in Hotch’s grasp as the sobs ripped from her throat. The pain was unimaginable. It felt as though someone had ripped her heart from her chest. Like it had been torn from her and crushed in front of her eyes.

She couldn’t b r e a t h e.

She whimpered out incomprehensible words as she wept. “Please. Please, no. Not him. He promised. He promised me.”

JJ had to clasp a hand over her mouth to stop herself from sobbing aloud as she watched the heartbreaking scene before her. She remembered how she felt when she thought Will had died in the bank, how she wondered how she would live without him, how she would ever breathe again without the love of her life by her side. She couldn’t begin to comprehend the pain Y/N felt.

Hotch attempted to soothe the wailing girl in his arms, but it did nothing. He recalled how he felt when Haley died, and his heart ached at the thought of Y/N suffering the same unbearable hurt that he did. Whilst he was heartbroken at the death of the BAU’s youngest member, he was easily the most emotionally well-put together at the moment. Garcia, Morgan and JJ were absolutely inconsolable. Emily sat in the waiting room chair in a state of shock as silent tears trembled down her cheeks. Rossi sat next to her, his head in his hands as he cried.

Y/N trembled in Hotch’s arms, her entire frame shaking as she wept. Hotch’s eyes met JJ’s, and he signalled for JJ to pull the sheet back over Spencer, so she didn’t have to look anymore.

As if that mattered.

As if the image wasn’t already burned into her brain.

Eventually Hotch pulled Y/N up to stand, still holding her close to him as she relied on him to stop them from both collapsing to the ground again.

“I’m gonna get Derek to take you home, okay Y/N?” He whispered, attempting not to alarm her. She still panicked, shaking her head profusely as she whimpered.

“No, no. Aaron I can’t leave him here. He’s all alone, please.” She begged, but she ultimately knew Hotch was right.

She allowed herself to be taken to Derek’s car. He took her back to the house (Y/N could hardly call it a home anymore), and parked up outside it.

Y/N made no move to get out of the car. Derek turned to her, the woman his best friend loved. Derek wouldn’t tell Y/N this, but in his last moments Spencer had made him promise that he would take care of her If something happened to him. And Derek would keep that promise if it was the last thing he did.

“Y/N we have to go inside.” He tried gently, and watched as the tears still fell from her red eyes.

“How did It happen?” Her voice was cold and numb.

“I’m not going to tell you that-“

“Derek please. I need to know.” She choked out, her eyes meeting his.

“He jumped in front of a bullet to save the life of a little girl.”

It only made Y/N sob harder. Her husband had died giving his life for a young girl. She didn’t know how that made her feel.

Derek got out of the car, coming over and opening the door for Y/N. She nodded to him gratefully as he helped her out of the car, her shaky hands grabbing onto him to give her something to hold onto. “Will you stay for a little while? I can’t be alone, not here.” She cried, and he nodded, holding back a cry of his own.

“Of course I will.”

The house felt cold and empty. Spencer and Y/N had purchased the home shortly after getting married, with promises of raising their family here. As they came in through the front door, Y/N stared at the battered pair of Spencer’s converse that were lying by the door.

He’d never wear them again.

As she looked around the rooms that she once found so much comfort in, but now felt so suffocated, she noticed how his things were everywhere. His books scattered around the living room, his suits still hung in the wardrobe, his toothbrush sat by the sink.

He was still everywhere she looked.

Derek had stayed for a few hours, trying to get Y/N to eat and sleep before he left. As soon as the door had closed behind him, Y/N sunk to her knees, collapsing in on herself. She’d never felt a pain so intense, so all-consuming. Her chest burned and she begged and she prayed for it all to be a sick, twisted nightmare. That she’d wake up in bed, in Spencer’s arms like she was supposed to be, and he’d soothe her with his calming voice, his large hand gently rubbing her back.

“It was just a nightmare baby. You’re okay, I’m here. Nothing will ever hurt you as long as I’m here.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, pinched herself a hundred times because she just couldn’t accept that any of this could be real, that she would have to face the world without him by her side.

She realised then that she didn’t know how to live in a world where Spencer Reid doesn’t exist.

The team called, but she never picked up.

“Hi there, sweet girl, it’s Penelope. I just wanted to check in. I stopped by your house again, and I noticed you haven’t taken in any of my baskets. It’s okay, I left you another one today. You like cashews, right?”

“Hey, it’s Derek. Please just send me a text letting me know you’re still there. Cause you know I’ll break down that door if I have to.”

“Y/N, it’s JJ. I just wanted to remind you that the funerals on Monday. We really hope you’ll come, but we understand if you can’t. I’m always here if you need to talk.”

Y/N just listened as the the dial tone rang out after JJ’s voicemail. She was sat up against the wall of the living room, her knees to her chest as she stared at the phone that sat on the floor before her. She hadn’t showered in weeks, and she hadn’t eaten in god knows how long. None of that stuff seemed important to her, really. She noted how JJ had reminded her that Spencer’s funeral was on Monday. At first she didn’t want to go. She wasn’t sure she could handle it. All these people who were probably going to be there, talking about how they missed him, as If they’d cared about him while he was here. Though she knew she owed it to her husband. She had to be strong enough to go. So, she pulled herself up and forced herself to shower for the first time in a long while.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat on the shower floor, her tears mixing with the water that fell on her face.

She dried herself off and dressed herself for bed, knowing she had to try and get some sleep before Monday. When she opened up the wardrobe in search of her pyjamas, her eyes lingered on his clothes that were nearly hung and stacked on his side of the wardrobe. Her lip quivered. Up until then, she hadn’t dared to touch any of his things. The half drunk coffee was in his favourite mug was still sat on his bedside table. She knew it would start to smell soon but she couldn’t bring herself to move it. His shoes that laid scattered in their hallway from where he’d thrown them off one night were still in the same place he’d left them. She brought her hand out to gently touch the fabric of one of his hoodies. She tenderly took the fabric from the hanger, bringing it up to her nose as she inhaled deeply.

She let out a cry.

It still smelled like him.

She pulled the hoodie over her head, watching as it fell to her knees. He always was so much taller than her.

She curled up in bed that night, the scent of him calming her, lulling her to sleep.

It was the best sleep she’d gotten in weeks.

When Monday inevitably came, Y/N had called JJ to ask for a lift to the cemetery. JJ sounded surprised but glad at Y/N’s request.

As they watched her husband be lowered into the ground, Y/N couldn’t stop the tears that fell from her eyes. JJ held her hand tightly throughout it, comforting her as she cried. Y/N couldn’t say it then but she was so thankful for the teams support. If it weren’t for them, she’d be doing this alone and that would be even more unbearable.

Y/N had agreed to say some words at the funeral, despite Derek reassuring her that it was okay if she didn’t want to, she insisted.

Taking a deep breath, she started.

“My husband was many things. He was stubborn, at times. A bit of a know it all, which I loved about him.” She gave a teary chuckle, and the team gave one too, as they fondly remembered their friend. “But he was also kind, and loving. He was the best husband I could’ve asked for, and it was a privilege to love him, and to have his love in return. Spencer Reid was easily the best thing that ever happened to me, and I will honour him for the rest of my life.” She turned to face the newly placed headstone.

