#i’ll be trying to go to bed early though relatively shortly though

[dove-da-birb]

whenever i think “okay dove should be asleep now” you never are /lh

I’m usually in bed by midnight; I’ll be getting back into a routine soon enough though to prepare myself for my job (I used to wake up every week day at 5:30 am … might have to start doing that again)

And like you should be one to talk; I saw that post

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part eighteen] - l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, food poisoning mentions, reader has emetophobia

word count: 3.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“It just looked like you wanted to say something,” Jisung continued.

Minho forced a smile and shook his head again. “Nope.”

“Nothing up there, as usual,” Felix joked, nudging him with his shoulder.

“Very funny.”

“Thanks, I get it from Dad.”

The conversation moved on swiftly as Felix began talking about the arcade he and Minho had visited earlier that afternoon. The food arrived shortly after and you all ate in relative silence, periodically breaking the silence to comment on the meal.

“You want to try some of this, Minho?” Jisung asked, offering a piece of sashimi to his brother with his chopsticks.

“No thanks.”

“I’ll try it,” Felix offered, reaching across the table to steal a piece.

Jisung rolled his eyes, but grinned, turning to you next. “What about you, darling? Do you want to try a piece?”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned.

“Are you trying to kill your own girlfriend?” Felix joked.

“She wouldn’t die,” he explained defensively, “she’d just get really sick.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.”

Jisung insisted on paying the tab for you and himself, making an offhand comment about how you were his girlfriend, and his brother was always the one paying for you. You wanted to comment about how old-fashioned that concept was, but you refrained. To be fair, he had a point when he said that Minho was always paying for you- but he was always paying for everyone. He was the one with the budget to do so in the first place.

Either way, it really wasn’t something making a big deal over, at least not in your opinion.

After dinner you walked back to the hotel with the boys and crashed after taking a shower. You actually felt tired enough to be able to sleep through the night regardless of Mingo and Felix’s presence, but unfortunately a good night’s rest just wasn’t in the cards for you.

Almost every hour on the hour you’d be woken up by your best friend getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. You finally asked him about it after the third time it happened, trying to mask the frustration you felt with genuine concern.

“Are you okay?”

He shrugged almost imperceptibly in the dark. “Not feeling very good.”

You frowned even though you knew he couldn’t see you. “What’s wrong?”

“Stomach just hurts,” he said casually, “it’s nothing.”

Your chest tightened with anxiety, not only because you were concerned about him, but because you were extremely squeamish, and he knew that. Your best friend often downplayed his symptoms on your account just so you wouldn’t freak out.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, positive that he was doing the same now.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You didn’t believe him, but you’d rather live in ignorance than have the confirmation of what was essentially your worst fear. You rolled over onto your other side and tried to ignore the panic rising in your throat.

Somehow you managed to fall asleep again, only to be woken up a couple more times by Jisung and once by Felix. You weren’t the lightest sleeper, but the Han boys sure as hell knew how to make a fuck ton of noise in the middle of the night.

By the time your alarm went off the next morning you weren’t sure how many hours you had actually slept, but you knew it wasn’t enough.

Jisung looked even worse off. He was paler than usual and the dark circles beneath his eyes were more pronounced. He was already awake when you woke up, sitting upright next to you in the bed.

“What is it?” you asked nervously.

“Food poisoning, I think.”

Your chest tightened again. “Are you serious?’

He nodded. “Felix too. I think it’s just us since we’re the only ones who ate my sushi.”

You sat up and glanced over at his twin brother who was also looking rather pale and clammy.

“And I only had like two pieces,” Felix groaned, clutching his stomach.

“If you need to use the bathroom or get changed my parents said we can get ready in their bathroom,” Minho piped up.

“Wh-what do you mean get ready?”

“For the tour thing we’re supposed to do today.”

“We’re still doing that?”

“I mean, Jisung and Felix can’t go obviously, but the tickets are already paid for and they’re not refundable.”

“But… I can’t leave Jisung,” you reasoned, turning to face him. “You’re sick! I need to take care of you.”

“There’s not much you can do for me, babe,” he pointed out. “I don’t want you to miss out, either. And I know you’d only make yourself miserable here if you stayed.”

You knew he was referring to your… aversion, which he was right about, but you felt guilty just thinking about leaving him here while you went out and had fun. Being alone with Minho was another thing you had to consider. Everything about the plan sounded like a bad idea.

“Are you sure? Because I can stay. I really don’t mind.”

“I’m sure, angel,” Jisung sighed. “This is probably a once in a lifetime kind of thing. Remember when you convinced me to go up the Tokyo Tower? I’m doing the same thing for you now.”

“That only took like an hour!” you protested. “This is an all-day trip!”

“The circumstances are different!”

You sighed in frustration and threw the covers off of yourself as you stood from the bed. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Minho and Felix trade wary looks with each other like they always did when you and Jisung argued in front of them.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Atta girl.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll hate every second of it.”

“No you won’t.”

“You don’t know me.”

Jisung turned his attention to his older brother. “Make sure she’s not too stubborn to let herself have fun, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“I know.” Jisung grinned weakly. “And you, go easy on Minho, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, shuffling over to your suitcase to grab a change of clothes.

“I mean it!”

After telling Jisung you loved him and instructing him to try and drink plenty of fluids if he could keep them down, you and Minho gathered all of your things to bring down the hall to their parents’ room to get ready for the day.

“Take lots of pictures!” Jisung called after you both as you walked out the door.

“Get lots of rest!” you shouted back, forgetting that it was still early in the morning and other hotel guests were likely trying to sleep. “Fuck, sorry.”

Minho chuckled as he checked the door to make sure it locked behind you and then led the way to his parents room just a couple doors down.

Dom and Nikki were already dressed and sitting on the bed, out of the way, so that only you and Minho would have to share the bathroom space, rather than all four of you trying to get ready at once.

“How are you two feeling?” Nikki asked, her voice laced with concern.

“We’re fine,” Minho answered for you both. “Neither of us ate any of Ji’s sushi and I guess we got lucky with ours.”

“What did he have?”

“Tuna, I think.”

“Poor thing. I’ll call room service to bring them some soup later, but you two go ahead and get ready. The shuttle will be here to pick us up in about thirty minutes.”

Minho let you have the bathroom first. You got changed and put your hair up before giving it to him. Nikki had you put your pajamas in a laundry sack that was hanging on the door and then you and Minho brushed your teeth in front of the sink together, silently eyeing each other in the mirror.

“What?” you asked finally through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Nothing!” he mumbled back.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Because you started it!”

“No I didn’t!”

You paused to spit. “You definitely did.”

“Why would I be looking at you?”

“I-I don’t know!”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you were staring at me first.”

“I-” he stammered, “I was just staring off into space! I wasn’t intentionally staring at you.”

“Seemed intentional.”

Minho bent over to spit in the sink before responding. “Well it wasn’t.”

You turned on the faucet and rinsed your mouth out, leaving the water running for Minho to do the same.

A knock on the already open door startled you both. It was Minho’s dad, looking at you both expectantly.

“Are you ready? We gotta get downstairs.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said and quickly splashed cold water on your face. That would have to do for ‘washing your face’.

“Dad, what are we meant to do for breakfast?” Minho asked, following his father into the bedroom.

“We’ll figure it out.”

‘Figuring it out’ ended up meaning stale granola bars from the bottom of Nikki’s purse. You and Minho shared one as you sat squished together on one of the shuttle benches, and Dom and Nikki shared the other one. The bus driver had said that there were vending machines with snacks at the pickup point where you would hop onto a larger bus for the trip to Mt. Fuji.

“Want the last bite?” Minho asked, offering the piece to you.

“No thanks, you can have it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, thanks though.”

Minho shrugged and popped it in his mouth, crumpling up the wrapper and shoving it in his pocket to throw away later.

“You can put your stuff in my backpack if you want,” he continued. “Since I know you usually keep it in Ji’s.”

“Oh, that’d be great, actually. Thank you.”

He unzipped the bag and held out his hand for you to pass him your things. You handed him your wallet, phone, and AirPods, all of which he slid into a pocket on the inside of his backpack before zipping it back up.

The shuttle brought you to a centralized bus station where dozens of coaches were parked and waiting to pick up their passengers. The drivers were standing outside of their respective buses with signs that told you what tour they were leading.

“Be quick,” Dom advised you and Minho. “Mum and I are going to head over to the coach in case they try to leave you behind. Use the bathroom, get food, drinks, and meet us on the bus.”

“Do you want us to get anything for you?” Minho asked.

“Um, grab me a tea or a coffee if they have it, and grab mum one too.”

“What about food?”

“Fruit or trail mix is fine.”

You parted ways and went with Minho over to the cluster of vending machines underneath one of the pavilions. You were immediately overwhelmed by choice. You didn’t even know they made vending machines for half of the products that were being sold. Fresh fruit, umbrellas, condoms… they had thought of everything.

“I’m going to get one of those waffle things,” Minho announced. “Want one?”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Having decisions made for you made life so much easier.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Cool, I’ll put in the order for both of us. What flavor do you want?”

“Wait, you don’t have to do that. I can get my own.”

“I think Jisung would kill me if I let you buy your own,” he said, shaking his head.

It wasn’t the first time Minho had said something like that, and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself thinking about all the times Jisung had slid the bill towards you at bars and restaurants with puppy-dog eyes.

“He doesn’t have to know,” you tried.

“He’d find out.”

“Who’s gonna tell him?”

“Do I need to remind you that I have your wallet?” Minho asked with a smirk.

You sidestepped him and made a grab for the strap on his shoulder, but he dodged you easily and swung the backpack out of reach.

“Nice try.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I want the strawberry one.”

“Was that so hard?”

You didn’t bother responding. Minho bought the waffles and a couple apples from the next vending machine over. While he was distracted you snuck away to the drink machine and used the cash in your pocket to purchase four iced lattes.

It wasn’t long before you were caught, but you’d already fed the bills into the machine.

“What are you doing?” Minho demanded. “Where did you get that?”

“I keep some money in my pocket,” you replied smugly. “Ever since the same thing happened in Paris when I tried to pay for myself.”

You could tell Minho was trying to push down his annoyance, but the tips of his ears were already turning red, giving him away.

“This is for you.” You smiled sweetly and held out one of the cups to him.

He took it begrudgingly, eyes narrowed. “I’m keeping my eye on you.”

The bus was still relatively empty when you and Minho joined his parents minutes later. Minho distributed the food and you gave the other two coffees to Nikki and Dom before taking a seat a couple rows behind them.

Each row had two seats. Minho took the window seat and you sat beside him next to the aisle. You weren’t sure if you should sit next to him, or if that would be weird, but as far as you knew this tour was fully booked and everyone else was a complete stranger to you. Sitting next to your best friend’s brother for three-ish hours on a bus wasn’t the end of the world, even if there was a… weird tension between you.

Minho didn’t seem to think anything of it. He gave you your waffle and your AirPods from his backpack without a word. The bus driver boarded a few minutes later and announced that you’d be stopping by two more pickup points before starting the route to Lake Ashinoko, the first stop of the day.

You ate your strawberry waffle quietly as the coach navigated the narrow streets of Tokyo. It was a little cold, but that was to be expected seeing as it was stored in a refrigerated vending machine.

No one was in much of a mood to talk, save for one or two families sitting in the back. Everyone was seemingly in agreement that it was too early for socialization.

Minho was listening to music with his own headphones and looking out the window, watching the city fly by in a blur of color.

The sun was sitting high in the sky by now. Its rays stretched through the windows and warmed the inside of the bus. The driver had the AC running on high which made you unconsciously lean towards Minho, towards the warmth coming from outside.

“Cold?” Minho asked suddenly, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You hadn’t even realized you were practically encroaching on his personal space. You leaned away from him and averted your eyes in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to smother you!”

“No, you don’t have to- uh,” he paused, knowing he needed to choose his next words carefully. “I have a sweater in my bag if you want to use it as a blanket, or, um, wear it.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m okay,” you assured him.

“I’m not even using it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/n…”

He was already unzipping his backpack despite your protesting. You tensed, feeling caught between your feelings and your rationale. You were cold. Minho offering you his sweatshirt was a gesture of politeness, nothing else. Accepting it meant nothing. Not accepting it would be rude and make things weird, right?

Your inner dialogue was so distracting you didn’t even notice that Minho was draping the sweatshirt over your shoulders until you felt the weight of it resting on your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Don’t mention it.”

-

It wasn’t a surprise that you fell asleep on the ride to the lake. After the shitty night of sleep you’d gotten, it was expected. What was a surprise, though, was Jisung’s mother shaking you awake and realizing you’d fallen asleep on Minho’s shoulder.

“Kids,” Nikki said gently, nudging you and then Minho.

You groaned and blinked your eyes open, confused as to why you were slumped over to the side. And then it dawned on you. You bolted upright, nearly bumping heads with Nikki. Luckily, she had quick reflexes and jumped back before you could give you both a concussion.

“Sorry,” you apologized, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, love. Could you wake Minho, though? We’re at the lake.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Tell him to hurry, we only have a little while before we’re off to the next stop.”

Once she had walked away you turned to Minho who was resting against the window and shook him awake. You weren’t sure which one of you had fallen asleep first, but you had a feeling it was you. Why hadn’t Minho pushed you off? Or woken you up? What had his mom thought when she saw you sleeping on top of her son- the one that wasn’t your boyfriend?

“What’s wrong,” Minho mumbled.

“We’re here.”

“At the mountain?”

“No, dumbass. The first stop is the lake. Were you listening to the tour guide?”

“Listen, I just woke up. Take it easy on me.”

“Well, your parents are waiting for us. They say we won’t be here long.”

You didn’t wait for a response, leaving him there to join his parents outside. The view was beautiful. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and Mt. Fuji stood proudly in the background of the lake, surrounded by green mountains and forests that went on for miles.

But it was hard to enjoy with all of the thoughts about Minho swirling in the back of your mind.

You heard him approach your group, but didn’t turn to acknowledge him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked once you were back on the bus. “Did I do something?”

“Why did you let me fall asleep on you?” you blurted out.

“I- what do you mean?”

“I woke up and I was sleeping on your shoulder. Why did you let me do that?”

“What do you mean ‘let you’? It just happened.”

“And you didn’t stop it.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to!”

“Bullshit.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” he argued.

“So if Jisung was here you would’ve let the same thing happen?” He looked at the ground. “That’s what I thought.”

“I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it- it just…” he trailed off.

“It just what?” you pushed.

“It just felt natural, I don’t know!” he finally admitted. “I didn’t even think about it.”

“How is that possible?” you hissed in frustration. You were trying not to raise your voice because you didn’t need the whole bus overhearing your conversation, especially not Minho’s parents.

“I was half asleep when it happened, y/n! You know, you’re the one who fell asleep on me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?”

He doubled down. “I never said that.”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“Didn’t you?”

You looked at him incredulously. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

He raised his chin and chuckled bitterly. “I think you know.”

“Please, enlighten me.”

But instead of doing so he leaned forward, eyes trained on your lips. A familiar feeling rushed to your stomach- a combination of nausea and adrenaline. The same feeling you’d had when Minho kissed you the first time. You knew it was about to happen again, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to lean away. Fuck his pretty brown eyes and cute smile and curly hair-

“You have a freckle on your bottom lip,” he said matter-of-factly, completely dropping the argument you’d just been having.

You swallowed harshly, unsure of how to proceed. “Always have.”

“Never noticed it before,” he whispered, gaze flicking up to meet your eyes. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. He was only inches from your face. “Tell me if I’m overstepping.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you could barely manage a response. “You’re overstepping.”

“Do you want me to stop? Tell me the truth.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 189,

I slept… okay last night.  Not exhausted at least.  

Going to walk with Lin out to the main road and hope to catch James and family on their way into town for a ride.  We’ll go along with the plan we laid out yesterday and everything will be fine.  

I’ll be fine.  

*******

It happened again, but I’m fine.  

I’m not fine.  

I’m fine.  

*******

It’s been a long day, but not a bad one.  I think I’m feeling better than when it started even.

*******

Shortly after that first entry of the day, Lin and I said our goodbyes to Maiko and headed out for the road.  The plan was to spend at least tonight in the Village.  I may ride back with James and family tomorrow evening.

As it is, I’m spending tonight at Norman and Marva’s with the rest of the family.  Currently huddled under my blanket with a crystal.  I’ll try to keep things relatively brief so as not to keep anyone up.

Back to chronological order.

