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vanderlindemorgans · 4 years ago

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Cross My Heart (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.7k

Chapter-specific Warnings: Descriptions of blood from a gunshot wound, alcohol consumption, talk of drug addiction, more death talk, mentions of entitled kid + parent, everyone being in denial and uh I think that’s about it

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The strangest thing about dreams were how quickly they disappeared: you could be passed out in bed, a million miles away from the waking world before the rays of sun started to shine over the horizon to rouse you from your slumber, and just like that - whatever world you were in would vanish, being replaced by an often disappointing reality in front of you. For Jack, vivid dreams weren’t too often of an occurrence for him, not that he really remembered anyway. Nightmares were even more rare, though at one point in time they’d plagued him for months on end. That was how he’d spent the first few months after his wife’s passing: waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing in panic from the lingering remnants of dream clung to the back of his mind, horrifying scenes of loss and tragedy playing out to torture him in his most vulnerable state. Usually the nightmares involved him being forced to watch Lily’s death with his own eyes and being powerless to stop it, the illusion always shattering just as her body hit the ground. Other times he’d be confronted by her, blood cascading from the bullet wound in her head and onto her skin while she stared at him with harsh eyes. He’d try to reach out for her, only to feel her hands had gone cold. And then the blame would start. The words that were repeated over and over by her until he felt his brain was going to break.You couldn’t protect me. Those ones were always the worst, and thankfully, the most rare.

All of this being said, Jack hadn’t dreamt of Lily in a long time. As the sting of her passing began to fade with time, leading into hate and anger towards the world for taking her away, the dreams slowly stopped. He still mourned for her every day, feeling frozen in time no matter how many years passed, no matter how fine he seemed on the outside, but the worst of it had left him. Or, so he thought.

Jolting out of bed with a fierce start, he could feel the rough material of the duvet in his hands, his hands grasped around it with an iron grip. He felt compelled to scream, though no sound was able to escape his mouth, and as he took note of his surroundings he started to feel less afraid when he realised where he was. He didn’t know what the time was, if he had to guess it was probably after midnight. Hesitantly, he placed the back of his hand to his temple, feeling the stray beads of sweat running underneath. It’d been a long time since something had managed to scare him to that degree, much less a nightmare. He probably should have felt relaxed once he realised that none of what he just went through was real, but he still felt spooked by the entire experience. Jack couldn’t even remember most of what happened - it all blended together in a frightening blur. The only moment he could still make out in his mind from the dream were its final moments: his wife was standing in front of him, in the middle of the convenience store where she died, with a man holding a gun to the back of her head. He remembered screaming out, pleading for her to be spared. It was too late - the sound of a gunshot rang out and her body fell limp to the floor, a pool of blood forming underneath her head. That wasn’t even the worst of it, as when he looked down upon her corpse he realised that it wasn’t Lily’s body lying dead on the ground anymore. It was yours.

“God fuckin’ damn it” he cursed, placing his head in his hands. On top of everything else that had already happened, he now had to deal with the return of old haunting nightmares that somehow were even worse than the ones he had years ago, because now you were involved. He sat up abruptly, grabbing onto a discarded shirt that he’d thrown over the foot of the bed and pulling it over his head, using nothing but the moonlight pouring through the curtains to guide himself out of the room and into the darkened hall. He stole a glance towards where your room was, a droplet of fear etching itself into his mind. Before he entirely knew what he was doing, he was opening the door to your room, being careful not to make any sound lest you were awakened. His fears subsided when he saw you curled up beneath the covers, sound asleep and none the wiser to his presence. Exhaling gently, he untensed his shoulders and looked over at your sleeping form with a small but sweet smile on lips. Of course she would be fine. You’re being paranoid.

Pulling the door behind him softly, he turned his attention to the end of the hall where the stairs were, the vague recollections of the nightmare rattling in the back of his mind. If he didn’t do something soon, he would keep himself up all night mulling over the implications of it all, and he wasn’t keen to spend the early hours of Sunday morning losing sleep because of his fucked head. He supposed it wasn’t that out of nowhere to dream about his wife, as he had been talking about her with you just last night. What scared him more so was that you were there, taking the bullet and ending up exactly as she had: dead. He couldn’t begin to fathom its meaning. Did it have to have meaning? Was it nothing more than a nightmare?

Scooping up a glass, he poured himself a generous amount of whiskey to sip on, returning the bottle back to the corners of your liquor cabinet. He probably should have asked before helping himself but it wasn’t like you were awake to answer to him, and he had a feeling you wouldn’t notice anyway, considering he’d found the aforementioned bottle pushed to the furthest reaches of the cabinet. When he noticed the label on the bottle, he couldn’t keep himself from smirking at the irony of it - of course you’d keep the Jack Daniels whiskey towards the back. Reclining into the couch with the glass in his hands, he took an absentminded sip while his mind further delved into the worrying implications of such a dream.

The only part of it all that made sense was that the dream had been about his deceased wife - with the discussion that happened between the two of you last night about her it was only logical that his subconscious had lingered on some parts of it. After you’d turned in for the night Jack had stayed up for a little while longer, seated out on that veranda with a pensive look and the bottle of bourbon you’d neglected to bring back inside. Your words made rings around his mind, sparking a debate of sorts with himself as he considered your criticisms towards him. The emotional part of him wanted to blindly hate, and to keep on doing exactly what he’d always been doing. But when he realised that blind hate had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place, he’d allowed himself to listen more carefully to your words, and to examine them on a deeper level. Upon knowing your own past with loss and pain at the hands of another, it made him take a step back and actually look at everything that had transpired in Cambodia, all the little things that led him to working against an organisation that he once devoted himself to. Whereas you’d taken steps to try and live in a world without your parents, he’d remained angry and hurt, stuck in a world that had long moved on from the tragedy and still feeling every raw cut of emotion that losing her dealt. Sure, he wasn’t exactly inconsolable over it constantly - he had been able to live for sixteen years without Lily. If he went to a psychiatrist, he knew exactly what they’d say to all that: “You’ve externalised your hate onto someone easier to blame, in this instance addicts, when really the only person you feel should be to blame is yourself for not being there to save her”, or something like that. He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the ludicracy of it all. Never in a million years did he think he’d be one for deep introspection. What in the goddamn has this world come to?

Even so, your words wouldn’t leave his mind. Did you have a point? Was it wrong to blame every addict on the planet for the actions of a few? In a rational sense, he could see what you were saying. His actions hadn’t been based on rationality though, it was all emotion. His instincts wanted him to reject the notion of him being ideologically wrong in this, a notion he in turn fought to reject from himself. One thing in particular that Eggsy had said to him during their final confrontation had stuck out to him at that moment: “You’re working for the president?”. He’d denied it at the time, and there was truth to his denial: as he put it himself, he didn’t want any kind of association with that asshole. At the same time, his feelings on the matter did happen to crossover with the president's own agenda, and some part of that in general hadn’t sat right with him.

Would it even matter by this stage if he’d accounted for his errors? He’d already single -handedly destroyed all that he had by then, the only thing that could properly atone him in his own opinion would probably be death, and he’d be damned if he was gonna let himself die any time soon. The realisation that he might have to spend the rest of his days with the guilt of the incident in Cambodia eating away at him wasn’t too kind on his psyche, but he was ready to accept it in lieu of the alternative. And damn it, if there wasn’t something about that judgemental way you’d looked at him that gave him enough of a kick in the teeth to want to do better. You’d said it yourself that you didn’t believe him to be a bad man. Maybe somehow he could redeem himself enough to even be half of what you’d described of him.

Drumming a lone finger along the fine seam of the couch cushion, his thoughts circled back around to the disturbing dream and everything it entailed, including the part that had shaken him the most. Why you? Why were you of all people appearing in his nightmares? And not only that, why did you take the place of his long dead wife at the end? His mind was ticking into overdrive to decipher every little detail. There was only one other time in his life he remembered seeing you in his dream, and that was when you two were dating. He could chalk up your sudden appearance in his subconscious to the conversation the both of you were having the night before - it would explain the return of his nightmares about Lily too, although his mind swayed towards ruminating on a much more confronting possibility.

What if it means I’ve fallen back in love with her?

As soon as the concept crossed his mind, Jack frantically sought to purge it from his mind altogether. What a foolish idea, he reasoned to himself, taking a larger sip of whiskey out of the glass. There wasn’t anymore to this, and he shouldn’t be throwing out such wild theories based on a nightmare of all things. He went and thought back to the small moments you two had shared throughout the weeks together, times where one lingering touch almost seemed to convey something more. He realised just how many times he’d caught himself staring at you the last few weeks, or the times his touch lingered on yours a second longer than it should have, things he hadn’t noticed until he began to pick apart his own behaviour and examine it underneath a microscope. Old habits die hard, I guess. He may have teased you about making him coffee by “accident” a couple of weeks back, but there wasn’t meant to be any insinuation behind it. It was just that - a harmless tease, a simple reflex of his infamous flirtatious charm. None of this necessarily meant there were any reignited feelings, and furthermore, if by some insane stroke of dumb luck that did happen to be the case, then they were only small at best, fleeting in nature. He couldn’t fall for you again. He couldn’t. Not after putting you through so much pain.

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was nothing, even he wasn’t buying it tonight. If he was falling for you again, how would you take it? Not well he guessed, as you still felt hurt by his actions. Why wouldn’t you? He was the one that hurt you then came back into your life without warning because he had to go screw up the one good thing he still had. It was painful to be reminded of how little still had left by that time: his status as an agent stripped from him, everyone he ever loved being dead and buried, and not able to return back home as he was still on the run. Him being at your ranch at all was putting you in enough danger, a fact that made him uncomfortable in of itself. Falling for you would make things more complicated than they already were.

She doesn’t have to find out. Keep it to yourself, and she’ll never know.

That’s it. That’s what he’ll do. He won’t ever mention these returning feelings of affection towards you, and in doing that, hopefully they will run their course and die out. Jack would still be courteous towards you, it went without saying since you were implicating yourself in all of this by hiding a fugitive. He could do that, right? Ignore it all, and avoid anything more than general amicable gestures. A part of him hurt to think of that, especially when those thoughts he had when you two were on the veranda together last night pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. The way your hair had looked splayed out over your shoulders under the dim porch light, the burn in your eyes that gleamed as you’d admonished him for every mistake he ever made that shouldn’t have made him so entranced. He chastised himself for thinking so lewdly of you in that moment, hating how the very image of you in such a light darted straight to his groin. Finishing off the last dredges of whiskey, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and let out a heavy sigh.

Forget about it. Leave her be. You’ve hurt her enough.

_______________

At long last, there was finally a lull in the day, giving you some off time to relax and decompress a bit. There was still an hour to go before the ranch closed for the night, though nobody else had any riding lessons booked and it was unlikely that anybody was going to show up unannounced at five in the evening. To say the day had been busy would be selling the whole experience short - downright exhausting would have been a more accurate way to put it. There was a function going on for a good chunk of it, a birthday party for the son of some big-shot oil tycoon. You’d been worried your injury would slow down your progress with getting tasks done but to your pleasant surprise you were able to manage just fine, though having your other employees and Jack around had also been a huge help. It’d been four weeks since you’d gotten injured, and according to the doctor during your semi-regular checkups the recovery process was coming along nicely, which had been more than evident to you with the lessening pain. Sadly, you wouldn’t be able to get the cast off for a while, despite your protests. You didn’t see why it all had to take so long: you hadn’t been in any excruciating pain for a good while so it was clearly healing. As well as the cast being a nuisance when bathing and the like, it was also annoyingly itchy, leading you to talking yourself out of shoving a coat hanger down the side of it in an attempt to stop it several times. If only you didn’t have a ranch to run, then you could take an antihistamine pill and be done with it.

Dragging yourself back into the house, you headed straight for the stairs, eager to lie down and doze a little - normally a long day like that would call for a bottle of scotch. This time round, however, you decided to forego the alcohol in favour of a more straightforward way to relax. Once you’d come to the door to the guest bedroom upstairs you felt compelled to stop, your mind wandering to where Jack was at that very moment. Last you’d seen him that day he’d been bringing the horses in. The two of you had stopped to chat for awhile, your usual bitter-edged banter being exchanged, things playing out just as they should when suddenly that same familiar feeling started to make itself known, the same thing you’d felt when he’d handed you the painkillers, or when you two had been out on the veranda a little while back. That spark, so to speak, the frightening feeling of something burning in you, something that shouldn’t be there in the first place. You’d instinctively ended the conversation soon after, making up some excuse about needing to take care of some accounting and hurrying off. Thinking about it now you couldn’t stop yourself from going a tad pink in the cheeks at your behaviour, thoroughly embarrassed for daring to act like you were inflicted with something as trivial as a schoolgirl crush.

Don’t be soft on him. Don’t do this. You’re better than this, those words you repeated to yourself like a mantra started to wear thin during those weeks, especially after the conversation you two had shared where you’d divulged some of the pain closest to your heart. You never thought that you’d tell anybody what you felt after your parents had died, not in a million years, so to have you in a position where you were comfortable enough to reveal such details was nothing short of astounding, particularly when one took into account the exact person you’d told it all to. You could justify these choices with the flimsy excuse of being drunk, but even you knew that in order to run your mouth about something that personal, even while intoxicated, meant you had to feel a certain amount of trust to the other person. Did you trust Jack? Was that what was happening here? To that, you couldn’t fully answer, as you didn’t really know.

Glancing from the doorknob to the stairs and back, you twisted the handle and allowed yourself into the spare bedroom, letting your feet move you towards the closet at the back of the room. Like a woman possessed, you didn’t stop yourself from doing any of this, the feeling of your heartbeat ricocheting through your chest. It had been years since you permitted yourself to look at any of this stuff, let alone giving any of it a second thought. Out of sight, out of mind, you’d thought to yourself when you’d originally boxed it all away, not being able to bear throwing any of it out. Sliding the doors open, you took note of the fact that everything was left in its precise location indicating that true to his word, Jack hadn’t meddled in any of it. A small sigh of relief escaped your lips while you sunk to your knees, poking your head through the rows of old coats that you kept neglecting to donate or sell to the very back of the closet where your eyes locked onto what you’d been originally seeking: a plain velvet blue shoebox shoved underneath an ugly knitted blanket that you plainly despised.

For as much of a hardline no-nonsense woman others perceived you as, a huge part of you was deeply sentimental towards both people and things, or more specifically, things people had given you, hence the choice to simply box up every gift and memento he’d ever given you rather than setting fire to it in some overly dramatic yet cinematic manner. When Jack and you had broken up, you’d gathered up everything that reminded you of him, thrown it in a box and then tossed it into the back of the closet of your apartment to be forgotten forever. When you’d taken over the family ranch from your parents, the box had ended up in the guest room closet instead due to you not wanting an object holding that many sorrowful memories anywhere near where you slept. Taking the box out and setting it down in front of you, you stared at it frostily for a minute, considering throwing it back into the closet and forgetting that you ever wanted to open it. Ultimately you caved, lifting the lid off and opening up the treasure trove of mementos, symbols of a love that used to be that became tarnished with time.

A lot of the items in question were photographs, a couple of polaroid shots of the two of you out at some bar in New York thrown in with the myriad of photos depicting you on various other dates with him. One in particular that caught your eye was a polaroid that had a heart drawn in red permanent marker on the white margins - you were wearing Jack’s Stetson and had one arm thrown around his neck, looking as if you hadn’t a care in the world while he looked up at you with those heart-meltingly gorgeous brown eyes of his, as if nobody else in the world existed except for you. You could still recall the smell of the cigarette smoke from that day, how the loud music reverberated through your ears the entire night you’d spent there with your head rested against his shoulder, ignoring all your other friends in favour of him. You caught yourself grinning at the memory as if you were some kind of lovesick fool. Back then you might’ve been. Not anymore though. Not now.

That’s what you continued to tell yourself while you sorted through the box’s contents, pulling out items ranging from small bits of jewelry to a small cat plushie that he’d won for you at the county fair. Your gaze zeroed in on a small silver chain necklace with a little horseshoe charm dangling on the end, earning yet another foolish smirk from you. Jack had bought that for you as a Christmas present, although you had insisted to him that he didn’t have to go all out on a gift for you. He’d even gotten the underside engraved with your name, which you traced over with the pad of your finger at that very moment.

Looking through all these gifts and the significance they once held to you, your mind started to wander back to the possibility you’d considered during your last proper talk with Jack, questioning once more if he deserved such harsh hostility being thrown towards him. You didn’t want to let yourself be hurt again, so it only seemed logical to make yourself guarded and keep him at an arm's length. With that said, time and time again he’d managed to surprise you - he hadn’t been pestering you as much you thought he would. Sure, he did jokingly insinuate that one time you made him coffee that you were growing fond of him but other than that he’d kept the charm to a minimum, or at least, less than you were used to in the past. It all made sense to you after you’d learned what happened to him that brought him back to you, his magnificent fall from grace so to speak. You meant what you said to him that night - you didn’t think he was a bad person, rather just someone who’s done bad things out of hurt and anger. With everything he told you about his wife’s death, you couldn’t help feeling a sense of powerful empathy towards him, a feeling that scared you a little to tell you the truth. It’d been easy for years to write him off as a liar and a player, but in reality, Jack was far more complicated than that. How ironic: the advice you gave him ended up being a hundred percent relevant to yourself at the same time, you huffed with an absence of amusement.

If you had to be completely honest with yourself, without any kind of lies or facade to keep up, you didn’t know what you felt about Jack anymore. You couldn’t say you hated him, no, hate was far too strong of a word. Actually, you couldn’t really say you even disliked him that much anymore. But you didn’t really like him either. Or did you? Once again, the thoughts of how his touch had made you feel over those last few weeks invaded your mind, things that by all means shouldn’t make you feel some type of way but did. Hell, even how you continued to make his coffee exactly how he liked it every morning, not bothering to question it anymore than necessary for the sake of your own sanity.

Shaking your head, you let out a heavy sigh as you glowered down at the box witheringly. Great, now you’d made yourself confused on your own emotions, all because you felt the need to reminisce on the past. You’re being ridiculous about this. You don’t feel that way about Jack, and if you did, you can’t have him. He’s on the run, he’s a criminal now, and more to the point he broke your heart once. Who’s to say he won’t do it twice? Do yourself a favour for once. Ignore those feelings. Ignore it, and they’ll go away.

You quickly boxed up everything soon after that, pushing it to the back of the closet as if you’d never been there at all. Lifting yourself to your feet, you neglected to look back when you maneuvered yourself out the door and back into the hall, pulling your mind back towards any kind of ranch duties you could muster up out of thin air that you had to attend to, anything that could distract you from the small pink tinge that had crept across your cheeks that refused to leave, or the racing of your heart with every step you took.

__________

After a day that felt like it dragged on forever, you’d been looking forward to turning in for the night. For whatever reason, everything that could have gone wrong that day decided to go wrong - one of the horses had done a runner during one of the riding lessons and you’d had to go out and try to catch the bastard. It took forever to rope the damn horse back into the property. Jack, you and another one of the instructors managed to catch him in the end but it ended up setting your schedule behind for the rest of the day. Later on in the day, some entitled kid had come down and decided he didn’t like the horse he’d been assigned to ride, waltzing right into the stables and picking out one that he deemed more suited for him. The horse, one of the older boys, was understandably annoyed by this random loud kid appearing out of nowhere and being rough with him, leading to said entitled brat getting chomped on the arm. The rest of the day had to be spent dealing with the screaming kid and his mother, who was every bit as entitled as her son was. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Despite your damndest to put on a smile and placate the woman who was screaming threats of a lawsuit, she still wasn’t letting up so you’d metaphorically thrown your hands up in frustration and told her straight to shut up. She’d left soon after that, huffing and threatening to get your entire business shut down. You weren’t scared in the least of her empty threats: you’d dealt with hundreds of other people just like her in your stint running the ranch and nine times out of ten nothing ever came from their tantrums. It was still supremely exhausting to deal with, draining your energy and putting you in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

You’d been angling to end the day as soon as the first instance of idiocy started, so when it was finally late enough in the night and you’d grown tired of the bottle of merlot that you’d been speeding your way through, you’d taken yourself upstairs, thrown on a random t-shirt and sweatpants, and sunk right into bed ready to forget it all and start over.

However, you weren’t so lucky. From the moment you’d first entered your room that night, something had felt off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it at first, so you’d tried to ignore it, writing it off as feeling slightly on edge from the rough day. The weird feeling wouldn’t go away though - everytime you closed your eyes, you felt like someone else was there, like there was another presence nearby. Five minutes passed before you’d flicked the lamp next to your bed on and looked around the room. You knew Jack had already gone to bed before you, and you couldn’t hear any sort of noise from downstairs that would indicate someone else being there. Nevertheless, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else was there, maybe not in the house precisely but somewhere on the property, as if there were a pair of foreign eyes staring at you from afar. Your eyes darted towards the window, the curtains open to reveal the glimmering starry sky outside, your breath becoming shallow as you were finally able to place the exact feeling that was making you tense up in fear:

You felt like you were being watched.

Diving out of bed, you scrambled towards the window and scanned the vast expanse of countryside surrounding your property, searching to see if there was anything out there that was unfamiliar to you. Nothing - all you could see were the stretches of field that lay beyond your ranch, with a lone few collection of trees situated off the edge of your property, exactly as it always looked. That alone should have eased your nerves a bit but for whatever reason that feeling of being watched wouldn’t go away. You glanced back at your bed, trying to talk yourself into downplaying it all as you being paranoid. There isn’t anyone out there.You’ve had a rough day, and about three glasses of wine so you’re a little bit tipsy too, you told yourself as you trudged back to bed and pulled the covers over your head, a useless action that did nothing to quell the anxiety festering in you. For the next twenty minutes or so, you did everything you could to push your unease away in favour of sleep to no avail. The entire time you’d been lying there you felt like there were a pair of eyes burning into your back, directly across from where the window was, yet every time you sat yourself up to check there was nobody there.

Fantastic, guess I’m not sleeping tonight then. Clearly, that creepy feeling wasn’t going to leave and you didn’t feel comfortable in that room anymore. Briefly you contemplated going down to sleep on the couch but that idea was dismissed almost as quickly as it came to you - if you felt like someone was watching the house, then moving sleeping locations wasn’t gonna solve anything. A part of you wanted to go grab a firearm and go on a patrol around the property to be safe, though once remembering that you were a little bit tipsy you didn’t feel it would be the best course of action to go hold a gun right then. Throwing a single glance towards your bedroom door, another idea popped into your head, and before you could try and talk yourself out of it you were already out the door and down the hall to where the spare bedroom was.

Opening the door as quietly as you possibly could, you poked your head inside and peered over to where Jack was laying in bed, covers tangled up around him and facing away from you, appearing to be fast asleep. “Jack? Are...are you awake?” you called out hesitantly.

It took a minute for him to respond, by that time you’d come close to convincing yourself that you were being a baby about all of this and that you should go back to bed. “Darlin’? Is there somethin’ wrong?” he replied, his thick southern drawl sounding groggy, matching his dazed expression he wore while he fought to keep his eyes open.

“Sort of...maybe, I don’t know...I can’t sleep” you admitted.

“Having nightmares or somethin’?” he asked, sitting himself up in bed to properly face you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his torso ever so briefly - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen a million times before but damn, he did look good. Shaking your head fervently, you attempted to ignore that fleeting thought and focused back on what you’d come there to say, proceeding to reply. “No, no, nothing like that. I just...ok, this might sound a little bit crazy but I can’t help feeling like I’m being watched in there, and it’s freaking me out”.

You could see Jack’s brow furrow through the darkness, a look of concern creeping over his face while he thought on what you’d just said. “Watched? Like how?”.

“I don’t really know how to explain it, if I’m gonna be totally honest. All I know is that everytime I close my eyes I feel like there’s somebody outside. Whenever I go to look out the window though, I don’t see anyone” you explained, and at almost the very second you finished your sentence you could see Jack’s eyes widen, the last remnants of sleep falling away and being replaced by an alert and alarmed expression. Before you could say anything about it, he was already throwing the covers off him and sliding out of bed, hustling over to where you were standing by the door. “Stay right here. I’ll go take a look for myself” he instructed sternly, pushing himself past you and making a beeline straight for your bedroom. Instinctively, and in all honesty against both his wishes and your own better judgement, you followed in behind him, seeing him linger close to the wall just enough so that he was out of direct sight of the window. Slowly, he advanced forward to a position where he could properly take a look out, his eyes steely as they examined the landscape, the tensity of his demeanour feeding into your own feelings of concern.

“Jack, what’s going on?” you asked in a small voice, something that was uncharacteristically meek of you. In all fairness, something like this had never happened before. You’d hoped that Jack would come in, take a quick look, confirm there was nobody on the property and give you a little bit of peace of mind but the way he was acting made the possibility of someone actually being out there all the more real to you.

“Darlin’, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second” he orders, not tearing his eyes away from the window for a single second. You didn’t know how long you two stood there for - it was probably no more than a minute or two at most, even so it felt like an eternity to you, until at long last you saw some of the tension in Jack’s shoulders dissipate and he finally slunk away from the window. “Give me a second, I just gotta go check something” he mumbled, dashing back out of your room and still looking vaguely distressed at the entire predicament. This time around, you did as he said, not wanting to leave the house on the off chance there really was something to worry about. You heard him run back into his own room briefly before darting off downstairs, hearing the unmistakable click of the front door lock opening. You had no idea what to make of any of this - why was he acting so weird? Was there something you should know? Was there really something to your weird feeling and should you be genuinely scared?

The sound of gravel crunching from the ground below alerted you, leading for you to wander over to the window for what felt like the millionth time that night to see for yourself what was going on. Your eyes first landed on Jack, who was pacing the gravel and looking off into the distance, searching for something. You could see he was holding something in his hand but couldn’t quite get a proper look at it as he was angled away from you. He disappeared from your view and a moment later he was back upstairs with you, appearing to be infinitely more relieved than he was before. Now you could properly see what he’d gone to fetch from his room once he’d left: his gun from his days as an agent, the moonlight streaming in through the window glimmering off the silver barrels and onto the floor.

“Nothin’ out there, thank fucking christ” he sighed, giving you a smile that was meant to be comforting. His gesture did nothing to ease your worries, despite the confirmation that there wasn’t anything out there like you’d originally hoped. Along with still feeling uneasy being in that room, there was also the matter of what you’d witnessed in Jack before, the plain and unconcealable look of suspicion and worry that had been showing on him.

“Are you alright? You...seemed worried. The way you were looking out that window, it was...like you were searching for something in particular...”.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little head off about it” he dismissed, obviously wanting to put this whole incident behind the two of you. You were having none of it, so you pressed further, taking a single step closer to where he was standing in the door. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you kinda got your gun out” you pointed out, your eyes flickering down to the weapon resting in his hands knowingly. “Did you think it was Statesman or something?”.

Jack looked surprised that you’d dared to be that direct in your line of questioning. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected any less from you, following your eyes down to where he was holding his gun. “Well, if I’m gonna be honest, yeah. For a moment there, I was worried they’d found me somehow. But there isn’t anybody out there - besides, if they were doin’ surveillance on the house they woulda had me led away in cuffs already. You’re safe as pie, sugar” he confessed.

Exactly as you thought. You’d wondered if Statesman would ever make an appearance, suddenly becoming hot on Jack’s tail. So far nothing had happened, thankfully, and seeing as your strange feeling tonight turned out to be nothing, you permitted yourself to relax a little, despite the still present feeling of discomfort from being in that room. “Alright...thank you for checking. Sorry I woke you up for something stupid”.