‘             Spencer Reid

Beloved Friend, son and Husband.’

That night, she sat up against the wall in their living room again, wrapped in Spencer’s jumper. She pressed the familiar number on her phone again, finding comfort in the sound of his voice.

“Hi, you’ve reached Dr. Spencer Reid. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

Beep.

“Hey, Spence. I don’t know if you know, if you’re somehow watching me from up there but, I call this number a lot. I just want to hear your voice, sometimes. Even if it’s just your stupid voicemail.” She chuckled quietly. “I don’t actually have anything else to say. But I’m going to stop calling this number. It’s not good for me, to keep clinging onto you like this. So this will be the last time I call you. I can let you go now.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ll always love you, Spencer Reid. I promise.” She grabbed at the chain that hung from her neck, which now had his wedding ring dangling from it. “You’re the love of my life. And what an extraordinary life it was.” She smiled. “Maybe in another life, we get to be one another’s forever. But not in this one, it would seem.”

She knew she had to stop calling the number. It was damaging her, clinging onto his voice. She knew that if she wanted to be able to let him go, she had to start there.

“Okay. I’m gonna go now. miss you, love you.”

She ended the call, staring down at the phone, as the numbness she’d grown accustom to filled her.

She tried to convince herself she didn’t need to call again. She didn’t need to hear is voice again. Maybe things would be different, now she’d laid him to rest. Maybe now they’d both finally know peace.

Beep.

“Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid-“

But then again, when had the universe ever been so kind?

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 18*

Okay don't hate me that it not's terribly long, but I started a little too late and now it's 3 am. I kinda had a busy day.

But I knew you needed some floof. 😉

Chapter 17

Chapter 19

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

----

Meanwhile back in your room

The doctors had finally gotten you rebandaged and calm, before leaving you both alone in your room at last.

"Alright now that you're ok…" Rafael gave you a look. "What is wrong with you?! Why would you come here?!"

You made an annoyed face back at him while pointing to your throat. Obviously you weren't going to be able to tell him.

".... Right," Rafael sighed, then saw your phone. He picked it up and handed it to you. You opened the notes app and typed something, then handed it to him.

"You left me," he read aloud. "I didn't! I tried to see you so many times, bur Sonny made it his mission to keep us apart so I--"

You reached over and tapped the phone screen rapidly, emphasizing your statement.

*...I left," he conceded with a defeated look. He knew you were right; he had just taken off without thinking about you, he just knew what he had to do for him and his feelings.

"But you couldn't have just waited for me to come home?" He asked.

You grabbed the phone back and quickly typed a reply, handing it back to him with a cross face.

"How was I supposed to know you would come back?" He read aloud again. "Because it's my home? Because presidential campaigns don't last forever?! Because I love you? Because--"

Your ears perked up and your eyes went wide at the last statement and you clamped your hand on his arm, making him stop listing things.

“What?” He asked. You made a face at him like, “Are you serious?”

“Oh, why are you so shocked? I already told you this?” Rafael asked, completely confused

You realized that everything he said at the apartment was true, you hadn’t made it up.He really did love you. You started to tear up at the fact that you had for once not made up the most beautiful thing anybody has ever told you in your mind. Pretty soon you were full on sobbing thinking about how you had thought about nothing but this moment for so long, through all of the terror and torture you had gone through in the last few weeks.

“Oh my God, Y/N calm down!” He started to freak out while you silently cried, your bandages starting to fill with blood again as your chest heaved from your sobbing.

“Calm down baby, just breathe,” He pressed his forehead against yours, whispering softly.

You took the phone again and tried to calm yourself as you typed quickly, then handed it back to Rafael.He read it out loud:

“I thought I made that up in my drunken, stupid head,” He looked at you with a soft smile. “No you didn't make it up. “In fact, I technically told you twice, if you can remember,”

You took the phone again and typed, “The operating room,”

He nodded back with a yes. “It took me a while to remember it too,”

You did your best not to start crying again from happiness this time because you knew that any sort of major emotion was going to rupture your bandages. So you just gently squeezed Rafael's hand as if to say you loved him back.

“....Okay but that still doesn't excuse you from just taking off without telling anybody, and nearly getting yourself killed!” He scolded you, but kept his head pressed against yours.

“I don't know what I would have done if the chief hadn't found you sooner. I don't want to think about it,” Rafael shook off the intense fear he had had when Andrew had first mentioned you as a Jane Doe, and then told you the horrifying way that he found you.

You took the phone again and began typing away, and once again handed it back to him. He read aloud,

“Yeah, probably not one of my best ideas. But I would have been fine if not for Chicago,”

His face fell and his voice fell soft as he said “In Chicago,” He gave you a very serious look. You had a sad and scared look on your face, as if you were ready for him to start yelling at you again when he found out what happened in Chicago.

“So something bad did happen to you in Chicago,'' he said softly. You nodded in shamed silence. He took your hand. “That nurse said you had severe tearing....down there,”

He took another long pause really not wanting to ask you the question but he had to know. “Did you get assaulted in Chicago?”

You couldn't help it, the question made you break down into silent sobs once again. Your blood began to soak through your bandages. Rafael wrapped his arms around you, trying to calm you down. He looked up to the sky and tried to keep tears in his own eyes as he held you, thinking about the hell you must have gone through to get to him. He felt like all of this was his fault.

“What happened?” He pulled you away from his chest for a second and asked you. You took the phone once again and softly typed a long-winded story then handed the phone back to him, ashamed. He was scared to read it but he knew that he had to if he was going to help you through this.

“I was an idiot,” he stopped. “First of all, no, you're not an idiot. Don't ever say that,” He told you sternly before continuing.

“I hadn't eaten since I left the city, which was about 20 hours and I was starving. There was a two-hour layover, so I went to an ATM and emptied the rest of my bank account so that I could carry cash and stay off the grid. Then I decided to get food down the street but I didn't know that the train station was in such a bad part of Chicago. I should have known,”

He stopped again. “No you shouldn't have, none of this is your fault,”

You shook your head like you didn't believe him, and then tapped the phone, signaling him to keep reading. He sighed reluctantly, but obeyed.

“On my way back to the train station it was dark and this guy asked me if I had the time and when I went to go get my phone he grabbed my purse and somebody else hit me from behind. Next thing I knew when I woke up... “

Rafael paused, he really didn't want to read this part you really didn't. But he knew that if he was going to help you get through this he needed the whole story.

“When I woke up I was… ’stuck’ between two guys while a third one videoed it.They were all laughing and high-fiving each other--”

Rafael stopped once more and put the phone down, unable to bring himself to read the rest. He looked at you and you got ready for the lecture, but to your surprise he just started to cry and crawled into the bed next to you, holding you as close to him as humanly possible.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, fuck I am so so so sorry,” He sobbed into your chest. You shook your head violently, making him look at you while you typed.

“No, it’s not your fault. If I hadn’t been so stupid--” He stopped you from typing any more.

“Alright, enough. You’re not going to blame this on yourself, do you hear me? It is one hundred percent not your fault,”

You typed: “Not your fault either,”

“...Alright fine, if I don’t blame myself will you stop blaming yourself?” He compromised. You nodded ‘Yes’.