Lin and I reached the road (the dirt side road, not the main one) with plenty of time to spare.  Or so we judged by the lack of wagon and capy tracks in the mud.  I owe her for that though.  Both in getting me out of bed and out the door and providing a shoulder to lean on when even that short walk left me winded.

When we saw the family wagon coming up the path I soon noticed that it had both less produce and more people.  The whole family it seemed, save those already in town.  Even Antigone, homebody that she is.  Crowded enough that the two oldest siblings (Laios and Manfred I think?) were actually walking along beside.

Not so crowded though that they weren’t willing to make room for us.  It was… good to be back in this familiar situation after having missed out on it during these past few months.  There was a comfort to the familiar familial banter that I’d grown used to being in the middle of without being part of.  The stray cat that everyone liked to feed had returned.

Cass’s absence was almost as noticeable as the addition of more members.  Already in town apparently.  Doing them all proud, keeping up her apprentice work even with her mentor ill.

When I asked what the occasion was for the increased turnout, they told me that today was the solstice and they’d decided that for once instead of Norman and Marva coming to the outskirts they’d all go to the Village.  Lin started at this, having forgotten that was today.

Perhaps sensing my cluelessness, Antigone filled me in.  While less of an event than the equinoxes, the solstices are observed as well, usually with private family gatherings.  While they’re not the longest and shortest days by much (thanks to the equatorial location I suppose) they’re still significant  for heralding the end of the rainy seasons and get used to mark the last week of classes for children.  Normally they’d go until the market day following a solstice, but since this season the solstice is falling on a market day, the last day was yesterday.  And also (as I learned later) the last school season was ended a few days early due to my washing up.

Doing some math, we realized that the prior solstice would have been just a few days after I arrived.  The day I found myself in the ruined cathedral for the first time, to be precise.  Apparently if I’d not stayed in the library so late I might have run into Norman and Marva heading out from the Village to the farmhouse for the family dinner.  Or had I not slept in the next day (which I maintain was justifiable after the previous night’s ordeal) I might have met them on the road back to the Village a day sooner than I had been introduced to them by James.

Speaking of sleep, Cass is whispering at me to properly cover this crystal and stop keeping her up with my pen scratches.  I doubt tomorrow will be eventful, so I’ll just continue then.

<==Previous          Next==>

[yesimwriting]

The Promise of Rain, blurb 2

The Promise of Rain (part 2?? technically) 

A/n I was not originally planning a second part for this but some people wanted it and this idea came to me and it works better with the context of ‘The Promise of Rain’ but it can technically be read as a stand alone :))

Anyways this might turn into a small series of kinda connected blurbs that are all kind of canon with each other but aren’t necessarily connected except for the reader’s background (the reader is a very sunshine-y person and knows Kaz bc she’s a runaway princess that he was hired to bring back home but she managed to convince him to let her work for him instead)

--

The night air had left me with a chill that made me want nothing more than to have my covers draped over me as I read. I’m normally more sociable after a job, especially after such a simple and safe ending, but a lot of tonight had left me wanting to be alone. 

Well, not truly alone. The company of my books is always welcomed, but tonight I can’t seem to find much comfort within the pages. After almost every paragraph, I find myself distracted by gusts of wind and thoughts of the heavy, silver clouds that seem to make up tonight. A part of me longs for the rain. I know it’s ridiculous to expect rain each time I desire some sense of comfort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Especially when the sky so clearly implies it. 

“This must be the fifth time I’ve come here and you’ve been reading.” Kaz’s sudden appearance is almost enough to shake away my lingering somberness. 

I roll my eyes slightly, turning my attention back to the page in front of me. “That observation is just a testament to how often you come in here.” 

His glare is half hearted, a look I’d find endearing if I was less annoyed. “Where else am I going to find a reminder that good people exist in Ketterdam?” 

I think he may have a sixth sense that warns him when I’m treading the line between being annoyed and displeased. Everytime I find myself mad at him in a way that makes me want to avoid him instead of yell at him, Kaz makes some ridiculously heart-melting comment. He steps further into the room. I don’t miss the way he eyes my stretched out legs. Ever since the conversation we had after he woke up after an injury, we’ve fallen into the unmentioned habit of silently inviting the other to stay by moving to make room for them. 

It had started the day after the conversation in which Kaz had admitted that he wanted me to stay with him. He had been sitting on the small couch while discussing the details of a job. Shortly after I walked in he made a point of shifting so that he was clearly on one side of the couch. I didn’t think much about sitting down, but Inej and Jesper exchanged a look. 

Now, though, I keep my legs stretched out on the bed. He eyes my position on the bed, something grim crossing his features. 

“It might rain tonight.” 

He knows me so damn well. I hate it. “I hope so.”

I turn my head, analyzing the way the world seems to be on the cusp of something. I stare at the silver clouds until I feel something hard tap my leg. The tap is firm but not painful. I’m quick to look at Kaz as he lowers his cane. The mention of rain had been a distraction. 

“You distracted me on purpose.” 

“The first rule of the Barrel is to always be prepared.” There’s a slight uptilt to his lips, something I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of teasing. 

How is he so easy to be around one second and so cold the next? I resist a smile. “I’ll take notes.” 

Kaz ignores my passive aggressive tone. His focus seems to be on my legs that have still not moved to offer him a place next to me. “You wear your emotions too openly.” Great, he’s going to make us talk about it. “What reason could you possibly have to be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” It’s a partial truth. 

His expression harshens. “Don’t lie.” 

“I’m not thrilled with you, but I don’t think that’s the same as being mad.” 

Kaz lets out a partial sigh. “No, they’re not the same.” Such an early concession feels like a trap. “With you, the first option is worse.” I don’t have anything to say to that. “Is this because of what I said to Jesper?” 

My posture straightens on instinct. “He wants your validation more than he’d ever admit and I understand that expressing praise isn’t exactly something you do, but would it kill you to not actively insult him?” 

“I didn’t say anything that was wrong. He thinks he’s a gambler but he’s just someone born for losses.” The look I give him must mean something to him, because Kaz is quick to tact on, “That doesn’t make him less valuable of an asset or less relatively dependable.” 

I eye him cautiously, the slightest bit of vulnerability playing at his features. “Don’t look at me like that--and don’t tell me that. Jesper’s the one who could use the occasional reminder from you that you hold him to any regard with positive connotations.” His lips press together like he’s thinking about scolding me for scolding him. “It’s only because I know you care more about Jesper than you’d ever let on.” 

“Jesper’s esteem can handle the blow.” The curtness of his voice is a blow in its own sense. “And he didn’t exactly deserve to be in my good graces after what he did tonight.” 

My sigh is not weighted enough to match Kaz’s newfound fountain of emotion. “We were successful--”

“He left you.” I didn’t know Kaz’s voice was capable of such harshness. “I paired him with you, and he left you--and you almost didn’t make it.” I let the weight of his words take up all the available space in the room, keeping the silence that follows them until some of the heaviness has dissipated. “He could have cost me one of my best people.”

Oh. His harshness, his unwarranted coldness, had been a manifestation of his concern. For me. Guilt knots my stomach. Potential words that may offer Kaz some sort of support raise and die back down in my throat. Kaz turns towards the door. 

“Kaz.” He pauses. There’s a long moment in which I think he won’t turn around, but finally, he does. I tuck my legs beneath me, forcing myself to sit up a little straighter. “I told Jesper to leave because I knew the job would have failed if he had been trapped in that room with me.” I drop my gaze towards the window. “I was right, the job was successful, and I got out in time so it was worth it.”

“You risked your safety?” The harsh facet of his being is making its return in full force. 

“For the job,” I’m careful to keep my words factual, “It’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Kaz’s jaw locks. “When I said that keeping you near me would ruin you this is what I meant.” 

Is it really this big of a deal? I made it out. “Kaz.”

“This wasn’t my best idea.” His words are leached of anything. “You’re going back home. Tomorrow I’ll arrange the voyage myse--” 

“Kaz Brekker you may get to live your life doing anything you want but you don’t get to control mine.” My chin raises an inch, an instinctual act of subtle rebellion. “I am not going back there, even if I’m technically indebted to you because you didn’t return me to my father but that does not mean I’ll--”

“I’m not trying to control you.” His words are sharp, boarding on a yell. “A job like that one wasn’t worth you.” 

From Kaz, I know those words are heavy. There’s a lot of things I could say to that. I could tell him that I wanted to do something for him. I could say that I appreciate him telling me that. I could even say that in his own way, Kaz giving Jesper a hard time because he left me, is kind of cute in a misguided way. The thing is I think all of these responses will make things worse. 

“Kaz,” I keep my voice as steady as possible, “I’m fine, you’re fine, it all worked out.” Scratching the back of my arm, I exhale gently. “I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

I watch him carefully, there’s a slight slump to his shoulders as he exhales. Is the fight leaving him so easily? He walks further into the room. “You better.” He sits down in the space I provided for him slowly. “If you’re not you’ll have worse things to worry about than anything that can happen to you on a job.” He moves his cane forward easily, tapping my knee in a swift motion. 

I roll my eyes at the mock threat. “They do say that there’s nothing to fear in the Barrel like the Dirtyhands.” 

“Remember that.” Any edge in his voice is forced. I fight against a smile that seems to always want to break across my face whenever I think I see something resembling lightness in Kaz. 

“I don’t think I could forget anything about you.” 

He turns his head slightly. “You should.” 

“Too bad.” 

Kaz leans his back against the wall, untensing slightly. “I think you just like disagreeing with me.” 

There’s no point in lying about it. “Only because when you argue with me you give me this really particular look.” 

“A look?” 

Adding insult to injury, I smile. “Sometimes you look like you’re too focused on being angry, like you’re compensating for something.” 

Kaz lets out a bitter sigh. “Maybe if you were less of a puppy I wouldn’t have to--”

The laugh that escapes is most definitely a mistake. “Did you just call me a puppy?” I don’t give him a chance to reply, laughter taking over again. “I mean this in the least argumentative way possible--but you’re so weird sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes, tensing. “I’m leaving.”

I stifle the rest of my laughter. “No. I was--I was kidding!” I keep my eyes on Kaz, expecting some type of annoyed glare, but his expression is a lot more weighted than that. Odd. “Kaz?” 

“You need to be more careful.” I understand Kaz’s pause as something he does before saying something outside of his nature. “I’m not asking you this as a Crow or a Dreg.” 

On instinct, my posture straightens. “I promised and I meant it.” 

“Sometimes I wish I could believe in Saints,” his voice has taken off a distant quality, almost fragile, “That way I could believe something existed to help what matters.” 

Oh. “You never fail, even if I didn’t believe in Saints I’d believe in you.” 

“You’re wasting your faith.” The sound of lightning cracking is almost enough to make me jump. The rain finally came. 

I know I’ll never convince him that that’s not true. “I don’t think so, but that’s why it’s called faith.” 

“I have faith in some things.” His expression is far off. 

“Like what?” 

Kaz’s eyes find the window. “People that find meaning in the rain.” 

Something in my chest swells. “You’re like the rain.”

We sit there in silence, watching raindrops glide down the window. “What were you reading?” 

The question has me dropping my gaze to the forgotten book on my lap. “I stole this book from the palace before I left. It was my mom’s favorite, she’s read it so much the spine’s completely cracked and the cover is practically falling off.” 

“Hm…” He mumbles. “Read some, the books read in a palace must be worthwhile.” 

A part of me wants to tell him that elitism has no place in literature, but his request leaves me frozen. I nod once, turning to the first page of the book. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife--” 

“Your upbringing makes sense--” 

“You can’t judge it off the first sentence,” he’s insufferable, “It’s setting up irony, and if you’re going to complain--” 

He lets out a conceding sigh. “I’m listening, I’m not interrupting.” 

I keep my eyes on him for a second longer than I should. “Okay.” Dropping my gaze back to the book, I adjust my grip on the worn paperback, “Good.” 

And then I keep reading. 

--

@theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag 

[luimagines]

I’m wondering how the boys would deal with you getting sick/wounded?

Masterlist

A lot of protectiveness that's for sure! Mixed in with some self doubt and anxiety! But lots of care and gentleness just for you!

Since there isn't a specification, I'll try to write platonically but I'm still on a crush roll so if feels come out or are implied, then I'll take full blame and pass it on to the previous prompt.

I’m gonna try something with this prompt and only write three guys per part. The other parts will be out shortly with the others but I don’t want to only post like once every other week even if I’m trying to write everyday because they’re so many of them. I do want to write them all! But it does take awhile.

SO! If I like this system I’ll keep it but it’s a trial run.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, PART 1

Scenario under the cut!

Sky

Sky was running through the forest, slashing down all the monsters that were within his reach.

You, Wild and Twilight on top of Epona ran past him, chasing the black lizalfos that caused this whole mess. He stayed back, knowing that speed wasn't his strong suit. Between all the skeletons, lizards and all the keese that started showing up in the mean time, he was sure that he was more needed here to keep the monsters from reaching you.

He kept his focus on the fight and moved with practiced motions.

Monster began falling under his blade, left and right, front and back. He was no longer paying attention to where his teammates are. Just the motion and and the thrill of the fight to guide him, all other senses forgotten, he missed your cry.

He didn't know you turned back.

He didn't know you came to fight next to him.

He didn't see the monster coming up behind him-

"SKY!" He was suddenly pushed to the side, the ground coming up to meet him with dirt shooting all over his face.

He hears you cry again but in pain, and once again when he hears you hit the ground.

Sky gets to his feet as fast as he can and spins around.

There you are, on the ground, hand clenched around a growing red blotch on your other arm. You're glaring up at the skeleton that came from behind. Your sword is on the opposite side to you, but it doesn't matter much if your dominant arm is out of commission.

The skeleton shakes, as if in laughter even if no sounds comes forth from the monster. Sky sees that the skeleton no longer has its attention on him but on you. It raises its arm, sword raised and sharp and begin to bring it in your direction.

Sky grits his teeth and swings his sword.

Metal clangs against metal and Sky is surprised to see the amount of force that was behind the initial blow. It nearly sends him back to the ground but he merely slides a few inches backwards instead.

He chances a glance down at you and knows that you won't be able to fight beyond what already transpired.

The battle around him lessens somewhat, the sounds dimming until he only hears the blood pumping in his ears.

He's tired.

But Sky was never one to be a quitter. With one final push, he puts al of his weight into his next strike and knocks the skeleton away from their stalemate. While it's struggling to gain its balance, he slices upwards and cuts the entire thing in half.

He takes a step back and glances around the battlefield.

The others are making quick work of the monsters still standing. He trusts them to finish the job so he turns on his heel and kneels beside you.

"Let me see." Sky pulls your hand away from the wound. It goes down your bicep and across your elbow. He can't tell how deep it is, but it's long and bleeding.

"I'll be alright." You try to smile and get up. Sky doesn't let you. "Better me than you anyway."

"Not true." He glares at you. Sky is quick to take out his supplies and bandages and begin to work on your arm. He feels angry even after the monster has been dealt with. You shouldn't have gotten hit. You shouldn't have gotten hit on his account, he amends in his head. "It'll never be true."

"I've had worse." You shrug and hiss when he takes out his personal disinfectant and applies it to your wound. He's running low, but it's the best he can do since he's not the one carrying the healing potions and he can't do what Hyrule does, period.

He doesn't feel good about your answer and by the look on your face, he knows that you know it too.

"Why did you do that?" Sky asks after a moment of silence. He refuses to look at you head on. He knows he's still glaring and he doesn't want to aim it in your direction. He's too tired to try and hide it like he usually would with any other person. You'll just have to put up with it.

"You were gonna get hit." You reply, watching him work. "What was I supposed to do? Just let that happen?"

"You didn't have to take the hit for me. Yelling would have been fine. Let me know that it was there so I could deal with it." He growls.

"I tried." You stress and nearly pull your arm back when he puts a little more pressure on the cut than necessary. He keeps you close though so it's not like you succeed. "I yelled your name like three times. It's not like I wanted to push you face first into the dirt. If I let that thing hit you, you would have been given a way worse hit than this stupid cut on my arm."

Sky flexes his jaw and begins wrapping said stupid cut. He's inclined to believe you and he's sure that you're right. But....

He's allowed to not like it.

"Can you stand?" He asks, letting some of the anger fall from his face. Sky makes a quick evaluation over himself and realizes that he's relatively unharmed. A bit bruised, sure, but nothing worse than that. Certainly no blood drawn on his end.