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I haven’t been sleeping great this last week anyway so I wasn’t even fully asleep when you came in. You make sure to get plenty of rest, ok?” he nodded towards you, turning to leave the room, the comfort of his presence slipping away from you and leaving you to feel the same odd and uncomfortable unrest that plagued you all night.

Glancing back over towards your bed, you dreaded the thought of trying to go back to sleep in that thing tonight. It sounded so childish and silly for you to say, or rather think, but you really didn’t want to be in that room tonight. If you stay in here you aren’t gonna get a wink of sleep.

What you did next was something you never thought you’d do in a million years. In your defense, it’d been a long day, you’d had some alcohol earlier, and you just had to deal with the intense unnerve of being watched only to discover that your feeling was nothing more than a spate of paranoia. With all that taken into account, it was only logical that you asked what you did next. “Jack, wait” you called out before you could stop yourself, freezing once you saw him stop in the hallway and turn back towards you with those sweet eyes of his. “Look, I know this is an odd request but...can I sleep in your room? Only for tonight. I don’t know, I still feel a little on edge and it’s dumb but I’d rather be around someone else right now” you mumbled, simultaneously hating yourself for asking in the first place and feeling utterly embarrassed at your own audacity.

Some part of you wanted him to laugh in your face. Laugh at you and make some stupid little quip about you being a “big girl” who could handle herself. It would be easier to hate him still that way. Of course, he didn’t do that at all. What he did instead was give you the sweetest damn smile you’d ever seen from him, different from those charming smirks you were used to and harkened closer to those rare moments from when you two were together that he would lay down the bravado and be vulnerable. “Sugar, you don’t need to feel bad for askin’ at all. I understand completely where you’re comin’ from” he reassured, holding his hand out and beckoning for you to come forward. And come forward you did, following him out into the hall and into his own room, the anxiety from before fading into nothing and being replaced by relief.

“Thank you. I know we’re not...like that anymore but…” you stumbled dumbly as you glided over towards the bed, fatigue overcoming your brain and making you more impatient to be in bed and asleep as fast as possible. It had to be extremely late by then and you wanted to get a decent amount of sleep before having to get up and go about with business as usual the next day.

Jack, meanwhile, was on the other side of the room throwing his gun back into a chest of drawers. “Say no more, honeybee. If you want, I can sleep on the floor if it makes you more comfortable” he posited, to which you promptly snapped your head back up and stared at him as if he were crazy. “You don’t have to do that, Jack, I’m not about to be kicking you out of your bed”.

“Technically it’s your bed, not mine”.

Rolling your eyes at him, you flopped down on the pillow and sighed. “Doesn’t matter, just...stay here. I’d rather have someone close right now, ok?”. If you weren’t already tired beyond all reason, your brain might have been fretting over the oh so horrific implications of staying in the same bed as him, though if you were really being honest you couldn’t care less right then. It’s not like sleeping in the same bed meant anything, plenty of people did that all the time. So what if you wanted someone near after feeling scared? Wouldn’t someone else do the same thing in your position?

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart. I’ll keep to the other side of the bed if you’d like” Jack assured you, sliding into the other side, doing exactly as he said and keeping a safe enough distance from you. It might’ve been silly for you to care so much, but you had to admit it was nice having someone else be there, and at the least it calmed your anxiety enough for you to feel fine sleeping. Stealing one last brief glance over at him, you wished him goodnight and let yourself relax truly for the first time in hours, letting the world fall away and fade into nothing as you closed your eyes and passed out in mere minutes of being there.

___________

When you awoke the next morning, it was to the strands of sunlight streaming through the parted breaks in the curtain, shining right over your face and rousing you from your slumber. Through bleary eyes, you became aware of the room around you, memories of the night before flooding back to you instantaneously. You noticed you felt warmer, becoming aware of the heavy feeling on your body, which caused your eyes to snap open fully. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw Jack, still sleeping and curled into your back, his arm lazily stung around you. You knew you two hadn’t fallen asleep like that, reasoning that he must have reached out to you during the night, leading to the position you were in now. You could feel the light tickle of his breath against the nape of your neck, something so small managing to light an unexpected spark in your heart. You should have pushed him off. You should have woken him up. You should have done a million other things in that moment instead of the one thing you did.

When instead of flinging him off you and darting out of bed like a skittish cat you curled yourself further into his light embrace, the mortifying realisation hitting you right then with a full force - Jack Daniels, the man who’d broken your heart, was caressing you in his sleep.

And you didn’t mind it, not one single bit.

Taglist (message me if you wanna be added)

Permanent: @greeneyedblondie44

Cross My Heart: @giselatropicana @absurdthirst

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #Kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #Kingsman: the golden circle #cross my heart #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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daevastanner · 3 years ago

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Gwynriel: Starfall

Gwyn and Azriel re-evaluate where they stand

(Warning: trope and fluff overload incoming)

Azriel arrived at the river house with a half hour to spare.

The stars would begin falling soon, but that wasn’t why his footsteps were taken with haste or why he nearly tripped over his own feet entering the foyer.

He was late and nearly five minutes from breaking his promise to Gwyn.

At their last training session she’d informed Azriel that she was leaving the priestesshood. That she no longer felt she required protection and that there were other people more in need of sanctuary than herself.

“I feel… liberated. But also sad,” Gwyn frowned as they did their cool down stretches. “Does that make sense?”

Azriel nodded, stretching his arm behind his head. “Of course. It’s always sad when something comes to an end.”

Gwyn smiled wryly. “They said I’m still welcome to the dusk services to sing. Though I will admit, the crowd at Rita’s is a far more interactive audience.”

Azriel had smiled fondly. This past summer Gwyn had taken to joining the inner circle at Rita’s and in autumn she’d allowed Morrigan to drag her to the platform for a duet. At first her teal eyes had been wide with fright but the moment she had opened her mouth, harmonizing with Morrigan and saw the patron’s enthusiastic response any sign of stage fright vanished. She had been radiant. Azriel’s jaw had dropped at her voice, at her smile, and when he applauded their performance it hadn’t just been to flatter Morrigan as usual, it had been pure awe that brought his hands together.

“You are becoming the bar’s most infamous customer,” Azriel grinned. “But it’s understandable to miss what you no longer have.”

Gwyn exhaled, a lock of copper hair blowing out of her sweaty face. “I haven’t decided if I’m attending the priestess’s Starfall party. I know I’m welcome but… it feels strange.”

Azriel didn’t waste a breath. “Come to the river house.”

Gwyn’s brows raised and a smirk spread on her lips. “How very forward of you, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel was grateful they’d been sparring or else she may have noticed that he was blushing furiously. It had been a little less than a year since that night by the Sidra. That night where they had both confessed their feelings for one another… and decided to hold off. Hold off until they were ready.

Well, Azriel was ready now. He had been for sometime. But the shadowsinger didn’t dare make the first move. Of the two of them, Gwyn needed to be the one to initiate. The one to take that first step. It was an unspoken agreement. She was in control of what happened between them, but it wasn’t a mystery that her feelings had persevered despite her hesitance to move forward.

The two had become well versed in flirting and exchanging banter. It came second nature. So second nature that Azriel’s entire family snickered and teased that the two were blind. That they were oblivious to one another’s affections. How very wrong they were and how little desire Azriel and Gwyn had to correct them. Not out of fear but because they didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

“I’m sure everyone would be glad if you attended, Gwyn,” Azriel added, trying to sound nonchalant. “Your call. It would also be a good way to ask Rhysand about employing you full time as a Valkyrie.”

He glimpsed in those clever eyes that she had seen right through him. That Gwyn knew this had nothing to do with the convenience for her recent life change. No, this was all Azriel wanting her to come to Starfall. To spend the evening with her.

“Very well. I’ll go. But promise you’ll be there…”

Azriel sent a crooked smile her way - the one he knew made her knees weak. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

And so she had agreed, grousing that she had nothing to wear. It didn’t take much convincing the following day to get Nesta to take her shopping.

And now here he was, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair in the foyer of the river house.

He leaned against the bannister of the staircase to catch his breath, all the while he felt his shadows dancing excitedly on his shoulders.

…Gwyn? Gwyn? Gwyn?… they chorused.

“Relax,” Azriel muttered. “She’ll be here.”

“Look at you,” Rhysand whistled, striding into the room with Nyx on his hip. “Since when do you take this occasion so seriously, Az?”

Azriel gestured to Nyx. “It’s the heir to the Night Court’s first Starfall. It’s a serious occasion.”

“Mm, I’m sure that’s it.” The High Lord locked eyes with his son. “Yes, I’m sure it has nothing to do with the priestess upstairs pacing a hole in my floor.” He cast a knowing look Azriel’s way. “Or former priestess, as it were.”

Azriel felt his chest swell with pride. So it was official. She’d come out with it. “She told you then.”

Rhys nodded, returning his full attention to his son. “We’ll set her up with some quarters in the House. I’ll have her on my tab by the end of the week.”

“Thank you, Rhysand,” Azriel said, his gratitude nearly palpable.

But the High Lord shook his head. “I’m lucky to have her in my employment. She’ll make a fine member of our defense.” He smirked. “And she will continue to put you and Cassian’s reports to shame.”

Azriel ducked his head, smiling to himself. He was so, so very proud of her. Not just for already being such a promising member of Rhysand’s inner circle but also for her courage.

So many bold steps forward she had taken. Never once looking back. Always taking a deep breath and then plunging head first into uncharted waters.

She’d left the library. She’d started taking on assignments. She’d roamed the streets of Velaris. And now she’d left the priestesshood.

Azriel marveled to himself about what she would do next.

Joint laughter sounded from above drawing Azriel’s eyes up to the top of the staircase.

Feyre, Elain, and Morrigan softly treaded down the steps. Each of them looked more dazzling than the last.

At the foot of the stairs Feyre outstretched her arms for Nyx, smiling ear to ear. Rhysand surrendered his son and the High Lord and Lady took their leave cooing at their nearly one year old heir.

Morrigan and Elain cast a quick look Azriel’s way. He greeted them both with a wave to which they responded with knowing smiles.

Azriel’s brows furrowed at their behavior, but his attention didn’t linger on their retreating forms for a second longer. His shadows very quickly herded his line of sight back to the top of the staircase.

He heard her before he saw her.

“You look amazing,” whispered Emerie.

“You’re going to pull a thread loose if you keep up your fidgeting…” said Nesta.

Azriel’s lips parted as Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie came into view. The three of them wore matching shades of silver. Nesta in a backless, beaded dress and Emerie’s gown bell-sleeved and form fitting.

But between the two of them, freckled cheeks pink, was Gwyn.

And he had never seen her so exposed. So… exquisite.

Her glossy copper hair was pulled over one shoulder, and she wore no jewelry, exposing the slender column of her throat.

But most startling, most ravishing, was the gown she donned. The straps were slim and put her freckled shoulders and clavicle on display, the neckline plunging down all the way to her breastbone.

The shadowsinger struggled to keep his eyes from roving lower and admiring how the dress hugged her waist and flared out subtly at her hips and thighs.

Gwyn ran her palms down the front of the soft, silver fabric, grumbling something to Nesta. The eldest Archeron elbowed her in the ribs then jerked her chin in Azriel’s direction.

Gwyn’s head snapped up and he saw her jaw tighten. She paused at the top of the stairs meeting his gaze.

Azriel swallowed hard, and felt his knees go weak. He nearly slipped from his position leaning on the bannister but quickly caught himself, standing up straighter.

When she didn’t move, Nesta and Emerie linked their arms through hers and the three descended the stairs.

Watching them Azriel was reminded of the Valkyries in their armor. A unit that made one another stronger. A group that brought out each other’s best traits.

Emerie leaned in whispering something to Gwyn that made her smile.

Arriving at the bottom of the steps, Emerie split off and Nesta practically pushed Gwyn into Azriel, smirking.

… beautiful…. beautiful… beautiful…

I know.

But they were taking it slow. They were not moving forward just yet. Gwyn was not ready.

And that was fine.

The shadowsinger was merely glad to be in her company. All along, his shadows singing that familiar melody he couldn’t exactly make out.

He smiled at her, taking in her appearance from head to toe. “You look incredible.”

Gwyn’s fingers combed through her hair and she grimaced. “Nesta picked out the dress. I agreed to matching with her and Emerie but I didn’t agree to something so… so…”

“It’s perfect,” Azriel finished with an encouraging nod. “It’s… You’re perfect.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks once more. “Thank you.”

Azriel bowed his head then gestured to the double glass doors that led to the patio. “Shall we?”

“Mm.”

The two headed outside and Azriel felt the strangest sensation to take her hand.

But he refrained. Not yet. Perhaps someday but not tonight.

“I heard you told Rhysand the news.”

“I did,” Gwyn confirmed. “I pretty much told everyone.”

“And?” probed the Shadowsinger. “How did it feel?”

“Exhilarating,” she smiled. “Freeing.”

The patio was dimly lit by fae light so they would better be able to see the stars. The inner circle mingled over food and drink, and Azriel saw before him nothing but pairs.

Emerie making Morrigan laugh by the lattice. Cassian with his arm around Nesta’s shoulders. Elain and Lucien conversing quietly. Varian resting his hand on the small of Amren’s back. Feyre and Rhysand kneeling on the patio, helping Nyx stand, beaming with pride.

Perhaps he and Gwyn weren’t a pair in the same sense as everyone else at the party. Not like Emerie and Morrigan openly flirting. Or Lucien and Elain tentatively courting. But that was surprisingly fine with Azriel. He felt no envy walking to the patio by Gwyn’s side. He only felt a warm sense of content.

“You look nice too, by the way,” Gwyn said as they joined his family on the patio. “Sorry I didn’t say so sooner.”

“Oh, my feelings were very hurt,” Azriel smirked.

Gwyn snorted and grabbed two glasses of champagne off of the round table at the edge of the patio. She handed him one and before she could take a sip, Azriel raised his glass to her.

“To you. To Gwyn the Valkyrie.”

Gwyn delicately tapped her flute to his then took a sip, smiling behind the rim of her drink.

The two turned their attention to the sky that seemed to glow brighter with every passing moment.

“I’m excited,” Gwyn said. “From the House we could watch the stars, but I’ve heard that in Velaris you can see them overhead.”

“Lucky for you, I know the best way to get a view of the stars.” He leaned in. “But it involves potentially dirtying your dress.”

Gwyn tore her eyes from the sky and gaped at the shadowsinger. “Well, fuck this dress in that case.”

Azriel met her gaze, arching a brow. “You’re sure?”

She bobbed her head enthusiastically.

“Very well. Once it starts I will share my secret with you, Berdara.”

She beamed at him and Azriel nearly gasped at how breathtaking the sight was. The way her teal eyes lit up and the freckles on her nose scrunched.

It did not escape Azriel’s notice, the murmurs and the glances of approval that were sent their way. The secret smiles and snickers of how blind and oblivious that Gwyn and Azriel were. He could practically hear Cassian and Nesta making bets.

Azriel grinned to himself as he imagined disclosing to his family that he and Gwyn were more than aware of each other’s affections. He imagined how Cassian’s jaw may drop as he took offense. He imagined Rhysand scoffing at his brother for keeping it all a secret from them.

“What are you smiling about?” Gwyn asked, tilting her head at Azriel.

The shadowsinger nodded his head towards Cassian and Nesta who eyed them both circumspectly. Upon noticing that both Gwyn and Azriel had caught them, the couple quickly averted their gaze.

Gwyn snorted. “Subtle.”

“When has that ever been the case with them.” He laughed into his champagne flute, taking a gulp. “They’ve been hounding us for ages.”

Gwyn did not share in his laughter. She only held her glass in both her hands and turned her eyes back to the sky.

Azriel felt guilty for saying the words. For pointing out the fact that it was obvious to everyone how happy they would be together. They didn’t know everything. They didn’t know the truth. That happiness would only come with their relationship if they waited till Gwyn was ready.

“Listen, Gwyn, I—“

And she gasped, eyes widening. “Look!”

Azriel followed her gaze to the sky where a single star streaked across. Gwyn took a step closer and the patio hushed.

“Did you see?” Gwyn said, eyes still skyward.

Azriel couldn’t help the way the corner of his lip lifted at her startled expression. “I did.”

Another star fell and another and Gwyn staggered forward, off the patio and onto the lawn.

“Oh!” She looked over her shoulder at Azriel, eyes sparkling and a heart-stopping smile on her face. “Az! Come here!”

Az. Az, she’d called him. Not Shadowsinger. Not Spymaster. Az.

Just Az.

Azriel felt Rhysand’s stare and glanced over at his brother who watched with a fond smile.

The High Lord angled his head. What are you waiting for brother?

Azriel’s ears were hot as he turned back to Gwyn. “Coming.”

He stood at her side, looking up at the sky with her as more and more stars made their way across the heavens. With each one Gwyn bobbed in place, gasping.

Behind them he heard more whispers of excitement from his family and an eager shriek from Nyx.

Azriel shifted his gaze to Gwyn. The starlight made her teal eyes sparkle and the moon set her skin glowing. Her lips parted in awe, Gwyn gazed upwards in wonder and Azriel couldn’t help the slight smile that broke out on his face.

He inclined his head, letting his knuckles brush against hers. “Follow me.”

She met his eyes with an excited grin and nodded.

Azriel started for the back of the river house. His family continued to watch the stars, only Morrigan glimpsed the two of them disappearing to the back lawn. She said nothing, only observed with a warm smile.

Alone behind the house, Azriel reached for Gwyn’s hand. She accepted and let him guide her to the center of the grounds. Then, slowly, he lowered himself to the grass, gently tugging Gwyn with him.

Without protest she descended, carefully smoothing her dress beneath her.

“Alright, lay back,” the shadowsinger said, reclining to lie down.

Gwyn mirrored his action and shivered against the grass, damp with night dew.

Azriel frowned. “Too cold?”

“No. I’m already used to it.”

And as though for once the Mother was blessing Azriel, the stars fell in a glorious parade overhead.

Gwyn gasped, hands raising to cover her mouth. “Oh, you were right. This is… amazing.”

Azriel smiled smugly, turning his attention to the night sky and the luminescent orbs that streaked across.

He remembered when it used to be him, Morrigan, Cassian, and Rhysand doing this. Watching the stars in the grass and musing softly about the future. What sort of lives they’d build and promising that it would always include one another.

It was strange to think he’d known Gwyn for only fourteen months. It felt like she’d always been there. If he didn’t think about it too hard, he could’ve sworn she’d been there during those Starfalls from centuries past.

Azriel turned his head in the grass to look at Gwyn. She watched the sky with a plaintive smile, one he could barely see.

Azriel sighed contentedly, and though above him the stars fell, he only had eyes for the female beside him. The female with eyes like shallow pools and freckles like constellations.

And then… her hand found his. She turned his palm over, eyes not leaving the sky, then threaded her fingers with his.

Azriel felt the kernel of warmth in his chest expand. He cleared his throat and looked back up at the star streaked sky.

After a moment, Azriel realized that he had never, ever, been this happy. He realized that time after time he felt this way around Gwyn. That he often found himself remarking he had never been so happy as he was in Gwyn’s presence.

“Az.”

“Yes?”

A pause. “I’m… I have a question.”

“Sure.”

She took a shaky breath and Azriel did her the courtesy of not observing her. Though he was curious as to why she’d become this quiet.

“Do you still,” she finally began, “want me?”

Azriel tried not to grip her hand tighter. His heart skipped a beat and he struggled to get himself under control.

Azriel worked a swallow down his throat. “I do.” He brought himself to turn his head and found she was staring at him. “If you’ll have me, Gwyneth Berdara, I do.”

She smiled at him.

“Are you… are you ready?” Azriel asked.

Gwyn didn’t answer. She only shifted close enough that their arms touched. Then, she tilted her head to rest on Azriel’s shoulder.

They laid in silence a few moments longer.

Azriel finally summoned the courage to speak again. “So… this is it then? We… we are… erm…”

“We are,” she said. “But let’s wait another day or so to say anything. Tonight… I want tonight to belong to us.”

Where he mustered the bravery Azriel wasn’t sure, but he allowed himself to do what he’d wanted to for so, so long.

He pressed his lips to the crown of Gwyn’s head.

Gwyn. Gwyneth Berdara.

He belonged to her and she him.

And all the while his shadows watched and sang in that same note that continued to elude him:

…mate…mate…mate…

#gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn and azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #ao3 #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fic

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woozisnoots · 4 years ago

Text

light up kicks | lee chan

° pairing: chan x reader ° genre: fluff ° summary: an unexpected ‘visit’ at chan’s first day at work. ° word count: 1153 ° warning: none! ° a/n: thank you to @cha-lan and @interludeshadow for beta reading !! biggest hugs and kisses to you both <3 and hbd to the one and only lee chan B)

masterlist!

okay, it’s your first day. obviously, they don’t expect you to be perfect. but then again, you’re also just passing out shoes… so leave little room for error or else that would be so, very incredibly embarrassing. like, come on? what can possibly go wrong?

it was wrong for chan to think that friday night would be anything other than busy. as a first-timer handing out shoes (really his first time working at all), chan was not prepared to work one of the hardest shifts on his first day.

kim’s bowling stones is known all throughout town, and better yet - they’re notorious for their mind-blowing, great deals. on fridays, every kid and teen come from far and wide to experience one hour of bowling for unlimited tokens at their arcade.

and not only are every mother and uncle get lured in by such an offer, but also a certain someone chan isn’t expecting to see.

“can i have size six shoes, please?”

spoke too soon. not to jinx it, but- everything might go wrong.

chan mentally smacks the back of his head. duh, of course, you’re gonna be here! he isn’t as much of a bowling fanatic as his coworkers, but as cliche as it sounds - and yes, it makes many people laugh, chan landed this job because of you.

well, maybe not directly. you didn’t know chan at all. the times chan could go out with his friends on the weekend were always spent at the bowling alley out of convenience. none of his other friends knew how to drive, and chan avoided the freeway as much as possible for his “passengers’ safety.” the place was only about three blocks away from his house anyways.

yes, chan knows of you, but he doesn’t know enough about you to think you’d also be there. and the day after, and the day after that. no, each passing day doesn’t help him to get used to you within a few feet away when he was used to being a few meters from where you stood up in the ‘cool kid table’ as people would call it.

tonight is also no exception; it doesn’t make things easier. in this moment, chan could feel the beads of sweat forming on the corners of his hairline and the calluses on his hands from gripping under the counter too hard.

wait fuck, did i ever respond back?

“oh yeah!” chan’s voice suddenly changes, lowering his tone. he ruffles his bangs forward to cover his forehead, mostly in an attempt to distract you from how awkward his stature is, not at all to try and make himself look good now that you’re up close. “i’ll go get that from the back for you.”

now, this may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but to chan, it means everything. in every coming-of-age teenage movie, the not-so-popular nerd (whichever breed they may be) ends up with the astonishingly popular main lead—the one everyone knows and loves—so this is chan’s moment!

chan comes back, hands clammy and wet, hoping that none of the residue transferred to the actual shoes. “here ya go!”

okay, maybe the moment is a little more short-lived than chan expected, but this is a good start.

that is until he hears the light tone of your voice come back in hesitation, rather than the thank you he’d been expecting.

“uhh, chan?” this is the first time hearing his name fall from of your mouth, and now he’s embarrassed for two reasons, not knowing which one is worse.

however, the responsible side of his right hemisphere steps up first. “oh shoot, is that not the color you wanted?” chan says, clearly aware that he knows the ins and outs of the small shoe rack corner of the entire facility. “dammit, i should have known. i’ve seen you play a few rounds on the weekends before, and i- i don’t mean to sound at all creepy, but you actually prefer the light up purple shoes over the blue ones.” as soon as the words leave his mouth, chan already knows he’s said way too much. after only a few minutes, your first impression of chan probably resembles that of a creep. “sorry about that! let me just-”

“no, that’s not it all!” you’re quick to say, noticing the distressed, flustered look on his face. “the color is lovely. it’s just that-” chan prepares for the worst, even though at this point, he already bears the weight of this unfortunate incident. “i think you gave me the kid’s sizes instead.”

yup, everything is definitely going wrong.

“i am so sorry! i’ll go ahead and change those out for you.”

stupid. stupid. stupid.

nothing more as embarrassing than when it happens in front of your crush. that’s not an actual saying, though it sure as hell should be. from the back of the storage room, chan grieves the deepest of sighs and slumps his head on the nearest cabinet.

“here you go, i got you the purple ones to make up for it,” chan shyly nudges the shoes towards you, keeping his head down so his bangs at least hide the tips of eyelashes. out of all the things that could have happened, today just isn’t chan’s day.

“thank you very much,” you say with a smile and a nod to the head. thank goodness you are alone at the booth—who knows what rumours would have started to circulate at school if anyone had seen this unfold.

chan watches as you carefully sort your things and proceed to grab the shoes from the booth. he holds in the heavy sigh at the back of his throat when he sees you turn your head back towards him.

“if giving me a smaller pair of shoes is your way of telling me that you think i’m cute,” chan almost laughs at the statement; not at you, of course. this isn’t exactly the stop-motion, picture-perfect confession episode of iCarly he longed it to be. “i think you’re also pretty handsome.”

chan barely manages to save his hand from slipping off the counter, placing his free hand at the edge to catch his balance after hearing your words. his surroundings are disoriented at this point, alongside his peripherals, which are now starting to blur. shaking his head, chan babbles incoherent sentences to no one in particular, realizing you were no longer there, leaving him to rethink and sort out his thoughts.

scratch that, maybe everything just turned out right?

the job slows down as the night progresses, but you remain there until late. even in the midst of massive crowds of needy children and demanding parents, chan notices the subtle, stolen glances from across the bowling aisle. and again from the skee ball machine. then one last time at the exit, along with a smirk and a wink.

yeah. yeah, i think it did.

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

Note

OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO CONTINUE THE DROWNED SERIES, IT'S SO DAMN GOOD

Thank you for the ask, it makes me excited to see that people are still interested.

Drowning Part 10

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate @sunflower1000

This one is kind of short, and probably makes no sense, but it starts to explain the story line a bit more and what my goal is with Supervillain (and perhaps the reason I am not having him rescued... yet 👀). Anyway, not edited.

Ask games for this series are here and here.

Masterlist

Warnings: referring to person as "it", altered state of reality, dehumanization, muzzled, talk of surgery, weaponizing a human, fear

"Okay thank you for your cooperation," the director said as he stopped the recording. He looked up, smiled, and began to pack away his things- an array of various instruments to enable both Villain and Hero's voices to be clearly heard all the way at the Hero Facility.

"Yeah well, I expect my pay within the next two days," Villain crossed his arms and swung his leg over top of the other one.

"That may not be-"

"Director. I am doing this for you guys. I have my record cleared, Hero in my custody, and a billionaire. I don't need to this for you guys."

"But you are in love with the cash," Hero chimed in, rolling her forestry green eyes. Not with attitude or snarky annoyance, but out of pure loathing.

Villain shot her a glare the second she closed her mouth and stood up, pacing. "I want my pay, fifty-thousand for a mere conversation isn't something you come by everyday," he said, rubbing his hands through his blonde mane.

"Yes but-"

"The only reason it was fifty-thousand," Hero interrupted the director. "Is because you pushed it that far." She didn't exactly understand her exasperation. After all, she agreed to do this with him- not that she had a choice. She was, in fact, thankful for him for breaking her out of the facility, even to the point of restoring friendship.

"Well they consented..." Villain's voice trailed off as he stopped his aimless walking. He sneered, a mischievous look dawning on his face. "I could, just for the record, break Supervillain out of his cell easily. Actually, I bet a novice could."