And then you typed: “Bad things happen.”

“Yes but too many bad things have happened to you lately, ever since you met me,” He shook his head sadly while stroking your face with his thumb.

“Not true,” you typed. “The best thing happened after I met you,”

“...The amazing sex?” He was finally able to tease you a bit. You nodded vigorously with a silent giggle. “Well yeah, obvi,” You typed. “But also, love,”

“Yes, very true,” He agreed. “But love shouldn’t be this hard, carino,”

You looked at him very seriously before typing “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” He got up from the bed. “I’m saying look where loving me has gotten you! You almost died trying to find me. You got assaulted because I took off on you. Nothing good has happened to you since this started, and loving me doesn’t count because it’s what’s killing you!”

“Okay counterpoint,” You typed furiously. “I almost died trying to find you, and now that I did you’re not going to let that be for nothing, are you?”

“I don’t…” He sighed and sat back on the bed next to you. “No, I guess not. I just--I can’t believe you did this,”

“You’re never getting rid of me,” You typed and then gave him a sly grin.

“Yeah well, I think I already knew that carino,” He chuckled, once again revealing the matching scars you had.

“You’re a part of me,” You typed while he resumed nestling back into your chest.

“So if I need a kidney, we’re square?” He gave you a tongued smile while you hit him playfully. It was then that you realized this entire time since you had been reunited, he hadn’t kissed you. You repeated the gesture of typing and handing him your words, as he read aloud:

“Kiss?” He gave you a look. “Baby I have wanted nothing more since I saw you alive, but I don’t want to...break you, any more than you already are,”

Type type type. Hand. Read.

“...I’m broken without you inside me,” He laughed out loud. “Kinky, carino,”

You gave him a pout before he shook his head with a chuckle, and pulled your face towards him, his lips inching towards yours for the first time in months….

“Alright, Mr. Barba,” Nurse Ratchet aka Laverne busted back in the room with a clipboard. You both snapped to attention at the sudden noise, the moment was gone.

“...The hell is your problem, lady?” Rafael snapped, not moving from your side. In fact, he wrapped a protective arm around you, as if she was going to try and take you from him again.

“Well I’ve spoken to Mr. Carisi, and he tells me that you two shouldn’t be fraternizing, that it’s detrimental to her sobriety,” She informed him with a scornful look.

“Oh for the love of--” He muttered obscenities in Spanish under his breath.

“So I’m afraid at his request, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” She smirked.

“The hell I am,” He held onto you tighter. “Do you have any idea what this girl has been through to get to me? To get to us again?”

“Exactly his point, Mr. Barba,” She crossed her arms. “She clearly has no logical thinking when it comes to you. Her feelings make her completely unstable mentally and lead her into harm’s way, now you don’t want that, do you?”

“No…” He was letting her get in his head, he shifted uncomfortably and started to move his arms away from you but you clenched it to keep him from letting go of you.

Oh no, FUCK this. You did not come this far for your insanely overbearing cousin strong-arming Rafael through a nurse with a ‘mama bear’ complex. You waved your arms back and forth in a big X formation, letting her know Rafael was not going anywhere.

“Sweetie, this is for your own--” She tried the ‘good cop’ bullshit on you, but you weren’t stupid.

You put your hands up to your throat, clutching the bandages around your neck. You tugged at them ever so slightly, a sign you were threatening to rip them off if she didn’t back the hell up, right now. Both Laverne and Rafael reacted, both reaching towards your hands. You put a hand up to Rafael’s face, and a wagging finger up to Laverne’s.

“...She’s going to kill herself if you don’t leave right now, do you think Mister Carisi would appreciate that?” He warned, and you nodded in agreement with a scowl.

“This is only proving your cousin’s point, Y/N,” Laverne pointed out. “You’re acting insanely right now!”

You grabbed your phone and began to type away. Threatening looks wouldn’t work anymore. You handed your phone to Rafael and nudged him to read it out loud to Laverne,

“I don’t care what you, or my cousin thinks. I don’t care if you think I’m being ‘insane’, because what matters is I’ll still do it. I swear to God if you do not leave this room right now I will rip these bandages off so fast, it will be a bloodbath. And my…”

He stopped reading, blinking a few times before continuing:

“...My boyfriend is the best lawyer in New York City and he will sue you and this hospital so fast for malpractice. And he will beat you so hard, you’ll have to rename the whole hospital after him!”

You saw the surprise and sensed the hesitation in his voice when he said ‘boyfriend’, but he did say it-- so that had to be a good sign.

“Your boyfriend?” Laverne said with an unbelievable laugh. “Seriously? Honey…”

“Yes, her boyfriend,” He doubled down on the label, making you smile. He then stood up and took a step towards her as he kept talking.

“And if her cousin has a problem with it, he can take it up with me if and when he gets here. As for you, it’s none of your damn business, so you can take your threats and your judgement out of here right now,”

You crossed your arms and gave her a shit eating grin with a huge YES nodding notion.

“....Fine, we’ll see what’s what when he gets here, and he IS coming. He’s on his way,” She muttered as she walked out of the room.

“Ohhhh I’m sure he is,” Rafael rolled his eyes with a sarcastic smile as he resumed his place at your side. He looked at you, you had the giddiest smile on your face. “What?”

Type Type Type. Hand.

“Boyfriend,” He gave you a small amused smile. “Well, I’d hope so after all this, don’t you think?”

You nodded an enthusiastic YES once more, absolutely in heaven. The only thing that would make it better right now was his mouth on yours.

As if reading your mind, Rafael took your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. You felt your throat moving as you kissed him back, as did he. He quickly stopped, but you just took his hands and moved them gently around your neck, pressing them down as if to say ‘just keep pressure on them,’

“I’ll be gentle,” He assured you, putting pressure over the wound as you kissed, keeping the bandages in place. Then he pulled back for a second as he added “....For now,” with a cheeky grin.

You hoped your happy little bubble wouldn’t be busted when Sonny showed up.

[feelingisshit]

Yandere!Venti x Reader - Windrise Part 2

WARNINGS - Yandere venti, spoiler for story quest and Kaeya's backstory, crush on Kaeya, creep behavior, possessiveness, violence(not reader receiving), alcohol mention, gaslighting(?)

You go home that night and before you lay down to sleep you decide to pray to Barbatos. "Lord Barbatos, thank you for protecting me and my friends on all of our journeys. Please if you would be so kind as to grant me the courage to finally confess my feelings to Kaeya. I have had feelings for him for a while and I hope to confess after the end of festivities tomorrow. Thank you again Lord Barbatos for everything you've done for me."

Venti listens in to the prayers he gets most nights before he rests but tonight he was expecting yours, especially since you had confessed to having feelings for someone to him earlier that day. He just never imagined that it would be Kaeya. Or anyone but himself for that matter. You were always with him and coming to him for advice and comfort. Honestly, he didn't believe anyone but him was fit to have your heart, and it pissed him off.

So the next day whenever Venti saw you and Kaeya looking at each other he would deliberately drag you away to pull your attention to him. He was pulling you left, right, and center to get you away from Kaeya. Even going so far as to trip Kaeya up with a few wind currents, hoping silently that he'd be injured and unable to meet with you later that night. But alas this never happened.