You nod, grab your sword with your good hand and begin to get up. Out of habit, you instinctually put your wounded hand behind you to stabilize yourself and fall back down in pain.

Sky makes the executive decision to pick you up bridal style and carry you back to the others.

"SKY!" You cry and thrash around. "My injury is on my arm! I can stand just fine!"

He takes one good look at you then and shrugs. "You couldn't even get up. I don't mind."

"It's not about if you mind or not!" You continue. "It's the principle of the thing!"

He doesn't reply. Sky just looks away with a smirk, under the guise of looking for the rest of the group.

You catch on and stutter out some kind of argument but he tunes it out.

He sees Wild and Twilight back, angry and lizardless.

It's fine, he thinks. Because you're all together again and getting closer to figuring this whole thing out while putting a stop to it.

You begin to beg to be let down, unless the others make some kind of comment about it. But Sky feels the little voice inside of him to let it happen anyway.

Pay back for taking his hit.

Better you than him, HA! Not if he has anything to say about it.

Wild

Wild was on a roll!

After a successful dungeon raid (he's getting better that those), a great meal enjoyed by the whole team and no lecture about ditching the group, he on a golden streak! Nothing can get him down!

He continues to have a large grin on his face even after everyone has eaten and begins to settle down for the night. Everyone seems to be in good spirits.... except for you.

After you ate, you tried to keep up with everyone's good fortune and attitude but something felt wrong, you said you didn't feel good so you called it a night early, seemingly forgetting that it was your turn to take first watch.

Wild doesn't think much of it at first and continues with his nightly routine.

It's really only when it's right before he plans on going to bed that he notices something. The others that are still awake are quick to notice it as well and each of them share concerned glances.

You began to curl into yourself as you slept. Nothing weird about that, right? Maybe you were just cold but then... You started to whimper and grunt, like you were scared and in pain. A cough here and then but it doesn't spark any idea of what might be bothering you.

Twilight is the first to get up and make his way toward you but you wake up first, shooting to your feet with a frightening speed and all but stumble and crawl away from the camp.

Wild stands at nearly the same speed and begins to make his way towards you as well.

You don't get very far until you start coughing even more. It's a deep and wet cough that leaves you gasping for air but it continues on.

Then you vomit.

Wild sprint towards you then and helps hold whatever hair he can get to back and away from your face. Twilight is right next to him suddenly and he's rubbing circles on your back while you cry and continue to retch.

A few minutes pass but they feel like an eternity to Wild. He looks over to Twilight and grimaces. "Was it something they ate?"

Because if it was then this is on him. And he doesn't like the thought of causing you any sort of discomfort. Let alone getting you sick.

Twilight only shrugs and helps you stand straighter when you're done throwing up everything that you had eaten the day prior.

You're crying, whimpering and hugging yourself but Wild doubts that you're really aware of what's happening.

He places a hand on your forehead and gasps in shock.

You are absolutely burning up.

"You're sick." His eyebrows furrow and he begins to hold you steady when Twilight leaves you to him.

"...I don't feel good." You reply, but you haven't looked at him. You're eyes are still half lidded and it leads him to believe that you're still somewhat asleep.

"Ok. We'll help you, ok?" He says as he begins to lead you back to your bed roll.

" 'm cold." You say as you move back to where you were sleeping before. "An' everythin' hurts."

"I know. We'll make it better, I promise."

Twilight appears out of nowhere with his wolf pelt and places it over you, helping Wild get you back into your spot and tucks you in.

"Guess we'll stay here tomorrow as well." Twilight mutters. "No use pushing them any further, not like this."

"How long-?" Wild begins to ask but he doesn't know if that's even a question that can be answered. He tries anyway. "How long have they been sick?"

"They were a little weird yesterday..." Twilight admits. "But I didn't think much about it."

"What? Why?" Wild turns to his friend, brother, mentor. "Why not call them out on it? If they're sick-"

"I wasn't sure if I was just seeing things. We're all a little weird from time to time. I can smell a lot but this is always a toss up." Twilight glares a little as he defends himself.

"What do we do then?"

"We do what we can." Time answers from beyond the fire pit. "Some of us can make a supply run to the nearby town we were going to stop at. Get something to help that fever and maybe some tea to help that cough. Being at the town would be the better solution, seeing as the outdoors are not exactly illness friendly but the terrain isn't worth hauling them over. It might even do more damage."

Twilight nods in agreement and stands. "I can take a few of the boys and make a supply run. Get some more things that we might being running low on."

"Got any ideas of who to take?"

"Warrior, Legend and Four. They know the best way around merchants and quality buys. I say they're our best bet for the good stuff."

"I'll pay." Wild pipes up, reaching just beyond your bed roll into his for his sheikah slate.

"Cub, that's not necessary-"

"I'm paying." He growls and takes out a good amount of yellow rupees. "They need medicine. Medicine that we don't have and we can't afford their fever to get any worse."

He all but shoves the cash into Twi's arms and leaves it at that.

Time and Twilight share a look but neither comment on the aggressiveness of it.

There's not a lot of words to be spoken after that. Time takes the first watch and Twilight goes to sleep with a call to wake him up if anything happens. To you or to the group, Wild doesn't know. Knowing Twilight, maybe he means both.

Wild has trouble sleeping and has trouble forcing himself to leave your side.

After much deliberation, a long study of your pained face even as you sleep, he gets up and fixes the fire.

Time simply watches and lets him mess around as he pleases, so long as he's quiet.

Wild doesn't pay attention to him and gets his slate out for the ingredients he's looking for.

He starts by making tea. Honey, lemon bark, ginger, all for the your cough but he hopes that it'll help your fever as well.

When the tea sits and begins to steep, he takes out more cooking supplies and begins to cook more meals for you. All light and mostly fluid. It's a lot of soup.

He can't bring himself to sleep when you might need someone by your side again.

They were lucky the first time that some of them were still awake.

The shifts changes out without his notice. Wild is too busy filling up the inventory that he has with meals that are intended to help you fight this infection.

Day light comes and those who missed it learn of the prior nights events, the plan and get ready to carry it out.

Wild makes a belated breakfast when he realizes that most of the group is awake.

They're all staring at him but he shakes it off.

His highest priority right now is helping you come out of this stronger than before.

He's your personal nurse for the day and until you get better.

The others don't try to fight him on this. They couldn’t even if they tried.

Legend

Legend takes a minute to pause from firing his magic rod. The magic in it leaves him feeling a little drained from the amount of shots he’s been taking but the monsters are thinning out, so he continues plowing forward.

He leaves a particularly nasty looking thing, from an era he doesn’t recognize, as a pile of sloppy purple gluck on the ground.

When he looks up, his heart stops in his throat.

You’re right in front of him, fighting one of the biggest moblins on the scene, alone.

You’re trying to keep yourself on your feet and do some damage to the beast in the process but the blood comes back black, staining your sword and ground around you.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

He makes a run for it and fires what he can at the monster’s back until he’s completely tapped out of his magic.

He switches for his sword and activates his Pegasus Boots, charging directly into the monster’s side, plunging the blade deep within the creature up to the hilt.

“Hey Legend. Fancy meeting you here.” You grit out and slash what you can at the beast.

“Sorry, I should have told you I’m known for being fashionably late.” He fires back and attempts to take back his weapon.

His sword gets stuck on something within the monster and he’s forced to leave it in. The moblin has since been made aware of arriving company and takes a swing that would have taken Legend’s head off. He’s quick to duck under it and he calls out to the others for back up. “THIS ONE’S INFECTED! A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!”

“What a concept.” You gasp, out of breath and losing steam. “Back up would have been great like five minutes ago.”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Legend knows he’s quick on his feet and dances around the monster and to your side.

But it’s a miscalculation.

The moblins takes another swing at Legend in the process but since he doesn’t hit his target, his arm arcs outwards and knocks you finally off of your feet and sends you flying across the field with a sickening crack.

Legend stops for a second in shock and stares at where you landed.

You’re not getting up.

Now Legend is the one fighting this thing alone, with his sword still in the side of the monster, back up still not arriving yet and worse yet, the group is now down a number.

He doesn’t have time to reflect how it might be his fault that you’re down.

He hopes you’re not out and that the others comes quickly.

There’s a shot that takes the moblin by surprise when it’s imbedded in his head. Legend can’t risk taking glances around anymore but the quick succession of the blows let him know that Wild has appeared from out of the wood work and has joined him in taking this thing out.

Legend makes around circle around it and reaches for the hilt of his sword. IT”s wet and covered in its blood but he manages to get a grip on it.

He pulls.

He knows that it would have taken a lot to take it out but the blood around it seems to have lubricated the wound and it begins to slide out. As it inches out, Legend has to take another dive out of the way since the moblin swings back his way.

The sword is no longer plugging most of the wound, so it’s more  like a fountain of ink that beginning to paint the forest floor.

Legend suspects that he hit something vital and that the blow would be final if he can get the rest of his sword out.

Luckily, despite the lack of communication, Wild and Legend seem to reach a consensus. Wild distracts the moblin for a while and Legend goes for his sword and takes out as much as he can before the moblin takes his aggression out on him.

Somewhere in the middle of this Warrior has also appeared and begins to add to the distraction while using Legend’s fire rod. This allows Legend to get more time out of the small windows that his team is buying them but the progress if slower than he likes.

The blood on his hands makes it harder for him to get a grip on his sword and his boots are having a hard time gaining purchase on the ground as it turns to bloodied mud. 

Legend makes another dive out of the way and glances over to where you are.

You’re still not moving and no one has reached you yet.

Concern fuels him forward and he makes one last attempt to pull the sword free while the other damage it as much as they can.

It releases.

Legend goes flying backward and onto the ground, making quick work of getting back to his feet and attacking the beast.

The blood around his hands and sword are beginning to dry, almost gluing them together this time as he fights and he fights.

Somewhere along the lines of this, the news of an infected monsters reaching the others, Legend assumes, and one by one the others clamor up to the monster and begin to strike it down.

Now with all of them here, Legend takes a step back and steps out of the fray, leaving the killing blow to be dealt by the majority of the group.

Instead, he runs to your side.

Legend drops to his knees by your side and drop his sword somewhere behind him. He’s quick to take out his bag and rummage through it. He takes out a potion just you groan and roll over.

Legend lets out a sigh of relief, and a curse.

The moblin dies somewhere behind him.

“Legend...” You cry out. “Are you dead?”

He has to keep himself from snorting in disbelief. “Of course I’m not dead! It takes a lot more than that to kill me you know.”

His hands are shaking but your eyes are closed so he doesn’t make a show of trying to hide it. Your hands are over where your ribs are, a bit of red seeping through your fingers, but it doesn’t look major considering the amount of time that’s passed.

The potion will take of it.

“Were you not hit? You’re ok?” You ask in delirium, using all the strength you have left to sit up. Legend is quick to help you and places the potion in your lap with the cork off.

“No, it was really just you that took the hit.” Legend sits back and watches you drink it, slowly and robotically. He takes a minute to look over the rest of you and realizes that you don’t actually have a lot of injuries.

Just a few large hits.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You blurt, eyes wide and potion half drunk, threatening to spill over the lip of it with how you’re holding it. “Are you sure you weren’t hit?”

Legend tilts his head and looks down.

He’s absolutely disgusting.

He knows it shows on his face the minute he sees it but he forces himself not to think about it and instead, looks back at you.

“Believe it or not, none of it is mine.”

You stare for a moment or two longer before slowly returning to drink the potion you were given. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

The comment send even more relief through his system, shutting down the last of his adrenaline and he has to laugh. 

Legend has no idea what conclusion you came to but considering the amount of shock and awe on your face by the sight of him, he doesn’t plan on correcting you any time soon.

Part 2 Part 3

[odilestory]

lipstick criminal moonlight - bruno bucciarati x reader

hello! this is an ao3 repost, my username on there is vityavishneva if ao3 is your preferred format, but I am going to repost all my pics from there on here.

word count: 2.5k

without further ado…..

—————————————

It hadn’t been a particularly boring day at work, but you were nonetheless eager to go home. Lately you had been hitting a low point, and while there were moments that had you hurting with laughter, if you weren’t occupied with other thoughts, you were unable to ignore a looming sense of emptiness.

Unbeknownst to Bruno, that is. Though incredibly perceptive to your mood, the mafioso had been particularly busy these days, spending increasingly more time coordinating with his team than at home with you. And you understood. You knew the nature of his work, and you accepted that there would be times when he would barely be able to get away, you just thought it horribly unfortunate that his absence and your depression chose to coincide. 

In a way, you were glad he didn’t see you like this; you would hate for him to think your sadness was caused by his absence when in reality it was just something else entirely.

It always seemed to hit you hardest in the moments before he walked in the door. Late at night or early in the morning, the moonlight pooled in your tangled sheets, flooding in through the window. You would stare at the stars and get lost imagining what it would feel like if he didn’t come home. And you didn’t know why you would even think to imagine these things. The one thing that would make you hurt the most, yet you pondered it constantly. You fingers would brush your cheek and you would imagine they were his fingers, closing your eyes and trying to relax yourself, as if preparing for the day that this nightmare became reality. 

You hoped tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights as you snapped back to reality at the cash register. It was close to closing, so the store was nearly empty, save for you and your manager. You snapped out of your longing as you heard footsteps on the tile at the store front, preparing yourself to raise your voice an octave or two and greet a customer.

However, he beat you to it.

“Surprise, cara!” As if answering your prayers, he walks in the door. Dressed in a black suit with gold zipper detail that you recognized as one you helped him pick out. He looked gorgeous as ever, hair slightly disarrayed from the walk, but still perfectly framing his tanned face.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with everyone else?” You tried to tone down your excitement, not being one to make public scenes. It was difficult though, seeing him anywhere (let alone a surprise visit) made your heart race.

“I tried to wrap things up a bit early. I’m hoping to take tomorrow off.” He leaned his elbows on the other side of the counter, his smile bright and sincere. That’s another thing you loved about him: you could really tell that whenever he looked at you he was absolutely enamored. His love for you was overflowing, and you could tell in everything he did. Whether it was the way he messed with your hair or placed his hand on the small of your back when you were walking with him, everything he did had this genuine gentleness and care to it. 

“Oh, any special plans?” You matched his incline and tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. 

“Waking up with you is the most special of them all,” he said softly. “But if you want to do something else as well, I’m sure we’ll have time.” With that declaration, he turned on his heel and wandered around the store, greeting your manager and making a bit of small talk before returning back to you. “What time will you be home? Should I make dinner?”

“We close in a few minutes, I should be out of here by 7:30. I was thinking of cooking but if you insist I won’t complain. We could always order.” You felt his gaze follow you as you paced back and forth behind the counter, moving hangers from here to there and switching around piles of clothes, writing sticky notes for whoever came in to open the store the next day telling them what needed to get done.

“Then, I’ll head home now and have something ready when you get home, yeah? How does that sound?” 

You stood up to meet his eyes once again, as bright and blue as ever. The corners started to crease as he smiled upon seeing your face.

“That sounds perfect.” Bruno was a great cook. No need to worry there.

He reached over the counter to pinch your chin before walking away. “Ci vediamo presto, amore mio.” 

Your eyes were glued to him as he walked away, watching his hair sway with the turn of his head as he glanced at some of the pieces you sold on his way out. 

Shortly after Bruno’s visit, you and your manager closed the store and quickly ran through after hours duties. Your shared apartment was no more than a 10 minute walk from your work, and luckily it wasn’t as cold and rainy as it had been the previous nights. You clocked out and patiently waited for your manager to finish up in the office so she could let you out the side door. Slipping on your jacket and grabbing your bag, you quickly checked your phone before putting it back in your bag, noting the sweet text— something along the lines of “I can’t wait to see you”— from Bruno at the top of your lock screen.

Walking up the stairs to your doorstep, the relief and excitement you felt from knowing that Bruno would be home not only relatively early tonight, but all day tomorrow as well, was immeasurable. You couldn’t think of a single thing you wanted to do with him though, other than actually doing him, but you knew even if you did absolutely nothing it would be the most joyous day in your life as of late. Honestly, even if it was a day out with the rest of the gang you would be overjoyed. Really, any confirmation that Bruno was safe and with you was more than enough. Having him near you was a breath of fresh air, and having him in your arms and you in his would be indescribable. 

You unlocked the door with a sigh and brushed your hair out of your face, greeted with what could only be described as the heavenly smell of dinner. You heard the faucet shut off and Bruno rushed around the corner, his hair half up and an apron on, to greet you and take your bag. 