The director stiffened, fingers tapping the screen on his phone, prepare to call the authorities. Hero smiled slightly. After her aided escape, the heroes didn't bother to recapture her or Villain. And it was all because her rescuer threatened the Hero Facility if they tried to reclaim her. It was like he controlled the heroes- and maybe in a way, he did.

"Okay you will get the money! Write him a check or cash him over some. I don't care, just give it to him."

Villain snickered at the director's desperation and fear.

Hero watched as a young girl scribbled a check and handed it to Villain. Then, after than transaction, the whole team wrapped up and left without another word.

"Hmm," Villain said, eyeing the check he possessed.

"What do you want for dinner?" Hero asked, repeating the lines her current maid position required of her- not that she had to, Villain was not strict enough to enforce rules, but cleaning and cooking seemed to put his explosiveness at ease.

"Nothing. I have a date."

A date?!

"You have a girlfriend?" Hero chuckled. "Who is the unlucky damsel?"

"That's besides the point, but she is quite pretty."

"How long have you been dating?"

"This is our third date within the course of two months."

Two months... that was duration of time since she and Supervillain were kidnapped.

"Not that consistent then," Hero commented instead of voicing her curiosity.

"She works as a nurse, so she is quite busy," Villain replied, folding the check and placing it in his jean's pockets.

"I see," Hero replied. "Where is your date? Please tell me you are not taking her to McDonald's."

"That coffee date in the park sounded great," Villain replied. "Then I was thinking Taco Bell."

"No, no, no!" Hero scolded, pushing herself to her feet. "You are not taking this poor girl on a date to a fast food restaurant. You are a billionaire, Villain. Take her to one of those places where they serve an ounce of food for thirty dollars and spoil her."

Villain blushed, pulling at his fingers nervously. "You know a couple months ago I thought I would be taking you on a date."

"Me too," Hero sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"I guess life took a turn, didn't it?"

"Yes," Hero replied, extending her arms and wrapping Villain in an embrace. Before she let go, she whispered:

"Torture was in that turn to, wasn't it?"

Villain's muscles tensed, he coughed and pulled away. "See you tonight," he said and ran up the stairs to go get changed.

《~~》

All at once, a piece of light, a string of consciousness sprouted through the dark unconsciousness of the patient's mind. It swirled, bombarding lidded eyes with intolerable brightness. They strained, trying to shut, but it was as if the motor lost control- or gained control, depending on which side of the metaphor you are one.

Then the light formed into various shapes, some holding objects of humanoid form whereas others were cubical, rectangular and circular- making the world around the patient pixelated and blurry. Colors rounded to the basis of their hue- cyan swirling into blue, pale yellow whisking itself into an off-white- until the world was a pallette of bland coloring.

The noise, lolling in a sense, but also increasingly obnoxious. Beeps and rings, rumbles and grumbles, but all the vowels and consonants equaled a series of off-tune words, some faded, others marked with clarity.

Not safe, were the only cognitive thoughts. Not safe not safe not safe. He tried to thrash, anything to get away from the looming danger, though his protruding limbs were too weak, will devoid of any resolve.

More sounds rumbled and purred around him as equally slow restraints grappled at his arms and legs- or were they fast paced? The man didn't know. The perception between reality and unreality was dim, as was his ability to process sleed and direction. Heck, he didn't even know his own name, just the anticipated danger.

He coughed, or tried to, some form of blockade in his mouth inhibited any sound, cough or otherwise, to escape. Tears pricked at his eyes, later streaming down his cheeks- he wanted to go home. Home to that dank apartment that couldn't seem to leave his very intellect. He wanted home, needed home...

The shapes around him once again began to evaporate, but this time instead of mixing into like shades and tones of color, they all shifted to one mass of brown-colored mud before it all vanished into blackness again.

《~~》

"Vitals?"

The doctor's voice ran throughout the room as nurses scrambled to check Supervillain over. The room soon sung with a chorus of "Good".

"Then everyone is dismissed other than Doctor and Medic," a new voice, equally as authoritive yet significantly much more of a feminine type.

All the nurses practically galloped out of the room as a hoard, not daring to look at the woman who just stepped in.

"Leader," the doctor greeted the woman. "What brings you here?"

"I've come to look at the project. I heard it just underwent surgery?" The lady spoke, walking up to the bed where the unconscious patient rested.

"Yes, knee replacement surgery," the doctor replied, joining Leader by the bed. Medic appeared across from them, tenderly rubbing her fingers over the supervillain's hand.

"Fifteen hours on the table," Leader continued to speak, observing Supervillain with contempt in her gaze. "Why?"

"We had to replace the entire knee cap with a newly engineered material made from cells of donors and a type of substance formed from titanium to enhance strength and durability. Then we had to connect the nerves and ligaments to the knee so he can control it like normal."

"Also known as a high-tech prosthetic? Why, may I ask, did my project have to get one?"

"Broken knee..."

"Shattered, Doctor," gray eyes darted around to meet the doctor's humble brown ones. "Not broken, but completely shattered. It needs to be fully operational by the end of the month."

"Ma'am, the recovery is going to be rough-" the doctor tried to protest.

"We have serums for that," Leader groaned, throwing her head into the air.

"It is not safe to drug him with much. His cells and blood need to adapt."

"I don't care. I put a lot of time and effort and money into this project. The enemy is going to launch an attack soon, our spies have gathered enough data to anticipate it by the end of the month. You have been soft Doctor, in his training."

"It's been working," the doctor reasoned.

"It's submission, not training. Ever hear of conditioning?"

"I have done some research into it and I believe that we need to take a more-"

"Yes you are right," Leader smiled. "I don't want a bodyguard. I want a weapon with one, single purpose. Eliminate Hero."

"I don't get that," Medic spoke up, her voice soft, yet filled with courage. "Why get rid of Hero when she is not the enemy?"

Leader chuckled, eyes thinkling. "What an ignorant little girl, so cute though. Did you do your make-up today? Hmm." The baby talk rapidly switched to a more serious tone, "She is a threat, even bigger than this newfound enemy. The moment she joins sides, which we know she will, the odds will be... let's say any attempt to stop them will be suicide."

"We contained her once before..."

"She will be mad, you'll see," Leader acquired a distant look in her dreary gray eyes. "Start weaponizing it. Immediately."

《~~》

Run.

Duck.

Jump.

"I love you."

"Love you more."

Punch.

Supervillain was panting for breath by the time he collapsed on the ground, exhausted to the highest extent. Sweat beaded around his hairline- recently trimmed in a convenient, yet flashy style, with a lightning bolt shaved into the side.

"I love you."

"Love you more."

Supervillain groaned, rubbing shaking hands over his face. Turn it off turn it off turn if off...

Everyday started with a morning workout in the gym. The gym had a track running around the whole thing with obstacles for him to duck under and jump over. The center only had a punching bag and a benchpress, but equally sweaty and daunting.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker rang, signaling that Supervillain could leave.

Once, of course, training was done.

Workouts weren't training, they were extra credit designed to get him further, to get him a higher GPA.

The doctor entered the room, so Supervillain stood up- respect, expected and therefore delivered.

"How many laps?"

"Twenty-five, sir."

The doctor took note of that on his clipboard, frowning before asking his speed.

"5 miles per hour, sir."

This time, the doctor smiled. "Good," he praised, then looked at the benchpress.

"Three hundred pounds," the doctor tapped the dumbbell with his pen, still grinning widely. "Nice work, but yesterday you did three-fiftey."

Supervillain whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He failed he failed he failed he failed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, proceeding to walk towards the nearby intern to receive the needed correction.

The intern raised her hands, holding a contraption of metal and leather, and slipped it into Supervillain's mouth. He whimpered upon feeling the cold metal slid onto his tongue. A leather strap held it in place, tightly buckled in the back of his head. From that extended more leather that went over his nose. A chain was linked through the nasal strap, more cold metal on warm skin.

Abruptly, he was pulled forward. The metal pinched that nerve- the one that always ached from the commonly given treatment.

The intern pulled him into yet another white room.

Yet this one contained the most dreaded torture implement.

#supervillain whumpee #heros and villains #writing #surgery #drugged whumpee #drugged villain #captivity whump

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kth1 · 5 years ago

Text

Piquant [Jungkook x Reader]

Pi-quant / adjective: having a pleasantly sharp taste or appetizing flavor.

⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Vampire AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: explicit, sub!jungkook/whiny lil thing, vamp!jk, oral (M&F), fingering, blood/blood play, biting, period blood, noona kink, adult content, bondage(M), unprotected sex, language, semi overstimulation, semi cock-warming, creampie, squirting, roommates to ?, multiple orgasms, etc ⟶ WC: 12k ⟶ Summary: Jungkook is your awesome roommate who also happens to be a vampire. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, even with the playful tactics he does to fluster you. Until you realize those quipping taunts meant more than he led on. ⟶ Teaser: “He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.” ⟶ Author’s note: Hello everyone, this story is a precious gift to @jkeuphoriadreamland – as Yoly fully enjoys a bit of a whiny brat version of Jungkook. And NOONA KINKS. I tried my best to write him as a sub, and I truly hope you enjoy this fic. Nervous as all hell because you are a wonderful, glorious writer; and gifting you a fic of my own makes me kasdjhf. Anyways, this is unedited bc reasons - I had fun being your Peach Peep and writing this for you! (I didn’t mean to make it as long as it did… oops. xoxo)

“You smell pretty tasty.”

“Well, I’m not!” You retorted.

“Let me have a quick taste? That’s all I’m asking for.” Jungkook requested.

“Koo, no! You have plenty of bottles of blood in the fridge – just heat some up.”

Jungkook snorted with disgust, “Tch, that blood is synthetic. It’s not as good as straight from the source.” His finger trailed up the inside of your wrist, his body taking a step closer to yours.

You snatched your wrist back to yourself quickly, glaring up at your pest of a roommate. “Oh no no no – Jeon! You stop that!” Jungkook took another step, a grin present on his sculpted face. You respond with a pointed finger, raising your eyebrows in question. He wanted to play this game again.

“But Noona, please!” He whined with a pout. The vowels drawing out with the sentence with a childish tone, but his eyes shared something deep and dark. Thirst.

“I am not your bloodbag Jeon Jungkook!” your accusatory finger now prodding his chest.

“True, you’re not. But you are my friend.” He smiled, cupping your hands in his, “friends help another out.” He let out a little giggle when he saw your flustered face.

You scoffed, laughing as your roommate continued to plea. “You don’t need help! You have blood in the kitchen! B negative to be exact. It’s a fresh stock!” You shooed him, ushering him to turn around and pushing him towards the opening of the kitchen.

“Noona!” he droned again.

Oddly enough, Jungkook adored using this nickname towards you. Even though he is a hundred and something years older than you, his ripened age of vampire is in his early twenties – when he was changed into one, he found it humorous to call you Noona because your human years have surpassed his frozen age. Thus resulting, in his mind, you being ‘older’ than him. That, and the fact you get flustered up over the nickname.

There’s no doubt in your mind that your pesky little vampire friend could overpower you at any second if he really wanted to, but there was a firm alliance between the two of you. He has control over his hunger after all, he’s not a savage. Just because Jungkook is a vampire doesn’t mean he was a monster. For years vampires have lived among the human race, they aren’t out to rule the world or anything. Just trying to survive like every other creature.

Still, he and you were good friends. Actually, when you first met him you developed one of the biggest crushes on the mysterious vampire – but that feeling subsided drastically when you realized more about his lifestyle.

The two of you met through friends of friends. Trustworthy, as you had his back and he had yours. And now, you two shared an apartment in the busy city of Seoul, making ends meet as he works at the local vamp lounge, being a bartender. You wallow yourself forever in an office desk job providing customer service over a phone and through your computer.

“I swear to god if you ask me one more time, I’m going to throw my silver jewelry at you!” you threatened. “And stop calling me Noona!”

He scrunched his nose, annoyed at your rejection. “Ahh, you’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, turning away and departing towards the kitchen.

“It’s my blood! My property!” you yelled to the back of his dark ruffled hair, watching it sway with each of his steps before it vanished behind the wall.

“Then stop bleeding around me! Don’t get another paper cut and I wouldn’t ask!” he shouted from the other room.

The shuffling noises from the fridge to the microwave was audible enough to hear. A hint that he’s reheating a bottle of blood. Luckily for him, you were nice enough to stop by the convenience store on your way back home to pick him up a fresh batch of blood. Picking up his favorite flavor for his special acquired taste.

You looked down at the coffee table that was littered with a pile of mail, some ripped open and some still untouched. Your eyes darted at the piece of envelope that was sharp enough to break through your skin and cause a nasty little cut. You mentally scolded the piece for causing a stinging pain in your index finger. The irony of the rent notice cutting into your wallet was the act paper that cut into your flesh.

With your hand still close by, you examined the cracked cut that adorned a leaky line of red with a bead of blood threatening to drip off. “Wouldn’t ask.” You mocked Jungkook, speaking to yourself. “Oh please – you’re such a begger.” You sucked on your finger, attempting to take the small sting away and ridding your blood while you continued to reorganized the mail on the table.

The audible footsteps of Jungkook resonated as he approached back in the living room, bottle attached to his mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to see what was up with his lingering, and he answered your gaze with narrowed cut, stink-eyes. Sipping bitterly hard on his warm thick fluid drink, he rolled his eyes and continued down towards his bedroom.

He heard what you said.

Jungkook was gone, a scheduled vacation to meet up with some old friends for the weekend. You have the whole apartment to yourself for once, and during this time you had an untimely visit from your aunt flow. It tainted your mood, unwanted pains and cramps forcing you out of whack. Your weekend consisted of kissing your lips to Ben & Jerry’s selection of ice cream flavors, watching movies and downing your own dosage of Advil and other pain killers.

The apartment wafted with your heady scent. Something you couldn’t pick up with human smell alone but to a vampire like Jungkook, he could pick it up instantly. Like a shark in a water, he can catch whiff of all kinds of scents with those advanced heightened senses.

You were fast asleep in dreamland, a heating pad atop your stomach that lulled your cramps at an ease. Curse the world that during this period, your cramps were ungodly painful, and you felt like complete and utter shit.

What you didn’t know was that your roommate had decided to cut his group hang out short – coming back home in the middle of the night. Not like he couldn’t come and go as he pleased – it was his house too. But tonight, it was slightly… different.

He stepped up the stairwell in the apartment complex, fidgeting with the ring of keys in hand. A strange smell entered his nose, something foreign yet so similar to him. It forced him to halt his actions, standing still while looking down the corridor. It was coming from this floor – his floor.

Jungkook reached level 3, turning his way down to his apartment with the scent leading him all the way to the front door. A succulent aroma enticing him, ticking his hunger. He soon realized that sweet pungent smell that he zoned into was your scent – your blood was lingering in the airway in a heavy dosage.

“Oh fuck!” he unlocked the apartment door in a rush, speedily running in as fast as the bulk of your musk entered his sinuses. Immediately Jungkook thought the worst, thinking something happened to you; you were hurt and bleeding out. Were you okay? Why are you bleeding?

His feet brought him to your bedroom door, “Y/n! Y/n!?” he’s frantic. The moment Jungkook busted your bedroom door open almost off its hinges, he was relieved to see you intact and unharmed – seeing your body sprawled out across your mattress fast asleep.

But the sudden commotion jolted you up out of your slumber, the booming sound of your door flinging open and Jungkook’s voice calling out your name startled you.

“Kook?” You whipped your head towards him, a groggy voice to match your terrible bedhead you sported.

“Shit, sorry! Fuck, I didn’t mean to wake you! I just – I,” his thoughts were cut off, that rambling of his mouth seized when you shifted yourself on the bed, rolling the comforter around. The blanket that sealed the majority of your scent now accidentally releasing in a wave, the sweet tangy smell hitting Jungkook face first.

His hand latched to his nose, plugging his ability to smell you any further. Internally he was fighting his natural urge to go for it, to have a taste of this juicy aroma that was causing his mouth to water and fangs to sharpen. This impulse was worse than any other time, like when you got papercuts or accidentally nicked yourself with a knife. You always had a peculiar smell, something that made him curious, and now he’s invested.

He knows he needs to leave the area, go get himself a bottle of blood or find a unfortunate prey on the street, quickly. He can’t touch you; he shouldn’t touch you – but god do you smell so good and your scent was incredibly inviting.

His backpack slunk off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, the intoxicating smell was so deadly that it was forcing a haze of thirst run over him. “I thought you were hurt.” He confessed.

You rubbed your eyes to remove any forming crusts, “Hurt? What? I’m not hurt. That’s why you woke me up?”

Jungkook shook his head, staring over at your confused and puzzled face. “N – no Y/n, you’re bleeding. Like a lot.”

It took moments for you to register what he was implying. Widening your eyes when you finally came to realization. “Oh no… shit. Sorry Koo. I’m fine I swear.”

You scurried, flipping the covers over you to witness a decently large stain that had accumulated through your night shorts. You bled through your bottoms, something you haven’t done in years, yet mother nature is always good at being unpredictable. You sighed, face palming yourself to how you practically ruined the fabrics and it will take a miracle to clean them completely.

Jungkook froze, all instincts fighting to break free the moment his sensory eyes laid on the darkened patch that decorated between your legs. His fist tightened; his body completely stiff with blown out eyes. “Run Jungkook, fucking run.” He ordered himself internally.

You carefully moved your body around, attempting not to get any more blood on your sheets. Thankfully you didn’t have any cramps right now. Typically, you were very cautious around your roommate during times like these. Plugging yourself up with tampons from beginning to end of your cycle, refusing to stay around him or the apartment for too long, even he would take time away to give you your space. It was out of respect for another, established as a primary rule before you two signed your contract to the apartment.

As you hobbled closer towards the door in which Jungkook stood, you couldn’t understand why he refused to move out of your way.

“Kook, I have to go to the bathroom.” You seek to brush pass him but Jungkook’s hand snatched your arm – grip strong.

In a slow raspy voice, he breathed, “Noona.”

You blinked up at him, watching a flicker of red flash over his darkened orbs. You felt caught, trapped by his intense stare. His build was larger than yours, almost menacing when his body hardened to block the frame of the doorway.

“Jungkook… relax…” You felt the temperature of your body shift. Should you be worried? Scared? Embarrassed?

“I can’t.” his other hand held onto your free arm, slowly backing you away from the door with trembling steps. His eyes frantically searched your face, pupils wide while the chocolate brown of his eyes shaded to a vibrant red.

His eyes were demanding, a scare or warning that there was no going back from this. You’ve witnessed this look before when you visited the bar he worked at, when his eyes catch onto a delicious treat in the crowd. It won’t be easy to escape this situation. Jungkook was invested in getting what he wanted, what he was craving…

“This – this would be weird. It’s – Jungkook listen to me for a second.” The back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. “Jungkook!”

He hummed, glossing his eyes over you once more. His tone beckoning you to continue.

“This is period blood!”

He shrugged, rubbing his hands along the expanse of your arms, not allowing you to sit down just yet. He can feel the warmth of your body, how you are much warmer than usual. “It’ll just taste a little off. It’s not like I haven’t had it before.”

“Ew, Kook! No that’s gross! Like, do vampires actually enjoy? This?” You tried wiggling yourself out of his grasp. But he stepped closer – closing whatever distance there was between the two of you. You swallowed thickly, feeling quite intimidated and small under his presence. But you took note, his tight chest now flexed in front of you and hands held firm to your arms as if he was holding onto dear life.

“Y/n.” Jungkook whispers, leaning closer to your head. His phantom breath tickled the shell of your ear, “Please let me have a taste. Can I please…?”

It sounded so sensual coming from him. A shiver running down the base of your spine from the odd request. His hands now ghosted your hips, fingers etching a tingly sensation into your exposed skin. He carefully played with the waist band of your shorts – dipping a finger under it in a teasingly way.

Jungkook was controlling himself to all extremes. He knows he can’t attack you the way his nature wants him to, you’re his friend after all. He shouldn’t be stalking towards you like this. He cannot ruin you the way you’re ruining him right now. But he’s surely thinking about it.

You felt shy, nervous but oddly turned on by your roommate’s intimidation. All his persistence, his pleading whines slowly getting to you. You should feel disgusted – right? The idea of blood, your blood, your period blood, being taste tested by your friendly vampire. Which makes you question yourself even more when you tell Jungkook, “Okay…”

You’re shocked and so was Jungkook. Your confirmation is all he needed to hear, so he didn’t need to stop his action of snaking his hand down your shorts, slowly trailing his fingers towards your core.

A small gasp escaped him the moment the freshly soaked patch on your undies came in contact with the pad of his index finger. The urgency of pushing his finger down onto the cloth to collect whatever residue he could overwhelmed him.

It was an odd feeling – your roommate exploring his wondering hand down your shorts. What you didn’t expect was how it still felt somewhat good. The sudden contact of your lady bits now getting attention not by your own hand, but of someone else’s. Causing your body to jump with a sexual alert and now you’re the one holding onto Jungkook’s arms as if you were going to buck under him.

Jungkook brought his fingers back up to meet his face as he inspected the redden stain that now coated the tips of his digits. A strange manner – something no human in their right mind would do – Jungkook sniffed at your remainder. Naturally this would be so revolting for a human. But Jungkook is a blood-sucking vampire. Any form of human blood wired him up and he lived off of it, literally.

You watched him with your bottom lip between your teeth. You watched as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and exhaled a very audible groan thought his nose.

“Fuuuuck, Noona…” his tongue dragged between his fingers, then lips to savor the flavor. Suddenly his hand disappeared back to the waistband of your shorts, this time less hesitantly now. “You tasted like this all along?” He speculated while advising you to sit down, tugging harshly at your bottoms.

You nervously fumbled trying to catch his hands before he could hoist your bottoms off. He was fast, desperate for more. “Kook! You said a taste!” you squealed.

“I’m not finished tasting!” he growled. A more aggressive side taking over his demeanor. In his swift act of removing your bottoms you heard the ripping of seams. Fabrics pulling apart. Then your used panties and shorts were discarded off to the side – there was no saving them now.

Jungkook held your hands, staring down at your now pinched thighs that hid his juicy treat. He can sense your uncertainty, your nervousness – so he tried to look as apologetically pleading as possible while kneeling down in front of you. “Noona – please!” The pitch of voice didn’t match the way of his eyes that stared you down. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise. Just let me show you!”

He shoved his face between your knees, attempting to pry your legs apart, that strong scent now mere inches away from his mouth. Jungkook couldn’t control his hunger any longer, not when there was free blood just asking to be eaten.

It was almost pathetic at how desperate Jungkook was being, wiggling his head further into you. His eyes glowing pure red as they fixated at the crack between your thighs. He dragged his lips across your skin, planting reckless open mouth kisses. The sight of your roommate on his knees for you sparked a deep desire within your core.

“Kook! Let’s talk about this!” You flushed as you pinched your thighs as tight as possible. Jungkook’s hands firmly held yours still. He grunted at your resounded rebuttal, pleading more with a high pitch – needy whine.

He wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear you as his hunger took over his senses. His throat felt dry though his mouth watered for your flavor. Heat embedded into your cheeks, rocking a wave down to your bundle of nerves. You squeaked at the shifting movements of Jungkook wedging his face even more. “Kook is this even right?!”

Complete turmoil ran through your mind – you’re sharing yourself with your friend. Someone you had a crush on, and now that attraction crept back up. An act that you two have never experienced before. This wasn’t your average ‘oh here take some blood from my wrist’ situation. Jungkook was aiming for more than just a snack and it didn’t seem like the vampire didn’t mind what-so-ever.

“I’m okay with it Noona – are you?” He nipped your leg lightly, slowly dragging his now sharpened fangs on the soft skin. His lips formed a pout as he looked up at you with reddened puppy-dog eyes. “I won’t bite you.”

Everything about this situation seemed so wrong, but Jungkook was making it sound so right. You never realized how the excitement of the situation was causing your chest to rise erratically, an ache in your core now persistently present and you swore the puddle down below wasn’t just blood now.

You were nervous and body slightly shaking. It’s late, it’s wrong, this whole circumstance entirely dangerous. But that didn’t stop your body acting on its own accord by widening your legs just enough for Jungkook’s head to slip in. A spark lit bright in Jungkook’s eyes when he laid them upon your dirty flower, the sight looking as appetizing as ever.

“Yeah.” You breathed. “It’s okay with me. Don’t bite me or so help me god –“

“I won’t.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate to slide himself in – licking up the blotches of blood that escaped onto your inner thighs. The sensual feeling of his tongue tracing patterns around your pussy.

Lewd noises came from Jungkook, devouring your juice as if it was the best meal on Earth. Satisfaction releasing through his nose that moment the flat of his wet muscle licked up between your lips, flicking at the tip of your clit.

He released your hands as he felt you ease into him, moving them to your upper thighs to kneed lovely circles into them.

“Oh!” you moaned. Your fingers carded though his hair – head nestled deep between your legs. “Koo-!”

He grinned against your sex. A slight giggle escaped his lips, “Yes, Noona?”

Jungkook looked up at you through his eyelashes and with a cock of his eyebrow, mouth entrapping your cunt. He flicked his tongue up you once more just to see your reaction.

You shuttered – back landing onto your mattress. You openly sighed with a ridged breath. The dangerous mouth of Jungkook eating you up like it was his job. “Fuck, Kook.” You giggled at your shameless moans. The feeling of bashfulness creeping up on you from enjoying the sensation, those disgusting thoughts fading away against the immense pleasure. Stimulation being particularly focused on your small bundle of nerves, especially when Jungkook sucked on it.

The mess that dressed your cunt was most definitely already cleaned up by now. But Jungkook continued to pleasure you in return – after all he did say he’d make it feel good.

He savored your flavor; his mouth finally got the taste it has been curious about for a long time now. He wanted more before his taste-testing was over, and he knew exactly how to get it.

“Let me thank you, Y/n…” he purred.

Snaking his fingers under you, he teased the pads of his digits around your entrance. Prodding slowly along with the rhythm that his tongue set. Your cunt clenched around the insertion of two of his fingers that eased in effortlessly.

You allowed him to have a taste and now he wanted to repay you back by giving you a treat you won’t forget. You gasped for air the moment Jungkook’s fingers curled up into the thicket of your inner walls, pressing long drawled out strokes against it.

Your hips bucked, jerking up into the wild tongue of Jeon Jungkook. It was sinful the way he ate you out, and even at the right angle you felt the sharp of his fangs that threatened to dip into you. His word was true, he wasn’t going to bite you, just clean you up.

With the constant thrusts of his vicious digits, he was also swiping out any hording residue of your unfortunate mishap that got you two in this situation in the first place. Of course, this luscious taste is distinct, but Jungkook can also relish in the flavor of your natural essence that extracted from your cunt. And the mix of these two delectable tangs together soon made their way to the top of Jungkook’s palate.

Your body tightened, the sudden rush of your climax rushing through you as goosebumps rise across your skin. The fist you steadily held in his hair, tightened. Your back arched off the mattress, Jungkook’s hand holding your hips securely down.

Vibrations ran through your body while you moaned Jungkook’s name, creaming all over his face. He groaned in return, lapping up every inch of you.

He leaned back, removing his mouth and fingers. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Jungkook peered up at you with constraint. You remained laying, staring at the ceiling and feeling completely washed out. That just happened? You had one of the best orgasms of your entire life all because Jungkook was thirsty?