That night before the festival's last festivities Venti decided to drag you both up to the outstretched hands of his own large statue in front of the cathedral. Sitting beside you in the palms and patting his lap for you to lay on. When you do he plays with your hair mindlessly while sipping on a bottle of dandelion wine that he had bought only a bit ago.

"My muse?" Venti looks down and hopes to grab all your attention from whatever you were staring at in the city. When he got no response he leaned forward and noticed that you had fallen asleep on him. "Why Kaeya? What's so special about the cavalry captain? I'm always here for you and I care for you multitudes more than he ever could." Venti rasps, wiping his eyes and beginning to lift you to take you home.

"I'm a god… I could just keep you all to myself." He thinks aloud and looks around before creating a wind current, taking you to his home. 'I would and could do so much for you and you choose some man from a nation I destroyed?' he thinks, shaking his head and walking with you in arm the rest of the way to his home hidden in the thickest part of the forest.

He takes you inside and remembers to lock the door before setting you on the wood-framed couch near the entrance. He strolls into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of vintage wine then sits next to your unconscious body. He looks over your features and sighs, smiling softly to himself. He sets the open and half drank bottle of wine on the table next to him at the side of the couch. You stir a bit as he strokes a hand over your cheek and he freezes, moving away quickly as you awaken from your slumber.

"Uhn..." you rub your eyes before sitting up and looking around slowly. "Venti? What… where am I?" You murmur with a hand still rubbing your eyes into working. His eyes dart around the room, bouncing from the old empty bottles littered around then settling on the newly opened one beside him.

"My home," he whispers out, uncharacteristically nervous. "You fell asleep in my lap atop Lord Barbatos' statue so… I thought to bring you somewhere safer to rest." He explains before pulling the blanket off the back of the antique-looking couch and putting it over your goosebump-covered legs. "Lord Barbatos'... statue? Oh… right. OH, Venti! What time is it?" You slowly come to while processing what Venti had just said.

"Late. The festival has already been over for an hour or maybe more my muse, why?" He tilts his head in confusion even though really he knows why you're jumping up and straightening your clothes to get ready to leave his little abode. "I had plans for the end of the festival…" you sigh, rubbing your face with one hand and fixing your hair with the other. "I was supposed to confess to Kaeya tonight… and now he's probably already asleep in his room at the Favonius headquarters."

Venti tenses before pulling you into him in a tight hug and rubbing your shoulder with one of his hands. "Well, maybe it wasn't meant to be if fate seems to keep pulling the two of you apart like this. But I'm here, and isn't that just as good? I can care for you way better than that flirty cavalry captain anyhow." He smiles at you with a glint in his eye that you can't distinguish but just know, you won't be getting away from Lord Barbatos' affections so easily.

A/N - Let me know if there's anything else I need to put in the warnings! I'll be happy to accommodate! Also I wrote a normal venti version and the link for that is H E R E

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.48

Word Count: 4,326

Characters: Derek Hale, Noah Stilinski, Jordan Parrish, Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent,  Lydia Martin (brief), Allison Argent (mentioned), Aiden Steiner, Ethan Steiner, Nogitsune, Oni, Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, cliffhanger, death, small fluff

A/N: Season 3B is now complete

A/N 2: Can’t believe there’s only 12 or so parts left!

Masterlist       Series Masterlist

You, Scott, Isaac, and Lydia sat on the bench at the sheriff’s station, all holding each other’s hands. Isaac and Scott laid their heads on your shoulder, both sniffling every now and then.

You dried tears stained your face, putting up a strong front.

“Isaac, you need to listen to me!” you put your hands on his shoulders. His entire body was shaking as he looked to the ground.

“I-I-I can’t,” he shook his head.

“Yes, you can. Repeat after me, okay?” you said.

He stayed quiet, more and more tears rushing to his eyes.

“Okay?!” you yelled slightly louder as he nodded his head.

“We called Mr. Argent,” you said.

“W-We called… we called Mr.Argent,” he repeated.

“There were two of them. They were wearing masks,” you said.

You lifted his face up slightly.

“Two of them… they had a knife,” he stuttered.

“No, don’t be specific. There were just two of them and they had something sharp. What do you say if they ask you for more details?” you asked.

“I-It all happened so fast,” he held back a sob before burying himself in your arms.

Your eyes were red, feeling a small tear fall down as you began to stroke his back.

“Isaac?” Sheriff Stilinski called, as Scott left his office.

Scott looked at you for a brief second, before walking out of the station.

“Chris,” you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“We need to call Sheriff Stilinski,” he replied.

“I-I already did,” you nodded.

You held onto him tightly, feeling him holding back his cries.

“We don't have time for this right now,” his voice broke as he shook his head, wiping away his tears before looking back at you.

“But, Allison,” you started.

“There’s no time to talk about this right now. I’ll meet you at the station,” you saw him run to his car as you put your hand over your mouth, holding back a sob before letting out a shaky breath.

After a few minutes, Sheriff Stilinski called Lydia in, before calling you.

“Sheriff, you can’t let this story get out. They can’t handle the people after them,” you walked into Noah’s office, met with another officer.

“We’re gonna do everything we can to keep this quiet,” Noah assured you.

He motioned the other deputy to leave, before sitting you down.

“Is there anything that you can tell me that they don’t know?” Noah asked.

“No. The Oni was there, Allison killed one of them, and then they killed her,” you replied, your voice low.

“I thought you couldn't kill them,” Noah said.

“I-I know. I’m trying to figure out how she did it,” you replied, running your fingers through your hair.

“You should get home and get some rest,” Noah said softly.

“No,” you shook your head.

“This all ends tonight.”

---

You walked into the apartment slowly, seeing all the lights off. You walked past Chris’ office, seeing him sitting with Isaac as you entered the room.

The two of them were holding onto each other, both crying softly.

You stayed quiet, walking to them before wrapping your arms around them.

You felt Isaac wrap his arms around you, burying his face into your neck while you held Chris’ hand, stroking it softly.

“I’ll be right back,” Chris got up, while you frowned slightly.

“I’ll be right back, Isaac,” you followed after Chris, pulling him aside in the hallway.

“Hey,” you said softly, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Now now. I need to…” he paused, letting out a shaky breath.

“Don’t push me away,” you said.

He nodded his head, before stroking your hand softly.

“I’m going to France,” you felt your heart drop slightly.

“Why?” you asked.

“I’m not staying in the town that killed my entire family,” you sniffled softly, before nodding your head.

“I don’t… take care of yourself,” you gave him a small smile as he walked away from you.

You walked back into his office, seeing Isaac wrapping his arms around his head.

“Where’s Scott?” Isaac asked.

“I don’t know… Let me check,” you put your hand in your pocket, before frowning, realizing your phone wasn’t in it.

Damn it

“I left my phone at the Sheriff’s station,” you shook your head.

“You might want to get it before things get bad again,” Isaac replied.

You walked over to him, stroking his head before he pulled away from you.

“Isaac,” you said.

“Can you just get it and hurry back?” he asked.

You nodded softly before walking away from him.