“Welcome home,” he smiled and pulled you closer with his free hand, leaning down momentarily to give you a short but sweet kiss. His hand lingered at your back for a moment before he turned and set your bag down on the couch and then promptly returning to the kitchen to finish whatever meal he was working on. “It’s almost ready!” He shouted as you slid your shoes off.

“It smells great,” you turned the corner to head into the kitchen, making a b-line for the wine fridge hidden in the island, ready to abuse Bruno’s collection of fine wines in celebration of his homecoming. But as he noticed the direction you we heading, he mumbled a “Way ahead of you” and poured you a glass of a very nice red that he had already taken out. You looked up at him, letting your gaze linger as you watched him stir and check and taste whatever was on the stove (some sort of pasta dish, you had surmised), watching his hair sway and his lips move and he talked to himself under his breath, watching how his hand came up to scratch his chin or the back of his neck as he stood for a moment or two making sure he knew what he was doing. The his eyes met yours again, and with a smile he encouraged you to go get changed into something more comfortable, motioning to the pajama pants and old t-shirt that he was wearing under his apron. You nodded as you took a sip of the wine. “I’ll be right back.” And you turned for the bedroom.

Sluggishly undressing because of your lingering dark cloud, you eventually found a pair of silky black pajama pants and lacy black camisole that you felt comfortable going from dinner-date to bed in, and threw on an oversized grey cardigan to combat the slight chill you felt in the apartment. You tied your hair back and headed back for the kitchen. You passed the dining room on your way, and noticed Bruno lighting some candles before setting out plates.

“Getting romantic, are we?” You smiled at the way his head quickly turned to you, and it was obvious you may have just sabotaged a little surprise. 

“I have nights upon nights of romance to make up for, after all.” He shrugged his shoulders and laughed a bit as if it was obvious. You smiled back and then dove into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing him in for a moment. He froze for a moment, not expecting your sudden move, but then you felt him reciprocate and embrace you, kissing the top of your head.

“I’ve really missed you, not being able to see you all the time has been harder than I think I thought it was going to be.” You said into his chest, breathing out a long sigh of relief as you turned your head and felt his heart racing.

“I’m glad to be home, even if just for tonight and tomorrow. I’ve missed you so much.” He squeezed you tighter, rubbing circles on your back with one hand. You two stood there for a moment, it being abundantly clear how much the both of you missed each other, trying to enjoy this moment as long as possible. Then a timer went off in the kitchen, and Bruno pulled away with a smile, kissing your forehead before regretfully turning away and back into the kitchen. You opted to take a seat at the small dinner table after grabbing your glass of wine off of the counter.

Bruno could barely take his eyes off of you while he served your plates, and he couldn’t help but feel something was wrong behind your eyes every time you broke his gaze to look down at the table or take another sip form your glass.

…

Dinner was amazing as expected, and it felt so nice to catch up with Bruno about how he and the team were doing. He never liked to give you too many specifics, not because he didn’t trust you but because he had a lingering fear that saying too much would mean getting you involved. Nonetheless, you had a good laugh at Narancia and Mista’s antics and made a mental note to try to meet up with everyone as soon as possible. They felt like family, and you wanted to check up on them yourself even if Bruno gave you the rundown. You, in return, caught him up with your life and your friends, telling him about all of the crazy customers you had the pleasure of interacting with while he was away.

You both cleaned up the kitchen together. Bruno was about to insist you go sit down, but he got the feeling that you would rather be with him right now than sit alone on the couch or in the bedroom, so he passed the dishes to you to dry them and put them away after he scrubbed them clean. Once you had closed the last cupboard, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his chest against your back. Your  hands traced over his arms and you leaned your head back in an attempt to look at him, but he dipped to the side and kissed your neck instead.

“God, I’ve really missed you.” He breathed and squeezed you tighter, and it was his turn to breath a sigh of relief, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms. You reached up to touch his face, caressing your thumb along the side of his face. He let go of you for a moment, before mumbling “Let’s get ready for bed” and leading you to the en suite in your bedroom. 

He took his hair down and ruffled it a bit to check for knots before putting a headband on to push his bangs back and wash his face. You did the same, practically drying your faces in unison before reaching for your toothbrush and mouth wash. Once you finished, you turned and fell onto the bed, listening for Bruno to shut the light off. 

He stretched his arms up as he sauntered over to you, smiling before falling beside you. It was clear out, and the moonlight once again flooded onto the sheets like it had the many days when Bruno didn’t occupy the bed, only this time it wasn’t just you who was tangled in the sheets it illuminated. 

You two were intertwined with each other in the blink of an eye, limbs getting tangled together and kisses planted between every breath. He stroked your hair and brushed a few strands behind your ear before speaking.

“Earlier, when you said it had been harder on you than you thought, I just…I want to make sure that you’re ok.”

“I’m better now that you’re here and I know you’re safe.” Though an affirmation of you being fine, it had also implied that you weren’t fine previously, and this concerned him. You could tell, and so you continued. “When you were gone, I couldn’t help but lay here by myself and think about what would happen if you never came home. I just don’t know what I would do…I don’t know what I would do without you.” You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’ll always come home. I’ll go wherever you go, I hope you know that.”

“And don’t get me wrong I’m not doubting your abilities, but I just fear that one day— without warning— I’m never going to see you again. And I’ve just felt down lately on top of that. I just didn’t want you to have another thing to worry about, and I didn’t want you to think I was upset at you for not being home.” He held you tighter in response.

“Please tell me when you feel like this. I want to know you’re ok, even if It’s something small, I want to do anything to be there for you.” 

The relief of knowing that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him was indescribable, all you could muster was a nod against his chest and an “mhm” before embracing him tightly and curling up under the sheets.

Still, the moonlight was pooling and glowing against your skin, but this time there was someone next to you to bask in it with.

[writingforyourpleasure]

IHTCW part II

Genre: NonIdol!AU, SummerJob!AU

Part II of

Pairing: OT7 x Reader - focus Yoongi x reader- Namjoon x reader

Summary: You do car wash as a summer job each year. But this year , 7 new employees are added to the mix.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst,fluff,smut

______

So apparently taehyung idea worked … which to say the least surprised you a lot.

Everyday since the photoshoot , with the boys , which was two weeks ago now. For which you took the pictures not wanting to be sexualized by some creeps, a ton of groups of girls were coming in and out at every hours of the day , sometimes even going as far as several times a day , apparently not only men could be sexualizing the other gender and be a creep about it. But the boys knew from the start that they’ll be sexualized and were strangely okay with it.

Even you had a hard time not finding them extra hot while doing the photoshoot , you were lucky they staid clothed because you would have been a babbling mess if they did.

Ever since that day you worked much longer than before at the gaz-station being overcome with those new clients. Which meant you were less at home than normal.

Which created a lot of disputes between you and your romantic partner. Tonight had been the last drop for you. They insulted you , so you took the first bag you saw and got some clothes you found not bothering to check what it was and to show it down your bag to take of on your bicycle, getting as far away as possible from this place , you used to call home.

But you really had nowhere to go to be honest. Like most of your friends were living on campus or gone back home to see their relatives for the summer break.

So you drove where you mind took you and it was at Namjoon’s house strangely. You only been there once to help him and the rest of the guys move into this new loft they shared, in was pretty big for students but you figured they had rich families or at least one of them to help them out.

You knocked on the windowed door of the loft trying to make yourself heard but still not wanting to disturb anyone’s sleep surely one of them would still be up right ?

Blue hair came into view and something overtook you , you didn’t cry no. You didn’t need to.

You tears had dry out years ago , right now you wanted to bask into a moment of serenity with whoever could hold you and it was a good thing Namjoon was the one holding you his presence making the silence around you so comfortable and easy to bask into.

You needed this. After what felt several minutes you turned to glance up at him a question on your lips but too tired to ask hoping he would come up with the sentence by himself, he did.

“Do you got a bag to sleep-over ?”

Still being your silent self , too tired of the screams, words and others you made a light sign at your backpack on your bicycle, he understood and leaved the comfort and softness of the hug to go get it for you.

He showed you the way into the house passing by a living room in which Jungkook was sleeping uncomfortably on the couch while facing a lightly blue screens playing some credits of a film .

Namjoon made a shush movement to you, before showing you his bedroom door’s , you remembered from last time.

You entered and the place seemed very calm and like a resting place for your fuzzy mind.

You went to thank Namjoon but saw him going out of his bedroom.

“Were are you going?” You said with a small voice , like a kid getting scared of the monster under their bed.

“I leave you my bed and I’ll took the couch not to disturb you , you look like you could use some sleep.”

“Ple-please don’t … don’t leave me ?” You asked making silent doe eyes over him .

His breath was shortly cut before exhaling and giving in your request . He spread out his magnificent body over the bed and you softly made a sign to ask permission for a cuddle .

He showed you into his chest and for once since a long time your night wasn’t visited by screams and insults. But rather a deep voice and pretty laugh and some blue smoke over it.

The next morning you wake up early , way too early. The harsh 6 am from Namjoon’s alarm clock was staring smugly at you , you tried you really did but no matter what you couldn’t seem to go back to bed . So you leaved the bed and warm embrace of Joon’s arm around you to put a pillow in his arms instead of your frame. With what you hoped was the smallest sounds you tip-toed to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water unfortunately for a dark figure was waiting for you causing a high pitch from your lungs joined by the cold stare of the shadow. You heart start to come back to life once you saw that in front of you for no other than Yoongi, looking at you like you grew to heads.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you, I mean it’s not like I’m the one standing in your kitchen at 6 am unannounced .”

“Christ Yoongi, you have no idea how much you scared me .”

“Well didn’t think it’ll be that soon I’ll hear you scream because of me.”

You rolled your eyes trying not to look like a deer caught in headlights , it wasn’t really your taste of humor but you knew he just tried to lighten up the mood.

“Subtle as ever , I see.”

“I prefer to be cash with someone who I feel attracted to.”

What? He had to be kidding, or were you dreaming and in reality still in Joon’s arms?

“I fear I did not quite get that.” You swallowed a big breath trying to shake your frozen state away.

“Too bad I hate repeating myself” He winked at you . You stood still blushing and you were thanking the lack of light in that moment, not wanting to be teased further by him.

“So what’s up? Why are you doing in my kitchen at 6 am ? Were you missing me that much?”

It kinda shocked you how this very calm man was being so straightforward something you never thought him to be .

But soon enough a sour expression painted your face remembering why you were here in the first place.

Even though the lack of lights Yoongi saw that.

“Do you want me to help out?”

“There’s nothing to be done , I’m afraid.”

You sighs as you made your way to the sink to serve yourself a glass of water.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi was now right in front of you caging him between his two arms on each sides of your hips while they were resting against the sink.

“I-I don’t-“

“I really want to help you out , I’ll be happy to.” He whispered getting closer to you.

“I don’t get it, what-“

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His lips were a few inches away from yours and you could feel the light scent of his morning shave hitting your nostrils as you took a deep breath in.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You asked not leaving his lips from your glance as he licked them purposefully .

“I was thinking I made that point pretty clear.” At that you lashed out your anger on his lips not, giving him a minute to catch on before colliding your lips on his.

There was something pretty aggressive from you directed towards him, well not him really more to the world and how unfair this all was but you had the sensation that he could get it, that he was somewhat as torn up inside as you were . He responded to the kiss pretty fast . But to your shock his kiss wasn’t rushed at all on the contrary it was barely a peck before he moved away from your lips.

“No matter what brought you here, selfishly I’m happy it happened.” And before you knew it his lips find yours again, just caressing yours , being awfully slow, where yours were being more insistent and wanting to speed up. But the clashing of the both were mixing quite well to your delight.

They was something in the way he wanted to calm you down that was very much needed, as if he was saying sorry to your scars and broken heart, as if he could convince your heart to throb once more for someone new , where you were screaming for violence , he was moving in your wounds trying to stitch them up. He was being so calm and overall confident in the good care he was putting you through that might had thought he could be the cure to it all if you hadn’t been so lied to and putting through toxic relationships for so many years before meeting them.

His long skinny fingers found the hem of your shirt delicately brushing it up over your head , standing aside for a few seconds taking in your braless state in admiration and lust .

He licked his lips once again , his expression looking as blank as ever.

He oh so calmy took off Namjoon’s sweatpants falling on his knees, facing your crotch.

Needless to say you were intimidated to found yourself naked in front of the clothed man.

You yelped when he took a lick at your core and an overdramatic sigh at your taste. You were feeling all the blood leave to your head in that instant, your eyes struggling to stay open when is cold breath fanned over your glistening folds of his saliva.

In over just a minute he was making out loudly with your pussy making it clenched at all the pervert sounds the two combined were making.

The obscene sounds of your whimpers and the sounds of Yoongi’s flat tongue against your core were echoing through the walls of the kitchen, and even if your mind was being transported to another place as the fearless moves Yoongi’s tongue was making you try to resist your instincts to close your legs opting against it , and opening them wider for Yoongi hands to roam against.

This truly was the best cunni you ever had. For once your partner wasn’t afraid to use all of the strength he had to satisfy you and without much help you were cumming against his tongue, he hold you in place as your hips buckled against his face.

That’s when the light of the kitchen lightened up to reveal your fucked out face and Yoongi’s wild hair from your hands scratching up against his scalp.

A blushing Taehyung was standing in the hallway leading to the stairs.

In just over a few seconds you were a babbling mess meetings Taehyung’s shocked eyes.

That’s where something you never expected happened right in front of you.

Yoongi got up licking exaggeratedly his lips to stand in front of him and kiss him hungrily.

[shaynawrites23]

For Family Or For Love

Pairing: adult!Remus Lupin x reader

Word count: 2492

Prompts: “Are you scared of me?” “No. Never.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

Written for @johnmurphyisbisexual’s writing challenge!

Special thanks to @the-moon-and-the-book for both beta reading and coming up with the title!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heavy door to your private chambers creaked open to reveal the room’s other occupant; your husband, Remus Lupin. He carried an enormous stack of tests to grade in one hand, two cups of coffee in the other, and he held a newspaper clenched between his teeth. He shut the door the same way he opened it; with his foot.

You leapt forward to help him, taking some of the items from where they balanced precariously in his hold, constantly on the verge of falling. He breathed a sigh of thanks, pressing a kiss to your temple as you made your way to the bed.

Upon closer inspection, you realized half the papers he had brought in were actually yours. You taught Herbology and had recently assigned an essay. You hummed in gratitude when Remus handed you a pastry and a couple of colored muggle pens. You knew the older members of the faculty preferred quill and ink, but you chose pens. They were easier to use and much less tedious to maintain.

He smiled softly, humming in acknowledgement as you both sat down to mark papers. The room lapsed into silence, the only sound being the clicking of pens and the occasional mutters of disapproval when either of you saw something you didn’t particularly like.

A tapping on the window broke you out of your concentration. You spun around, eyes searching for the source of the sound when you spotted a small brown owl perched on the windowsill, rapping its beak against the glass.

A messenger owl.

You jumped up, hurrying over to fling open the window and welcome the creature inside. The poor thing was soaked through; it was pouring outside.

“Rem, will you get me a towel for the owl?”

“Sure thing, love.” He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and emerged moments later with a navy blue towel.

You gently wrapped the owl up in the cloth, hoping it would help the animal get warm and dry.

There was a small cylindrical vessel strapped to the owl’s back, colored a deep red, like the darkest red visible during a sunset. You undid the clasps holding it in place, popping off the cap and peering inside. The case held a sheet of paper, rolled up tightly in order to make it fit.

“Who’s it from?” Remus’s gentle voice inquired.

You didn’t reply immediately, unfurling the note and letting your eyes fly over the words first.

“My parents,” you finally answered. “They want to have us over for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“That’ll be a welcome distraction from marking papers,” he remarked.

Remus was on relatively good terms with your family. They were somewhat sceptical of his background at first, but decided they would be happy as long as you were. Your father gave a very nervous and jittery Remus his blessing shortly before he proposed, and you had been happily married ever since.

You laughed. “Definitely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning, your hand searched the bed for Remus, for his warmth. You found nothing. Only when your fingers reached the edge of the bed, the precipice between the sheets and the floor, did you open your eyes.

You blinked blearily, letting your eyes get accustomed to the light entering through the small gap between the curtains. Remus was nowhere to be seen.

Throwing on your robes, you shuffled over to the bathroom and peered inside. Where was he? He was indeed a morning person, but there was no reason for him to be up this early in the weekend.