“You good, Y/n?” A mousy voice drew your attention out of your thoughts, back down at the man who hesitantly stood up. His hands moved your legs back together, and he assisted you to sitting back up right on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, reserving your thoughts for another time as you looked up to Jungkook. His eyes were no longer blood-lust red but instead his wide doe-eyed nuisance you’re oh-so used to seeing. They wouldn’t be so annoying if they didn’t work on you, but they did. Every. Damn. Time.

“I’m good, Kook! Uh – thank you.” Your expression of gratitude stammered out of your mouth faster than you could think.

Jungkook murmured under his breathe, but it was loud enough to hear the “Yeah, of course.”

Oh boy. You can feel it – the awkwardness setting in.

Before there were any more unsettling silences between the both of you, you spoke up. “I should really get myself cleaned up, if you can excuse me, I should really go to the bathroom.”

With that announcement you scurried, more like dashed yourself to the bathroom that was adjacent to your room. Leaving Jungkook to stand in your bedroom bewildered. He glanced down over at your discarded ripped bottoms that lay lifeless on the floor, still stained with your pungent aroma. He faltered battling with his inner thoughts when his lips quivered ever so slightly.

“Fuck.” He seethed the profanity through his teeth while palming over his groin.

It’s been a week since the misadventure that happened between your roommate and you. Determined, you choose to take the path of act-like-everything-is-fine. Nothing was wrong, no of course not. Right?

You had a full week to dwell on these thoughts, by yourself. No interests in opening your mouth about it to your best friends, or any random stranger at a bar or even the same clerk you run into at the convenience store every now and then.

So what – you let Jungkook have a taste of your blood? You’re an adult, and it was perfectly fine! He needs blood to live anyways – if anything you were doing him a favor! So, you told yourself…

But strangely enough after that night, after the mind-blowing orgasm that left your core fluttering for days even at the thought of that night, Jungkook distanced himself from you. No matter how many times you addressed him to partake in a casual event that the two of you normally participated in like enjoying a movie on the couch, having drinks together, running to the store or even playing one of his blasted videogames – Jungkook declined more than often. It was always.

Jungkook was hardly to be seen, stating he picked up more shifts at the lounge or hanging out with others. Meanwhile his nights remained occupied, and your days were busy with your office job – it caused more of a space between the two of you. When his actions persisted, you couldn’t help but think there was something wrong.

By day four of post orgasm those flooded doubts came running in. What you two did wasn’t right, you fucking knew it. Jungkook must have known it too. “This totally fucked up everything didn’t it?” It’s the only excuse you could devise with the series of events.

Now day seven you sat there in the middle of the couch; legs crossed over another as your foot impatiently tapped in the air. It’s been exactly a week from that treacherous night, and the more you thought about the risky behavior you both endured, the more it couldn’t escape your mind. You’re putting too much effort into something that shouldn’t be minded.

At least, that’s what Jungkook was doing – right? Not minding the incident…

With a glass of wine in hand, you sipped with resent as your flickered through the list of movies to preoccupy yourself with. Something needed to stand out, something to distract you from your irritated mindset. Maybe a comedy, maybe some horror with a bit of action?

You settled for something, clicking play and started up towards the kitchen. Swallowing the remains of your glass in honor of filling it right back up to the brim. In the course of your tipping the wine bottle into your cup, watching the dark liquid pour out of the nozzle so fluidly, you heard the entrance of your apartment open up.

That can only be one person – Jungkook.

Placing the bottle of wine back down on the counter, you turn with a full glass in hand. You walked out of the kitchen to be met with the emptying of the living room once again. Jungkook must have bee-lined it straight to his room.

A sudden rage rose up within you, not particularly enjoying this cold-shoulder act Jungkook insisted on giving. You want to confront him; you’re getting tired of this odd behavior and if there was an elephant in the room that refuses to leave then you will kick it out with all your might.

“Jungkook!” You hollered, feet stepping down the narrow hallway towards his room that was hidden in the very far end. “Kook!” Your voice belted his name a few more octaves higher.

Your knuckles contacted his bedroom door, tapping against the wood. “Can you open up?”

Through the wood you can hear the rummaging of Jungkook throughout the room. He was ransacking his drawers, the sound of his chair wheeling back and forth as his steps moved to and fro. “I’m busy right now.”

A stern huff escaped your lips. To calm yourself you took a long swig of your wine, hoping it cooled you down – or even give you more of a liquid courage to speak up.

“It will only take a minute!” You barked.

He didn’t reply back to you, but instead he continued to rustle around his room for god only knows what. With this indication, you felt peeved and your hand was fast to the doorknob. Twisting the handle fast enough to fling the door open so you can face him.

Jungkook was in the midst of tucking in his black fitted button up shirt, belt still hanging loose through the loops. Matching with his black sleek trousers and set of tuxedo shoes that went along with the monochromatic attire for work. For a brief moment, your mind zoned in on how Jungkook would look… when not just dressing, but undressing. That thought bubble was popped abruptly when he whipped his head in your direction and yelled at you.

“I said I was busy!” he repeated, tone fully capturing the blunt of his attitude.

“Jungkook, come on you’ve been avoiding me all week.” You inclined.

Jungkook ruffled out the last bits of his shirt, tapering it into the band of his pants. He fastened his belt security along his waist with the clinks and clacks. “I’m late Y/n. I don’t have time for this.” Jungkook breezes past you towards the bathroom with his stationary bag lugged over his shoulder. He eyes himself in the mirror, tidying up his hair and quickly rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.

Your feet pattered to the bathroom door, now leaning your body against the frame of the entrance. You can notice the harsh side-eye you receive from Jungkook, but you pay no attention in giving a reaction to it. “Kook, what did I do for you to avoid me? Was it because of what happened?”

There was sadness laced inside your voice, but it was taken over by puzzlement. You were just concerned, what happened to the dynamic between the two of you? Why can’t Jungkook even look you in the eyes half the time and run away to steer clear of you?

He spit his mouthwash into the skin, checking his teeth in the mirror for any imperfections. He shimmied the other string of his bag on to his other shoulder and turned to leave the bathroom, seeing that you now stood in his way he gave you an uneasy glare. “Move.”

“What the? No! –“ you protested. Your finger jotted out towards him, “Stop avoiding me!”

He can tell by the flare of your nostrils that you were fuming, and your tone of voice rising with each word you spoke only added to the obvious fact that you were indeed pissed. If it wasn’t for the clear sight that you’re holding up a cup full of alcohol, he’d most definitely would have smelt it lingering off of your breath. Jungkook attempted to grab the glass of wine out of your hand, assuring you that “you probably drank too much already.”

“Hey! – No, give me that!” You argued, holding tight with your fingers circling around the base. He’s shuffling around, pulling at your wrist to let go of the damn thing, but it was when his hand latched over yours that covered the base an unexpected shatter echoed in the apartment.

Wine spilled between the two of you, decorating the bathroom floor and your feet with the murky dark liquid. Pieces of bladed glass scattered around, and you winced when you felt the sudden jab of a shard that dug itself into your palm.

You yelped, jumping back in surprise and pain. You held your hand out, outstretching your fingers to see the blossoming of red liquid leaking from the shard. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Shit! Y/n, I’m sor –“ Jungkook cut himself mid-sentence after reaching out towards you. The blood oozing out from that blade of glass was spilling out your sweet tasteful scent, and it wired Jungkook. His inner thirst now aroused.

Pain was plastered over your face as you ripped the piece out from your palm. You pressed firmly against the open wound, looking at the mess that is now below you. Glass everywhere and wine seeping into the cracks of the tiles.

Your eyes met up with Jungkook’s just as he was pushing pass you, down the hall and out the front door. Astonished at Jungkook’s utter rude mannerisms, you held your mouth wide open. He just up and left you in the middle of a mess that was caused by him. That you now have to clean up after taking care of this fresh cut inside the palm of your hand.

And he still didn’t answer your questions.

Another week went by with your poor attempts of consulting Jungkook and him avoiding you like the plague. And with the last ‘real’ incidence where the two of you spoke more than a few syllables, you ended up with a fresh cut to your hand and having to mop and sweep up glass shards and your favorite flavored wine off of the floor. And at this point, you felt like you were avoiding him just as much.

The animosity in the air between the two of you went down a gruesome hill. Tumbling down into smithereens where neither one of you can easily look at another. Jungkook still remained busy as ever, staying out of the house only until you leave for work. The only things that made you know he was still alive was the empty blood bottles left in the sink, the shower curtain being tossed every-which-way, and the half-hazard filing through your piled up mail when he picked out his belongings and left yours disorganized.

Needlessly to say, Jungkook stressed you the fuck out. You were bending to his routines, you were seeking shelter away from him, and all casual activity between the two of you completely vanished. Your confusion turned into spiteful hatred, wanting to smack your roommate upside the head.

Now you’re on week three of roommate-distancing. Your room became your safe haven. The living room was a crossfire full of casualties. The kitchen is a death wish. And the bathroom became your secret chamber when you needed to relax with a steamy relaxing shower and your bubbly loofah.

All this time, your mind already grew curious about Jungkook. There was no way you can repress your emotions when it came to him completely shutting you out. But you did stop remembering that night that turned the sequence of things between the two of you. You wanted to forget; you don’t want to think about it – ever.

You spent weeks dwelling over this roommate dilemma, and it tainted your mood entirely. Your job lacked enthusiasm, your tv didn’t please you enough after watching the same junk over and over. Tonight, you felt appropriate to go out for the night, treat yourself. Because you out of all people know you deserve some fun after the bullshit you are handling.

Fuck it – you’re going to the bar.

Pleather jeans hugged your legs, a blouse that you had tucked in lays low on the neckline flaunting your clavicles and upper chest. You jeweled yourself with a silver body chain that connected at your neck and dipped down between your breasts underneath your shirt. To top of your rocking outfit, you selected your best pair of open-toed red high heels lacing up the front and pinning up half of your now curled hair.

After finishing off the last touches of your make-up you gave yourself a quick look over in your standing mirror. Amused with your selection of attire you gave yourself one last twirl before grabbing your purse and heading out your front door.

You just needed time out, grab yourself a few drinks. There’s no shame of going to the bar alone, plus you enjoyed becoming acquainted with the bartenders here and there. It always gave you a sense of comfort knowing, even though it’s apart of their job, you can vent to them about your worries.

The Snake Pit, a clever yet sinister name for a bar tended to be one of your favorite hot spots to visit. Not only it had a dancefloor and an elongated bar that stretched to the full extent of a wall, electro pop music, and it had its own special feng shui to it.

Heel’s clacking against the hard-wooden floor beneath you, you strutted yourself over to an available seat by the bar. You smiled sweetly at the oncoming bartender who was headed your way, “Hey there! It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?”

You handed over your card to the young chipper male who gleamed down at you, “Open a tab for me please. I’ll start with a mojito, Jin.”

“One Mo-Jin-To coming right up!” he smiled, whipping around to grab the appropriate glasses and mixtures. You bobbed your head to the music waves as you checked out the crowds around you. It was packed here tonight, and you’re happy to see people enjoying a great time.

“How’s it been?” Jin questioned after placing the glass on a coaster in front of you. He leaned in resting his elbow against the bar. Jin was a notorious little flirt, but with good intentions. He just wanted to make his customers as happy as possible – or maybe just enjoyed swooning the ladies to give him better tips.

“It’s… alright. Been better. Just needed to blow off some steam. And of course, I came to visit my favorite bartender. Can’t ever forget a face like yours.” You laughed along with Jin, taking a quick sip of your drink. “Oh? You made it a strong one.” You gave him a thumbs up, “yup, definitely my favorite bartender.”

Jin responded with a playful wink before leaning back up to assist other customers who beckoned for his attention. “Let me know when you need round two!”

And round two came sooner than later. Possibly drink three being concocted as you continued to sip down your mojitos like they were juice. When you grabbed your freshly made glass, you made your way to the dance floor to find some fun.

Within the course of an hour the beat of the music picked up drastically. Bodies swayed left and right in formations, lights flickering and buzzing around your sights. You were so into the rhythm that your hips moved naturally to the tunes.

Until a hand grabbed at your waist, turning you slightly towards them. A man slightly taller than you and maybe just as tipsy as you decided to take his chance on dancing with a pretty lady. “Hey!” he slurred over the loud music. “Let’s dance?”

His invitation wasn’t much of an invite, considering that he was already dancing along with you. But you accepted with a wide smile, urging him to come closed so you could relax your arm around his shoulder as you continued to drink. “Might as well, it is a dancefloor.” You giggled.

The bar felt like you were playing musical chairs with suitor on suitor. Eventually your drink vanished completely, and you were on your third dance with another random, but handsome, stranger.

“You smell just as pretty as you look.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, rocking his pelvis into your backside. His hands found a home on the curve of your hips, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his confession.

“That’s got to be one of the better pickup lines.” You hummed. “I’ve heard worse” you teased as you whipped yourself around in place, now placing your hands through the man’s hair. It was thick and hardened with some sort of product. You glanced around at the bar, noticing your favorite bartender flirting along with an innocent girl that sat right in front of him. A couple having a heavy make-out session just a few feet away from their interaction.

But you found a spare seat that was left empty, a motivation for you to go back for another drink? Or just relax from dancing since you felt like you needed a break.

“That’s not very nice,” the man prodded. Nudging your head aside so he could place a tender kiss against your neck.

With reflex you jerked your body away, avoiding the man and pushing him away. “No thank you.”

As you were turning on your heel, the male stepped close to you once more. Arm linking around your body, “Where do you think you’re going? Thought we were dancing?” He grinned eerily, an odd ominous vibe now shining from him.

Your hands came up to shove him away, but there was a movement in a blink of an eye that you didn’t catch. Maybe your vision was impaired, but you could have sworn you were just in the clutches of this man, and now he stands five feet away from you with a bewildered look.

“Back off.” A low grumble resounded next to you, a face popping into your perception. Jungkook?!

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched, grinding his teeth against another as the muscles flexed on the sides of his jaws. His arm was now linked around your waist, holding you close to him.

“What the fuck man?”

“She said ‘no’, didn’t she?” Jungkook challenged the man, stepping in front of you now to face the male. From here you can see his back tensed up under his dark t-shirt. You couldn’t comprehend the duel going on between the two, or maybe you couldn’t hear over the voluminous blaring of techno beats.

When the male fled the dancefloor, Jungkook turned to look at you. “What the fuck Kook!” You blurted. He was taken aback for a second, confused why you’re all of a sudden yelling at him. “Excuse me? Shouldn’t you be thanking me!?”

“Not that. I don’t care. But what the actual fuck?!”

All your pent up and inner rage towards your roommate from the past few weeks was making you hostile. Even seeing his face stirred you up to the point you wanted to hit him for being so idiotic.

“Y/n, seriously. Not right now. I just need to get you out of here. Please.” He grabbed your elbow, leading you a few feet before you tugged back on your arm.

“No!” Your hand gripped around his wrist, trying your damn near hardest to pull him off of you. “You need to explain right the fuck now!” You stomped your feet, throwing a small tantrum.

Jungkook’s patience was very thin, especially when it came to drunk you. He stepped closer, tugging your body next to his. “Fucking listen to me for a second, dammit. I need to get you out of here. I’ll talk to you when we’re outside.” He spat back at you.

“Why?” You rebutted, glaring up at his face.

“Cause you’re fucking bleeding, Y/n! And if it wasn’t for me that sleazy vampire would have had you for dinner!” He bit back. Both him and you were bickering back and forth, drawing attention from surrounding bystanders.

“What’ do you mean I’m ‘bleeding’” you air quoted with your fingers. You belted out an obnoxious laugh. Your unpleasant emotions were getting the better of you – resulting in making an ass out of yourself when all your roommate was trying to do was help you out. “Next thing you’re gonna say is that we’re friends too, right?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, his brows raised as high as they can reach. You were acting quite absurd and he didn’t understand what had gotten into you. “Y/n, I can fucking smell you.” He seethed out the words through his teeth. That’s when you noticed his fangs were now elongated and sharp. Jungkook wasn’t joking around.

A moment of realization kicked in and your eyes widened. “Wait, really?” You trembled.

“Yes. Now let’s get you out of here.” Jungkook escorted you through the crowd, hand now holding yours. The two of you quickly grabbed your tab from your helpful bartender while Jungkook looked out for any wondering eyes. If both he and that strange vampire could smell you, he was sure others can too.

Jungkook followed close behind you, being extra protective while scanning the areas outside on the way back to your apartment. When the two of you made it about four blocks down in complete silence, besides the sound of your heels hitting the concrete below, you decided to chirp up. “You said we’ll talk outside. So, talk.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Your feet came to a halt, twisting your neck to look at Jungkook who walked a few paces behind you. “Seriously? You can’t imagine anything, not one thing, as to what I want to talk about?”

Jungkook ignored your stare, dismissing the obvious topic of interest by responding with. “Well, it’s easy for a vampire to tell another vampire apart. For one, they don’t have a heartbeat. So, when I saw him up on you, I grew curious.” A smug little grin pulled up on Jungkook’s face.

You balled your hands into fists, frustration pulling on every nerve in your body. “Don’t play coy with me! Stop. Fucking. Ignoring. Me. Jungkook.” You marched yourself right up to where he stood, invading his personal space. “I’m tired of it. Just talk to me. What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “It was me, not you.”

You snorted; the classic phrase used in so many cliché break up scenes. But this time, it’s not a break up. It’s literally two friends who have a weird misunderstanding with another. “Oh? So that’s it? It’s you and so you avoid me?”

“Keep walking, we’re only a few blocks away.”

You shook your head in defeat, crossing your arms and held tight to your body. The faster you get home, the faster you get to clean yourself up and the faster you can close off Jungkook. Little did you know that your furious speedy walk gave your butt just enough jiggle in those pleather jeans you decided to wear. Giving Jungkook something to admire from a far as his senses were being laced with your aroma.

“I’m sorry Y/n…”

“No, I’m sorry I have a shitty friend like you.”

Jungkook kept up with your pace, walking step by step along with your strides. He knows you don’t truly mean the words coming out of your mouth. It was his fault, and he was trying to admit blame for it all.

As the two of you made it up the stairwell in your apartment complex, Jungkook tried speaking up to you once more. “Y/n, look I know what I was doing wasn’t –“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

You slotted the key into your door, twisting it open and walked yourself into the darkness of your living room. Your night out became a terrible mess, rounding back to the initial problem that you’ve been trying to avoid. Once you kicked off your heels, tossing them aimlessly across the floor mat, you did the same to your purse and keys.

“Y/n.” Jungkook’s voice broke through. He reached for your arm, tugging you to face him. “Look I’ll talk all right?”

“Oh? So, I go weeks with being ignored by you, but you can’t last a night when the tables are turned?” You mocked Jungkook, looking at your roommate straight into the eyes.

“I had to, Y/n!” Jungkook pleaded for reason. “Please, I needed time okay?”

By now you were sobering up, any remains of your alcohol intake must have been sweated out during dancing and on your walk home. Jungkook was sporting his infamous doe-eyes while he looked desperately back into yours.

“Time? Time?!” you rose your voice. “Time to be an asshole? Needed time to ignore me when we could have discussed the problem? You literally circumvented yourself away from me for weeks? Was eating me out that terrible?!” Your fingers found their way to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Whoah! Y/n, Y/n whoah whoah. No!” Jungkook grabbed at your shoulders and leveled his head with yours. Surprise took over his body, clearly the both of you were having polar opposite battles going on with your minds. “No that’s not the – that isn’t. Gah… Fuckin’ hell. Eating you out was great! I enjoyed it.” Jungkook eased his hands over your shoulders, “Wholeheartedly, even when I don’t have much of a heart to comment by, I promise you. I think… it was too good actually. But, that wasn’t the problem at all!”

Your face froze in place with your mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. Only a few times you closed it, just to open it up and speak. “Wait… I’m confused. What’s the problem then?”

Jungkook exhaled a long, exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. “Y/n. Your – uh your blood is a problem for me.”

“Well now I’m slightly offended, Jeon! You said I smelt good!” You wacked his chest with your palm. During which, a brief flicker of red cut through his irises and it made you pull your hand right back from him. It was at that moment, even when Jungkook’s gazed turned to a scowl, you knew he meant something else.

“You should really get yourself cleaned up.” His voice didn’t sound like a sincere worry, but more of a threat.

You snapped back at him, “You should really learn how to control your hunger.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, licking his lips with a fixed gaze. He leaned forward suppressing the enigmatic smile he wanted to show you. “May I remind you, Noona, you’re bleeding right now.”

There it is again, that pet name that he enjoys cooing you with. The name that slightly makes you shy because you yourself don’t know how to react. Or maybe it riled you up, it was his way to flirt around with you shamelessly.

Your heady scent wasn’t as strong as the last time, no not at all. It was as dull as usual when you covered it up with tampons, only a faint aroma wafting from you. Not a pile of blood decorating your skimpy nighties in the middle of the night.

But it was the fact that Jungkook has already had a taste of your blood, he knows what it tastes like. He knows how good that succulent flavor drips so freely from you. Jungkook refuses to let any other vampire pry on you, like that bastard back at the bar. This blood was favorable, and god dammit he’ll protect it at all costs.

You crossed your arms over your body, staring down Jungkook who was quickly turning into the Jungkook from a few weeks ago. “And if I am bleeding, you sir, aren’t getting any of it.”

Jungkook held back his tongue, prodding it against the inside of his cheek instead. Your scent secretly became a dangerous drug for Jungkook. Almost addictive in a sense. He was lucky to have been walking the streets near The Snake Pit, smelling your custom flavor in the air. But he was so completely unlucky when he skipped out searching for a quick drink that he was left thirsty.

And the agonizing walk from the bar back home to make sure you remained safe, getting a nice view of your ass swaying with each step in those tight pants, only tantalized him further because all he could do was sniff you out. You invading his vicinity only teased him worse.

He let out a breathy sigh again, “What can I do?”

“I’m sorry?” You blinked at him.

“I haven’t eaten tonight, and I know there isn’t any more bottles because you stopped buying them… what can I do to get some of your blood right now?”

You quizzed Jungkook, “I don’t know, what can you do?”

Jungkook reached for your hand, unfolding your arms from your front. He raised it to his face, where he placed your palm flat across his cheek. His hunger was forming an empty pit in his stomach, he physically could feel his abdomen churn inwards at the thought of your blood touching his tongue. His voice came out as a soft whisper, “I’m so sorry for mistreating you recently.”

Jungkook’s thumb rubbed along your inner wrist, stepping closer to your body. He can feel your heartbeat pick up pace, the warmth of your hand against his face grew clammier the longer he stared at you. “I – I would really love some, if you let me. I was good to you last time, right Noona?”

His words were sweet, his eyes were sweeter with the pleading look he emitted even when the color of his orbs turned to that deadly crimson. Fuck. You don’t know what it was about Jungkook that triggered you in the most sinful of ways.

Was it the way his smile looked so dashingly sexy even when he’s being a childish punk. The effortless good looks no matter what style of clothes he was wearing? His entire aspect, the living (well actually dead) embodiment of Jeon Jungkook was everything you actually craved.

You breathed, “Yeah… You were very good to me.” All of those memories of that night flooded back. The feelings. The satisfactions. How hot and heavy Jungkook’s tongue felt against your swollen sex.

“Let me be good to you again.” Jungkook advised, kissing your inner wrist now.

“Only on one condition.” You stated as your grab both of Jungkook’s wrists in your hands. You guided Jungkook down the apartment hallway, ignoring the poorly lit areas and towards his room. After pushing open his door with a foot, you pointed to his bed.

“My bed is the condition?” He grinned amused at the option in front of him. Thinking that this condition was nothing serious, but easier for him. He complied to sit down facing you with a questionable look. “What now, Noona? You have me.”

Your hands reached behind your neck, unclasping the body chain you decided to wear out tonight. “This. This is my condition.” You held the long piece of jewelry up. “It’s pure silver. I’m sure you understand.”

Now you drew Jungkook’s curiosity even further, what did you have in mind with that chain? He never knew his roommate was so kinky before. You peaked his interests with entertainment.

“Wrists. Now.”

“But how am I going to be good for you if you cuff me?”

“Do you want my blood or no? Because I’m certain just about a minute ago you said –“

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” He shook his head while displaying his wrists out to you.

The burn of the chain sizzled against his skin as you twisted it around another, tying his wrists together. It was painful for a vampire, not only does it burn but it also paralyzes the affected, so they cannot pull the material off of the area so easily.

Jungkook’s face had irritation written all over it. The pain biting him with annoyance. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that whatever he may do will give him the blood he desired.

“This is for you ignoring me for weeks.” You raised his arms above him, pushing him back onto his bed and securing his wrists to one of the posts with the assistance of a sturdy belt.

Jungkook groaned out, “Hey, I said I was sorry!”

“Apology is not accepted.” You smiled.

He watched you carefully, eyeing your bar outfit, your face, the excitement behind your eyes sparking at the actions you chose to partake in. “So, this is my punishment?” He winked.

You shrugged, making your way over to the other side of his bed to sit down next to him. “I’m pretty sure this is a reward for you, since you want my blood.” You reminded him waving your wrist in front of his face.

There was struggle, Jungkook’s eager bloodshot eyes now zoning in on the span of your wrist. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. He was thirsty.

When his eyes glanced back over to yours, he had desperation screaming from them. His breath turned jagged, inhaling your lingering scent some more. “Noona – please. What do you want?”

You leaned back laying down and used Jungkook’s abdomen as your pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His innocent pleas sounded mesmerizing to you. You wanted to hear him talk, to confess.

“Besides my blood what do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leered down at you. With this angle he can see the expanse of your neck on show, stretched long and elevated on his waist. He can only dream about sinking his fangs into that supple skin, slurping up whatever poured out of you.

“I want to put my mouth on you.” He declared.

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him. “I said besides my blood.” Indicating that he would want to repeat the same process as last time.

“Not down there. Not right now at least.” His eyes conveyed a secret promise.

A blush snuck up to your cheeks, raising the color of your skin to a warmer shade.

“Would you like that, Noona? Will you let me put my mouth on you?” He said with excitement. The strain of his wrists tugged at the post, Jungkook eyeing you through heavy lids. “Please, let me do something. I’ve been smelling you all night.”

On a whim you perched yourself up over Jungkook, straddling above his waist. “No.” You smiled wryly once you grabbed at the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook parted his lips, licking over his set of teeth. The two of you exchanged a brief heated look, a challenging gaze. Then the sudden tear of his shirt ripped in two as you tore the seam apart with all your might. You exposed his flexed stomach all the way to the top of his chest. “And that’s for my shorts and underwear.”

Jungkook whined, not at the lose of his shirt, but at the bold movement of your actions. It was hot. Your initiative was something he’s never seen before coming from you. And the image of you hovering your dirty flower right above his pelvis is forever going to be ingrained into his memory.

His chiseled upper body was on full display for your eyes now, disregarding the shreds of his shirt still linked around his arms. Fuck, Jungkook was sexy. The entire idea of this sculpted creature under your demand was turning you on second by second and you decided to take advantage of your leverage.

“Noona, just a taste please?” Jungkook begged with a reedy voice. He thrusted his hips up into you, wiggling his eyebrows. He was under your control, completely wrapped around your finger and it didn’t stop him from begging.

You fingered at his nipples, running your thumbs around the softened skin to cause them to perk up. You traced patterns with the tips, running up and down along his abs. “Where do you want to put your mouth?” You inquired. Tapping your digits around his cool skin. “Here?” you prodded, pointing at his upper chest right under his clavicle. “Hm, what about here?” you ran your finger over the prominent vein that bulged out of the side of his neck from constraint.