---

“I’m at the sheriff’s station,” you said softly, talking to Derek as you answered your phone.

“We’re bringing the Triskelion box to Scott. We need to trap the Nogitsune in it,” Derek explained.

“We?”

“Ethan and Aiden are with me.”

“Huh, never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Yeah, well, desperate times call for desperate alliances,” Derek said, while you frowned.

“That’s not the saying…” 

“It’s fine. How are you doing?” he interrupted.

“I’m fine. Me and Allison weren’t even that close,” you replied, mainly lying to yourself.

“Even after living together? Your friends with-,” Derek replied.

“We don't have time for these stupid emotions, Derek. I’m just trying to figure out how she killed one of them,” you sighed.

You heard commotion outside of Noah’s office, as your head shot up.

“What was that?” Derek said.

“I-I don’t know. I gotta call you back,” you tensed up, ending the call.

Your eyes glew purple before you froze, remembering all the deputies there.

You reached for the gun on Sheriff Stilinski’s desk, staying quiet as you walked out of his office, seeing a dead body on the floor.

Oh my god

Your eyes widened, feeling someone pull you to the floor, covering your mouth.

The deputy, his name tag saying Parrish motioning for you to stay quiet.

You nodded your head softly, before keeping your eyes forward, seeing an Oni standing across from the rest of you.

Its body fell to the floor, as you raised an eyebrow. You stood up slowly before Parrish pulled you down.

“What are you, insane?” he whisper-yelled.

“It’s not moving,” you replied.

“We don’t know if it’s playing games or what. Stay here,” he replied.

“But…” you were met with his glare before you sighed, staying quiet.

You tried to think of anything you could, trying to figure out how Allison killed them. You went back to trace her steps, trying to remember what she did today. The Oni jumped to its feet, while you saw another appear just behind him.

“Stay down,” Parrish told you.

“No,” you held the gun, shooting at the Oni, nearly emptying the entire clip.

“That didn't even faze it!” he exclaimed.

“I didn't expect it to,” you muttered.

“Destruam,” you whispered as the Oni fell to its knees, its blade falling away from them.

“How did that…” Parrish’s voice drifted off.

“Pulso,” the body fell unconscious as you closed your eyes.

“That’s not… what just happened?” Parrish asked.

“I-I have no idea,” you pretended to be flabbergasted.

You ran over to the front door, trying to pull it open.

Damn it

It was jammed.

“Patentibus,” you pushed as hard as you could at the door, yet it didn't budge.

“We’re locked in,” you ran your fingers through your hair, turning to Noah.

“How many injured do you have?” you looked around the station, multiple deputies bleeding from their wounds. Only a handful of them were okay.

“They’re after you… but why? Okay, think (Y/N),” you started talking aloud, pacing as you crossed your arms.

“They’re after Noah because they’re trying to get to Stiles,” you said.

“Because the Nogitsune was inside Stiles’ head, and he knows everything about Stiles,” you could see confusion on a few deputies’ faces, along with Noah’s.

You gasped, starting to piece together.

They’re after Noah, after the people that Stiles cares about. Which means Melissa’s next.

Your heart began to race, while you grabbed your phone, your hands beginning to shake.

Calm down you tried to calm your mind.

Your phone gave you an out-of-service message as you groaned, turning to Noah.

“Are anyone’s phones working?” you asked.

They all took their phones, checking them before shaking their heads.

What are we gonna do now?

“Landline,” Noah pulled you aside.

“We’re completely trapped here and cut off. My spell won’t hold for long, it’s gonna come back any second,” you whispered frantically, quickly dialing the hospital’s number.

“And you don’t know how to kill them, do you?” he asked.

“I’m figuring it out, I promise,” you sighed.

You heard it ring to voicemail, no one picking up.

“Meanwhile we need to come up with how to trap them. If your spell doesn’t hold,” he said.

“I know… just, let me think,” you ran your fingers through your hair.

You dialed the hospital’s number again, getting voicemail again.

“Damn it!” you yelled out, frustrated.

“I need to call Scott,” you said.

You dialed his number, hearing it ring a few times before he picked up.

“Hello?” he asked softly.

“Scott, it’s (Y/N),” you said.

“(Y/N)? I’ve been trying to call you-” he started.

“My phone isn't working. I need you to… I think the Oni are going to the hospital and they’re going after your mom,” you started.

“My dad’s there right now. We’re heading to the school, meet us here?” Scott asked.

“I can’t. We’re all trapped in the Sheriff’s station,” you shook your head.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Just…. Be careful,” you said softly.

You heard him go quiet, before hearing a small sniffle.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” he said softly.

“Right back at you,” you bit your lip, ending the call as you paused for a second, running your fingers through your hair.

You felt your heart aching, as your vision blurred slightly, tears rushing to your eyes.

“(Y/N),” Noah called your name.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“Allison left the apartment with Isaac, Isaac went back to Scott’s house. Allison came back to the apartment, she was in the weapons vault. She was gathering her weapons, and Chris went down to help her. Allison picked up her weapons from there, which means something in that vault killed an Oni. But what? They don’t have anything special there, except…” you stopped talking, your mind clicking.

“Oh my god! O-Okay, shit! I- I think I know but Chris is the only one who can tell me for sure,” you ran your fingers through your hair.

“Then call him,” Noah suggested.

You nodded softly, dialing his number.

---

You saw Parrish’s gun jam, the Oni backing him up against the wall. You saw him fall, blood coming out of his side, from the Oni’s blade no doubt. You ran to him, picking up a gun from the floor as you fired it into the Oni’s back, knowing it would have no effect.

The Oni turned to you, walking towards you as your eyes glew purple. 

“Conversus est argentum,” your eyes glew purple, while you continued to fire the gun into its chest as the bullets turned silver.

You heard the Oni screech, freezing in front of you as it fell to your knees, a green light coming out of it, before it turned into a black cloud, falling into the ground.

You smiled softly, surprised it worked.

“(Y/N)!” Parrish yelled out as you turned behind you, seeing another Oni appear from behind you.

“Con-” you started as its blade sliced your waist, as you groaned, leaning over.

You looked up, seeing it vanish as you tried to keep yourself but failed to do so. 

“Sheriff…” you noticed him on the ground next to you, Parrish across from the two of you.

“There’s black stuff coming out of it… I think it’s some type of poison,” you bit your lip, feeling the pain spreading quickly throughout your body.

“Everyone was hit… we’re all gonna die.”

---

You groaned softly, hearing the phone ringing in Noah’s office.

You could feel blood dripping from your lips as you screamed out, trying to drag yourself to his office.

“(Y/N)...” Noah started.

You continued to cry out, as the phone fell off the desk, while you picked it up.

“Chris…” you were out of breath as your vision began to blur slightly.

“No, (Y/N), i-it’s me, it’s Derek,” you heard his voice as your eyes watered.

“Talk to me, (Y/N), what's going on?” his voice sounded alarmed.

“The Oni poisoned all of us,” your voice was shaky.

“We’re trapped in here!” you cried.

“Shit, (Y/N), j-just calm down, okay? I’ll come to you,” he said.