Your incessant internal questions were soon answered when you heard the telltale creak of the heavy wooden door. Remus entered; you could tell from his hunched shoulders he was deep in thought. The dark circles under his eyes told you he had probably not slept much the past few hours.

“Rem? Remus, is everything all right?” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, simply holding up a newspaper and muttering, “See for yourself.”

So you took the paper from him, sitting on the bed as you turned the pages in an attempt to find out what exactly was troubling him so. The sound of the paper crackling under your fingers which usually held so much satisfaction for you, gave you no pleasure this time.

“Oh no.”

You now knew what it was, you knew what had upset him. The fifth page of the paper held a picture of him; it depicted him perfectly, there was no chance of anyone not recognize him. And on the off chance someone didn’t connect the dots, his name was printed right below it. The article revealed his true nature, his lycanthropy, informing everyone who didn’t yet know that Hogwarts’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was a werewolf.

You glanced up. Remus stood at the open window, both hands leaning on the windowsill as he looked out over the school grounds. You could tell from his posture he was incredibly worried, and he had every right to be. No one would hire a werewolf, much less send their child to a school which had one employed as a teacher.

“Remus?”

“How could this happen?” His voice cracked and you knew he was trying his very best to keep control of his emotions. “We were so careful, how is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured. “But we’ll handle this the way we always do; together.”

“There’s nothing left to handle.”

“Remus, my love, don’t give up hope. There’s always something. Perhaps my family can help; they have a well-respected name.”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead gazing out over the field where students were playing, studying, or just hanging out.

“They don’t know yet, do they?” It was not a question, more like a statement, as you both knew it to be true.

“They don’t- they didn’t,” you sighed. “But my family knows you. We’re married, for Merlin’s sake. They’re not going to shun you.”

“We shall see about that,” he muttered, straightening up nevertheless. “In the meantime, I should probably have a talk with Minnie. I’ll see you later for lunch?”

You nodded. “As always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fastening your hairpin, you gave yourself a final once over in the mirror. You were dressed to the nines, and yet you wouldn’t classify your attire as too fancy for the occasion. Satisfied with your appearance, you exited the bathroom adjoining your shared bedroom to go look for Remus.

“Rem?” you called. “You ready to go?

You opened the door separating your bedroom from the hallway with its incredibly high ceilings, as could be expected from any old building. Your husband stood outside, leaning against the wall as he waited.

He hummed in confirmation, a soft smile spreading over his face at the sight of you. He reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours as he twirled you around slowly, admiration plain in his eyes. Pulling you close, he pressed his lips to yours, gingerly, as though you were the most precious treasure one could possibly imagine.

“Rem!” you laughed, “We have to go! You know my mother hates when we’re late!”

“As my lady wishes.”

With that, he waved his wand and you disapparated, reapparating right outside your parents’ large house. Walking up the cold stone steps, you felt Remus stiffen slightly, and you squeezed his hand. A comforting gesture, one he immediately returned.

The doorbell sounded loudly, chiming once, twice, three times before falling silent. You waited as quick, light footsteps approached, flinging open the door.

“Auntie (y/n)!” the young girl cried, jumping up and down in excitement. It was your young niece Ada, dressed in a pretty pink skirt and with her hair coiffed in cute, bouncy curls. “It’s auntie (y/n)!”

Another set of footsteps approached, slower and calmer than Ada’s. Your mother appeared in the doorway, smiling and greeting you and Remus as she ushered you inside.

“Dinner’s not ready yet,” she remarked casually as she returned to the kitchen, presumably to continue preparing the meal.

Little Ada remained by your side, dragging you by your hand to come look at her latest drawing. Remus still stood in the hall, but the young girl kept you so occupied you could do little more than glance at him every few minutes.

Your father and your brother soon entered, laughing loudly at what must have been an incredibly funny joke.

“Ah, (y/n)!” your father exclaimed when he spotted you sitting in a corner with Ada on your lap and a children’s book in your hand. “I see Ada’s gotten to you already.”

“Yes, she has. I didn’t remember her having this much energy the last time,” you joked, but Ada tugged on your arm to remind you you were supposed to be reading her fairytales.

“Ah, and Remus.” You couldn’t help but notice how much less enthusiastic your father’s greeting was when it was addressed to your husband.

“How’s Edward doing?” your brother cut in. “Not causing too much trouble, I hope?”

Edward was your brother’s eldest child, older than Ava by six years. He started his first year at Hogwarts that year, and your brother was rather anxious about his progress.

“He’s doing very well in his classes,” Remus replied. “Naturally, he’s pulled a couple of pranks here and there, but that is to be expected from such an energetic young lad like him.”

“I see. And no issues with… supernatural creatures?”

Your head snapped up at that. Ada whined for you to continue reading, but you simply told her to wait a moment. You were certain there was a venomous serpent hiding somewhere in your brother’s words, and when it would jump out to ambush you, someone was sure to get hurt.

Remus remained perfectly calm. “None that I am aware of. The boy’s a very talented wizard; he has proven himself very capable of defeating any creature we presented him with.”

Your brother’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and as if struck by a lightning bolt of insight, you know this was heading downhill. It was only a matter of moments before he’d attack Remus about his lycanthropy.

You were right.

“Lupin, you’re a danger to the children! It’s not safe for them to be around you.”

“He is not!” you burst out. You stood up and stalked over to them, the fairytale long forgotten.

“He’s a werewolf.” Your brother spoke in the same tone you’d heard him use when explaining things to Ada; things that one would expect to be obvious.

“He’s also a professor, and has been for years. Nothing’s happened.”

“Maybe not yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, clearly wondering what on earth was going on. Rather than engage herself in the argument, she stood in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

Remus’s hand searched for yours, entwining his fingers with yours as soon as he found it. You noticed your brother’s gaze fly towards the gesture, as if he feared a more nefarious action. But Remus was simply holding your hand, squeezing gently as if to say, ‘calm down, love.’

“(y/n), get away from him.” Your brother’s order hung in the air like a sword dangling above both your heads, waiting to see who would give in first. Your parents seemed to want to intervene, but you could tell they didn’t know what to do.

“No.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No, I won’t.” You felt like a defiant child arguing with a parent, but that didn’t matter to you. “He’s my husband and I love him. Werewolf or not.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Remus whispered to you, tone low enough that no one else could catch his words.

“What, are you threatening her now?” Your brother was clearly beyond seeing reason, too angry to think logically.

Remus was caught off guard by that accusation, and unfortunately for him, his split second’s hesitation was plain to see. “I merely told her it was okay, that she doesn’t need to fight for my honor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I am not in the habit of lying. I am an honest man and am telling the truth.” There was a stark contrast between your brother’s wild accusations and Remus’s calm demeanor. You only hoped it would not simply pour more oil onto the fire.

“You’re a monster,” he finally spat, as if the words themselves were pure poison. “How do we know it’s not only a matter of time before you hurt (y/n)?”

That was a low blow and you all knew it. Your mother gasped, hand flying to her mouth in shock.

“I would never hurt her.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t, but what about the wolf?”

Neither of you could answer that, both fully aware he didn’t have that much control over his other half.

“Please excuse me,” Remus muttered, glancing at your parents before grabbing his coat and leaving the building.

“There. Look what you’ve done. That was low and we all know it,” you seethed.

“(y/n), he’s dangerous! He could kill you!”

“So what? So could any other wizard. So could you, or mom. So could Ada, if she were determined enough.” You crossed your arms as you reached deep inside yourself, attempting to maintain your composure.

“But you can trust we won’t.”

“What? I can trust the same of him. He wouldn’t hurt me, I trust him.”

“So you would trust a wolf not to attack?” Your brother took two steps forward, as if his subconscious wanted to intimidate you into losing the argument. Nice try. You weren’t easily intimidated.

“He’s not a wolf! He’s Remus. My husband.”

You saw the surprise on his face when you emphasized your relationship with Remus, and you took that opportunity to continue.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” With that, you stalked out as well, waiting until you disappeared behind the hedge outside to run after Remus.

He probably heard you coming, because you found him standing around the corner, as if he were waiting. The look in his eyes told you he had probably fought with himself to decide whether or not to wait for you to catch up.

“Rem, please ignore what he said. I know it’s hard, but he’s spewing nonsense.”

“Love, are you scared of me?”

“No. Never.” He had barely gotten his words out before you replied, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Your family seems to think you should be.”

“Remus, it doesn’t matter what they think. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears. He stepped closer to you, cradling your cheek gently, as if he were afraid you’d shatter like glass if he was just slightly too rough with you.

Leaning in slowly, he captured your lips with his in a sweet kiss. And that alone conveyed all he needed to say.

“I love you too.”

taglist: @the-moon-and-the-book @decalcomanei @emcchi

[emospritelet]

Homecoming - chapter 27/?

I know it's been ages...

Last time, Belle and Ogilvy spent the night together, and were walked in on by one of the maids. Here's what happened next

[AO3] - 3,758 words

-

Belle hurried along the corridor, the shawl clasped tightly around her shoulders, ears pricked for the sound of a footstep, the creak of a floorboard. It was still early, and she heaved a sigh of relief when she reached her room without meeting anyone. Closing the door quietly behind herself, she went to wash, stripping off the nightgown and wrapping a robe around herself. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and paused, turning her head this way and that. Nothing had changed as far as she could see, and yet it seemed that everything had. She could see the corners of her mouth wanting to curve upwards, and she allowed herself a wide, contented grin. Her fortunes had certainly taken a wonderful, if unexpected, turn.

By the time she was dressed and her hair in place, the children were awake, letting themselves into her room while rubbing sleepy eyes and yawning. Alice was behind them, already dressed and still trying to brush her blonde curls into some sort of order.

“I was about to ring for their breakfast,” she said.

“I can do that,” said Belle. “Is anyone else up, do you know?”

“Only the servants, I think.” Alice eyed her curiously. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly.” She could feel a blush start to rise in her cheeks. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, you just look…” Alice shrugged, turning away. “Never mind. May I borrow a ribbon? All of mine seem to have disappeared. I think I must have packed them in the trunk rather than my valise but I can’t find them.”

“Of course, help yourself.”

Belle rang the bell, and set about getting the children ready, ensuring that faces were washed and hair brushed. Their breakfast was brought up by a dark-haired maid that Belle didn’t know. The maid seemed to be glancing at her out of the corner of her eye every chance she got, and Belle wanted to sigh. All the servants knew, then.

She focused on getting the children to eat their porridge, stewed prunes and sweet rolls, and Alice chattered about the journey ahead of them, and how much she was looking forward to getting home.

“Papa said we’d be leaving around midday,” she said. “Are you headed out for a walk this morning?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought.” Belle chewed her lip, glancing around. “Will I have time before breakfast, do you think?”

“It won’t be served until nine-thirty,” said Alice. “You should go. I can sit with the twins.”

“In that case, I might take a turn around the lake,” she said. “I think some fresh air would do me good.”

“You do look a little tired,” observed Alice, eyeing her. “Didn’t you sleep? My bed was ever so comfortable, but perhaps yours wasn’t.”

“No no, it was fine,” said Belle quickly. “I just didn’t sleep all that well. I’m sure I’ll feel better once I’ve taken some exercise.”

She took up her hat, securing it on top of her hair with a pin, and drew on her coat and scarf.

“If I see Papa, I’ll tell him where you’ve gone,” said Alice, and Belle smiled to herself.

“Thank you.”

-

The air outside was crisp and cold as she left the house and took the path to the lake, gravel crunching beneath her feet and the chill from the snow already biting at her feet. She shivered, pushing her chin down into her scarf and quickening her pace as she left the relative shelter of the house and headed down the long avenue of beech trees that led to the lake. A set of footsteps marked the snow in front of her, and the tracks of birds crisscrossed the trail.

The trail turned to the right, and Belle rounded the last of the beech trees, looking down on the lake, its surface frozen in all but a few places and covered with a layer of snow. Brown reeds poked up through the ice, and she heard the cawing of rooks from the oak trees to the east of the lake. The sky was clear, the orange sun rising over the dark veil of bare branches, and a low layer of mist hung over the lake. The trail of footsteps led down to the water’s edge, and Belle broke into a smile as she saw Ogilvy making a slow circuit, picking his way through the snow with his walking cane. He seemed to sense she was there, and turned as she approached, his eyes gleaming with that soft light she loved so much.

“Good morning again,” she said lightly, stepping close to him, and he grinned.

“Miss Marchland,” he said formally, with a tiny bow. “May I say how very well you look?”

“Alice doesn’t think so,” she said dryly. “She said I looked as though I hadn’t slept at all.”

“She always was observant,” he remarked. “Goodness knows what she’d make of my appearance this morning.”

Belle covered her mouth with a gloved hand to hold in a giggle.

“Considering I had so little sleep, I feel quite - refreshed,” she said, and his grin widened.

“In that case, would you walk the rest of the way with me?”

“With pleasure.”

She took his arm, enjoying the excuse to be close to him, and they made their way along the lake shore at a steady pace.

“I’ve missed walking here,” she said. “A circuit of the lake was part of my morning routine when I lived at Furton Grange.”

“It’s a beautiful estate,” he said. “Living in town is convenient in many ways, but I must say I enjoy the peace and quiet of places like this.”

“Would you ever move out of London?” she asked, and he glanced across at her.

“It would have to be a family decision,” he said. “I feel Alice would want to stay there for a few more years. I daresay we’ll need to travel around, in any event.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips. “I think I’m rather looking forward to it. I’ve seen so little of the country since I arrived here.”

He smiled, his eyes gleaming in the early dawn.

“I want to show you everything,” he said softly, and she smiled, ducking her head as she felt her cheeks heat. Really, she had to stop blushing every time he looked at her. He was still staring at her with that tiny smile when she looked up. Belle could feel her heart thump hard at the warmth in his eyes, the look of utter devotion. How had she not seen it before? He held her gaze for a moment longer, and she could feel that pleasant tug low in her belly before he glanced away again.

“Are the children awake?” he asked. Belle nodded.

“I got them dressed. Alice is sitting with them while they have breakfast.”

“She’s a good girl,” he said, and she made a noise of agreement.

“I had some very curious looks from the maid that brought the breakfast,” she said. “I fear everyone downstairs knows how we spent our time last night.”

“Thankfully Lady Ella is a late riser,” he said. “It may mean we can slip away before she finds out.”

Belle giggled.

“Will she be very cross with me, do you think?” she asked, and he laughed.

“No, not at all,” he said. “She’ll be delighted to have been proven right and will want to interfere in the wedding plans.”

“I very much doubt she’d approve of our notion of a small and understated ceremony.”

“Certainly not.”

“Time is of the essence, then.”

He turned to face her, still smiling, and she stepped closer, until they were almost touching. Belle inhaled deeply, pulling the cold air in through her nose, sharp at the back of her throat, and let it out in a sighing plume of white.

“I almost don’t want to leave this place,” she said. “It’s so peaceful. It feels as though you and I are the only two people in existence.”

His hands rose up to cup her cheeks, fingers surprisingly warm in the cold air, and he gently pressed his brow to hers, white breath billowing into the air between them as he exhaled deeply. Belle closed her eyes, nose brushing against his, feeling the brief warmth of his breath against her lips.

“The time will fly once we return home,” he said quietly. “A little over a week, and we shall be together forever.”

“Yes,” she breathed, and he bent his head to kiss her.

She rose up on her toes, hands finding his waist and sliding up his back as the kiss deepened. The harsh caw of a rook startled them, their lips parting, and Belle giggled a little, burying her face in his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

“Perhaps we should head back to the house,” he suggested. “I want to make sure the trunks get onto the carriage in time for us to leave.”

“You really are hoping we can get away before she wakes up, aren’t you?” said Belle, amused, and he pulled a face.

“Would you prefer we had the inevitable conversation here or by letter?” he asked dryly, and she giggled again.

“An excellent point,” she admitted. “Let’s go.”

Ogilvy smiled broadly, and turned on his heel, offering his arm to her once more as they headed back to the house.

They entered the hall together, stamping a little to get the snow from their boots. Ogilvy watched Belle as she did so, cheeks pink with the cold and eyes bright, her breathing a little quicker from their walk. She was so beautiful it made his throat catch, and if Hatter and Ivy had not appeared to take their coats, hats and scarves, he would have been tempted to kiss her again. He was unwinding the soft wool from around his neck when Doc appeared by the staircase, giving him a pointed look and inclining his head in the direction of the drawing room.