You watched the way Jungkook’s eager looks turned into anguish, the agony of not having what he craved was tormenting. Your teasing wasn’t helping, you were testing him.

“Anywhere.” He stuttered. “Everywhere.”

Jungkook gasped when you pushed down your weight onto his hips, his growing bulge now receiving attention instead. You smirked; you knew Jungkook was turned on by this. “Jeon? What do we have here?”

He swallowed thickly. Trying to straighten out his mind to respond to you properly but nothing but natural instincts were getting in the way. “I’m hard. I’m horny. And you’re extremely hot right now. As much as I am hungry, I’m thinking many other things about you right now.”

“Enlighten me, Koo.”

Jungkook dropped his head back onto the pillow under him with a whimper. He was parched, he was sexually aroused, and infuriated that he couldn’t do anything about either of them.

“Noona please!” He cried. “Do whatever you want, please. Just help me out.” Jungkook drawled on and on. His wrists continued to strain against the custom-made handcuffs that burned into his skin, rendering him from movements.

Jungkook pointed with his chin towards the junction of your bodies, “Help me.”

It dawned on you, how sleeping with your roommate right now probably wouldn’t be the wises of ideas. And those uncertainties were calculating on your face. Jungkook notices this, jumping at his opportunity to speak. “Y/n. Hey – Look at me. I’m okay with this.” His voice came out soft, still whimpering under you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck yes! You have no idea how much I need you to touch me right now.”

You hesitantly unbuckled his belt and unlooped the button to his jeans. His dick was prominently swollen, being constricted against the layers of materials. With a swift tug at his bottoms just below the curve of his ass, you released the beauty of his hardened thick cock, red at the tip with a spruce of precum glossing over the head.

Jungkook exhaled a shuttered breath, his cock aching to be touched. His member twitches cutely at the ghost of your hand hovering above it, and another whine resonated through his nose. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his dick, the vein that ran over the underside of it. How soft his frenulum looked to the touch.

“Is this what you want Kook?” you firmly grasped at the base of his dick, right above the well-groomed hairs. His hips jolted up at your touch, flexing his muscles and pulling his arms from the restraints.

“Y – Yes!” he choked out. “Help me Noona. I promise I’ll be good for you.”

You didn’t doubt his promised plea. Last time he promised you something he surely delivered it.

You smothered his leaky precum over the head and through the slit. Fisting his shaft nicely just to watch Jungkook thrust his head back further into the bed. The angel of his jaw tilted back that showed up his thick neck was a delicious sight to witness.

To surprise him, you dipped your head down. Kissing your lips to the tip of his dick and running your tongue along the area. You hummed in satisfaction when Jungkook’s thighs started to shake underneath you. Who knew you’d have this power and demand over your friend.

Your mouth sank down, taking him in an inch and he choked out vowels. He tasted of a sweet salt, miraculously this part of his vampire body remained animated. “Noona!” His teeth remained clenched together, fangs threatening to bite into his bottom lip. “Don’t stop.”

The wetness of your mouth coated along the rest of his cock, submerging him as far as you can go and wrapping your hand around whatever portion you couldn’t reach. His tip touched the back of your throat when you took him in. Subconsciously you made sure to suck hard as you pulled away.

A string of saliva linked between your mouth and his dick, thinning out right before it snapped. Jungkook groaned out at the sight. He was painfully hard, and his stomach constantly reminded him he needed to drink before he depleted himself.

He whimpered as you abandoned his member, letting it relax against his stomach. He huffed out with a buck of his hips, “I was good to you last time!” he reminded.

“That you were.” You sat at the edge of the bed, untucking your blouse from the band of your pants. “So good.” You blushed.

“What are you doing?” His kicked you softly with the side of his foot. Your fingers found their way to the zipper of your bottoms, undoing them and shimmying them off. The blouse and bra you wore was soon tossed to the side. “I’m going to ride you if you let me.” You peered over your shoulder, baring your backside to him.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up, beaming the red hues that decorated them. “Yes, please. My god – please ride me.”

You straddled yourself over Jungkook’s waist, making sure not to fully sit down on top of him just yet. You wanted to tease him of the sight from a few weeks ago. Your lovely lady-bits wafting his favorite flavors together. “I guess I was bleeding a little bit huh?” You laughed to yourself.

His mouth watered; lips parted. Your smell lingers into his nose and filled his lungs. Jungkook was thankful you tied him up otherwise he was sure to have attacked you to get this treat.

“Rub yourself on me, please. I want you to coat my dick.”

He caught you by surprise, this lewd sentence spilling out of his mouth. But you conceded, sitting yourself back on his throbbing member, just to run yourself up and down on it. Your wetness caused an embarrassing and loud squelching noise, your taint painted on Jungkook’s cock like a canvas.

He met the swing of your hips with his own, grinding up into your slick sex. His pressure was forceful up into your folds as if his dick was asking for permission to enter you. “Is this what you want?” you teased again.

He nods vigorously, controlling his impulse to thrust up into you. His hunger remained dominant, but the lust for you became top priority.

You locked eyes with him the second the tip of his dick threatened to push past your hole. He was yearning to break through and glide his dick against your velvety sleek walls. His lips are pink and bitten while he continued to let out those cute pleading noises you enjoy hearing so much. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered closed in a tormented bliss.

He was ultimately at your mercy, within your clutches and you could break him at any moment. Leave him hot and heavy to get back at him if you really wanted to. You didn’t speak, just waiting for a sign that he was close to his breaking point.

Jungkook whines again brokenly, “Please, please Noona. I want to be inside you. Can I please?”

So needy. So deprived of his wants and wishes. You feel for him, you really do. Feeling him shake like a leaf from the anticipation of plunging his cock so far up into you. And you allow it.

You leaned down further, allowing just the head to sink in. He groans out your name the moment you slipped him back out, just to repeat the process once again now easing yourself all the way down on him. You stiffed a moan yourself, humming along with the series of loud whiny noises escaping his mouth.

“No more ignoring me, Koo.” You rolled your hips up. “If we have a problem, we should address it. Right?” You circled, bobbing yourself on his cock. “Right?” Your hands found perch on his chest, pinching his nipples enough to harden them and forcing an animalistic growl out from Jungkook.

He gasps, choking out breaths, “Right!” his eyes skewed shut. Jungkook’s wrists were bleeding, pinned together tightly. His lust fogged mind wished to get his hands on you, to guide the movements of your hips or even flip you over just to pound himself inside your cunt.

His eyes opened just enough to stare at the way your body moved on top of him, a small raspy groan leaving him. God you look like a delicious treat – he’s even questioning himself how he lasted this long without taking you before.

The pants that hugged his thighs were preventing him from widening his legs. The fabric softening the blow of your ass landing down on him. The stinging burn of pain mixed with the immense pleasure of your pussy clenching around his smooth cock has got him spinning down in spirals.

“I – I’m, Noona. So close.”

“No.” You asserted, slowing down your pace to a halt. “Not yet.”

Jungkook kicked his feet out, eyes blown wide. “What, Why!?” His cock twitched inside of you the same way his hips jerked up.

“Bite me first.” Your wrist made its way in front of Jungkook’s mouth. His tongue swiped out licking your delicate skin. His mouth latches onto you with no hesitation, the sharpness of his fangs burying themselves inside forcing you to hiss at the sudden infliction.

It was like biting into a peach, liquid spilling all over her mouth. Jungkook sucked with fervor, drinking down your delectable juicy liquid while his hips jutted up into you. He wanted you to continue, keep moving before his orgasm gets denied. He muffled a cry against your bleeding wrist when you swivel your hips at a certain angle.

You were panting in the open air, picking up your speed to meet his urgency. Face gorgeously flustered, unshed tears sparkling from Jungkook’s eyes. Your blood pushed Jungkook over the edge, freefalling down into a pit of pure bliss. He chases his orgasm, using a sharp uncoordinated sloppy thrust to bury his cock deep inside your cunt as he came. Cum jetting out of him in streams like a fountain.

His fangs retracted from your wrist, being replaced with light butterfly kisses over the wounded area. Jungkook flops back to the pillow, short of breath. Portions of your blood smeared around his lips and also his dick.

“Holy shit – “ his words faltered.

You gave him his moment, allowing him to take it all in before you moved off of him. Lifting your body off of Jungkook he cuts your action with a sharp tone, “Where are you going?” His eyes dawdled on your exposed body, forcing you to freeze mid pull-out.

“I? I was going to clean up?”

He shook his head frantically, “Don’t get off me just yet. Ah. You didn’t cum – I want to make you cum.” Jungkook edged his hips up with a spasm of overstimulation, his member hiding back inside of you. “Sit back down on me please.”

He was softening inside of you; you can feel it slowly shrink and the idea of cock-warming to get you off wasn’t something that sounded promising.

“Kook, it’s really okay. I don’t need to.”

“I want you to. Get me out of these chains.”

You sighed, leaning forward enough to hold Jungkook’s cock inside of your super slippery walls. Giving Jungkook the opportunity to place hot open-mouth kisses to your breasts that dangled down in front of him. The make-shift bondage was released, pulling the chains off of his ruined wrists. They’ll heal back shortly anyways.

His hands latched to your waist in a blink of an eye, digging his nails into your skin. There was a pool of mixed liquids between the two of you, glistening in the light. He didn’t bother to yank his pants off, he wanted to focus on you instead. He guided you to run your hips a certain way, tilting them down so your clit can run against his pelvis.

“Hold me inside you, can you do that for me Noona? I’ll get hard again just by watching you use me.”

His voice was filthy whispering those sentences in the air. Involuntarily causing you to clutch around his dick.

“Ah – just like that,’ he cooed. “Play with me, do what you want.”

He continued to pilot your lower half on him, running your drenched pussy into him. Your breath turned labored; clit throbbing with sensitivity from the build up of stimulation. Your hands ran the expanse of his chest, his biceps, around his collarbones and up. Finger’s interlacing with the tendrils of his hair at the nape of his neck.

He was bringing you close to your release just as his cock started stiffening back up. Your breath caught in your throat, a brief squirm of your body reacting to his dick prodding into your sweet spot.

Your mouth dropped open, pleasure taking over your face. “Right there?” Jungkook taunted. “You like my dick against that spot?” You nodded like a bobble-head. He moved you again, repeating the action.

You never noticed how your hips were moving on their own accord now, how greedy you were being as you used your roommate as a pleasure toy. A very hot, sexy, vampiric sex toy indeed.

The moans escaping you were coming out as a song, heighten with each second your lower stomach started tingling. It was happening. You were at the brink of your orgasm, railing your clit into Jungkook. “Fu – fuck. Kook!” Your eyes clamped shut and your bottom lip was bruising from your demanding teeth. “I’m so – gasps – im so close.”

You practically hiccuped the moment his fingers pinched your bundle of nerves, tweaking it between the two digits. Forcing your body to thrust forward with a maddened cry. Orgasm after orgasm erupted through you, vibrations shooting through your body the same way you squirted all around Jungkook.

Jungkook caught you before you could collapse on top of him, sitting his body up so he could hold you in his arms. He petted your hair as you rested your head in the crook of his neck trying to calm down from the aftershocks of your numbing body.

“Hey, it’s alright, I gotcha.”

The warmth of your body captivated him. Your smell of arousal and blood dampening his body and sheets are sure to stir some problems in the future if he didn’t get it cleaned up quickly.

“Thanks…” you murmured under your breath, inhaling his manly scent.

“Clean I get you cleaned up?”

You nodded, circling your arms a and latching your legs around him. Exhaustion was whipping over you and you swore you started to see stars in your peripherals. What was it about Jungkook that caused the best orgasms you’ve ever received?

He chuckled, “Noona, I’m still inside you right now. If I’m gonna clean you up, I need to be able to move. You’ve made a mess everywhere.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to get a better view of your blush fucked-out face.

“I feel a little weak.” You embarrassingly whispered.

“Of course you do – I fed on your blood. And you came about 3 times in a row.” He held you tighter, shifting himself to swing his legs to the edge of the bed. Everywhere was soaked. Leaking fluids colliding with anything it touched. It was then he decided sleeping in your clean bed will be easier for the both of you. “I’ll get you something filled with vitamins to help you replenish.” He gave a quick peck to your temple, examining the way you dozed off.

#BAsecretbunny20 #bangtanarmynet #armysource #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #magicshopnet #jungkook x reader #jungkook #smut #bts #one shot #jeon jungkook #vampire au #jkeuphoriadreamland #kimtaehyunq #maknaesmutsociety

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villainousshakespeare · 4 years ago

Text

Putting It Back Together Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack

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Hunched over his desk, Adam scowled at the blank staff on the music composition page before him. In his mind he could hear the notes that he had composed two nights ago but when he tried to concentrate and write them down they refused to stay clear in his brain. Twice already he had crumpled up the dried out old paper and hurled it across the room. Now, after his pen scratched through another mistake, he swept the entire pile of paper off the desk.

Leaning back in his wingchair, he glared across the room. It was all the fault of that thing. There against the wall, clashing with his dark hued room, sat a garishly bright neon yellow tool bag. It was not just that it was an eye sore, though that was bad enough. Really, who in their right mind would purchase anything so hideous? It was the knowledge that it belonged to her. That horrid, sobbing girl who had cried all over him last night.

Adam suppressed a shiver as he remembered it. She had clung to him like a python, face buried in his chest has he flailed to find a way to calm her. He had been so startled by the way she melted into him he had not known what to do. He was no longer, he realized, used to experiencing any form of physical contact.

She was tiny. That had been his first, irrelevant observation. Her watery face had only come up to the middle of his chest. She was also surprisingly warm. Holding her felt so different, so very different than holding Eve had felt. His late wife had been nearly as tall as he was, and like him she lacked the blood pumping through her veins to warm her in the night air.

Blood. That was the next, unshakable realization. She was full of throbbing, pulsing blood. Adam could sense it coursing through her, adding a flush to her face and a beat to the chest pressed against his stomach. With her hair piled as it was on top of her head he could see clearly the blue tinted vein running down her long neck. Staring at it, he felt his animal side begin to stir within him.

It had been ten years since Adam had eaten from a living person. On that desperate night in Tangier it had been a matter of life or death, him or the young woman unfortunate enough to cross his path when he was literally starving. He had turned the girl, and Eve had done the same to her lover. They had given them immortality, curse or gift depending on your mindset. In the end, it hadn't mattered. Both of them had died along with Eve when tainted blood had been sold to them. Adam would have been dead too, had he not been out scouring a rare bookshop for a gift for his beloved.

Years later, the proximity of a carotid artery, just there for the taking, caused a physical sensations within him. Adam could feel his fangs fighting to descend. Alarmingly, he could also feel his cock hardening in his jeans. Live feeding was not the only thing he had gone without for years. The small woman in his arms, so helpless and so unaware of her peril, was all but begging to be devoured in all sorts of ways. He could imagine tearing away her clothes and sinking into her, first his cock then his fangs, as he satisfied his cravings upon her unsuspecting body. Had Adam been other than what he was, had he not had all of those centuries with Eve to civilize him, she would have been done for.

Instead, he had clumsily patted her on the back, eyes rolling in his head as he did so. He could not quite bring himself to mouth the platitudes he knew she would expect of him, but he did his best to bite back the sarcasm that was his defensive habit. She had lost someone herself, and while the pain of losing someone known only for one short lifetime could never compare to the loss he had suffered, it still touched a chord within him. He knew the deep, unending pain of love taken too soon.

When at last she had managed to breath regularly again, Adam had quickly walked her back to the hatch that led to her own home. She had uttered a ceaseless string of apologies that he neither wanted nor needed, and he had mumbled something inane in return, sounding for all the world like just another zombie. The relief he felt when he shut the hatch behind her had almost brought him to his knees. And yet...

She had been so very warm. So warm and so alive. Irritating and encroaching, yes, but her questions about his electric system had been intelligent, and her observations startlingly apt. He was used to zombies being disinterested, focused so inward on their own petty problems that they didn't see what was right in front of their faces.

Her face had been pretty, the thought ran through his head. A little older than he had expected at first, though they all seemed young to him. Big eyes, full lips, high, almost elfin cheekbones.

With a growl, Adam stood up and stalked over to the offensive yellow tool bag. He should have left it up on the roof. She would have realized it was missing eventually and gone back up for it. But the skies had looked threatening, and he didn't want her tools to rust. It was a matter of conservation, he assured himself. Not wanting to do something nice for a zombie. Certainly not that.

He obviously was not going to be able to concentrate with the hideous thing in his home. He would take it back over to her. The home she lived in had a double style doorway; if he was lucky the outer door would be open and he could leave it between them. No need to see her again. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into another encounter with her.

Pulling his leather jacket on without bothering with a shirt, Adam grabbed the tool bag and headed for his front door. Best to get this over with. Yanking open the door in his rush, he collided with something soft and with a shock watched the very person he had been hoping to avoid fall backwards off of his front stoop.

"Fuck!" she yelped, as she toppled down.

Adam blinked as she looked up at him from the ground where she sat inelegantly on her ass.

"Are you alright?" he asked as sense returned to him.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she smiled unconvincingly at him. "Luckily I don't have too far to fall."

"I was going out and didn't expect you to be there," he mumbled.

He heard the accusation in his voice, but didn't seem to be able to help it. What the hell had she been doing there?

"Of course not," she blushed. "Um... would you mind?"

She held out her hand and Adam gasped. Her palm was scratched from breaking her fall, and a small pattern of blood was beading up on the skin. Instinctively he took a step back at the same time his head moved forward with a will of its own. The woman looked at him with confusion, and he forced himself calm down. Why the fuck hadn't he put on gloves?

Working hard to control the trembling of his hands, he reached out and helped her to stand. Hyper aware of the siren call of her blood he pulled his hands back as fast as he possibly could, hoping she didn't notice the way they trembled. Fortunately for him she seemed too concentrated on her own discomfort.

"Did you want something?" he asked brusquely when she had gotten her balance back.

"Not really. Well, I mean, yes. To... to apologize. For last night. For crying all over you. Sorry."

"No need," he told her "Forget about it. I have."

"Oh. Well, okay then," she stood for a moment worrying at her lower lip, and he noticed again how full her mouth was. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Out," he said tersely, old habits dying hard. As he saw her flinch, he made his tone soften. "Actually, I was going to see you."

"Really?" he eyes lit up, and Adam felt a panic that he could not place.

"Yes. You left this on the roof last night. I thought you might want it back."

"Oh," she said again, face falling once more. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," he said, grimacing. Why was she just standing there? "Well, see you."

"Yeah," she blinked up at him.

"Alright then."

Honestly, wasn't she ever going to move? Giving up, Adam gave her the closest he could muster to a half smile and turned back inside, shutting the door behind him in her face.

Only when the wood was solid between them did he shakily raise his hand in front of his face. There, crimson in the dim light of his apartment, was a smear of her blood. Unable to control himself any longer, he brought his hand to his mouth and desperately sucked the sticky liquid off, moaning with the taste of it. So fresh, so pure, so sweet.

Falling back on the sofa conveniently behind him, he realized he was hard again. Licking to make sure he had gotten every last drop, he stroked himself with his other hand. If he was picturing a certain set of wide eyes and lush lips, it was only because their owner's blood was still hot in his mouth. There could not possibly be any other reason.

***

Well, that had been an unmitigated disaster.

Lilly held the bag of frozen peas to her ass and tried not to dwell on how thoroughly she had humiliated herself. If that was an example of her improving her image she obviously needed to never leave the house again. She was not fit to be around other people. Certainly not fit to be around someone so flawless as her neighbor.

Good lord, when he had walked out the door and into her, it was like being hit with a load of bricks. Lying there on her backside staring up at him, Lilly had been almost stuck dumb by the sight. She had thought he was beautiful from a distance, or in the dark light of the roof. Standing as he was in a halo of porch light he was almost god-like. It did not help that his black leather jacket was parted to reveal a very well muscled chest and abdomen. Lilly's eyes traveled the length of him from the bob of his adam's apple, over his defined pecs and six pack, and down to the thin trail of hair and the vee that drew her eyes past the edge of his low slung jeans.

Sweet bajeebas, but he was perfect. She was hardly the same species. What had she been thinking?

The playing began sometime later that night, around midnight. Lilly was hunched of a jigsaw puzzle she had found in a cupboard. Her Grandmother had loved to do them, and Lilly had caught the bug. She had lost count of the number of nights she had stayed up obsessively putting them together, unable to go to bed until she had found just one more piece, only to see the sun rise as she finished it.

The wail of a guitar came through the wall, sounding plaintive and introspective. Lilly had been drawn to all of the music she had heard from him so far. His melodies were complex, and he seemed to favor minor keys. Her Grandmother would have liked it as well. No doubt she had enjoyed hearing the strains come through the thin walls. Certainly she would have preferred it to the fighting and drunken antics of the students that had always assailed them before.

Lilly found herself humming along to his playing. She loved music, even if she was self-conscious of her voice. Having a Grandmother who had made a career of crooning songs in smoky clubs made her all too aware of her own deficiency.

There was something so comforting about music. It was almost mathematical in the way it worked. Patterns created and repeated, only to be subverted and return in a new and unexpected ways. If the composer was good, that was. Her neighbor was very good.

Of course he would be good. God forbid he be less than perfect at anything.

So when he kept reaching the end of a delicate passage, only to end on a note that didn't quite resolve the phrase. Lilly could hear the frustration in his fingers clearly through the layers of sheet rock that separated them. At first it amused her; so he was fallible after all. Good. She allowed herself to take a superior pleasure in his failure.

By the time it was approaching two in the morning, she was ready to scream. She was over halfway done with her puzzle - a scene of Paris at night, all lit up - but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Her gorgeous, grouchy neighbor must have played through the piece a hundred times, and every time it ended wrong. It was driving her insane. He was so close to finishing it. Every time he hit the not quite right note she felt her entire body twitch. She could only imagine how he was feeling.

It started one more time. Lilly held her breath, willing him to find what was right there, waiting to be put in place. The final phrase started, she scrunched her face, waiting to hear it fixed. The note he played was achingly close, but not quite what the song cried out for.

"Half a step lower!" she screamed out, unable to resist any longer.

The music stopped. Everything went silent on the other side of the wall. Now she had done it. Lilly could see him, glaring at the wall with that intense, closed off set of blue eyes. She was inordinately happy now that a solid hunk of material kept them apart. Any hope of a friendship developing between her and her haughty crush had surely been dashed now. And all because she could not control her stupid impulses.

After a stretch that seemed like forever, a length of time where Lilly died and was forced back into existence repeatedly, the music started up again. She made herself a small lump in the corner of her sofa, as if somehow she could hide even though it was impossible for him to see her. If she could have fit below the cushions she would have.

He reached to end and after the slightest of pauses he played the note she had suggested. It sounded perfect. The chord rang out, slowly fading, and she felt a small smile fighting to exist on her lips.

The music stopped abruptly again, and for the rest of the night only silence greeted her through the wall between them.

#olla #olla fic #Adam #adam olla #Tom Hiddleston #Fic #fan fic #angst #vampires #mentions of death #grief #slow burn #eventual smut #pining #crush #music #romance #some swearing

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deja-you · 4 years ago

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foreign affairs | part three | d.c.

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: In 2020, Representative Y/n L/n is up for reelection. Lafayette, Y/n’s former best friend and current French socialite and playboy, decides this is the time to walk back into her life.

word count: 5.3k

author’s note: this is the last chapter of this series! it’s been so much fun writing this for you guys, hope you’ve enjoyed it. fair warning, this chapter/ending is pretty melancholic.

trailer | previous

Although his grandmother had wanted him to be, Lafayette wasn’t Catholic.

Like any other Parisian, he might attend a special Christmas or Easter service, but he wouldn’t call himself a Catholic. His grandmother had always wanted him to be more devout in his faith. Since his father had died when he was young and his mother was a young woman just starting off her political career, his grandmother raised him for the most part.

She was an organist and would play for different churches every weekend, never finding a church she liked well enough to stay very long. His grandmother had even taught Lafayette to play a few songs. At one point, she had bought Lafayette a crucifix on a chain to keep with him.

It wasn’t one of those cool, sleek chains you would see people wearing proudly. It was a silver chain with dark beads on it, something you might see an old lady wearing. A silver chain with a tiny Jesus on a tiny cross. He had lost it almost immediately.

Lafayette had always had a habit of misplacing items. In high school, he had conveniently lost his homework on multiple occasions. He was always losing just one half of a pair of socks. Could you imagine how stupid he looked walking around with one black sock and one white sock on? He couldn’t even remember how many times he had woken up hungover with no idea of where his wallet or keys were.

The point is, Lafayette was a grown man who was used to losing things. Yet, no matter how many items he lost, he still wasn’t prepared to lose Y/n.

And yes, he knew it was all his fault. Everything seemed to be his fault these days. Lafayette wasn’t even denying that he had made another huge mistake. What kind of idiot sleeps with the secretary of the girl he was in love with? Seriously, why did I write such an idiot?

It had been eight years since Paris. After all this time, Lafayette was just as proficient at destroying his relationship with Y/n as he had been when they were younger. You would think that he would learn from his mistakes, or Y/n would have been able to forgive him, but no. Maybe they were young and stupid then, but they were still very much young and very much stupid.

Lafayette had made a stupid decision. If it hadn’t been clear to him the night before, it was blatantly apparent to him the next morning while Sybil was getting dressed.

“Last night was a mistake.” He cringed at his words as soon as he said them. Last time he had woken up next to a girl and told her it was a mistake, it didn’t go so well.

“Not in a bad way, I mean,” Lafayette quickly amended. “I am sorry, was that rude to say?”

Sybil gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read. “No, it’s alright. I agree with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “it was unprofessional, and by the looks of it, it didn’t help you get whoever she is off your mind.”

Lafayette rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking at the bed or the floor or the window or at anyone but her. “You are right. I just... Anyway, this can’t happen again.”

“No, never. It was a bad idea to begin with,” Sybil muttered.

There was a silence that fell between them, neither of them knowing what to say until Lafayette awkwardly said, “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Right, right. Are you going to Congresswoman L/n’s election night party?” It was more of a way to fill the silence than actual curiosity.

At the reminder of Y/n, Lafayette had to stop him self from outwardly groaning, but he couldn’t help but grimace. If things with her hadn’t been messed up before, they definitely would be now.

“I should attend that, shouldn’t I? I’m just not sure Y/n will want me there.”

“You are a major donor,” Sybil pointed out. “It would make sense. If you and the Congresswoman don’t get along, why do you come around the office so often and make contributions?”

He didn’t even know how to respond to that, and his silence was telling. Suddenly everything clicked for Sybil. The frequent visits to Congresswoman L/n’s office. The disappointment on his face when she had told him Y/n specifically didn’t want to talk to him. The woman Sybil had asked him about last night. The way he called her by her first name.

“Oh no. The woman you’re in love with is Congresswoman L/n, isn’t it?” Sybil pieced it together.

Lafayette’s mouth hung open silently, his eyes told her she was correct.

“I never would have kissed you if I had known. I never would have done a lot of things with you if I had known. My boss? Please tell me I’m wrong about this.”

“You’re not.”

She groaned. “And it was so obvious, wasn’t it?”

“It’s obvious?”

“Of course! How did I not realize until now? I don’t want to get in the middle of anything, I just didn’t know.”

“You’re not getting in the middle of anything.” Lafayette shook his head. “I ruined any chance I had with Y/n long before last night. I really think she wants me out of her life this time. I should get on the next plane back to France, shouldn’t I?”

“Are you asking me, your one night stand, for advice?” Sybil said. “Not going to lie, this is a first for me. You’re going to miss the election night party if you leave.”