“There’s no time. You need to get the Triskelion box to Scott and you need to trap the Nogitsune,” you could feel more and more blood dripping from you, filled with an unbearable burning sensation.

If it was that bad for you, you couldn't even imagine what everyone else felt.

“It’s a no-brainer. You and a bunch of people can die. Ethan and Aiden can take it to Scott, you need to be safe…” 

His voice began to drift, while you found it harder and harder to keep your eyes open and keep your head up. Of all the places and ways to go out, you’d never expect yourself to die in Sheriff Stilinski’s office. Your eyes fluttered, while you zoned in and out of consciousness. 

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” you heard Derek yell through the phone.

“I love you,” you let out a small whisper as your body fell limp, falling over to the side.

---

“(Y/N)!” you gasped loudly, scrunching your eyes as you looked up, seeing Derek on top of you.

“Derek?” you said softly.

“Don’t move,” you saw him flip the lighter on, as your eyes widened.

“What are you…” you noticed some herbs in his hand, while he set them on fire.

“No…” you started as he stuck them into your wound, while you cried out.

��I-I know, I’m sorry. Just breathe,” you squeezed his arm tightly, while he stroked your cheek.

“I-It’s working,” he said.

“What are we… what do we do about the rest of them?” you asked.

“The best thing we can do is kill the Oni. It’ll save them all,” Derek said.

“I-I can’t just leave them… Stiles’ dad is here!” you said.

He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up as you screamed out in pain.

“I called the hospital. Ambulances are on their way. Come on,” he carried you out of the station, taking you to his car.

---

You began to feel slightly better, while the two of you pulled into the parking lot of the school. There was a small moment of awkward silence as you opened your mouth to say something, before stopping yourself, not sure what to say.

You remembered the moments before you were unconscious, telling Derek that you loved him. It would only make things tense and awkward. 

Isaac and Chris pulled up next to you while you let out a breath of relief.

Oh, thank god

You got out of the car, walking to Isaac and Chris.

“Take this,” he handed you a crossbow, along with some arrows.

“There’s 5 Oni left, there are 5 bows left. We need to make each shot count,” Chris told you while you nodded.

“Derek and Isaac, run ahead,” the two of them were off before you even turned your head.

“Would killing the Oni kill the Nogitsune?” you asked.

“You can’t kill it. But, we can change its host. Which is exactly what we’re gonna do. Scott is gonna bite it. Its body will reject the bite, reject the Nogitsune, and then trap its spirit into the box,” Chris explained.

You nodded softly before opening your mouth.

“H-How are you doing?” you asked softly.

“We can’t talk about it, not now. We’re too close to winning,” he walked away from you while you nodded your head, placing an arrow into the crossbow, before running to the stairs, aiming the crossbow at the Oni.

---

“You need to get the Triskelion box to Scott!” you yelled, before using your magic to keep the Oni in place while Chris shot at it.

“I got it!” Isaac ran to the box, before taking it to Scott.

The arrow flew just past you, hitting the Oni behind you. There was only one more left.

You heard the Oni approaching you from behind while you turned, your eyes glowing purple.

“Terminus,” its blade broke through the border as you stumbled backward.

“(Y/N)!” Chris yelled.  

The last arrow shot out of his crossbow, not fazing the Oni as it ran its sword through the arrow, cutting it in half. That was the last one left.

“Traho,” you pulled the arrow close to you.

The Oni slammed its sword down, while you pushed away just in time before it landed in your stomach.

The blade ran through your leg as you winced slightly, the familiar burning sensation coming back. You stood up shakily, your eyes purple as you gripped onto the arrow, only to be pushed aside by Aiden, while he pulled the arrow away from you.

He growled, before sticking the arrow into the Oni’s chest. You watched as it exploded, Aiden’s back to you for a moment.

You heard something slice, before watching Aiden drop the sword onto the floor in front of him.

No

He fell backward, while you quickly caught him.

“Why did you do that?!” you yelled at him.

“You all think me and Ethan are still the bad guys. But we’re not. Not anymore,” he shook his head.

“I-I can heal you. God, that was so stupid of you!” you yelled.

“Sana,” you put your hands on his wound, as he groaned, more and more black blood coming out of his wound.

Ethan fell to his side, holding his hand.

“Derek! Where are those herbs?!” you yelled out, your hands covered in his blood.

“There's… There’s none left,” Derek shook his head.

“I-I just wanna talk to my brother one last time,” he said.

“I just have to try again,” before you could continue, you felt a pair of arms pull you up. You pushed away from Derek, before trying to help Aiden.

“It’s not gonna work, (Y/N)!” he exclaimed, holding onto you.

“The reason he’s hurt is because he was trying to help me! That should be me!” you didn't notice as your eyes watered.

“You trying to heal him is gonna hurt him. There’s poison inside of his body. The reason we were able to save you is because it didn't go as deep. There’s no way to save him, it’s too late,” Derek tried to calm you down, holding your hands.

You could feel your heart beating faster, a tear falling down your face as Derek wrapped his arms around you.

You looked over to see Ethan crying, hugging his brother tightly. You buried your face into Derek’s chest, taking deep breaths. He pressed his lips against your forehead as you watched Aidan’s soul leave his body, hearing Lydia cry out for him, while Stiles held her back.

---

“Chris, you can talk about this,” you started.

“There isn't anything to talk about,” you followed him to the office, Isaac behind you.

“You don't have to… she was your daughter,” you said.

His back was to you as he froze.

“Yes, she was, and I loved her,” he said.

“That… you need to grieve properly,” you said.

“I’ve been doing just fine how I normally do this,” he said.

“But it’s not good for you,” you replied.

“Isaac, make sure you’re packed,” you frowned slightly.

“Why?” you turned to Isaac.

He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.

You saw both Chris and Isaac’s eyes on you as you frowned.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“I’m going to France with Mr. Argent,” he said.

You felt your heart stop, as you clenched your jaw.

“You’re what?” you asked softly.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Chris grabbed a duffel bag, before walking out of the office.

You and Isaac leaned against the table, tears in both of your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly.

“I-I didn't know how. I knew that you would want me to stay… and that if you got to me, I would. (Y/N), I have to go,” his voice was low as you saw a tear fall down his cheek.

“Were you just gonna leave or something?” you asked.

“I wouldn't do that to you. I-I just needed some time to think,” he replied.

You stroked his cheek softly, lifting his face up.

“I keep losing people here, my family, E-Erica and Boyd, Allison... Derek barely talks to me anymore,” his voice broke as you bit your lip.

“You need to start over,” you said softly.

He nodded his head.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” you wiped his tears away.

“I’m not… I’m not upset with you, you deserve a better life, kid,” you started.

It caused you pain, knowing you were gonna lose him too now.

“Just know, wherever you are, no matter what, I’ll always be here for you,” you sniffled.

More and more tears rushed to his eyes as he buried himself in your arms. You caressed his back, trying to control your tears as you sniffled.

“Ugh, you don't even know how to speak French,” you laughed softly.

“Allison would speak a little in her sleep,” he said.

“Yeah? Like what?” you asked.

“Like ‘va te faire foutre’” your eyes widened as you held back a laugh.

“Don’t… don’t say that to anyone,” you shook your head.

“What does it mean?” he asked.