“Breakfast smells delicious,” said Belle, making him glance around. “I - ah - I think I might go and see if Alice has come down yet.”

“She’s in the breakfast room,” said Doc. “Our hosts have yet to arise, I fear.”

“I should think they won’t be up this side of noon,” said Ogilvy, and nodded to Belle with a smile. “Please tell Alice we’ll join you shortly.”

Belle sent him a soft-eyed smile, biting her lower lip a little and smoothing her skirts with her hands as she hurried away. He watched her go, well aware he was probably looking like a lovesick fool.

“Shall I bring the trunks down, sir?”

Hatter’s voice made him start, and Doc snorted softly, turning on his heel and heading into the drawing room. Ogilvy turned back to his valet.

“Ah - yes,” he said vaguely. “What time did you arrange the carriage for?”

“Eleven, sir.”

“Good man.” Ogilvy clapped him on the arm. “I’ll make sure we’re ready.”

“Very good, sir.” Hatter hesitated. “I think you should know that there’s been some talk amongst the servants, sir.”

“Has there, indeed?”

“Yes, sir. About you and - and Miss Marchland.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” said Ogilvy impatiently. “As long as they keep that talk within these four walls, I’ll pay it no mind.”

“Yes, sir.” Hatter opened his mouth to speak, appeared to think better of it, and hurried off with the coat looped over his arm.

Ogilvy sighed, staring after him, then headed for the drawing room. Doc was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, looking impatient, and he turned on his toes as Ogilvy closed the door behind him.

“Well?” he demanded. “I mean, I don’t want the details, but my Sight told me to switch rooms last night and there must have been a good reason for it.”

Ogilvy smiled.

“She believes me,” he said. “She accepts it. All of it.”

Doc seemed to sag with a deep, sighing breath, his shoulders slumping.

“Oh, thank the gods!” he whispered. “She came back to us in truth.”

“Yes.” Ogilvy stepped forward, pulling him into a hug and squeezing. “She’s home. She doesn’t remember yet, but she wants to.”

“Then we must find a way,” said Doc, his voice muffled by Ogilvy’s chest.

“We will, I promise.”

“Of course.”

He hugged Ogilvy tight before pulling back, snatching off his glasses and plucking a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his eyes.

“You told her what the Seer said?” he asked. “The unknown price for her memories?”

“Yes. She said she would think about it.”

Doc nodded, using the handkerchief to polish the lenses of his glasses before putting them back on.

“Good,” he said, his voice wobbling a little. “After all this time - gods, I can scarce believe it!”

“Nor I.” Ogilvy hesitated. “She has Elizabeth Willoughby’s diary.”

Doc stared at him, mouth open.

“She has what?” he breathed.

“I know.” Ogilvy began pacing restlessly. “She found where it was hidden at Willowbrook Grange. She - she had a dream about hiding it there. A memory, I suppose.”

“Well.” Doc shook his head. “Perhaps she’s nearer to waking than we thought. That’s encouraging. What did the diary say?”

“I didn’t read it,” said Ogilvy, stopping his pacing. “It was - somewhat tragic, I believe.”

“I imagine so.” Doc’s face was grave, and he patted Ogilvy’s arm. “Still, if it helped her realise the truth…”

“Yes.” Ogilvy took off his glasses, running his hands over his face with a sigh. “I think that was what convinced her. Elizabeth’s tales, and her own dreams, and things I had said to her… I suppose it’s good that something came from that tragedy.”

“Indeed,” said Doc quietly. “We must be thankful for that, at least.”

“Yes.” Ogilvy put the glasses back on. “I asked her to marry me, by the way. She said yes.”

“Hmm.” Doc sounded amused. “That was short work.”

“I could hardly not under the circumstances!” he retorted. “She spent the night in my bed!”

“Yes, well, we don’t need to go into the details,” said Doc hastily. “Have you mentioned anything to Alice yet?”

“No. I thought I’d talk to Alice on the train,” he said. “The servants know. One of them walked in on us this morning to light the fire. I believe Hatter heard them talking.”

“Is Belle aware?”

“Yes. She says it won’t go beyond the house. Ella will see to that.”

”As long as it doesn’t,” said Doc. “I’d hate for Belle to suffer.”

“We’re marrying as quickly as I can arrange it, so there’ll no doubt be gossip from some quarters,” he said. “Nothing too severe, I imagine, but you know how small-minded society can be.”

“I have a feeling we’ll be called away before too long, anyway,” said Doc. “That should help. Out of sight, and all that.”

“Indeed.” Ogilvy eyed him. “What do you mean, away?”

“Nothing certain yet,” admitted Doc. “Just a feeling. Give me a few days and I might have something more definite.”

Ogilvy felt an odd, swooping feeling in his stomach, almost a sense of apprehension.

“Nothing too sinister, I hope,” he said. “Dealing with Lady Tremaine’s imaginary ghosts was one thing. I don’t want Belle facing a demon before she’s ready.”

“The forces of darkness are unlikely to wait around while we teach her what she needs to know,” said Doc, in a dry tone. “I’m afraid we’ll just have to do the best we can.”

Ogilvy nodded reluctantly. The work was never-ending, and the price for failure too high. Belle is a quick learner. She’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.

-

Lady Ella had still not risen by the time they left, and Ogilvy was secretly relieved. He had no doubt that the servants would relay everything they had seen, and while he was sure that Ella would be delighted by he and Belle being intimate (and self-satisfied at having noted their mutual attraction) he was not in the mood to be quizzed about it in front of the others. Hatter and Ivy must have known, but to their credit they gave no indication. As long as Mrs Wolfe could remain blissfully ignorant, they should be able to reach the wedding day without any scandal touching the household. Not that he gave a damn about that, but Belle no doubt would.

They managed to catch the train in plenty of time, and once they had changed at Derby to the London train, Ogilvy took the seat opposite Belle and the children. Doc settled down beside him with a sigh of relief, folding his hands over his lap as Alice squeezed in between them. Ogilvy glanced at Belle, who had Nicholas on her lap and Ava tucked beneath one arm. She smiled at him, blushing a little and dropping her eyes before looking up again, and he wanted to lean across the carriage and kiss her. Unconsciously, he began turning the ring on his finger. Belle eyed him, touched her own finger, and briefly inclined her head towards Alice and Doc. He understood, and cleared his throat, catching the attention of the others.

“Miss Marchland and I have an announcement to make,” he said, meeting Belle’s eyes to ensure she was happy for him to proceed. She smiled and nodded.

“What announcement?” asked Alice eagerly. “What’s happened?”

“She’s agreed to do me the very great honour of becoming my wife,” he said, and winced as Alice squealed in excitement, throwing her arms around him.

“Oh! That’s wonderful news!” She jumped up and almost fell on Belle, kissing her cheek. “Oh, I knew this would happen! I knew it!”

Belle laughed, hugging her before embracing each of the twins and kissing their heads.

“This is so wonderful!” said Alice. “I knew you would be a part of this family from the moment we met, I just knew it!”

“Will you still be our governess?” asked Ava, a worried look in her eyes. “You won’t send us away, will you?”

“Of course not!” said Belle soothingly. “You will always have a home with us, I promise.”

“Does this mean you’ll be our mother?” asked Nicholas, and her smile widened.

“It means we’ll be a family,” she said. “And you may call me mother if you wish.”

The twins shared an awed, delighted look, and Ogilvy bit back a grin.

“When are you getting married?” asked Alice excitedly. “Do say it’s soon! Papa has been lonely for far too long, and you’re perfect for each other.”

“I believe we can arrange it quickly enough to satisfy you,” said Ogilvy. “I shall make enquiries as soon as we return home.”

“Oh!” Alice sat down beside Belle with a thump, beaming widely. “This was the best present I could have asked for! Mrs Wolfe will be delighted. She always said you needed a woman to keep you in line.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was out of line, but very well,” remarked Ogilvy.

“Papa, you know as well as I that most people consider you very odd.”

“Then their lives are lacking in colour and variety,” he said, and she giggled.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell Ivy! She and Hatter were convinced that—”

She cut off, mouth snapping shut.

“Convinced that what?” asked Ogilvy dryly, and a blush rose in her cheeks.

“Never mind,” she said lightly. “Oh! Belle, what will you wear to the wedding? Perhaps the dress that Madame is making for you.”

“I don’t think that will be ready in time,” said Belle. “I don’t know. You must help me choose.”

“Of course I will!”

“Can I help?” asked Ava, and Nicholas chimed in with an offer. Belle laughed, hugging them both.

“This will be the best prepared wedding in history,” she told them.

-

It was dark by the time the train pulled into London, and the carriage ride home jolted weary bodies. The children were sleepy, and Doc grumbled about the state of the roads. Only Alice had kept her cheerful disposition, and Ogilvy heard a chorus of relieved sighs as they drew up outside the house. Hatter was immediately at the carriage door to help them down, and Ogilvy spied Mrs Wolfe waiting at the front door to welcome them home. Belle guided the children towards the stairs, speaking in a soothing tone about warm milk and comfortable beds. The twins leaned against her as they climbed, and Ogilvy watched them go with a faint smile. They would probably be asleep before he could read them a story. He rolled his shoulders to get out the stiffness as Hatter removed his coat, and went through to the living room, followed by Doc and Alice, Mrs Wolfe gliding behind them.

“We’re very pleased to see you all safely returned, sir,” she said.

Ogilvy took a deep breath, the familiar scent of beeswax and burning coals filling his nose. Lamps were lit, sending out a cheerful light, and the room was pleasantly warm. The Christmas greenery had been removed from the mantelpiece, along with the tree, and he found himself missing the scents of pine and rosemary.

“It feels good to be home, Mrs Wolfe,” he said. “Anything to report?”

“The chimney above the rear attics has started to leak, and there was an incident with the grocer’s boy teasing one of the maids,” she said. “I’ve arranged to have the chimney repaired next week, and have spoken to the grocer in the most severe terms.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. Alice flopped onto one of the couches with a sigh, and Doc sat across from her in his usual chair, head rolling back against the leather.

“Would you please ask Mrs Potts to send up some mulled wine?” he asked. “I think we could all do with a glass.”

“It’s being prepared, sir,” she said.

“I knew we could rely on you, Mrs Wolfe,” he said, earning one of her rare smiles.

“Oh, there’s a telegram for you, sir,” she said. “It came this afternoon. I left it on the salver on the hall table.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He stepped out into the hallway again, spying the envelope and opening it up. It was marked as being sent from the Furton Post Office earlier that day, and he smiled.

“I KNEW IT!” declared the note. “STRONGLY WORDED LETTER TO FOLLOW!”

Ogilvy bit his lip in amusement, slipping the telegram into his pocket and returning to the living room. Ella knew, then.

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Dancing in the Dark [G.W]

Description: You and George work to make Fred and Angelina’s wedding absolutely perfect, while planning your future together in the process

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to thank @theweasleysredhair for giving me some advice on starting up this blog! I’m really excited to share some more of my works and I hope you all enjoy them. Please go check out her writing!

                                                           X

“George let’s go! We’re going to be late!” You looked at the clock and waited precisely five seconds before barging into the room.

“What could possibly be taking you so long?” You asked him. You found George in the bedroom with an open suitcase and his wand, packing all his belongings at the last minute. “You told me you packed last night,” you said sternly.

“Well I did. But then I felt I needed to add to my luggage a bit. Just in case.”

“You’re even more high maintenance than I am,” you joked.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he smiled at you. He finally finished up his packing and he walked over to you, embracing you in a tight hug.

“You may have mentioned it a few times. Lucky for you I never get tired of hearing it.” You gave him a peck on the lips and then went to gather your belongings.

“Now we really need to go. We’re already late and something tells me we’re one step away from getting kicked out of the wedding party.”

“Whatever you say, my lady.” He grabbed your hand and you apparated to the Burrow. It wasn’t the ideal time for a wedding, but it was something everyone needed. Fred and Angelina were set on getting married and they were so in love that they didn’t want to wait.

You had grown particularly close to Angelina over the past few months considering you were living together. You ended up moving in with George after finishing at Hogwarts and Ang was living in the apartment, staying in Fred’s room. It was a small space for four people, but you made it work and had fun being cramped. After the wedding, Angelina and Fred were planning to move out and get their own place (somewhere spacious to raise all the children they planned on having). You were sad seeing them leave, but you and George were excited to finally have the place to yourselves. 

You arrived in the kitchen of the Burrow right as breakfast was being served.

“Y/N! Darling!” Mrs. Weasley said, shuffling over to give you a big hug.

“Yeah, don’t mind me. It’s not like I’m your son or anything,” George remarked.

“Oh hush you,” she said, swatting him with a tea towel before hugging him.  

Everyone at the table got up to greet you. Everyone was staying at the Burrow for the weekend, since the wedding was to take place there. You were impressed when Fleur actually remembered your name after meeting you for what seemed like the hundredth time. Mrs. Weasley pulled up two seats at the table and you sat and ate while she sent your bags upstairs. Everyone seemed pleasant and conversation flowed easily, but you could still feel a little bit of tension in the room. For one, Harry barely said a word. Harry was usually quiet, but this was something else. George had mentioned that the three of them weren’t returning to Hogwarts for their 7th year and you couldn’t say you blamed them. Snape had been instated as Headmaster and everything about that seemed awful.  Soon everyone finished eating and you went out back for a friendly game of quidditch.

                                                             X

The day had gone by pretty quickly (the Burrow always had stuff going on, which made time move fast) and soon enough it was dark out. Technically, the night before the wedding day was reserved for some sort of bachelor/bachelorette festivities, but nothing wild was planned. All the girls were staying in Ginny’s room for the night, aside from Fleur who was staying with Bill, and you all decided to drink and have a girls’ night.

You supplied firewhiskey and Fleur had contributed a few bottles of “ze finest wine in France.” You were not planning on getting that drunk, considering tomorrow was a big day for Angelina, and as Maid of Honor, you had to make sure everything went according to plan. Ginny and Hermione let the alcohol get the best of them and went to bed relatively early. Fleur left to be with Bill, which left you and Ang. She told you about how excited she was to get married and how she knew she was making the right decision and everything. You couldn’t have been any happier for her and once your talk ended, you suggested going to bed to get some sleep before the big day tomorrow.

By the sounds of her light snoring, Angelina fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and that left you alone with your thoughts. You were truly thrilled for her and Fred. But it was hard not to compare their relationship to yours. You and George started dating before they did; yet they were the ones getting married. You didn’t doubt your relationship with George for a minute, but it did make you think. You had never really discussed the future in detail. After lying awake for what seemed like hours, you decided to go down to the kitchen for a glass of water and maybe a snack.

You slipped down the stairs as quietly as you could, careful not to wake anyone. You heard some shuffling coming from the kitchen, but you assumed it was the ghoul in the attic rattling the pipes or something. You were surprised to find a ginger figure walking around the kitchen looking for food. You thought about sneaking up on him, but the minute you reached the bottom step he turned around.

“Hey darling,” he said, kissing you on the forehead. “What are you doing down here so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Stressed about tomorrow, eh?” he asked.

“No, it’s not that I don’t think. I just have a lot on my mind.” 

You took a seat at the kitchen table and he brought over a plate of biscuits and a tall glass of milk to share, which was exactly what you needed.

“What are you thinking about love?” he half-smiled.

“Just overanalyzing things as usual,” you sighed, taking a bite out of a biscuit.

“Meaning?”

“You’re happy with the way things are going between us, right?”

He looked at you a little concerned. “Well yeah, I couldn’t be happier. Are you happy?”

“Yes, of course I’m happy. It’s just all this wedding stuff is making me think about the future and we haven’t really ever discussed that and I’m just worried we aren’t on the same page.”

“Tell me what you want,” he replied, “for the future.”

“I…I mean I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it in detail…” you trailed.

“Just tell me what you want, anything and everything that you want, and I’ll make it happen,” he said softly. He gently picked up your hands and looked deeply into your eyes. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him this serious. 

“All I want is to be with you,” you said, matching his eye contact. He took your hands and pulled you to his side of the table, where you found a seat on his lap. “I think that can be arranged,” he purred while pulling you towards him even further, into a deep and passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you. He countered your move by squeezing you even tighter and making you feel even more loved. You parted shortly and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just so you know, you essentially just turned over all the wedding decisions to me,” he smirked.

“Oh did I?”