“Does it matter if I go to this event? Y/n doesn’t want to be with me, showing up to a party isn’t going to change that.”

“Look,” Sybil said firmly, “if you really love her, does it really matter if she wants to be with you or not? If you love her, you should want what’s best for her and her career, even if that means she still doesn’t want to be with you.”

He bit his cheek and thought her words over. “I get that, it’s just...”

“It’s your decision. Regardless of whatever happened between the two of you, she could use your support at the election party. Think about it, okay?”

John Adams was going to win the race, he had been ahead in the polls for weeks now. Thomas Jefferson had run an admirable campaign, well, as admirable as a campaign could be that outwardly trashed congress members in the media. Y/n never took his insults personally, even though she knew Jefferson wanted her to.

Tonight she wasn’t going to let thoughts of Jefferson get her down, even though the news anchors on the television would continuously bring him up. Tonight was going to be a big win for the Democratic party. Jefferson was trailing Adams in electoral votes, and there were only a few states left to be accounted for.

Y/n has spent most of the night talking with voters and showing off some of her bartending skills at the venue they had rented out for the election party. She was having a lively conversation with a single-mom when Lafayette walked in the door. Suddenly, it was like she had tunnel vision. Everyone else was dark and blurry, but everything about Lafayette seemed to be vibrant and in focus.

Since the last time she had seen him, Y/n had been doing her best not to waste her time thinking about him. Not that it was an easy task to do, Lafayette had a way of being memorable. Still, Y/n had bigger things to focus on than an old flame.

Now election night had finally rolled around. No politician was bothering Y/n because they were too focused on the presidential election or their own reelections. And at this time at night, the polls in Y/n’s district had closed. There was no more campaigning she could do at this moment, so she had nothing to distract her from her former best friend who was staring at her from the other side of the room.

Saying a brief apology to the woman she was talking to, Y/n began weaving her way through the crowd until she was standing a foot a way from Lafayette. Her red lips formed a cordial smile, and to any onlooker, it looked like a kind greeting between two acquaintances.

“I didn’t think you would show up,” Y/n said cooly.

He bit the inside of his cheek and tilted his head to the said ever so slightly. “I almost didn’t. I know things have been awkward between us lately, but I wanted to show my support for your success. No matter what happens between us, I’m always going to have your back Y/n.”

Her mouth parted slightly, a little surprised and touched by his response. When she didn’t respond, Lafayette quickly added on, “but I can always leave if you don’t want me here.”

“No, no.” She closed her mouth and shook her head. “No, stay. I want you to stay.”

A small smile began making its way across Lafayette’s features. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Nathan had appeared at Y/n’s shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Nathan said, adjusting his glasses. “Good to see you could make it, Monsieur de Lafayette. You think I could borrow the Congresswoman for a moment?” He turned to face Y/n. “They’re about to call your election.”

“Of course, I’ll see you around, Lafayette.” She gave him another smile before Nathan ushered her to the front of the room where a local newscaster was announcing the results for her district.

The room went quiet and the volume on the tv was turned up. The anchor smiled at the camera and announced, “...and it looks like Representative Y/n L/n has won her reelection campaign by a large margin. Horatio Gates trailed the congresswoman by...”

Y/n wouldn’t know how much she had beaten Horatio Gates by until the next moment. Everything after the anchor announced she had won reelection went unheard. An upbeat victory song had begun playing somewhere in the room, yelling and cheering warmed Y/n from her toes up to her head. Her mouth hung open for the longest time, and before she knew it, she was pulling the nearest person, Nathan, into a tight hug.

At some point, reporters had swarmed the venue and Y/n began giving out answers to all the questions they threw at her. There were a lot of congratulations and thank yous going around, and Y/n nearly lost herself in all the wonderful chaos. There was more wonderful chaos when John Adams was announced the next president of the United States later that evening, but Y/n hadn’t even been given enough time to soak in her own victory.

Don't follow men out to the street at 3 a.m.

The election party officially ended at midnight, but that didn't stop people from staying for a few more hours. At 3 a.m. there were maybe five people left at the party. Now that most people were gone Lafayette decided he would approach Y/n one last time.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure I congratulated you on your win again before I head back to France,” he said.

Y/n blinked. “You’re going home?”

“Early tomorrow morning.”

Y/n’s mouth hung open slightly, but she didn't say anything. Lafayette gave her a thin smile, a polite nod, and then headed out the door.

He had already exited the venue when Y/n processed what had happened. Not heeding my earlier warning, she followed Lafayette out onto the street at 3:00 a.m.

“So that's it, then, is it?” She called after him. “That’s the end?”

He turned around and raised an eyebrow. “The end of what?”

“The end of us. You're just going to leave?”

“Us? What do you want me to say, Y/n? That I regret what I did? That I'm sorry? Because I've already tried that.” He sounded exhausted. “You are just tormenting me now. Do you know how much this is hurting me?”

“You?” Y/n couldn't believe he was acting like the victim. “This is all on you. I can't count how many times you’ve hurt me

“What, you think I don't know that I messed up? You think I don’t regret the decisions I made every day?” Lafayette ran a hand through his hair. “Chèrie, I've used every kind of soap I have, and I still don't feel clean.”

The raw honesty in his words struck both of him deeply. A heavy silence settled between them. Eventually Lafayette reached into his pocket and pulled out two items. He desperately thrusted the objects into her open palm.

“I've been holding on to those for years. I don't want to keep them any longer.”

Y/n looked at the items he had given her. One was an old, worn ticket from a concert. The other item was a necklace. The one she had worn on their one shared night together. Y/n thought she had lost it and never expected to see it again.

“I dated lots of women when I was younger,” he admitted. “It never ended well. I've never been good at being sincere. Every relationship I've been in I ruined. You want to know why we never dated? Because I loved you. To the moon and back.”

“To the moon and back?” She repeated.

He nodded. “I loved you since I've known you. I couldn't let you be another girl I ruin things with. I guess everyone knew we were in love with each other except for us. Even Molly figured it out. That's why we broke up.

“Why didn't we ever tell each other?”

“We were just kids,” he suggested. “We spent all our time watching lovers in rom-coms tell each other what we were too afraid to tell ourselves.”

Y/n stared at the items she held in her hand. She let the ticket and the necklace fall from her hand onto the dark street below.

“This doesn't change anything.” She shook her head. “You walk in dreams. Dreams of what once was, what could have been, and what never will be. You hold onto the tangible things a ticket stub from our first concert, the necklace I lost years ago. You hold onto these objects because they make your dreams feel a little more real. Something you can touch or see, but in the end? It's all in your head.”

“What are you saying, Y/n?”

“Lafayette, I don’t doubt for a second that you loved me. Maybe you still love me. It’s just not enough to make up for all the ways we’ve hurt each other. I’m tired of being hurt, okay?” Y/n tugged at the sleeves of her coat, trying to find the words to tell him what needed to be said. “I’m finally happy and successful. I’m changing the world.”

“I knew you would. I always knew you would.”

In the next few months, Y/n would replay that evening again and again in her mind until it would drive her to the brink of madness. “Out of sight, out of mind” was a proverb Y/n wouldn’t understand until four months after the election night, when the words Lafayette had spoken to her on the street seemed like an eternity ago. When a year passed, that night seemed almost like a figment of her imagination now.

Besides, Y/n didn’t have a lot of time to think about events that had conspired over a year ago now. She had legislation to pass and funding to allocate. There was never a slow day in D.C.

“Y/n, you saw what Fox News said about you this morning?” Nathan asked, setting down a cup of coffee.

More focused on the steaming cup of coffee that had been set down in front of her than anything Nathan had said, she gave him a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. Was it anything new?”

Nathan considered for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not really. They were just informing the public that you’re a radical leftist who wants to abolish ICE and free healthcare for all.”

Y/n scoffed. “They figured out I wan’t to keep families together and take care of the health of millions of American citizens? Oh no.”

“You’re not bothered by any of this?”

“Well, they’re not wrong? By all definitions, I am a radical leftist.” She shrugged and pulled the warm cup of coffee closer to her. “Besides, anyone who’s watching Fox News already has a biased opinion toward me. We’ve got bigger things to worry about, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed. “For one thing, France announced its support for your foreign aid bill. If your bill gets passed, they pledged to match whatever amount we’re spending on foreign aid.”

This seemed to wake Y/n up in a way that her coffee just couldn’t. “Really? That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve lined an interview up for you and a French diplomat in an hour downtown. You ready to go?”

Y/n sat up straight in her chair. “You really sprung this on me! Nathan, I haven’t had anytime to prep.”

He rolled his eyes and handed her a thick binder. “It’ll just be a few questions, mostly just to show the public a picture of you and a French official side by side. You can handle any questions, you wrote the damn bill. Besides, we can prep in the car.”

Y/n figured she had no points left to argue, likely Nathan’s intention. Begrudgingly, she followed Nathan out to the front of the building and they got into the backseat of the car. They began going back and forth, Nathan asking her questions on the foreign aid bill, and Y/n responding with well articulated answers.

“See? I told you you had nothing to worry about,” Nathan said in the elevator, finally closing the binder.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “That’s because I’m just magnificent and well-spoken.”

“Yes, yes you are. You’re going to kill this interview.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. They began walking over to a small hair and makeup set up, and Y/n froze when she saw who was already on set laughing with the interviewer. She turned on her heel and jabbed a finger into Nathan’s chest.

“You didn’t tell me Lafayette was the French diplomat!” She hissed.

Nathan’s mouth fell open in mock surprise. “Did I forget to mention that to you? How silly of me.”

“Nathan, I swear to God. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I had known Lafayette would be here!”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t tell you, huh?”

Y/n scowled at him. “I haven’t spoken to him in over a year, and last time we spoke, well...”

“I know you’re not on the best terms. Maybe this will help bury the hatchet.” Nathan suggested.

“Nathan, we need to can--”

“Oh dear, it seems I’m getting a call. I should really take this. I’ll see you back at the office, Y/n.” He motioned to his phone that was clearly not ringing and retreated back to the elevator.

After quietly cursing Nathan under her breath, Y/n resigned to her fate and allowed for some intern to touch up her hair and makeup. When they were done, she was ushered onto set in a seat next to Lafayette and across from their interviewer, J.P. Martin.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Congresswoman L/n.” J.P. Martin said with a disarming grin. “I’m glad you could make it to this interview on such short notice.”

She forced a smile, “thank you for letting me discuss my foreign aid bill.”

Y/n could feel Lafayette’s lingering gaze on her skin, but she refused to take her eyes off the interviewer in front of her. J.P. Martin said something else flattering that Y/n didn’t take to heart, then someone on the crew began to count down, then they were rolling.

“Today I’m joined with Representative Y/n L/n and Ambassador Lafayette to discuss L/n’s foreign aid bill,” J.P. looked straight into the camera with a wide grin. “Before we get into the details of all that, it’s my understanding that Representative L/n and Ambassador Lafayette have a history. Is this true?”

She froze in her chair. How had this interviewer find out what happened between her and Lafayette? Would this be a scandal she found in the newspaper the next morning? In all the time she had taken with Nathan to prep for this interview, she was already caught off guard by the first question.

“Yes, this is very true. Y/n and I go way back. We met when she was studying abroad in Paris and quickly became close friends,” Lafayette said. Y/n finally glanced over at him, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

“Well how about that?” J.P. directed his next question at Y/n. “Was it intimidating being friends with President de La Rivière’s son?”

Y/n was feeling more relaxed now after the initial shock. “At first, yes. Of course it was. I’m pretty sure I tripped over my feet the first time I met President de La Rivière.”

“You didn’t!” J.P. said with an amused gasp.

Lafayette chuckled and nodded. “She did. I remember my mother asking me afterwards why I was friends with that awkward American.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” J.P. was positively beaming.

“I think my mother understands now that Y/n is the youngest woman serving in the United States Congress,” Lafayette was subtlety pointing out Y/n’s accomplishments. “And speaking as her son and an official ambassador from France, I can confidently say President de La Rivière was impressed with Y/n’s foreign aid bill.”

“So impressed that the French government has promised to match the amount the U.S. is spending if the bill gets passed.” J.P. turned to face Y/n, his expression turning more serious. “Tell me, Congresswoman, why do we need to increase the amount of money we spend on foreign aid? We’re already spending 39.2 billion on foreign aid.”

Y/n smiled when he asked this. Really smiled. These were the kind of questions she had prepared to answer, and she knew she had Lafayette to thank for the topic change. “J.P., most Americans think 10% of government spending should be spent on foreign aid.”

“Yes, that seems reasonable,” J.P. nodded.

“39.2 billion might seem like a big number,” Y/n continued, “but that’s less than one percent of our federal budget.”

“Is that true?”

The rest of the interview went fairly well. Y/n had intelligent answers to each question J.P. asked, and Lafayette was there to assure J.P. that France was in full support of Y/n’s bill. Before she knew it, J.P. was saying they were out of time and thanking both her and Lafayette for coming to the interview.

The crew began to disperse quickly once the interview had commenced. Now that the interview was over, the realization that Lafayette was standing beside her begun to sink in. She loved the idea of walking off the set and never seeing him again, but unfortunately, they were both headed in the direction of the singular elevator.

“I assume you’re going to the lobby as well?” Lafayette asked, pressing the down button on the elevator.

Y/n nodded. “I am.”

The elevator opened and Lafayette gestured for her to step in first before following behind her. They stood in silence for a moment. Y/n hated how slow this elevator was moving, a fact that she hadn’t noticed on the ride up.

Finally, Y/n caved and she spoke to fill the silence. “I didn’t know you were back in the United States.”

He gave her a sideways look, doing his best to hide a smile. “I’m the French Ambassador to the United States now, Y/n. Did you really not know that?”

She clicked her head and shrugged. “I might’ve read it somewhere, I guess I just forgot. I’m a busy person.”

“Oh, I know.”

Y/n turned to face Lafayette and considered him for a moment. “I suppose you’re a busy person as well, now. How’d you get this gig, nepotism?”

Lafayette laughed and leaned against the wall of the elevator. “Believe it or not, I’m extremely qualified. I’ve served as a representative for France in the EU for a couple years, worked in the state department, long with other places.”

The elevator finally opened up to the lobby, but now Y/n wasn’t ready to end their conversation. “Huh. I guess I forgot that you’re actually a pretty intelligent person under all those layers.”

“Layers of what?” He asked with an amused grin.

“Layers of stupidity.” Y/n shrugged.

Lafayette chuckled and held the door open for her. “I guess that’s fair.”

“It’s more than fair,” Y/n sighed. She looked back at him over her shoulder. “So what is it that ambassadors actually do? I’ve always been curious.”

“A lot of ceremonial gifts and handshakes,” Lafayette admitted. “But very important handshakes. I met with President Adams last week, and I’m headed to meet with Washington at Mount Vernon now.”

“Sounds luxurious. Maybe I should’ve considered becoming an ambassador if it meant I get to spend time with President Washington.”

He paused. “Well, meeting with Washington is more for personal reasons than anything to do with being an ambassador.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/n raised an eyebrow. “I forgot you were best friends with every prominent American.”

“You’re not wrong,” he grinned. “Can’t help it that everyone loves me. Democrats and Republicans. I’m planning to have dinner with Jefferson next month. And I used to be best friends with the illustrious Representative Y/n L/n.”

His words were teasing, but he noticed when Y/n tensed when he said “used to be.” She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, Lafayette cleared his throat and asked, “What’s next for you?”

She considered him for a moment before responding earnestly. “The Oval Office, eventually.”

“Really?”

“Are you surprised?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not really. I always knew you were destined for great things, Y/n.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yes, in fact,” Lafayette reached into his pocket and took out a checkbook and a pen. “Let me be one of the first investors to your presidential campaign.”

He handed her the check he had just written. Y/n stared at the check she had been handed, still not entirely processing the extra zero written on the dotted line.

“Is this a joke?”

“No, it takes a lot of money to run for president.”

“I know that, but why would you…” She trailed off, then narrowed her eyes as a thought occurred to her. “This is just you trying to win me over by spending absurd amounts of time and money on things you don’t actually care about. I’ve seen this before.”

“You’ve seen what?”

“This exact scene.” Looking around seemed to solidify Y/n’s conception. They were standing on a sidewalk. Maybe Y/n and been young and naïve in the past, but now she knew how to recognize patterns. She recognized this one. How many times before had the pair of them ended up on a sidewalk together? And how had it ended for Y/n each time?

She counted five times now. The first was the day she had met him. It was Paris, and he had a completely disarming smile that made Y/n trust him immediately.

The next time it was late, both of them were drunk, and they were laughing in the dark while they waited for a cab to drive by.

The third time was in New York, ice cream cones in both of their hands and heartbreak on the agenda. That night she had remembered especially well.

The fourth had been about a year ago now, and although she had tried to forget it, it had been burned into the back of her mind like a scar that would never heal.

This would be the fifth time, and this time she knew better.

Each sidewalk rendezvous went the same way. Every time. And worse yet, they always ended the same.

“What is this scene?” Lafayette asked, genuinely confused.

“It starts innocent enough, doesn’t it? Just two friends on a sidewalk. But this is how it goes,” she laid out the scene for him. “You’ll reach into your pocket and pull out a cigarette. I’ll tell you how unhealthy it is, but you’ll smoke anyway. We’ll smile and laugh, until it gets to the point where we don’t want to be friends anymore. Then you’ll lean in and kiss me, or, at least, I’ll be wishing you’d kiss me.

Not such a bad scene, is it? Except every time it ends the same. You’ll wake up in someone else’s bed and break my heart. I’m just so tired of letting you do this to me! I’ve finally figured you out, and it’s not going to happen again. You’re my best friend, Lafayette, but I can’t keep letting you hurt me.”

When she had finished her rant, a quietness settled between the two of them. Lafayette watched her carefully, waiting to see if she had anything else to say, but it seemed that she had gotten everything off her chest now.

“That’s not what’s going to happen this time,” he finally said.

She looked into his eyes to figure out if she really believed him. Did she really want to believe him? “No? How can you be sure?”

“There are a few things in your “Lafayette breaks Y/n’s heart” equation that have changed. First of all, I stopped smoking a while ago,” he informed her.

Y/n was beyond surprised. For as long as she had known him, he had always been a smoker. It was part of his personality and was synonymous with his name. If there were two things that she was sure she could count on, it would be Lafayette smoking cigarettes and breaking her heart. Had he really quit?

“Second,” Lafayette continued on, “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“You’re not?” She almost sounded disappointed.

“Not this time. We learned our lesson, didn’t we?” He sighed, adjusted his jacket, and let his eyes fall to the cement at his feet. “You’ve ruined me. I’m never going to be able to love anyone the way I love you. And God, I love you so much.”

His heart felt heavy, like it was sinking further and further into his chest and he didn’t know if he would be able to find it again. There was a moment of silence to mourn something that had been lost. “You know I love you. You know that, right?”

Another certain truth. “Of course I do.”

“Good. I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t know. I love you, and I can’t tell you how much I hate that that isn’t enough.”

She smiled. The kind of smile you give when you know that something lovely is coming to an end. Sometimes there is nothing you can do but smile.

His voice was tender when he spoke again. “No one ever told me that being in love would hurt this much. Am I a sadist for wanting to love you more?”

“No, darling, you’re just a romantic. That’s the worst we could be.”

Lafayette nodded because he couldn’t find it inside himself to smile. His town car showed up to take him to the airport at that moment. He bit the inside of his cheek, considering the different things he had enough time to say. Lafayette shook his head when he came to the decision that there was nothing left to say. He had already made it to the car and opened the door when he changed his mind.

“You know,” Y/n addressed Lafayette once more. “This might be crazy, but no matter what happened between us, I always thought it would be you and I in the end.”

Lafayette paused and pulled away from the car. He hesitated before making his way to Y/n. He gently held her chin between two fingers, looking her deep in her eyes as if he was searching for her soul.

“To the moon and back, remember?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then parted from her and got in the waiting car.

Not everyone gets the fairytale ending you see in movies. But they loved. Really loved. And that was enough.

Real love isn’t like the movies. No, it’s painful and warm and terribly strong. Mostly it’s good.

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7-wonders · 4 years ago

Text

The Thrill of the Chase

Summary: Your path once again crosses with Michael’s, this time under much more dire circumstances. Life and death, specifically yours, has suddenly never been more prevalent in your mind.

Word Count: 2602

A/N: Hey y’all, this takes place after Lost In the Shadows! We’ve been talking a lot of True Blood on here lately, and when I wrote this sort of situation with Eric Northman, somebody said they could imagine this with Michael. Hence, this new work. I hope you enjoy, and please remember that likes, comments, and reblogs are what makes my world go round.

In the weeks since you had discovered that vampires are not just a myth written about in romantic novels and scary stories, and that your boss, Michael Langdon, was the first vampire and the Antichrist, life had been quieter than you were expecting. After luring Michael to your lab and forcing him to tell you about vampires, you had thought that he was going to make you go missing or force you to swear that you would remain silent. To your surprise, however, he gave you space. You had seen him multiple times since the incident had occurred, but every time he kept his distance, choosing to greet you with a simple smile before moving on to whatever a vampire CEO needs to do.

Maybe this is some predatory habit of vampires, where they bait their prey before backing off and driving them mad with anticipation before striking. If it is, you would rather Michael get whatever he’s planning over with. This wait, whether it be for something or nothing, is starting to affect your work.

Speaking of work, it’s then that you shake yourself out of your thoughts and realize nearly an hour has passed since the typical work day ends. You sigh, running a hand through your hair and looking disdainfully at the paperwork that still litters your desk. Some days, being head of R&D has its perks. Others, when you have to sift through hundreds of funding requests from developers just as idiotic as Jeff and Mutt, make you want to walk out and never come back. You doubt you’d find a job with health insurance as good as Kineros’s, though.

Deciding that a walk to clear your head will do you some good, you stand and relish in the popping noise that your shoulders make when you stretch. The building’s your favorite when it’s almost completely empty, the comforting silence a perfect work environment. Greeting one of the custodians as she mops the hall in the direction away from your lab/office, you decide to walk downstairs to give her uninterrupted time to clean without you getting in the way.

Eventually, and like always, you end up down at the main lab that Jeff and Mutt inhabit. You’ve made it a habit to come and check that everything is turned off and put back where it’s supposed to be, not trusting two men constantly high on cocaine to properly dispose of used chemicals and turn off the power source to loose wires. After getting on them numerous times about proper lab etiquette, they’ve actually become quite vigilant. Tonight, however, you can already see a bunsen burner that looks like it’s still on. While concerning, it’s not a disastrous situation. It’s not, at least, until you turn the light on and notice the ethanol-soaked rag right next to the open gas source.

That’s when the explosion happens.

It’s a perfect storm, with a combustible chemical having had plenty of time to oxidize next to a natural gas source. The heat emanating from the fluorescent lights that you turn on act as the catalyst, and you only have time to cover your eyes as the light from the rapidly-expanding flame warns you milliseconds before the explosion reaches your ears. The sheer force of velocity is enough to throw you across the room, with the all-glass interior proving no match as every surface shatters. Everything is happening so fast, yet it seems as though it’s in slow motion, an out of body experience in which you’re a passive observer watching what’s happening to you. Maybe you are having an out of body experience, since the bouncing of your head against the wall is something that you’re pretty sure knocks you out.

It’s unclear how much time has passed when you hear a voice calling your name. Long enough that the flames have started smoldering under the water of the fire alarms. You blink rapidly, trying to get your eyes to focus again. Finally, Michael Langdon comes into view. If you weren’t in a state of shock, you’d be mildly upset that of course the vampire whom you threatened last week is the one to come upon you in a state of mortal peril. Since you are dealing with a bit of shock, you can only stare at him in disbelief.

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” You nod. “What happened?”

“Cokeheads...chemicals...bunsen burner…” Damn, that sounded way more eloquent in your head. Your inability to string together a full sentence means a concussion is almost certain.

“Those fucking imbeciles,” Michael says lowly, eyes scanning you to catalogue the extent of your injuries. His eyes are dark red with veins extending to his cheeks, startling you just as much as the previous time you saw this side of him. What startles you even more is just how easily he bites into his own wrist to let blood flow, holding it out to you expectantly.

“No, I don’t wanna be a vampire.” You try to move away from Michael, but you’re in too much pain for even that.

Although your words come out slurred and confused, Michael still understands you. “You won’t, I promise. It’s a very specific ritual, and there’s not even a chance of you becoming a vampire from this. Please, just take my blood and let me heal you.”

Later, you’ll wonder if Michael had done some sort of vampire mind trick on you. That’s the only way you can justify taking his blood with so little hesitation. Regardless of the reasons why, the earnesty in his voice tells you that he’s being truthful.

Michael leans over you, slipping a hand around the back of your neck to help you up as you lower your mouth to the open wound on his wrist. While you grimace at the metallic taste when Michael’s blood first pools in your mouth, the taste changes to something much more pleasant. It’s like a new cocktail that you get at a bar; you’re not too sure of whether or not you like it, but you know that it tastes good.

By the time you notice that your head feels clearer, Michael’s deemed that you’re fully healed. To your muted horror, you realize that you don’t want to pull away, but Michael gently forces you off of him. His inquisitive eyes look you over once more, and he uses his thumb to wipe stray blood off of your lips.

“You healed me. Why?” Your head is reeling with how fast events have been moving in the span of just a few minutes, yet the one clear question you have is why Michael healed you when he could have just as easily killed you.

“Why not?”

“Well...because…”

“Are you feeling better?” Michael decides to take pity on your bewilderment, switching the subject.

“Oh!” Now that he mentions it, you do feel better. You can think in full sentences now, and the dull ache in your head has disappeared. While you hadn’t seen any cuts on your body, the thin lines of blood left behind on your arms prove that there were wounds from the broken glass. “I am, actually.”

“You sound surprised. Did you not think that it would work?”

Laughing sheepishly, you shrug. “I mean, not really.”

You look around, just now seeing the destruction around you. “You think Jeff and Mutt have insurance that covers gross negligence?”

“Oh, they’ll be paying for this out of their own pockets. They’re lucky that I won’t have them criminally charged for any of this.” Sirens sound in the distance, and Michael pulls you up from out of the rubble. “Come, the authorities will be here soon.”

“Wait!” Michael allows you to pull him to a stop. “What do I even tell the police? I’m sure there’s security footage of me getting knocked out.”

“Conveniently, the cameras were knocked out due to the explosion.” Michael winks at you before disappearing like he was never at the scene, leaving you to stand among the carnage as authorities swarm what was once a laboratory.

It’s light out when you wake up after your whirlwind night, which is what you first recognize as odd. When you arrived home last night, you don’t remember falling asleep. The next thing that can be categorized as odd is the tall, blond vampiric Antichrist standing in the middle of your bedroom. You scramble up on the bed with a surprised gasp, pulling your blankets up to your chin and staring at Michael’s smirking face.

“What--how are you here? I never invited you in.”

“A common misconception about vampires.” Michael slowly approaches the bed, his languid movements reminding you of the predator that he is.

“But what about the fact that it’s light out? Shouldn’t you be a pile of ash right now?”

“I am not the final word of vampire lore.” He kind of is, and you would retort with that, if it weren’t for the way he crawls towards you. “Your heart is beating very fast.”

“That’s because I’m not sure if you’re gonna eat me.”

“Potentially, but not in the way that you’re thinking.” If Michael couldn’t hear your heart beating before, he surely can now, especially once he leans in and kisses you.