“It means fuck you,” you replied.

“Oh,” he nodded his head.

He rested his head on your shoulder, before going silent.

“I miss her,” he said.

“I know you do,” you pressed your lips against his forehead.

“And I don't want you to be alone after I leave with Mr. Argent,” he said.

“I’m not gonna be alone, Isaac,” you started.

“I don’t mean like that… why don’t you talk to Derek?” Isaac asked.

“Isaac, stop,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Why not?” he asked again.

“I wouldn't know what to say,” you said.

“Just tell him how you really feel,” Isaac said.

“I can’t… Isaac, you don’t get it,” you ran your fingers through your hair.

“Why? Cuz he broke up with you?” you stayed quiet for a second.

“Forget it. We’re not gonna get back together. Especially after what I said,” you sighed.

“What did you say?” Isaac asked.

“At the sheriff’s station, I thought I was gonna die… he called me a-and I said I loved him,” you sighed.

“How is that a bad thing?” Isaac asked.

“Isaac, you don’t just tell your ex that you loved him because you're dying. I-It makes it seem like I only said it because I was dying, and not because I meant it,” you said.

“Wow, your logic is astounding,” Isaac said sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes, leaning on your hands.

“I don’t know why you two are… well, you. You love him, and he loves you. That’s all that matters. Screw anything and everything else. D-Did you even try fighting for yourself that night?” Isaac asked.

“Isaac, stop,” you started.

“No, I want you to be with him and I want you to be happy,” Isaac exclaimed.

“We’re better off as friends,” you shook your head.

“(Y/N), take your ass to his loft and tell him you love him. Screw all else! You love him and you deserve to be with him!” Isaac yelled.

“Stop, Isaac! You don't understand! I’ve known him forever, he means everything to me! We’ve broken up and hurt each other so many times! If we end up hurting each other again… what if we lose our friendship too? I’ve lost him as my boyfriend so many times and I don't want to lose him as my best friend too,” you felt a tear fall down your face as you shook your head.

“I didn't know you felt like that,” he said softly.

You sighed, turning to look at him.

“Let’s just hang out. We only have a few days left before you two leave,” you said.

Isaac nodded softly, as you held his hand, pulling him alongside you as the two of you left the apartment.

---

“Are you going to come back?” you asked Chris as he loaded his bags into the car.

“I’m not sure yet,” he replied.

You could feel your heart aching slightly while you wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you for everything,” your voice was low as you tried to keep your tears at bay.

“This isn’t a goodbye, (Y/N),” he started.

“I-I know, I just have to let you know. You’ve been with me through everything, despite our disagreements, you’re the closest thing I have to a dad.”

He pressed a small kiss against your forehead.

“Take care of yourself. Call me, text me, whatever. Just be good to yourself,” you said softly.

He stroked your cheek softly before you kissed his hand.

Isaac gave you one last hug, saying your goodbyes to them both, waving them off as they drove away. You wiped your tears from your eyes, trying to keep strong as Isaac and Chris left, before receiving a text from Derek. 

You grabbed your keys and wallet before taking a big breath, leaving the apartment.

---

“Derek?” you walked into the loft, before instantly freezing.

You could see smoke in the air, bodies on the floor as you noticed some bullets. Your heart dropped as you ran to each of the bodies, looking for Derek.

“Derek? Derek!” you yelled.

Your heart was aching, while you could feel it in your head as tears rushed to your eyes.

“Derek?!”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Get Down pt. 2

The final installment of Get Down.

It’s smutty! There’s smut! 18+ please! Be responsible!

bottom Geralt / top Jaskier

---

“What brings you to my humble estate?” Jaskier asked, taking a slow sip from his silver chalice. He didn’t fail to notice the way Geralt’s eyes were trained on his wine-red lips as he spoke. “From the way you handled yourself in the throne room I suppose you were expecting my father.”

“Yes, Milord,” Geralt nodded. “For a moment I had forgotten your full title. My apologies.”

“Nothing to apologize for, good Sir Witcher. I hope that your dinner is satisfactory.” 

The young nobleman snapped his fingers again and food appeared rather suddenly before them. Geralt’s stomach rumbled audibly when he caught a whiff of how good it smelled and he blushed furiously, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Milord.”

When he looked up again, Jaskier’s face showed nothing but concern. His Lordly air hadn’t disappeared in the slightest but his bard-like tendencies and his protectiveness of Geralt were showing more clearly. “When was the last time you ate something?”

Geralt blushed a deeper shade of pink and looked down at his plate. “Two days ago.”

Jaskier stood suddenly and made his way to the valet nearest the door. He spoke to the young man in hushed but urgent whispers, too fast and quiet for even Geralt to understand, before taking his seat again and dipping his head in respectful apology.  “Please, let us eat.”

“Thank you, Milord, for your food and your hospitality.”

“I like the garb that Susan chose for you this evening. Blue seems to bring out your hair and your eyes; you should wear it more often.”

“Thank you, Milord. I shall try,” Geralt nodded, the apples of his cheeks going another shade darker.

Jaskier was enthralled. He’d never seen Geralt blush so frequently before; was it his status as a Lord? Was it the air of authority he’d assumed? Was it the outfit? The bard wasn’t sure exactly what had captured Geralt’s attention so thoroughly, but he was happy about the results regardless. 

They finished their meal in relative silence. Geralt was given a significantly larger second portion than Jaskier and neither of them cared to mention it aloud. That was probably why he’d talked to the servant, the Witcher figured. Best to just thank him later when we’re back on the Path and he’s acting like...himself.

“Shall we retire to the sitting room for the evening?” the young noble asked, standing from his seat. Geralt followed him dutifully, moving as silently as a cat between the dining room and the unusually cozy sitting room of Pankratz Castle. “Pardon my intimacy, Sir Witcher, but this is my family’s private sitting room. I find it easier to keep warm than the formal sitting room down the hall.”

“I am honored,” Geralt bowed his head. He wanted more than anything to hear Jaskier say his first name again. He didn’t like the way Sir Witcher sat heavy and formal on the bard’s spry tongue. He missed the happy, lilting tune of Jaskier’s giddy “Geralt!” 

Jaskier laid himself out across the chaise lounge and gestured for Geralt to take the armchair opposite him. The Witcher balanced precariously on the edge of the cushion, always ready to flee if necessary.

“So, Sir Witcher, what adventures did you have during winter?”

“Not many I’m afraid, Milord. I spent the season sequestered at Kaer Morhen with my brothers and my mentor.”

“How are your brothers faring? I think often of their health.”

“They are well, thank you.”

Geralt didn’t like having to play word games the way Jaskier did. Every sentence was carefully constructed and executed in the same way that he would consider a dangerous thrust or parry when dueling. Any sign of disrespect or any misplaced Milord could have him throne from the room (and the keep) in a second. All Jaskier would have to do was snap his fingers. 

“And you, Sir Witcher?”

“I’m afraid I have not slept as well as normal. My bed has been as empty as my heart,” the Witcher admitted. “If I may say so in polite company.”

Jaskier’s heart was fluttering in his chest, “You may.”

He stood rather suddenly from the chaise and reached out a hand for Geralt.