“You did. That was your opportunity to demand your perfect wedding and you failed to do so. Therefore, I get to plan the wedding. I’m thinking…an outdoor winter wedding, right in front of the Whomping Willow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And I will make sure it snows, since I know how much you love snow.” It was obvious he was messing with you, since he knew you didn’t enjoy the cold and the snow, as well as the deranged willow tree. Instead of getting all pouty like he expected you to react, you decided to surprise him.

“As long as I get to marry you, then I don’t care.” Your words had indeed surprised him. His grin spread from ear to ear and you couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll make sure our wedding is perfect.”

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that. Might be hard to top Fred and Ang though.”

“I think we can do it. You know, I was planning to propose to you a few months ago, about the same time when Fred and Angelina got engaged. But I didn’t want to steal his thunder and I didn’t want you to think I proposed just because Fred did.” His statement made you giddy. It all just became so much more real. The fact that he had actually almost planned a proposal was reassuring and you knew you’d get your happy ending.

“Really?” you smiled, excitedly.

“Yes really.”

“Weren’t striving for the double wedding?”

“Definitely not. I want our wedding to be ours. I don’t want to share that day with anyone.”

“You really are saying all the right things. What are you trying to get at here? I can’t reward you in the way you want to be rewarded. Not here and now.”

“But you will keep this in mind when we return to the apartment, right?”

You chuckled, “Maybe. If you behave.”

“Now when do I ever behave?” he grinned. You ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek.

By this point the biscuits and milk were gone. You waved your wand and sent the dirty dishes over to the sink, where you magically cleaned them.

“Ready for bed? Got all your thinking out of the way?”

“I think so. It is pretty late and tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” 

He put his arm around you and you walked up the stairs. Ginny’s room was the first bedroom on the way up, but once you reached the door, George walked right past it.  

“Um, I think this is my stop,” you said, as he continued walking.

“No it isn’t,” he insisted. George grabbed your hand and started pulling you up the stairs. “You’re staying with me.”

“Don’t do this to me. What if we get caught? Your parents will hate me.”

“One: my parents could never hate you. They love you more than they love me. And two: when do I ever get caught?” The latter of the two points was definitely true. It wasn’t a hard decision to make and you gave in moments later.

You scurried up the stairs, as quietly as possible. The door opened with a slight creak, but Fred was out cold and did not wake.

The two of you tip-toed over to George’s bed and he got in, sliding over toward the wall to give you ample room. George’s bed was a twin, which was smaller than you were used to, but you can’t say that you minded. It just meant you could snuggle closer with him. He put his arm around you and you rested your head on his chest. He kissed you on the forehead and whispered, “You’re perfect. Don’t ever change.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” you responded. 

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too, Georgie.” It wasn’t long before you drifted off to sleep.

                                                          X

You woke up the next morning with George snoring softly beside you. The sun was just starting to rise, so it must’ve been early. Fred was still asleep so this was the perfect time to stage your escape. You nudged George gently and he opened his eyes and smiled at you. “Well isn’t this a beautiful sight to wake up to,” he said, voice stale from sleep. “Stop trying to charm me. You’re making it harder to leave.”

“Don’t leave me,” he pouted.

“It’ll just be for a couple of hours. I don’t want to get in trouble, or get you in trouble. Come down and grab me on your way to breakfast.”

“Yes darling.” You kissed him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his hair. He held your hand in his, in what you assumed was an attempt to get you to stay, and he looked at you lovingly. You swiftly hopped out of bed and blew him a kiss before leaving the room. The staircase seemed clear and you snuck back to Ginny’s room without being caught. Hermione and Ginny were still passed out, so you decided to brew a bit of a hangover cure for the two of them to make the morning a bit more pleasant. You crawled into bed and planned to sleep for another hour or two when you heard your name. It was Angelina. She clearly had been tossing and turning all night and you couldn’t blame her.

“Were you with George last night?” she whispered.

You tried to hide your smile and shrugged, “It’s possible. Now hush and get some more sleep. Today’s a big day for you. You need to preserve your energy.” She shook her head and curled up into a ball under the covers. You closed your eyes for a moment and suddenly you were dozing off.

                                                           X

You awoke to a figure sitting on your bed and stroking your spine with a gentle touch that almost tickled. You opened your eyes and found George waiting for you. Everyone else was gone and you suspected they had gone downstairs to grab a bite to eat. George helped you out of bed and you stretched before joining the rest of the family downstairs. Everyone was present except for Harry, Ron and Fred. Harry and Ron were still sleeping and Fred was banned from seeing Angelina, so he had to wait until she was finished eating to come downstairs. You found a seat next to George at the end of the table where you could observe everyone. Ginny and Hermione looked awful and were clearly playing it off as being tired. You saw right through it though and figured you’d be a good friend and help them out. You bumped Hermione’s knee and she turned to you with a pained expression. You found her hand under the table and placed the small vial in it. She looked at you with confusion and you simply winked at her. She trusted you enough to know you had her best interest at heart. When no one was looking, she dumped the contents of the vial into the cups of pumpkin juice in front of her and Ginny. A few sips later and it was like they were good as new. 

Breakfast came and went and then the stress began. George joined the boys in the backyard. They were responsible for setting up the tent and all the tables, as well as de-gnoming the garden. Meanwhile, the girls gathered upstairs to pamper Angelina. The bridesmaids’ dresses were lovely, and something you would probably wear again. The dresses were teal, a color everyone looked good in, with a strapless sequined bodice and wrap skirt. The dress fell right above the knee and managed to lengthen your legs. While all the bridesmaids were making themselves look great, Ang was changing into her gown. She emerged and all of you gawked over her beauty. The strapless, silk chiffon gown could not have been more perfect. The simplicity was breathtaking and was perfect for Angelina. The A-line silhouette gave the illusion that she was floating as she walked and the detailed, shimmery belt gave just the right amount of sparkle. You had never seen a more beautiful bride. 

                                                            X

The backyard was all set up and the guests were seated. Angelina was positively freaking out and it was your job to keep her calm and smiling. You were the first to descend down the aisle so you had to pass off your responsibilities to Hermione for the time being. 

George nudged you with his elbow and held his arm out, waiting for you to latch onto his bicep. “Ready love?” he asked. “Let’s get this show started,” you smiled.

The music started and you took that as your cue to begin walking. The guests all stood up and you gracefully walked down the candlelit path together.

“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think you’re the most beautiful woman here today,” he whispered in your ear.

You couldn’t hold in your grin and replied, “You know that’s why I keep you around, the endless amount of compliments.”

“Ah ha ha. Very funny. I know the truth is that you can’t resist me.”

“You just keep thinking that,” you said as you departed. George found his rightful place next to Fred and you stood and watched the rest of the wedding party walk down the aisle. Angelina was escorted by Mr. Weasley, seeing as her parents couldn’t attend the wedding. She was glowing. The sunlight was hitting her in the perfect spot and she had this twinkle in her eye that completely brightened her face. You looked toward Fred and he was visibly in love. The only time you’d ever seen that look before was when George looked at you that way. As she reached the altar, you held her bouquet as she grabbed Fred’s hands. She took a deep breath and focused on holding back her happy tears. You caught George’s eyes and noticed while everyone else was watching the happy couple, his eyes were focused on you. 

                                                            X

The ceremony was beautiful. No maid of honor emergencies came up but you still spent your time making every little detail perfect. The reception was even better. Everyone took the opportunity to have a good time and escape from the cruelties that were currently going on in the wizarding realm. 

You and George kept the champagne flowing in everyone’s glasses, as well as your own. Fred and Ang spent most of their time on the dance floor when they weren’t mingling with all the guests. They both looked so happy and you couldn’t help but smile whenever you saw them.

“Y/N! I know I haven’t seen you all day, but I just wanted to thank you for all your hard work. The day has literally gone flawlessly and I owe it all to you,” Ang came over and hugged you.

“Oh honey, I just wanted everything to be perfect for your special day!”

“It is, it really is. Now stop worrying about everything and go have fun with George!”

“You sure? I mean, what if…”

“Y/N, stop. Go dance.” She didn’t have to tell you twice. You gave her another hug and scurried off to find George.

He was over by the bar, talking with Lee and Ron, drinking what you assumed was firewhiskey. You snuck up behind him and ran your hands up and down his back. He turned around and put his arm around you.

“Sorry to interrupt boys. Mind if I steal him for a bit?” you asked. They both nodded  and you grabbed his hands and led him to the dance floor. 

“Where have you been all night?”

“I’m sorry baby. I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect for Ang and Freddie.”

“Well you did a fantastic job. But I think it’s time to hang out with your awesome boyfriend now.”

“You’re right. Now I just need to find him…” you said, looking around the crowd of people.

“Oh you’re funny. No wonder I like you so much,” he said wrapping his arms around your waist. You just smiled at him and he kissed your nose. You always tried not to show too much PDA, especially around family, but this was a special occasion. Everyone was so loved up that you didn’t feel weird being cutesy with George. 

He took your hand and you started dancing to whatever upbeat song was playing. You forgot how fun dancing was and it seemed like you had been out there for hours. Soon, the tempo started slowing down and George swiped you up and placed you in a waltzing position. His right hand was resting comfortably around your waist while his left was intertwined with yours. Your right arm was lightly draped on his shoulder and it almost looked like you knew what you were doing. Normally, the height difference would make this difficult, but the heels gave you a few inches and brought your faces closer.

“You know, we should just get married. Like tomorrow,” you said, as you swayed to the music.

“Tomorrow?”

“What, is that not enough notice for you? Still deciding if you want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

“Oh no. It’s not that at all. It’s just that I know you and that’s not what you really want.”

“I just want to marry you.” He smiled as you said this and kissed you passionately on the lips.  

“But if we got married tomorrow, you wouldn’t get to plan out every little detail of the wedding. And you wouldn’t get to wear your dream dress. And we wouldn’t be able to spend it with all of our friends and family. Besides, I still need to plan out an extravagant proposal.”

“I mean I guess you’re right. You always seem to know what’s best.”

“That’s just you wearing off on me.”

“I know I’ve probably said this a million times, but I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He kissed you on the forehead and squeezed you tight. The song ended and you stopped swaying and just stood together. Your head was resting on his shoulder and you let out a yawn.

“Someone’s sleepy,” he said, running his fingers through your hair.

“I am pretty exhausted. It’s been a long day.”

“We can probably turn in. There’s still a ton of people here, no one would even notice if we left.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like this party is dying down anytime soon. I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake,” you replied.

“Come on then,” he grabbed your hand and led you back into the house. The Burrow was quiet, aside from the dull sound of the party outside, which was strange since most of the time there were people running about, fussing over this and that. 

You walked up the stairs and found his room. Fred had packed up his stuff, since they were leaving for their honeymoon right away. That meant the room would be all yours tonight. Even though you technically weren’t supposed to sleep in the same bed as George, you knew that tonight no one would notice or even care. As soon as he shut the door, your lips were on his. You didn’t think he was expecting you to be so forward, but he definitely didn’t mind. You pulled off his suit jacket and started to loosen his tie. He picked you up and carried you to his bed as you started unbuttoning his waistcoat.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do it in my childhood bed.”

“Oh yeah? Well I guess it’s time to cross that off the list,” you winked at him.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | many thanks to @joonsrack​ for her translations and @jooneggs​ for beta reading

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: just a heads-up, there is French in this chapter. it isn’t translated because y/n does not speak French and thus has no clue wtf goes On BUT if you want the goss, feel free to use google translate or ur Local Translation Engine. explicitly sexual content, cursing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, spanking, dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, public (not sex-sex but sexytimes in public), shoe kink, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, use of safeword, teasing, bondage, gagging, use of sex toys, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, crying during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, a sexy sliver of aftercare before yn zonks it

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Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

DAY SIX

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds. 

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return. 

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways. 

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere. 

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a...tattoo? 

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic. 

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again. 

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.” 

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval. 

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him. 

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head. 

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal. 

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside. 

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle. 

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would. 

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more. 

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible. 

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do. 

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.” 

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you. 

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms. 

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt. 

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more. 

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in. 

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction. 

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go. 

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it. 

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather. 

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction. 

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice. 

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned. 

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile. 

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.” 

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?” 

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

---

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes. 

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments. 

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen. 

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi. 

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air. 

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth. 

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit?  The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes. 

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment... allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence. 

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now. 

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?” 

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice. 

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly. 

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot. 

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed. 

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?” 

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him. 

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch. 

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

--

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes. 

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face. 

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine. 

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.” 

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength. 

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core. 

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing. 

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth. 

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan. 

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations. 

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?” 

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement. 

--

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation. 

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity. 

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you'd gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he'll do when you're actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you're facing. You wonder idly if he'd paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. "This pretty little mouth of yours," he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. "More trouble than it's worth," he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. "This is a good thing, little mouse," he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. "Now you won't be tempted to run your mouth. Isn't that thoughtful of me?" You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can't spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It's overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. "You can't speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it."

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you're done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

"You're lucky," his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, "normally I'm not so generous. Normally I wouldn't let you cum until you'd well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night..." He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don't think he even realises he's showing. "You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me."

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don't even know what you'd say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. "Take off your robe," he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. "Fuck," he says with a breathy chuckle, "you're gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists."

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They're relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you'd never felt before but it's divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you're his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin's lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

"On," he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. "On your back, darling," he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

"Don't go anywhere," he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he's brought over.

"Now," he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, "let's get rid of these, mm?" You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. "So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven't even touched you."

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. "Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?"

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you're soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

"I'm being generous now, aren't I? Say thank you, Y/n."

You sob. He knows full well you can't speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

"Good girl," he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you're already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he's already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that's roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he's done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

"That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it," Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It's far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin's knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don't even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There's so much pleasure on every stroke, and he's using so much speed that it feels like you can't take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you're forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's it, don't stop cumming," you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

"Don't forget the signal," he instructs as you sob and writhe, "I'm not fucking stopping without it."

It takes you a moment to process that he's asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don't want him to stop. "Hngingn," you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

"That's it," Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, "I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me."

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can't even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn't even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You're sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

"Did so well," he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you'd seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, "Jimin," tone pleading.

"Shh," he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. "One more, little mouse."

"I can't," you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you're abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

"You can," Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, "just one more for me. You have your word."

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don't use the safeword. There's a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. "Fuh-fuck," you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. "I ca- I can't cum again," you admit shakily, "'s too much, Jimin, I can't take it!"

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. "You're almost there, little mouse, you're doing so well."

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. "Fuck, oh god, I'm gonna- fuck!"

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you've never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin's hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

"God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me," he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he's been with you so far.

"Did well," you repeat mindlessly, "Jiminnie."

"You did," he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. "God, look at you," Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

TAGLIST

Okay real talk doing 5 ppl per comment takes fucking AGES so imma just try 45 since last time 50 didn’t work.

@agustdpeach @tinysweetscrown @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @saikokirastuff​ @kim-ji-woo-hoo​

@starryskyslove @taemetiger @wildly-lost-lantern @mini-coop25 @bbbrats

@crafty-babe @megahwn @sope-and-shine @kuppyjiminie @igot7-penta-seo

@brooklyn11208 @taetaehooray @heathenssss @ironicarmy @mykingdomismyheaven

@franklytae @ddaenggtan @scribbleseas @ex-silent-reader @lovelysky15

@0nlyours0 @houseofarmanto @xddaengx @bucky-thorin-winchester @joonadore

@shi-tmp3 @latina-army @djasheyash99 @yeontanie21 @chogiyeol-utopia  

@swanqook @parksfilter @jungtaeyoongles @lilylovsu @kaitlynmarie1120

@karma299 @tearkth @hjordan1994 @bangtan-dreamland @sarcasmflowsinmyveins​

The rest will be in the comments!

Unable to tag @risefallrise @btsphdotcom @kitty-queen-13  @stardust-and-ashes@crazykpopaddict @positivelyjada @paradisetaemin  @awixxx @litty-dumb @passionate-love-57911 @sweeneyblue1 @carrooooooooo @purplepearl07

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Blurb 4

A/N: I just hit 300 followers HOLY CRAP so here’s a fluffy, final blurb for Pretty Girl. I love you guys, thank you for enjoying this story and sticking around. Also, I mention miscarriage and fertility issues in this blurb. I myself experienced a miscarriage at 18 weeks with twins and am still grieving and trying to get pregnant again. I wish for my rainbow baby every day. 🤍

Summary: Pretty Girl and Flip are having a baby.