You’ve been kissed before, enough times that you would consider yourself pretty knowledgeable about the subject. If you know a bit about kissing, then Michael Langdon is an expert on it. He manages to be sensual, yet rough at the same time, a fang nicking your bottom lip and making you shudder in surprise. Just as quickly as the droplet of blood can bead up to the surface, Michael’s licked it away, moaning at the taste of your blood.

“I don’t know how I’ve managed to go so long between tasting you,” Michael mutters against your skin, using his skill to quickly remove the shirt that you had been sleeping in.

You’re not self-conscious at Michael seeing you topless, which is unusual for you. Maybe it’s just because he knows how to treat a person right, but it’s impossible to even have those thoughts when the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen is currently kissing his way down your abdomen. Michael’s fingers ghost over the top of your pants, and you thread your fingers through his hair in response. Then, there’s a loud knock on the door.

Sitting up in bed, you’re disoriented when you realize that it’s not light out, and you don’t have a gorgeous blond vampire on top of you. Somebody knocks on the door again, and you realize that must be what woke you up from your extremely vivid, extremely wonderful dream.

“I’m coming,” you say in the loudest voice you can muster, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders to combat the cold air that the open door will let in. “Michael!”

Either this is the weirdest inception-like dream you’ve ever had, or the man you were just having a sex dream about is standing at your door. “Hello, (Y/N). I hope you won’t be too upset that I woke you at this hour.”

“Uh, you’re fine.” You open the door wider to allow Michael to enter, but he just continues to stand in the same spot. “Do I...have to invite you in? Like, is that a real thing with vampires?”

“No, I just prefer to be polite and not barge into somebody’s home without their permission.” You smirk. Of course that myth would come from the overly-polite Antichrist.

“Come in, Michael.”

“Thank you.” He steps in, quickly appraising the entryway of your apartment with the detached air of someone who’s been in homes much grander than this (he probably has; you’ve seen a couple of portraits of the French court at Versailles with a blond lord who looks suspiciously like Michael). “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“That would be a question I have.”

“Well, I realized that I had forgotten to mention something about taking vampire blood when injured.”

“And you couldn’t wait until the next time that you saw me to tell me this? Wait, how did you even find my address?”

“I’m the CEO, I have everybody’s records.”

“So, what did you have to tell me?”

“I’m assuming, since you were asleep, that you had a pretty...imaginative dream about me?”

The blood drains from your face. “How did you know about that?”

“I was so wrapped up in saving you, and the commotion that followed, that I didn’t get to tell you that a human drinking a vampire’s blood bonds them to that vampire.”

“What does that mean?” you ask incredulously.

“What it means,” Michael explains patiently, “is that certain things are going to happen to you now that you have a vampire’s blood in your system. Your senses will be enhanced, you’ll have heightened strength…”

“And the dreams?”

“As I said before, drinking a vampire’s blood bonds a human to that vampire. Until my blood is out of your system, I’ll be able to sense if you’re in trouble and your emotions. It can also give you erotic dreams about the vampire whose blood you’ve consumed.”

You groan, dismay evident on your face. “Great, that’s just--fantastic. So when does it stop?”

“A couple of months? Blood doesn’t cycle through the body very fast.”

“You’re kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh.

“I don’t see what’s funny about this.”

“My entire life since I’ve met you has been fucking hilarious! And now I’m apparently bonded to you because you just happened to cross my path when I was mortally wounded.”

Michael glowers at you. “I didn’t have to save your life, you know.”

“Yet you did, all the while knowing what would happen when I took your blood.” You want to say all the things you’re thinking of, like how you still would have survived out of sheer hatred for him even if you did have to wait for the ambulance to arrive (which they had, clearing you after you had explained to the very confused EMTs that you hadn’t been in the lab when the explosion happened, just right outside of it; they had accepted your lie, albeit dubiously upon seeing the devastation that wrecked the first floor of Kineros), but all you can think about are his goddamn beautiful lips and how badly you want to kiss them. “Fuck, I can’t even focus on being mad at you because of the urge to kiss your stupidly perfect face!”

The anger Michael was previously feeling evaporates as he fights the upward quirk that his lips threaten to take. “We certainly can kiss, if that’s what you’d like.”

“It’s not what I’d like! It’s that stupid bond you were talking about.”

“Maybe just once will help to quell any future urges you may have?”

You’re not sure if you want to smack the cocky grin off his face or jump on him, so you settle for pointing to the front door. “Out.”

“Alright, but just remember that the offer still stands.” He produces a business card between his long, ringed fingers, and you snatch it out of his hand while still glaring at him. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You slam the door behind him, leaning against it to help your shaky knees. Michael’s laughter is still on the air long after he’s left, and you sigh as you wonder how on earth you’re going to get to sleep...especially when you realize that you won’t be able to take care of your little problem without Michael knowing. That laughter suddenly seems a lot louder now.

Baby tag list bc I’m lazy: @moonanonwriting @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly @sojournmichael @chibi-lioness @ccodyfern @trelaney @xavierplympton @dyns33 @michaelsapostle @ajokeformur-ray

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mintchocolatechipnut · 4 years ago

Text

icarus | takami keigo

Note: I first posted this on Ao3, you can find it here. Hawks seems a little OOC here and I Regret That as I reread it but I still liked how it turned out overall. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: ‘Hawks has a crush!’ drabble, reader works at the same agency, possibly OOC Hawks, slow burn, fluff galore, overly generous use of italics

Word count: 2.4k

It’s just moments before he has to leave for patrol, but as Hawks hangs around in the lobby of his agency that fact momentarily leaves his mind when he catches sight of you, with your perpetual smile. You’re at the reception desk, back ramrod straight, fashion impeccable as you greet clients, your eyes lighting up as they regale you with their latest anecdote. Hawks could have been fooled, if he hadn’t known you since the three years he and you began working here, him nineteen and you looking a little older. Perhaps twenty? Twenty-one?

He knows what you look like on a cloudy Monday morning running late for work, your hair in a frizz due to the humidity in the air and the slightly crumpled hem of your dress shirt peeking coyly atop the waistband of your skirt. He remembers the cup of coffee from the cafe down the block that you clutch in the palm of your hand precariously as you shuffle into the building, bidding a hasty ‘good morning’ and letting a look of pure relief grace your face when you spy the clock ticking three minutes to eight.

The you that he sees that’s not for customers is, sadly, also seen by most of his colleagues. They know you’re the entertainment fairy of the agency; despite your calm and collected looks, you’re really the life of the party at functions, always ready to go ham on the karaoke machine and take the dance floor with some killer moves. It’s led to a lot of love for you as one of the youngest in the agency, aside from him, and how the atmosphere becomes a little lighter the moment you step into a room.

He’s not going to lie, those three years with you really did a number on him. He’s a willing contractor of your contagious cheer, his heart lifting when the sight of you greets him after a harrowing day of taking down villains. The job’s not always difficult, he admits, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. Sometimes, if you’re not busy, you’d glance up from your seat, your eyes peeking over the edge of the counter, and disarm him with your gaze. Then a smile, and a wave, and you’re back to work. Little do you know those gestures have carved a nice little space for themselves in his mind, but not his heart.

He’s asked himself the question many times, but he’s been warned many times more. About how it is when you give your heart away to someone who might never understand the workings of a pro hero, or to someone who understands because of their own experiences, but in return you’re never fully guaranteed of their safety out in the field. He definitely has hero acquaintances who’re happily married, with kids and fur-kids, but the stories that echo in his brain whenever he looks at you are those of broken bonds, severed ties and loved ones lost. And then he remembers how pretty you look with that smile on your face, and knows he wouldn’t want anything to ever risk its existence.

But is it too much to hope that he might be, at some point of time, the cause of that smile?

He’s shaken out of his reverie when his sidekick calls out to him, having just stepped out of the elevator in time for their patrol. Unconsciously, he takes one last look at your form, now turned away from him as you stand before the photocopier, and his chest vibrates with the murmurs of his heart’s wish for you to turn back for one last glance.

But you don’t, instead your head turning sideways to return a conversation with a coworker, and Hawks finally looks away. The automatic glass doors open up before him as he steps out into the city for another day of work, and the last thought he has before switching into professionalism is how you greet him in a way these glass doors never could.

Hawks has always been one to be in tune with his emotions, but just because he acknowledges them doesn’t mean he needs to act on them, or give in to them.

But as he sits alone in his office, hands tightly balled atop his knees as he heaves through his mouth, he’s tempted to let go. The words Dabi uttered to him feel like they were from eons ago, yet they’re floating afresh in his mind, bouncing off the confines of his brain like echoes as he strains for his own voice to be heard above the din. He’s shaken, no doubt, but heaven forbid that he’s so shaken he loses his balance in the air.

He’s known as the man who goes too fast, but never as the man who flies too high or too low. He’s comfortable where he is, his technique immaculate as he keeps himself airborne. But the drawbacks of being too fast is that without near perfect control you’re prone to crash and burn, and Hawks surmises that he’s close to that end when he’s never once slowed down enough to confront the feelings collecting dust and despair inside his heart. The mental strain the undercover mission has on him weighs on his conscience like gravity, and suddenly he’s falling, and his wings don’t open up fast enough, he’s not fast enough—

And then the sound of his name in your voice envelopes him like a safety net and grounds him gently, instead of the splat to the earth that he’d seen as imminent just seconds ago. He looks up from where he’s sitting to see your eyes scan over his hunched figure, and he prays you can’t see the sweat beading the sides of his neck or the whiteness of his knuckles in his lap. He watches as your brows knit together, your stare once sweet now laced with worry, and he curses internally that he’s not able to put you at ease in his condition. Smiles come as easy to him as they do you, so why is it so hard to muster one now?

He barely hears the click-clack of your heels as you make your way over to him. All at once his brain is firing off warning signals, his head is ringing with alarms. No, don’t come near, don’t get near me, the sirens blare, don’t see me like this—

A carton of juice is placed on the glass tabletop before him, and his gaze slowly traces up your fingers to your face. He wants to remove his gold-tinted glasses to convince himself you’re not as perfect as he perceived, but at the same time your light is so blinding he’s afraid that if he sees you in your full glory he’ll burn.

But you’re still perfect in his vision, though the edges of your mouth don’t quite reach your cheeks as you put on your trademark smile, and are you faltering? It’s the first time he’s ever seen it, and yet you look prettier still. Hawks wonders if you're not accustomed to sadness, you with your eternal grin. Wonders if, for all the cheering up you do, you lack in comforting and sympathizing, but then he realizes that's such a rude thing to assume.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” He spies the stray strands of hair plastered against your damp forehead, as you walk away from him towards the windows, where you start to draw the blinds. “You can stay here if you want, but I’d really like to lock up soon.” When you turn to him again, your smile no longer wavers. Your gaze does, though, and it's enough to prove his earlier theory wrong. "I also think you should get some rest."

That precarious position he holds while airborne is threatened immediately by the sun in your smile, your laugh, your heart, and he finds himself falling to the sea below, instantly relishing the feeling of air through his feathers and the coolness the water’s about to grant to his scorching skin. But oh no, oh dear— the sea is also you, the deep expanse of your arms and chest welcoming like that of a siren's song, while your eyes threaten to rob him of the lift in his wings.

He knows the League of Villains was a force to be reckoned with, but you are a whole new danger altogether.

It’s the first and last time Hawks would ever let you see him as… well, ‘vulnerable’ is what most people like to call it. ‘Less than best’ is what he tells himself instead.

He couldn’t call your relationship that of friends, since you’ve never had to speak to him more than the occasional small talk and necessary work matters. However, he couldn’t call you an acquaintance either, when he bumps into you in a convenience store one weekend and immediately watches your countenance brighten.

You greet him first with a sunny smile on your face, but he’s delighted to see that it came with a messy bun and sweatpants that signal you were in your most comfortable state. As he stands behind you in line as to not obscure your view of the signs overhead, displaying the prices for an ice cream cone, he’s locked onto the sight of your frame, the loose baby hairs sweeping across your nape, and he wonders how it’d feel to envelop that frame with his own, to let his own hair tickle that nape—

His silent beration of himself for having these thoughts come to a standstill when you move out of the periphery of his vision to let him make his purchases. Instantly, regret washes over him that you have to leave so soon, that the one time he’s managed to see you out of work you’re gone so quickly. So imagine his shock when he finds you waiting near the doors, your purchases in a bag on your arm while you hold two ice cream cones in hand.

He doesn’t know what good deeds he’d done to bring this on, but he’s not questioning this: walking side by side with you, ice cream cone in hand as you both make your way down the street towards the station. You apologize that you’d been presumptuous in getting him ice cream, and he’s taken with how the corners of your eyes crinkle in mirth when he dismisses it with a laugh. He's enjoying the ride home, even misses his own stop under the pretense of ensuring safe passage home to a well-meaning civilian. And when you reach the front door of your apartment, ice cream gone from your hand a long time ago, he wonders if you'll ask him to stay.

But you don't, instead thanking him and telling him to rest well and have a good evening, Hawks. And before he can stop himself, he utters, "Keigo. Keigo is fine."

A beat, then another. They're loud and thundering before he realizes that they're echoing through his eardrums. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to look up.

"Okay." Your voice lilts from the doorway, and—he really wants to know where you get all these dazzling grins from, so that he can bottle some up for a rainy day. "Have a good evening, Keigo."

Suits don’t suit him. Obviously they hinder his wings, but the stuffiness of wearing them often makes him wish he was on patrol instead, soaring through the sky while feeling the wind whip his clothes.

But here he is, in a tailored suit where the starch of his collar digs into his neck hard enough for him to consider laying off the chicken nuggets this month. Besides the stuffiness of the suit itself, the air where he’s at is downright suffocating, though the ceilings are high and the chandeliers glisten in magnificence above his head. He can feel the thin film of sweat forming across the skin beneath his tight, layered clothing, and he wonders how he hasn’t gotten used to this, after all the charity balls and hero galas he’s had to attend.

Perhaps today will be different, he thinks. Today is his agency’s tenth anniversary, and there’d been a function thrown together for it. Of course today is different, he realizes—you’ll be here. That fact is enough for him to inhale deeply and step into the grand ballroom, and really, it’s not hard to spot you.

There you are in the middle of the room next to the refreshments, a vision in your dress as you hold a flute of champagne between your fingers. It’s a stark contrast from how you hold your coffee cup on work mornings, and all of a sudden he realizes he’s been holding his breath. You’re talking wistfully to a bunch of colleagues at work, and your polished appearance makes him forget how much more frazzled you’ve looked the past few days while planning for this occasion with the rest of the events team. Where strands of your hair would have been sticking up in all directions sits an elegant braid pinned to your head, while the rest of your hair cascades past your bare shoulders like shimmering waterfalls. The demure smile on your face belies the pallor of your complexion where lack of sleep is evident, but you’re beautiful, even if in a vampire sort of way. Hell, you’re beautiful no matter what.

You’re absolutely magnetic, and he’s drawn into the whirlpool that is your presence as he takes a shaky step across the floor towards you. He’s all too aware of the rapidly pulsing heart inside his too-tight chest, the heart that holds a million wishes just for you.

But he's done wishing and wondering. He's done hearing the voices that tell him he's too fast, or not fast enough, or that he's in trouble. Your name leaves his lips like a prayer, a desire given form and shape for just having been spoken, and Hawks watches as you turn. He feels your face brighten before he sees it.

His heart alights when your mouth moves in tandem with the letters in his name, his first name, and he shifts his gaze to eyes that disarm him once more. Instantly he knows those eyes will disarm him as long as he lets them (as long as it’s you).

He’s falling, but god, has he ever felt so free—

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks drabbles #hawks fluff

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parksvn · 4 years ago

Text

can’t you see me?

prince!jinyoung x apothecary!reader

wc: 3.4k+

Jinyoung showed up bloody on your door with his defenses completely down and half delirious. You knew that your feelings for him were entirely ridiculous, but then again the way he was acting made you question just how unrequited they were.

Jinyoung?

Here he is, standing on your doorstep in the pouring rain. His wet t-shirt clings to his body, pulling against the hard skin and muscle, and his chest heaves with effort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he came all this way to declare his affections, to spill his heart on your doorstep.

But, of course, you knew better.

Just as those fairytale thoughts entered your mind, your eyes saw crimson, a trail of it, starting at his left abdomen and oozing down his pant leg. Every time. Every time he’s here because he won’t face the truth.

Every time you’re the fallback.

You’re tired of it.

Beads of rain dripped from his wet hair onto his pale face. Dark eyes stare back at you, guarded and magnetic. His unabashed glare sends your heart into a wild chase, but you reign it in, matching his stand-off nature with your own.

You’ve fallen into those eyes once.

Once. And once was more than enough.

“What?” Your lace your words with ice, hoping the impact will get him off your doorstep, hoping he’ll turn around and walk away. He doesn’t have to make this harder or more complicated than it already was.

He moves towards you, zoning in on your doorframe, ready to crowd you into a corner.

You want to cower. You want to roll into a tiny ball until he goes away and you don’t have to think about him or anything else that he drags along with him. You don’t belong in his world. You’re happy where you are.

Right?

Your neck curls into your chest for half-a-second, then you remember who you are. You pull your spine into a straight line and stare him down, glowering, hoping it’ll be enough to make him stop.

He pauses.

He takes another step and another, his feet drag against your porch and his body begins turning to mush. You see the weakness, the exhaustion underneath his eyes, in his shaky hands, in the way he moves so unrestrainedly.

It’s like he’s been inhabited by a ghost. The only thing that truly reminds you that he exists comes from the dark focus in his eyes. Like he’s a hunter. Like he’s found his perfect target and is calculating the best way to end its life.

But then he collapses, right into you, right onto your shoulder. His hands are disorganized as they search your clothing for something to cling onto, something to make his disintegration less painful. They find their place, grasping onto the fabric of the back of your shirt, squeezing you into him, until you can feel his warm breath skimming against your neck.

His wet hair leaves trails of water near your ear as the dampness of his clothes transfers to yours.

You pretend to care about how soaked you are now, you pretend to be absolutely disgusted and horrified, but you both know it’s just an act. You were never very good at acting.

Jinyoung was always amazing at it. He had to be. He was a prince after all.

You feel his heat and warmth through your shirt and feel a jolt through your spine. You haven’t responded, haven’t placed your hands on his torso at all. You’re waiting. You’re waiting until he asks for what he needs.

Until then, you owe him absolutely nothing, no matter what he’s doing to you now.

“Nowhere else to go.” He mumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing your exposed skin. “Need help.” He buries into you further and the extra weight on your shoulders tells you that his legs are about to give out. His voice softens and he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you deeper into a cage you’re only pretending you don’t want to be in. “Please.”

…

Please. Please. Really it’s a simple word. It shouldn’t be as effective as it is, but you know that for Jinyoung to say the phrase, the situation must be dire.

And that’s how you dragged him into your house and bandaged him up. The wound, likely from a knife fight in the street, tipped you off about a few things. One, he hadn’t learned from his mistake at the club last night, and two, that he wanted to die.

You’d warned him the minute that he stepped out of line, the minute that he didn’t follow orders, no matter how handsy they might have been with you, that they were going to hunt him down and kill him, prince or not. You knew the game, you knew that prying for information was going to be hard, that getting the men to talk was going to be difficult.

He wasn’t ready.

And you shouldn’t have taken him there.

Going up against thieves, people who could get around the trade embargoes and find the herbs you needed, was something you’ve done frequently. It’s not uncommon that you’re patching someone who conveniently “got in an accident.” You’re the town’s main healer, an unbiased helper of the people. But this time you surprisingly underestimated Jinyoung’s pride and overestimated his diligence to get the job done.

When he pushed the leader away from you, you knew the jig was up and so did he. You barely escaped with your lives and told him not to show up on your doorstep again or he would die. And here he was, good old Prince Jinyoung here to mess up everything and make it into a suicide mission while he was at it.

You fully intended to set him down on your couch in front of the fire for a little while, let him warm up while you got the supplies ready. But he refused to let you go, clinging onto you and dragging you down to the couch with him.

He laid on top of you for a little bit, too weak to even move and sucking up your body heat. His lips were never more than a few inches from your neck even with your best efforts to move away from him. You smoothed his hair from his face and searched for bleeding while the rainwater mixed with your skin.

Nothing so far, but he’s not out of the woods yet.

You let him sleep for about thirty minutes, cradling his head and drawing small circles against his back as you laid on your couch, soothing him to sleep, then you woke him up, roughly. Probably rougher than you needed to.

If he didn’t take a hot shower soon, he was going to be too sick to do anything. His fingers dug into your sides as you slipped out of his reach, moaning in annoyance, but you were stronger than his feeble attempts to keep you rooted in place. You turned and hauled him off the couch, slinging an arm over your shoulder. His cry in pain jolted him out of his stupor and you both limped down to your bathroom.

White tile with black ornamentation greeted you as you set him down on the edge of the tub, getting the hot water ready. You felt his probing gaze and spared a glance in his direction. His fingers were only inches away from your face.

You slapped them away. “Come on, Jinyoung. You don’t have to pretend that you care.” His eyes looked...hurt. He appeared genuinely offended. It was one of the first times that you saw him this upset that you wouldn’t just fall into him like you used to. Your worlds were different and they needed to stay that way. “Take off your clothes.”

His dark eyes flashed with surprise. You rolled your eyes and shook your hands, flinging water droplets back to their source. “You have to get in the bath or you’ll freeze.” You turned your back and walked into the hall, needing space from him and his emotional openness. “I’ll find you something to wear.”

When you came back, you heard the water sloshing around and creaked the door open, setting his change of clothes on the counter. “(name)?” His voice sounded small and it almost hurt to hear your stone tone against the soft way he called for you.

“What do you need?”

“Can you...just…?” He cleared his throat and went silent for a moment.

“Jinyoung, spit it out.”

“Can you stay by the door?” You sighed and closed your eyes. Really? This big baby who used to bully you all the time for the smallest things is asking you to sit by the door? What is he, five?

“What—?” You turned your head around. “No. I have to get food ready for you because if you don’t eat, you’re going to pass out.” He must have heard your boots recede because you hear his forceful effort in calling you back.

“(name)?” His voice is deeper, much more serious and you pause for just a second. “Just come back. Sit with me.”

Now you could walk in there and pay this huge crybaby any mind or you could go back to the kitchen and make his food so he could leave faster. That would be the smarter option, the safer play, but you were having a hard time making the move.

“Why? Give me one good reason I should give you the time of day after ruining my one connection to rare ingredients for the medicine that could probably save a lot of people.” You cross your arms and wait.

You hear silence. “Okay,” you mutter under your breath and turn away, walking to the living room.

“I don’t. I can’t give you a good reason. I’ve been awful to you and I know I messed up. I don’t have enough reasons to convince you to justify being here and taking care of me. I don’t have really anything to say to justify my own. I just know I don’t want to do this alone.”

You walked straight into that bathroom and plopped down beside him, hand out, waiting for his own, and grasped it tightly. He held onto your hand so tightly that you were sure he was cutting off your circulation, but you were fine with it. His touch communicated what words couldn’t say.

…

After he got changed and joined you in the kitchen while you were making him soup, he was surprisingly silent. Normally he’d be chewing you out for going to such dangerous places, hanging out with such secretive people, committing such illegal activities, but no words of judgment echoed off the walls.

When you turned around, he was much closer than you originally thought. You took him in, examining his hair, the redness of warmth in his cheeks, his softened eyes, his broad shoulders. He’ll live.

You walked over to him, pulled his shirt up, and examined the bandage. It was tight enough not to slide but not to the point where he would feel suffocated. Your fingers skimmed over the white fabric while his stare subconsciously warmed the back of your neck. He responded to your touch, tensing slightly when your fingers applied a small amount of pressure, before relaxing, giving you permission to continue. When you were satisfied, you slid his navy tee back down.

He was leaning into you and as you stepped away you noticed the way he swung back. You almost smirked and got a sample of the soup, walked back over to him, and held it up to his lips.

His eyebrows shot up, but when he saw the tilt of your head and your open eyes prodding him along, he opened his mouth as you gently lifted the spoon. He stared at you the whole time. You watched as the flavors hit his tongue, his eyes shifting in wonder and amazement.

Is it good? your eyes asked.

He nodded and smiled. You turned to get a bowl when Jinyoung beat you to it, reaching above you to grab two. When you fully turned around, he had his hands on either side of you, his eyes boring into you.

He inched closer and you felt yourself take a breath instinctively. His gaze slipped down to your lips before looking back at you. “I still affect you.” He breathed out inching closer. A flame started in your stomach, but you ignored it.

Swallowing, you scoffed. “Duh.” You looked away from him and tried to breathe normally. Of course, he still affected you. You were affected by him the moment you met him. Time would only dull the intensity in the proximity. However, time would never erase his control over you this close.

He brought a hand to your cheek and drew your eyes back to his. He moved quickly, your noses touching, breathing in the same air. You froze.

Is this really happening? And you’re about to let it?

He seemed conflicted for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth contorted into a focused line. You nearly pulled away right there, but, as if he sensed your hesitation, he closed the gap.

He kissed you hard in the beginning, pressing you into the counter behind you. Your fingers clenched the hard surface. It was taking everything in you not to touch him. You didn’t want him to win, but you were losing. You felt your hands start to loosen.

No.

His lips started moving, roaming over yours as he slid his hand to cup your neck, the other placed on your waist, drawing you closer, allowing him easier access. Your heart started speeding.

No.

When his lips left yours to place warm kisses down your jaw, you jumped away from him, placing at least six feet between you and him. Your lips felt puffy already and you knew they were red. But that had nothing on the shock in his eyes or the dark way his eyes traced your figure as you started moving away from him, shaking your head furiously.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not becoming another pawn for you to push around.” You watched as he tried to get closer to you and failed. Your voice started cracking as tears welled in your eyes, your emotions coming to the surface. “I’m tired of always being there for you just for you to abandon me when you find something better. I’m tired of you always scolding me for doing what I want with me. I’m tired of being second place.” His eyes changed, hardening to volcanic rock, and you knew then that you’d won, that you were finally speaking a language he understood.

“I’m going to live my life the way I want to, without you, and without anyone who sees me as the backup plan. I can’t be the person you always come to when things get hard, when no one is there to put you back together again. I refuse. No more, Jinyoung. No more.”

“Why—How could you think that you were somehow second place?” He walks closer to you but you back up till you hit the wall. “(name), why do you think I’m here all the time? Why do you think I always hover? Why do you think I nag all the time?”

“Because you’re awful.” You wipe the tears and slide away from him. “Stop crowding me.” The words are more forceful than you intended, but he seems to get the hint.

He pauses in his pursuit but the pleading look in his eyes doesn’t go away. “Why? Because I didn’t think that you were valuable? Because I hated you?”

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Had.” Your eyes widen at this. “And we were betrothed. I didn’t want that. I wanted it to be my choice.” He backs up, sitting on the edge of the couch as he retraces his memories, making the connections clear to you. “I thought that I would be able to hide it, that if I just stayed away I could ignore it. But even Haru saw through it too. She saw it when I came over all the time, when I couldn’t just leave you alone, when I would stay up all night worrying about you.” He treaded through the room now, moving close enough to touch you, but instead of reaching out, he kept his hands fully at his sides. “Do you really think that I ignored you for weeks because I used you?”

“I don’t get it. You just disappeared. What was I supposed to think?” Why did you leave?

He bit his lip and turned away. ”I was trying not to get you hurt. They obviously figured out who I was and the best way to keep you safe was getting away.” His gaze was unsure now, less focused, and determined than it was before. You saw a hand weave up to his neck, scratching absentmindedly at it. “I’m sorry for going so quickly. I should have said something.”