“Milord?”

“I can offer you rest, sweet Sir Witcher. Come with me. There is much to discuss.”

---

Jaskier pulled the velvet curtains around his bed closed on either side, leaving only the firelight to illuminate them from across the room. Kneeling over him like this, with his shining chestnut hair all mussed and wild and the fire blazing behind him, the young Lord looked like some kind of avenging angel. Geralt bit his lip and did his best not to wiggle in impatience. 

“Sir Witcher,” the nobleman smirked. “I’ve often dreamed of seeing you like this; laid out before me in my bed, blushing and shy.”

“Wh-What?”

“You must have known,” Jaskier chuckled lowly. He moved his hands to rest on either side of the Witcher’s head and leaned forward, close enough for his breath to tickle the skin of Geralt’s neck. “You must have known how much I wanted you. All those nights crammed together on shitty straw mattresses at podunk inns. All those baths and all those vials of chamomile oil so lovingly pressed into your tensest muscles...”

“I...I thought-”

“I’m sure you did,” Jaskier cooed. His teeth worried a mark into the skin of Geralt’s throat and the Witcher shuddered. “You can’t seem to stop thinking, is the problem. Stop letting your busy mind run away with you and just feel something for me, Geralt.”

“Finally, Jaskier,” the Witcher groaned, surging up to kiss his bard. He’d been waiting to hear the other man call him by name all night and it felt almost like a form of permission; however, Jaskier’s hand tangled in the front of Geralt’s borrowed shirt and the surprisingly strong young man slammed him back down against the soft bed cover. The Witcher made a startled noise and his eyes went wide. His white hair had formed a halo around his head at the impact and he saw lust flash clearly through Jaskier’s eyes.

“You will refer to me as Milord,” the younger man asserted. His pupils were large and dark; Geralt’s breath caught in his throat and he nodded silently in agreement. “Much better, pet.”

“Milord, please,” the Witcher gasped. Jaskier bit and sucked languidly at the skin above Geralt’s collarbone, somehow radiating a sense of laziness and ease despite the harsh movements of his tongue and teeth. The hickey was dark and throbbing when the Viscount finally pulled away. He traced his handiwork with the tip of his pointer finger and Geralt hissed at the contact. It tingled sensationally and the Witcher felt like he might vibrate out of his skin with anticipation. He wanted to be touched. He wanted to be taken. By Jaskier and only Jaskier. His bard. His little Lord. His love.

“Do you want me like this, Geralt?”

“Gods, yes!”

Jaskier waited for a beat and the Witcher realized his mistake.

“I want you, Milord. Take me, please.”

“I’m glad to hear that you feel this way because I want you, too, my darling. Probably twice as badly.”

“Twice?”

The young Lord grabbed a fistful of Geralt’s glorious ass and squeezed, smirking like the nobility he was. “Twice.”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher whined. The bard’s mouth was suddenly making its way down towards the laces of his half-open shirt and Geralt felt his breath coming in quick little pants. He moaned quietly when those clever fingers undid the tie in his trousers and began to ease them down and off his legs. The Viscount’s lips were still plastered to his chest, biting and kissing whatever skin he could reach. “Fuck, Jaskier. C’mon.”

“Are you making demands of me, peasant?” Jaskier clucked disappointedly. “Don’t you know your place by now?”

Geralt nearly choked on his tongue. His pants were gone, his shirt had been rucked up to reveal the muscled expanse of his abdomen, and his bard was licking across his hip-bone. All he could do was whine and shudder and take it. He wanted to lay there and take whatever Jaskier was willing to give. Torture like this? Well worth it, in the Witcher’s opinion. 

“Jaskier, please.”

“Naughty Witchers don’t get what they’re after,” Jaskier shook his head. “You’ll just have to learn the hard way.”

Geralt was about to ask what exactly his bard had meant by ‘the hard way’ but every thought imaginable flew from his head as soon as Jaskier’s lips closed over the head of his recently-freed cock. “Shit!”

The noble smirked from between the Witcher’s legs and pushed himself further, taking as much of Geralt as he could back into his throat. He pressed his hands down over the Witcher’s hips, holding him flat against the mattress in an incredibly show of strength, and hummed. 

“Oh! Oh Jas- fuck Jaskier,” the man beneath him gasped. Jaskier bobbed his head a few times before pulling back with a soft pop and a grin. Geralt was trembling, his hands fisted tightly into the bedclothes. “Milord?”

“Geralt,” the bard sighed, sitting up and leaning over the Witcher once again. He ran the back of his knuckles across his companion’s lightly stubbled cheek and smiled softly. “May I take you apart, my love?”

“L-love?”

“Of course.” Jaskier leaned down slowly, letting Geralt take a little bit of control back for himself. The Witcher breathed in once, slowly, and exhaled just as carefully. He closed the distance between them and gave his beloved bard a soft and caring embrace. Jaskier wasn’t the kind of person to tell falsehoods. Embellish the truth for a song or a good story? Of course. But outright lying? That would have infuriated the bard. 

“I love you...too.”

“Excellent. Now that we’ve settled things,” the brunette wiggled his eyebrows mischievously and Geralt watched as he turned instantly from Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz to Jaskier the Bard. He watched Jaskier’s hand as it snaked down between them and Geralt found himself awash in pleasure once again, “I’m going to ruin you, Witcher!”

Geralt groaned and tossed his head back against the pillows. 

Jaskier never lied.

---

“Fuck!” Jaskier thrust harder and curled his body over Geralt’s. He could feel the damp curls of his chest hair sliding against the skin of the Witcher’s back, already sweat-slick from their first round of lovemaking. 

It had been loving and tender and surprisingly gymnastic; but after a few minutes of snuggling and continued kissing in the afterglow, Geralt had levered himself onto his elbows and knees and arched his spine so fucking temptingly that Jaskier had bitten his knuckle close to bloody in an effort to keep from screaming aloud and scaring the castle guards. Again, Geralt had ordered. 

Jaskier was loath to disobey.

“Oh! Jask-Jaskier!”

“Yeah?” the bard laughed triumphantly. He snapped his hips forward again at the same angle and Geralt bowed beneath him. The Witcher had his glorious pecs buried in the mattress and his hands fisted in the sheets above his head. He looked like a godsdamned feast and Jaskier was taking his fill while he could. The Viscount pushed in again, aiming carefully, and Geralt released another shuddering moan.

“Jaskier, please can-”

“Oh, my love,” the bard moved one hand from its place at Geralt’s hip to the front side of his body. He took hold of the Witcher’s glorious cock and tugged a few times in rhythm with his thrusts. It didn’t take much to work his overstimulated lover through a second orgasm. “You feel incredible, Geralt.”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher sighed, lax and jelly-like beneath his bard. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling. Now let’s get cleaned up and talk about how this experience has changed our relationship for the better, yeah?”

Geralt nodded, no longer scared of losing Jaskier.

Not after that. 

Not after all the love and power and self-confidence the bard had shown him here tonight; Jaskier could take care of himself. They were more than ready for this. Geralt was more than ready for this. He reached out, cupping the bard’s soft face in his large, calloused hand. “As long as you promise to stay by my side, my love, I’m ready for anything.”