You nodded and returned to the soup, crossing back into the kitchen and ladling the soup into two bowls. Your heart raced for a second, remembering the events of a second ago before you dropped spoons into each bowl. Taking a breath, you closed your eyes.

He was probably telling the truth. For everything that Jinyoung wasn’t, he was good to the people. People knew him as firm but fair, caring, and generous when he could be. You saw his potential to act kind in certain situations, but you also saw the dark, lying person he could be.

You were conflicted. He appeared open and kind, sincere in his words and his intentions with you, but in the back of your mind, you still saw the concealed shadow that lingered there.

“Eat.” You said as you laid a bowl down in front of him. He froze for a moment, watching you with confusion, before deciding it was safe to sit and drink the soup.

You returned to your stance near the counter, drinking the hot meal standing. The soup had a special combination of herbs to promote healing and skin reproduction. He would be fine in no time.

But the bigger question remained: What in the world was he doing around your neighborhood? Your house, made of wood and logs, stood somewhere off the beaten path, the closet tavern was about 2 miles east, in town. Your home was tucked among the forest, sheltered by foliage and wood.

There was no reason for him to trek all the way out here when town remained so much closer.

He sipped his soup politely, before watching your face morph. Your eyes narrowed and your brow furrowed. “What is it?” He stood, placing the bowl down. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you here?” Your eyes were black as night, guarded, warning.

“What do you mean?” His head turned to the side as if he was asked a question in school and didn’t know the answer.

“Jinyoung, the closest town is nearly an hour’s carriage ride from here.” You set your bowl down. “What are you doing all the way out here? Why would you come all this way? Why would come to a place that you know wants you dead.”

His eyes flashed for a moment before he responded, “you don’t. You’ve seen all of the horrible things I’ve done and you still tolerate me. You still somehow take me in, even when you don’t want to. You have never turned your back on me, not once.”

“That’s not helping your case.” You grumble and he frowns in confusion.

“No, (name). It is because you have never left me behind that’s the point. Despite how much I wanted to leave you alone, to not disturb your peace, I couldn’t. I was always waiting around for your letters, listening for news about you, anxious to hear if your house was caught in the storms. For the better half of my life, I was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way.” He steps closer and you no longer feel anger by his proximity.

You intentionally let him get close because his eyes aren’t lying now.

“I hadn’t heard from you in five days. I know there are men after you in the town because I sent scouts ahead to check.” You have to look up to see him now. “I came here because I was losing my mind at the thought that something happened to you. Prince or not.”

“Oh.” You nodded and looked down, leaning against the counter again.

So he did feel the same way. Or, at least, something like that.

His voice came out in a soft whisper, his breath gently skimming against your face, his nose nearly pressing against yours. “I am entirely incapable of staying away from you.” You blinked. “Can I kiss you now?”

You almost laughed. Always so cheesy.

You closed the gap for him.

#jinyoung fic #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung drabble #jinyoung got7 #parksvn #jinyoung imagine

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granblue-fantasies · 5 years ago

Text

Between Frost and Flame

Aglovale x Reader x Percival

NSFW. To fulfill the multiple requests for these two from my Sharing is Caring event.

You had been taking a break from your duties in Wales Castle in your favorite fashion - draped across a chaise lounge with a book in hand - when Percival approached you with a proposition.

“I depart for Feendrache a few days,” he said stiffly, his chin held high, “and I would ask you to accompany me.”

You balked, your book slipping from your fingers and tumbling to the floor. His sudden invitation had caught you completely off-guard.

“Accompany you?” you could only echo, cheeks flushing. “My lord, I—“

Aglovale’s deep chuckle sounded from a doorway at the opposite end of the room, announcing his presence and startling you and Percival both.

“So you plan to steal my dearest vassal away from me?” he chided. “Percival... You know I won’t let such a brazen attempt go unchallenged.”

The sounds of shifting armor and heavy footsteps drawing steadily nearer raised the hair on the back of your neck. You saw ire spark in Percival’s eyes as he watched his brother approach, and noticed his hands ball momentarily into fists before he squared his shoulders and faced the king with dignity.

You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat, heart fluttering in nervous anticipation. Your previous encounters with the king and his younger brother hadn’t left you any less enamored with either of them.

And upon learning this, a rematch was declared.

NSFW, lewd naughtiness below!

- - - - - -

The two proud men bore down on you with a voracity that bordered on barbaric. Had it not been for your deep affinity for both of them and your knowledge of their finer characters, you might have mistaken their true natures for that of common brigands. But you’d been playing along with this game of theirs for a while now. You knew it well, and you were a willing - and equally insatiable - participant.

Though one couldn’t deny the impropriety, you were shocked and delighted when the royal brothers endeavored to ravish you right there where you lay. There were some skills and habits you’d picked up during your time here that lent themselves well to the situation at hand.

Percival’s hot-blooded nature fueled a fiery appetite, and to bend you over and take you suddenly and impulsively was his guilty pleasure. Some time ago you’d began cutting out the gussets of your undergarments, so he need only push up your petticoats to gain access to you whenever he wished.

The king, meanwhile, was exceedingly fond of calling you to his side in private appointment. You usually spent a significant portion of those intimate meetings on your knees. Not because he didn’t respect you, no; he simply savored the many long sessions you’d spend beneath his desk, at his bedside, or even before his throne, devoutly worshiping his cock and balls with the passionate caresses of your lips and tongue.

Each of the two, therefore, had his own favorite post to assume, and each hell-bent on staking their claim on you once and for all.

Aglovale cradled your cheek in his hand, gazing down at you with a warm and benevolent air even as he fucked your mouth in slow, decadent thrusts. Your head was tilted against the cobalt velvet of the armrest, and angled so as to grant him the most convenient access.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, “You please me so.”

You hummed in delight at his words, bobbing your head along his shaft and trying to coax him deeper. He stroked your cheek with his thumb and slid his girthy cock down the back of your throat, watching with approval as you strained to take his full, magnificent length. There was something so overpowering, so hypnotic about him — his deeply reverberating voice, his gentle touch upon your face, his very being commanded your adoration. It made you enjoy the way your throat seized to fight its natural reflex, muscles straining as his throbbing clock slid ever deeper. With fervent devotion, you strove to embody the perfect instrument of his pleasure.

Can he not see how completely she submits to me, and with such passion? Aglovale mused, glancing at his brother. She shapes herself to fit me, she bends to my will. She is mine.

Percival held one of your legs up in the air as he fucked you sideways, his hips snapping back and forth with precision. The velvety warmth of your cunt seemed to draw him in deeper, that heavenly sensation that drove him to seek you out at every opportunity. Only one thing marred this moment... The presence of Aglovale. Percival gritted his teeth at the sight of you blissfully sucking his elder brother’s cock.

Always so selfish, brother, he thought wryly. It makes you short-sighted. How many times have you used her so, unaware that my seed was likely dripping down her thighs all the while?

His pride swelled as he felt you rocking your hips into his thrusts, knowing he was the one your body was aching for. He drove himself harder inside you, bottoming out and grinding his cock in deep. The quick, confident tempo of his thrusts incited a steadily building pressure deep in your belly. As he reached down to gently tease your swollen clit you bucked your hips and groaned, your walls clenching down hard around his shaft.

Enjoy her service while it lasts, Aglovale, he seethed. Soon she won’t be able to use that mouth of hers for anything other than screaming my name.

You were in the throes of ecstasy, your moans of desperate delight echoing up into the coffered ceilings. Aglovale’s deep, slow thrusting against your face did somewhat muffle your cries, but Percival amped up his fierce pounding, eager to hear you gasp his name around his elder brother’s cock.

Aglovale’s gaze slid to meet Percival’s in a silent taunt. He relaxed his body and let the plush slickness of your mouth and throat carry him towards climax at last. With a sly gleam in his eyes he ran his fingers through your hair and pulled your head against his hips, slamming his cock down your throat and pumping his cum deep inside you. Your body shuddered as you choked it down, your eyes squeezed shut and tears beading at your lashline. But when you’d swallowed every drop and your eyes opened once again, you looked up at Aglovale with dazed and delirious adoration.

His stomach twisting with fury at the sight, Percival hammered into you even harder than before, as if to punish you for your disloyalty. You gasped and pulled back from Aglovale, long strings of saliva and cum trailing from his dick to your parted lips.

“You’ll cum for me,” Percival snarled, and you writhed under his relentless assault, your hand sinking down between your spread legs. As you frantically massaged your clit you felt Percival grinding the head of his dick inside you where he knew you liked it most; panting and whimpering you drew nearer and nearer to your climax. He chuckled triumphantly between his own ragged breaths, watching you come unraveled beneath him.

Aglovale took this opportunity to lean down and murmur something in your ear; filthy words meant only for you, utter blasphemy on the lips of a king.

Percival saw this — he watched his brother’s mouth move, felt your pussy pulse in wild desire in response, and his heart burned with indignation until your next move soothed him. You reached your free hand out to Percival in yearning and he grasped it, lacing your fingers together as you pulled him closer to you and crested the peak of your release. You orgasmed nearly in unison, your cunt milking his throbbing cock and drawing his hot seed deep into your womb. He was too overcome with bliss to notice Aglovale stroking your hair as you rode out the shockwaves of pleasure that wracked your body.

Face flushed and chest heaving, you lay sprawled across the chaise in a breathless stupor as the men pulled back and righted themselves.

“I’ll send for you tonight,” Aglovale whispered in your ear, audibly smirking. “You will come to me.”

Before you could answer he straightened up and turned to take his leave.

“Percival,” he tossed over his shoulder, his calm demeanor suddenly stern, forbidding. “You won’t have her again.”

He stepped over the threshold and was gone.

Percival scoffed and pulled you into his embrace as his brother left the room.

“Come with me,” he said, kissing the top of your head and stroking your leg tenderly. “We can leave tonight. I can make the arrangements at once.”

Your heart raced.

The taste of Aglovale was still on your tongue, Percival’s seed hot and wet between your thighs.

You hadn’t even caught your breath yet.

How in God’s name were you supposed to decide?

#gbf percival #gbf aglovale #granblue fantasy #gbf fanfiction #gbf imagines #request event #requests #sharing is caring #gbf reader insert

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serendipityunho · 5 years ago

Text

Lemonade?

× genre: smut × pairing: neighbour!Jongho x Reader (fem.) × word count: 3.6k × warnings: explicit language, oral, fingering, handjob, clit play, breast play, unprotected, explicit sex

× synopsis: At first he was just your neighbour, who was also conveniently, one of your brother’s best friend. That was until you offered him a refreshing glass of lemonade that had you bent over your new kitchen counter with your panties ripped to the floor.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Just place it in my room!” Your brother carries the large box slowly up the stairs, grunting as the weight makes him work.

“Damn, sis, this place is massive!” You hear your brother’s shout from the bedroom, soon the sound of his footsteps travel down the stairs, meeting you in the kitchen.

“You see, I can save money and you can’t” You place the last of set of dishes in the cabinet, grunting as you stand on your tippy-toes.

“Fair enough. By the way, I can’t stay for long” Your brother scratches the back of his head, reaching for his phone as you turn around to face him.

“Where are you going?” He tapped away on his phone before turning his attention back to you.

“I gotta fill in for a co-worker at the store. It would only be a few hours anyway so I’ll be back” A few hours of hard labor up and down five flights of stairs wouldn’t be that bad.

“I’ll probably be dead asleep by the time you’re back” You lean forward against the counter, reaching for the glass of water before resting on the kitchen stool.

“Actually, a friend of mine lives in the building next door. I reckon he could help while I’m gone” Your head snaps up at your brother’s proposal.

“Really?”

“He’s been stuck in his little mancave the entire break. May as well give him something to do”

“Have I met him before?” You’ve met a handful of his friends before, carrying his drunk ass home in the middle of the night.

“Jongho? I don’t think so, he doesn’t do parties” Your brother chuckles, pushing himself off the stool as he makes his way to the door.

“I mean, I don’t want to bother him or anything. I can just carry them myself” There were quite a few boxes left to bring up, mostly heavy stuff that would take you longer without the presence of your brother’s strength.

“Well, too bad he’s already here”

“What? How-” Your brother lifts his phone, shaking it as he twists the knob.

Behind the door stood a built figure, dressed in nothing but a simple hoodie and a pair of washed jeans as he showed no sense of emotion on his rounded face.

“Jongho! My man, this is my sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is Jongho, my best buddy” Your brother greeted him through the door, brushing aside to let him enter.

“Y/N”

“Jongho” His hands were rough but soft, most definitely warm too.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you guys in a few. Bye!” Your brother snatches his jumper off the couch, dashing through the door as he leaves you standing with the newly found friend.

The two of you stood in a near uncomfortable silence before clearing your throat, making Jongho break his attention away from the door.

“There’s some heavy boxes waiting in the lobby, two-man job” Jongho nods in agreement without uttering a word as he exits the door for you to follow behind.

The endless trotter down the spiral stairs seemed endless before you had reached the ground floor. Jongho pressed the door with his palm, pushing it open for the two of you to exit before following closely behind you to the boxes sitting in front of the elevator.

“So how come you didn’t hire anyone to help you move?” Jongho asks, eyeing the horrendous stack of cardboard boxes in front of him.

“Why waste money when I can do it- umph myself?” You grunt as the weight of the box takes a strain on your muscles.

“Oh so you can do it yourself now, can you?” Jongho flashes a small smile, showing off his gums as he watches you struggle with the large box that was literally the size of your upper body.

“Here, let me. You take the smaller ones” Jongho takes the heavy box out of your hands, carrying it in front of him like it weighed nothing as you were left with the smaller ones.

It was practically your cardio of the day, trotting up and down the square spiral of stairs with your muscles growing even sorer with each strain the boxes had taken on you.

Your hair was scrunched up in a poor ponytail, sweat cloaking the nape of your neck as you pile the last box inside your new apartment.

Jongho sat on the other end of the couch, eyes shut as his head laid back against the couch. Sweat beaded his round face, hair slicked back to let the cool air of the room hit his exposed burning forehead.

You gulp down the hard lump in your throat as your eyes trail down to his Adam's apple where the bead of sweat slowly trickled down, under the collar of his shirt. His chest rose with every breath of air, shirt slightly sinking into the crevasses of his body.

Jongho’s eyes flutter open, meeting your slothful eyes as your vision trails from his thighs back to his face. Heat flushes to your face, cherry bubbling to your cheeks as you break your gaze from Jongho’s droopy eyes.

You could feel holes burning into the side of your head as you sit up from the couch, patting yourself down before turning your gaze back to a smirking Jongho.

“Are you thirsty? I bought l-lemonade before you came” Your voice stutters as Jongho watched you trot backwards to the kitchen.

“Thirsty? Yeah” Jongho replies, tilting his head to the side as you feel his gaze right on your back, watching your every move.

You shakingly bring down two glass cups from the cupboard with a clink as they sit on the kitchen island.

The skin of your palm stings slightly as you grip the icy cold carton of lemonade. Your body felt hotter with each second passing as your stomach bubbles with a hazy fuzz, making your lower body feeling quite numb, sensitive.

You turn around holding the glass cup in your hand ready to pass to Jongho, who conveniently was already out of his seat, surprisingly close for you to merely stretch your arm out to him.

“Thanks” Jongho’s deep honey-like voice sent your heart skipping in a frenzy as he brushes his fingers against yours on the glass.

“Uh yeah, you’re welcome” Your breath hitched at the back of your throat as you hold your own glass, subtly watching Jongho gulp down his lemonade while sipping on your own, unable to take your eyes off of his neck and chest.

God, how can someone make drinking lemonade this attractive? You thought to yourself. Jongho lowers his glass to what seemed like ages, licking his plump lips of the sweet goodness before placing the glass back down on the counter behind you.

“Can I use the bathroom?” He asks, tilting his head. It was really driving you insane, the way his eyes droop even more and the corner of his lips twitching into a small smirk. The fuzz in the pit of our stomach made your body grow even more sensitive.

“To the left- down there” Your finger points behind him. Jongho looks in the direction, quickly thanking you before taking his leave, running his hand through his sweat beaded hair before scratching the back of his head. Your eyes glue on his forearm as each finger movement flexed his muscles even more.

“Oh fuck...” You whisper to yourself, jaw slightly hanging as you realize what you’d gotten yourself into. Or what your brother has gotten you into.

You snap yourself back into reality before your mind starts playing absurd scenarios into your head. Your eyes scan the surroundings for your phone, which was laying on the coffee table. You click on the contact, typing away to your best friend.

Y/N: So one of my brother’s friends is helping me move in today.

Y/F/N: Oooooh is he hot???

Y/N: ... Yes.

Y/F/N: And is that a problem?

Y/N: Idk should it? I’m honestly going crazy.

Y/F/N: 👀

Y/N: What’s that supposed to mean?

Y/F/N: Enough has been said, my friend :)

Y/N: No... I’m not going to fuck a someone I just met

Y/F/N: I never said you were going to in the first place... but by all means, go-ahead ;)

Your head snaps back to the sound of the door closing shut, Jongho appears around the corner, face slightly damp to what seemed like he had washed his face.

“Oh, uh, thanks for helping me today” You place your phone back onto the coffee table before walking up to Jongho who was seated on the stool.

“No worries, Y/N” The way your name drips from his lips was enough to send you to the ungodly place in your mind you had tried to avoid when he sat on your couch.

You awkwardly maneuver your way onto the stool beside him, propping your elbows up as you take another sip of your remaining lemonade.

“You probably want me to leave but I really don’t want to have to face those stairs again” Jongho speaks up, making you straighten your back as you twist your body around. But what you didn’t notice was his body was twisted around too, making you brush your legs against his.

“Oh no, stay, take a rest” You built the courage to look at him in the eye, it was your greatest achievement to not break away after five seconds, his dark pupils entrancing you from reality.

Jongho props his elbow onto the counter, leaning forward as he rests the side of his head on his palm, gaze never breaking from yours.

Your thighs rub together subtly as Jongho trails his eyes from yours down to your lips before making their way back up to your eyes.

“You’re really pretty, you know that” You didn’t know whether to let your heart beat out of your chest or unclench the gushing wetness in your pants.

“You’re pretty too- I mean hot- handsome- fuck” Jongho chuckles at your choice of words.

His face was right there, all you wanted to do was just shove your tongue down his throat and hear his deep moans. Fuck, what was he doing to you?

“Yeah?” Jongho’s eyes droop with a smirk crawling up on to his lips as he shuffles his body closer to yours, knee pushing between your legs.

“...Yeah” It was decided, you could feel the wetness pooling around your needy pussy as Jongho’s face inched closer to yours.

“I wish I had met you sooner if I knew you looked like this” Jongho’s knee slowly pushes your legs further apart, making you shuffle closer to him, letting your hot core inch closer to his knee, yearning for some sort of friction.

“What are you doing to me, Jongho?” Your voice became quiet as Jongho’s face was right in front of yours, so close that you could feel his hot breath that had undoubtedly made its way into your ungodly imagination.

“I don’t know, you tell me”

You didn’t waste your time, smashing your lips against his as your hands make their way around his neck, pushing him closer to you as your fingers tangle in his hair.

Jongho’s hand immediately make their way on to your waist, pulling you up from your seat and onto the counter with half of your ass properly seated on the cold marble with his lips molding with yours, wrestling your tongue with his hungrily as if he waited his whole life for this.

Jongho presses his body against yours, thigh rubbing against your throbbing clit as your knee brushes against his clothed boner.

You grind your hips against Jongho’s thigh, feeling a smirk in between your heated makeout.

“Fuck, so needy” Jongho breaks from the kiss, letting his hand cup your clothed pussy before slowly teasing it with his fingers, playing with the opening of your shorts before actually sliding his hand through the waistband of your shorts.

“Jongho, please...” Your legs unwrap from Jongho’s hips as he slides off your shorts, dropping them to the ground as he stretches the band of your panties before letting them slap back at your skin.

Jongho slips his fingers through your soaked panties, smirking as he dips his fingers into the pool of your wetness before covering your clit with your juices, rubbing your clit fast as he dips his lips back on to yours.

You slip out a moan as Jongho applies more pressure against your clit, stimulating you greatly as the fuzz in your stomach turns into a knot.

Your knee finds its way back against Jongho’s crotch, spontaneously rubbing his dick. Jongho lets his other hand place flat against your back as he pushes you down, letting your back rest against the cold counter before removing his arm from under you.

Breaking away from the kiss, Jongho removes his fingers from your clit, using both his hands to rip your panties, exposing your aching pussy to the cold air as you gush over the way his arm flexed, showing off every muscle his body holds.

“So fucken wet, Jesus” Jongho takes your legs, propping them on his shoulders, lowering himself down as his arms hook under your thighs, face insanely close to your pussy.

Jongho blows hot air on you before letting his tongue flatten against your needy pussy, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as your hands find their way back through his thick hair.

“Fuckkk” Your back arches off the cold counter as Jongho flicks his tongue across your sensitive bud.

Jongho attaches his lips to your pussy, letting his tongue slide into your hole as he roughly slides his tongue up and down your slit.

Your body jerks forward, slamming your palm against the edge of the counter as you feel Jongho insert a finger, pumping it in and out of you as he twists it in your hole.

Jongho’s lips attach on to your clit, licking it before sucking on it, swaying his face side to side as your legs twitch from the warm friction on your nerves.

Jongho turns his gaze back up to you, watching you with hooded eyes as your body twitches from his touch, head rolling back as your knuckles turn white from gripping the edge of the counter.

“Nnnnngh- fuck! Jongho!” Your face scrunches up with pleasure as Jongho brings you closer to an orgasm.

“I want to feel your tight pussy around me, fuck” Jongho removes his lips before pushing your body back on to the counter as he slides off his shirt, throwing it to where you shorts lay.

Your walls clench around nothing as your eyes fix on Jongho’s uncovered muscles. You pull him closer by the hem of his jeans, pressing his chest against your body as you fumble with the belt before slipping it off, leaving you to unzip his jeans to deal with his needy cock stored inside his boxers.

Jongho’s hand slip under your shirt, pulling it off to leave you in your bra unclasping it, letting it slide off your chest as his hand cup your breast, playing with your hardened nipple while you let his cock spring free from his boxers.

You huck up some saliva, letting it drip from your lips as it lands on the tip of Jongho’s cock, lubing it up for your hands to twist around his length as your other hand slides up and down his arm, feeling every muscle he has.

“Fuuuck” You smirk at Jongho, who rested his forehead against yours before tilting to the side, brushing his nose against yours before biting down at your bottom lip, making you kiss him as he slips in his tongue, wrestling yours for dominance.

Your hand twists up and down his cock faster as your other hand digs into the flesh of his shoulder, gushing at how he flexes his muscles. Jongho kneads your breast, squeezing it before guiding his hand behind you again, pushing you closer to him, off the counter.

“Wait, I don’t have a co-” Jongho breaks from the kiss, staring down at you with concern before you push him back on to your lips.

“I’m on the pill” You say between the kiss.

Jongho’s cock rubs against your inner thigh, inching closer to your pussy as your body presses against his, feeling more of his muscles.

“Perfect” Jongho has a rough grip on your waist, spinning you around as you feel his cock press against your ass cheeks as he pushes you forward until your chest was pressed flat against the cold marble counter.

Jongho lets his cock slide up and down your slit, cloaking it in your wetness before sliding into your tight hole, making you swallow a sharp breath of air as his girthy cock stretches you out.

“Ohmygod- ngh Jongho” You could hear a quiet groan behind you as Jongho’s big hands caress your ass, spreading them apart as he watches the way his cock disappears into your tight hole.

“So tight- shit” Jongho’s hips start moving, thrusting in and out of you as you lay flat against the counter, arms stretched out in front of you, searching for leverage as his thrusts become faster.

You wince as his girthy length stretches you out like never before as it slowly turns the pain into complete pleasure.

Jongho has a tight grip on your waist, holding you in place over the counter, as he begins to pound into you, grunting through gritted teeth to suppress his quiet moans.

“God, you take me so good” Jongho sweeps his sweaty hair back before cupping your inner thigh with his hand, lifting your leg and propping it on the counter.

You wince as the sudden stretch in your leg takes your course of pleasure to another angle, letting Jongho’s cock hit all the right spots in you to make you go crazy.

“Oh my godddd- Jongho” Your arms retract against your chest as your knee bends against the counter, making you rest it on the stool beside you as Jongho supports your leg up.

The new position stretches you out even more, letting Jongho’s cock gush at your insides as your hips spaz under his grip from the spark of fuzzy pleasure shooting from the pit of your stomach to the rest of your body.

Your ass stings as Jongho’s hip snap harder, making his skin slap yours, fucking you further against the counter as the edge bruises the front of your thigh.

Jongho moves his hand from underneath your thigh to in between your legs, fingers finding their way back on to your clit, rubbing you fast with the pace of his thrusts.

“Fuckfuckfuck Jongho- Oh my goddd” Your hand grabs Jongho’s forearm, feeling every flex of his muscles in his arm as he rubs your throbbing clit with an ear-ripping orgasm penting up in the pit of your stomach.

“Nearly there, baby, n-nearly therennnnggghhfuckkk-” Jongho grunts, panting evidently than before as his grip on your waist tightens whilst his fingers rub you faster, bring you to the brink of an orgasm.

“Nghhhhhuhhh- I- FUCK!” Your legs quiver, on the brink of collapse with your forehead resting on your arm against the counter with the other arm brought up to muffle your loud shaky moan as a body-jerking orgasm rips through from the pit of your stomach.

Your pussy gushes around Jongho’s cock with your release as his thrusts become sloppier, lowering his body to hook his thrusts into you, sending your eyes rolling back.

“Fuckkkkk- shiittt” Jongho releases a shaky groan from the back of his throat as you feel his warm spurt of cum shoot into your stretched hole, making the both of you gasp for deprived breath.

Jongho leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he lowers your leg from the stool, letting you quiver underneath him before planting sloppy kisses on your shoulder blade.

You turn your head to the side to meet with a pair of softened brown eyes, you could feel Jongho panting against your back as his cock remained buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, it’s hot in here don’t you think?” Jongho slips his cock out from your pussy, drenched in the mixture of your releases before unsticking you from the counter.

“The air conditioner is on” You chuckle, slightly stuttering your steps as you bring yourself to walk again.

“Right. Fuck, how do you feel?” Jongho snaps back to reality, forgetting that he had just ripped off your favorite pair of panties and fucked you senseless in your new kitchen.

“Great, actually. Despite having you rip my favorite panties” You bend down, picking up the panties that were once in one piece that’s now been ripped to two.

“Boo hoo, it’s not like you can’t go out to buy more” Jongho chuckles, bending down beside you, picking up the pile of shriveled clothes.

“Eh, you’re right. But now I actually have to go into my suitcase to find another pair” You slip your creased shirt back over your head, patting it down of all the specs on the kitchen tiles before dipping around the corner with Jongho following you closely behind.

“You didn’t tell me you already had your bed set up, would’ve saved me some energy” Jongho pulls his boxers over his crotch with his clothes in the other hand as he scans your new room.

“Fucking on the bed is boring” You pull out a fresh pair of panties, slipping them on before plopping on the bed with Jongho contemplating whether he should join you or stand there.

You pat the empty space beside you as you move to let him lay beside you, dipping your legs underneath the blanket.

“So do you bang all of your brother’s friends or just people you barely know?”

“Do you call all of your friend’s sisters pretty or just people you barely know?”

A satisfied grin paints across your face as a shade of red flushes in Jongho’s cheeks.

“No, just you”

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