Warnings: Pregnancy, language, fertility issues, miscarriage mention, grief, labour, fluff. 

Flip was busy typing away at his desk, trying to stay on top of all of his paperwork. As much as (Y/N) helped him, there were still sections of the reports he had to complete himself, and falling behind wasn’t an option right now. He sat back in his chair, taking a brief break to roll his neck when movement by the doors to the bullpen caught his eyes.

A large, round belly preceded his wife into view, and as always she took Flip off guard; seeing her glowing, beautiful face. Some baser instinct within him enjoyed seeing (Y/N) round with his child; it caused a ripple of satisfaction to course through him. When she kept moving toward him, her eyes bright, Flip jumped up, frantic.

“Darling,” He hurried to her side, hands hovering around her unnecessarily, “You promised you’d keep off your feet at much as possible. I told you I’d come to check on you shortly.” Flip watched as she laughed, rolling her eyes affectionately. She had one hand placed absentmindedly over her bump, gently rubbing circles.

At thirty-eight weeks pregnant, Flip’s wife had impressed him every day with her unwillingness to give up routine and work simply because she was with child. She insisted on staying on at the station until the baby came. And while he didn’t like her working too hard, it was nice to have her close by. This way, he could keep an eye on her and take care of her as much as possible. And she had reduced her duties at work, agreeing with Flip that overdoing things wouldn’t be good for her or the baby.

They had been married a few years now, the best of his life for the most part. Marrying your best friend had a way of making every day an adventure. Of course, not everything was sunshine for them; but they had one another and they knew they could get through anything. They always did.

When Flip had been shot in the arm the previous year, (Y/N) had marched into the hospital and, surprising everyone, punched the rookie cop in the face who left Flip open when he should have been watching his six.

Flip had never been prouder of her.

They’d stopped using protection early on in the marriage, agreeing they were both ready to start a family. But it hadn’t come easy for them, months turned into a year of no success and the light that he took for granted in his wife started to waver, just a little. When they got pregnant the first time, Flip had overcome with emotion and he nearly left the parking lot of the doctor’s office without (Y/N), who had run to the bathroom before coming outside. When he realized what he’d done and turned around, he found her standing outside laughing so hard she was crying. That had been a damn good day.

At just nine weeks pregnant, they found out that they had lost the baby. Things had changed for (Y/N) and Flip. He left the doctor's office with the heavy weight of grief, and he knew his perfect, lovely wife was more crushed than she was letting on. She had taken a leave from work, and it had been a rough few months of coming home to a quiet house, (Y/N) asleep on the couch most days. They had stopped having sex, which didn't bother Flip in itself, it was just the reasoning that worried him.

The night that (Y/N) broke down and admitted she felt like a huge failure still replayed in Flip’s mind every once in a while. The raw, excruciating pain had been so evident on her face, his pretty girl so heartbroken she felt like she was failing him. Like she could ever do anything wrong. Flip had comforted her, but more importantly, he made it clear that nothing about their pregnancy troubles or the loss of their baby was her fault. He had cried with her that night. As they clung to one another in the bath and the sun set outside. He cried for their loss. He cried for her pain. He cried with his wife and they promised each other they would have no regrets. Life was what it was. Having each other meant they could do anything, could get through anything.

The next time she got pregnant was just after he had been shot. He’d had a few weeks leave, but (Y/N) had long since returned to work, so he spent long days at home alone trying to pass the time. On one such day, he had been sitting in his favourite chair in their living room, his hand stroking over his hard length as he sought to escape, frantic and needy and so consumed in himself that he hadn’t heard her come home. What he didn't miss was the way her hand suddenly wrapped around him; his eyes had flown open and found her gazing at him with such hunger as she gripped him that he only just managed to launch himself forward, toppling them onto the floor, and take her right there.

A few weeks later, they had found out they were pregnant.

And now, (Y/N) was fully and unmistakably pregnant or, as she liked to say, ready to pop any moment. Though relatively good-natured, Flip had been a witness or victim to many mood swings, including one that had involved an ashtray being thrown at his head because he forgot to buy pickles. Christ, he never made that mistake again.

“I’ve been taking it easy, detective, don’t worry.” (Y/N) patted Flip’s arm with her free hand, smiling up at him as he fretted at her side.

Flip tried to steer her to his seat, “I know, but you could go into labour at any time and being on your feet too much-“

“Oh, well,” She was giving Flip a funny smile now, her eyes glinting, “That’s actually why I came back here. My water broke a few minutes ago.”

Flip stared down at his wife as though she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. He went entirely rigid, and all conscious thought slid out of his head, replaced with a faint ringing.

“Flip, honey, come back to me.”

“I-uh, what?” He shook his head, attempting to assemble his thoughts, “What’s going on?”

(Y/N) was giggling now, “Flip Zimmerman, my water broke.”

“Pretty girl,” He murmured, suddenly reaching out to grip her shoulders, “Are you saying...are we having a baby?”

Before she could answer, (Y/N) suddenly winced, the hand on her belly stilling and her eyes closing and she took a few deep, slow breaths. This was all it took to bring reality slamming into Flip and he instantly began grabbing his things. Shrugging his jacket on, tucking his keys and wallet into his pockets. His mind was now racing at a mile a minute. But they’d planned for this, going so far as to bring their hospital bag to work every day just in case.

“Whew, that’s a fun feeling.” (Y/N) mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Darling, are you okay to walk for me?” Flip leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her lips, smiling at her when she opened her eyes and nodded. Taking it slow, they made their way out of the bullpen and down the hall. Flip raced behind the reception desk to grab the go-bag and (Y/N)‘s jacket.

Donna came out of the washroom as he hurried back out from behind it, her eyes spotting Flip before moving to where (Y/N) was slightly hunched over, breathing through more contractions.

“OH!” Donna cried out, clapping her hands excitedly. “Oh, it’s time! Go, go, I’ll let the Sarge know. Good luck you two, and Flip drive safely to the hospital!” She raced over and gave (Y/N) a quick hug, before turning on Flip and embracing him with happy tears in her eyes.

With a quick thank you, they were on the move again. Flip hurried ahead and got the truck, pulling it up out front of the station as his wife waddled out, looking more relaxed now that her contraction had eased up. He helped slide her into her seat, carefully buckling her in before breaking the speed limit to get the few blocks away to the hospital.

One of the perks of being a detective was that most of the hospital staff knew Flip already. So when he walked in the doors, an arm around (Y/N)‘s shoulders and a frantic look on his face, about eight nurses rushed over and began to dote on them both, one settling (Y/N) into a wheelchair while they helped Flip check them in.

In no time at all, they were settling into labour and delivery, (Y/N) now wearing the open-backed hospital gown that gave Flip a pretty nice view every time she stood at the side of her bed and leaned over to breathe through contractions. The woman couldn’t sit still; the pain and nervousness rendering her ability to relax null.

Flip rubbed her lower back, standing behind her and appreciating the strength his wife had. “What are you staring at, detective?” She asked, breaking him from his thoughts. (Y/N) was staring over her shoulder at Flip, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Just, thinking about how incredible you are, darling.” He admitted, hands still kneading her skin gently.

(Y/N) hummed appreciatively, “Funny, I was going to say the same about you.”

“Ah, well, I’m not the one about to do all the hard work here, so I’ll defer all compliments for now,” Flip joked, and she laughed before hissing a breath as her next contraction took over.

“Fuck,” She focused on her breathing for a few moments, “Flip, promise you’ll stay here with me the whole time?” Her voice was surprisingly small at that moment, and he knew if he could see her face, it would be twisted in a vulnerable grimace.

He reached up and smoothed her hair back, “Pretty girl, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be at your side the whole time,” Flip leaned down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, “You don’t worry about a thing, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

And he did, in as much as he could. Never leaving her side once, Flip witnessed every moment of labour. Labour lasted about six hours, and then he experienced every moment of the birth of their child. He held her hand throughout, rubbing her shoulder with his free hand and ignoring the pain in the one she had a vice-like grip on. Flip pressed a cool cloth to her forehead between pushing, whispering sweet nothings and praise in her ear as she cried out in pain, until suddenly (Y/N) was slumping into the pillows propped up behind her with a sigh of relief, and then the brief silence filled with a cry.

Their newborn baby gave a shrill shriek of displeasure, and Flip and (Y/N) were entirely overcome with emotion. Flip stepped forward to cut the umbilical cord. With the help of the doctor, he took hold of the baby to lay them on (Y/N)‘s chest. The baby's cries dulled somewhat then, as she clutched their baby to her skin and gazed down with so much affection he felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks, his heart so full of joy it nearly hurt.

“Congratulations, mommy and daddy!” The doctor said a few minutes later. He then took the baby to be checked over and cleaned up, across the room.

Flip leaned down and pressed his lips to (Y/N)‘s forehead, “You doing alright, pretty girl?” When she nodded sleepily, he raised his hands to cup her cheeks, thumbs brushing across her soft, damp skin. “You did so well, darling. You were so strong and brave, I’m so proud of you. I love you.” He kissed her again, this time capturing her lips briefly.

(Y/N) sighed with content, “I love you too, Flip,” Her eyes were fluttering now, exhaustion pulling her toward a much-deserved slumber, though he saw them flicker to where the nurses were standing with the baby, working at swaddling them. “Will you stay with the baby?”

“Course I will, darling. Now get some sleep,” He reached down for her blankets and pulled them up, tucking her in better as the nurses that had been tidying up her lower body finished up. “Baby and I will be right here when you wake up, pretty girl.”

With one last smile, (Y/N) slipped off to sleep, her breathing evening out as Flip watched. He didn’t even feel tired, and true to his word he didn’t go anywhere, staying with her and the baby, whom he was holding when she woke back up a few hours later.

Flip slid onto the bed next to her and together they held their little bundle of joy, each staring into the little, scrunched up face with huge grins. Their little rainbow baby.

Tag list ✨

@tashastrange89 @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @morby @pradaxstyles @10blurredsmoke10 @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 18 - Holy Ghost

Masterlist; Chapter 17

Summary: First few days in Tallinn are like a calm before the storm, while you and Neil are getting used your new dynamic. It proves to be rather surprising...

Warnings: 18+ (yep, she did it again because these two wanted to); swearing.

Author’s Notes: So ummm... I’m not sure what happened here and you’ll be the judges of that. All I can say is that I’ve been inspired by the skewed tie and that Tallinn will take at least two more chapters because they keep getting distracted. Hope you’ll enjoy! Feedback is always welcome as I’m not sure what I’m doing...🙈

The lovely edit has been provided by my amazing and talented friend @sh3tani​ (thanks for putting up with my bs 💕)

Despite technically being a Tenet agent for a while, the dramatic changes of pace in your life never failed to amaze you. After that careless morning in London, mere hours later you got the text from TP, sending you and the Cavalry to Tallinn. Minutes afterwards, Neil burst into your room saying that the younger TP called, giving him directions to run a few lab tests and then to meet him in the capital of Estonia, as well. Neither of you had any clues as to why but then that was rather expected. 

That is how you found yourself in a safe house in the suburbs of Tallinn. For security and convenience, you have joined Ives’s squad there while Neil booked a hotel room nearby to keep up the appearances before TP. For the first few days, the boss has not yet arrived in the city, and therefore, as Neil put it, there was much more room to maneuver. Whatever that meant.

Estonian safe house was a relatively vast apartment on the ground floor of an old brick house. It had six bedrooms furnished with simple Ikea beds, bedside tables, and a small wardrobe. There was also one bathroom (hell of an inconvenience for nine people occupying the place) and a kitchen opening into a living room with sofas and tv. The space was nearly barren save for the objects needed to survive for however long you were bound to stay there. On the day of your arrival, Ives sent you and Wheeler to the shop for the supplies, reasoning being that apparently you two had most brain cells in the whole team. You enjoyed the possibility to charge your introvert batteries before days spent with eight people, of which only two you actually knew. With close to no information concerning the point of the mission, the days have been spent idly chatting, playing games, and watching television. In Estonian, naturally. For you, a crucial part of the survival became continuous reception and the ability to reach out to Neil when needed. Which was often and soon became a passing joke among the rest of the company. Once Henrik tried to steal your phone and ended up with a bread knife pressed against his neck, the innocent fun ended. That was on day two.

Luckily you got your own room, while the others were forced to share. This you owed to the fact that you were not part of the squad and hence had the right to privacy. It proved rather useful the day when unexpected company came. You were busy trying not to burn the scrambled eggs on a scratched-up pan, half humming a song you heard on the radio. Despite the early hour, everyone was up and either moving about or outside on a run. If there was anything you have learned from the experience so far, it was that Tenet soldiers started the day early and were shit at cooking. Eggs, instant noodles, and oven pizzas were the menu staples. Sighing, you picked up the only clean plate left when you heard a commotion in the hallway. Not long after, a voice called out:

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor” you did not like the amused undertone in that information.

“Yeah…?” hesitantly, you stepped into the hallway.

The cheeky grin was quite the sight at 9 am.

“Good morning, sunshine” you resisted the urge to break the plate on Neil’s head.

At least he brought coffee.

“Hey,” warily you looked at Michael, who was loitering next to you, interested in the situation “Should we…?” looking at the door to your room, you met Neil’s gaze.

“Naturally” he smiled and followed you in.

Only once you closed the door behind you both, blocking out the curious stares, you breathed out the air you did not know you were holding. You set the plate on the bedside table and grinned as Neil carelessly threw himself onto your bed.

“Thought I’ll get a kiss or something for all that awkwardness out there” you commented, eyeing the man sprawled on your mattress.

Briefly, you marvelled at how you have managed to become this comfortable with each other. But then almost having sex was bound to count for something. Supposedly.

“You will if you come here” Neil raised his head and extended a hand in an invitation.

Mournfully you glanced at your abandoned breakfast and crossed the space, intertwining your fingers with his. You were not surprised when Neil pulled you down onto the bed, only just managing not to lie on him. Feigning disappointment, he huffed and leaned in, kissing you slowly. Deepening the kiss, you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. With legs interlocked, half-lying on the narrow bed, it was all too real. In moments like this, it was easy to believe that maybe it was meant to be. Breaking up the kiss, you opened your eyes to stare at Neil. In the soft light coming through the opened shutters, you could clearly see the darker rims around his blue irises. In the morning, his eyes resembled the colour of an ocean. The long eyelashes framing the eyes and the eyebrows, furrowed in concentration, gazing back at you. Your eyes then landed on his parted mouth, the corners turned down slightly, and the shape of his lips. You wondered how someone this beautiful could choose you among all the people in the universe.

“Your breakfast and the coffee are getting cold” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Do you want me to get up?” running your fingertips over his temple, you reveled in the intimacy of the moment.

Neil smiled and raised your joined hands to kiss your knuckles.

“Not really. I like having you this close so I can stare” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Same, actually,” you mirrored his expression, dragging fingers through the golden hair.

It seemed like your London evening full of important conversations gave you more confidence. Suddenly it was not that scary to share your thoughts and feelings with him because there was a chance he will understand. Or at least not ridicule you. As though Neil was reading your mind, he asked:

“What are you thinking about?” you could tell he was genuinely interested.

That was enough to make you feel a surge of feelings towards him. Maybe it won’t hurt to say something… Taking a deep breath, you warned:

“Just don’t laugh,”

“I’ll do my best” Neil bopped your nose quickly, making your brain short-circuit for a second.

What even. Focusing all your attention on him, your eyes wandered over his face. Resting on all the features that made him the man you loved.

“Sometimes I just can’t get over how beautiful you are… like a bloody masterpiece” you cupped his cheek “And I’ve no clue why you’re so fixed on me” sighing dejectedly, you awaited a response.

If the slightly widened eyes were any clue, he was surprised by your admission.

“That was probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten” Neil stumbled over the sentence.

So, it was worth saying. For another time, you left the discussion on how that could even be true.

“Have you seen yourself though? How could I not be fixed on you?” it was Neil’s turn to cup your cheek, making you blush.

The pure confidence in his eyes was too much to bear at the moment. Sitting up, you kicked him lightly, enjoying the affronted look.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you moved to stand up, but Neil took hold of your waist, sitting up as well.

You were too close again, noses brushing. It was easy to lean in and kiss him. Only when you did, a knock resounded in the room. Fucking hell.

“Can I come in?” the cockney accent was a giveaway “I bloody hope you two aren’t getting up to stuff”

Despite yourself, you giggled with your lips still brushing over Neil’s, making him sigh. For a millisecond, he tightened his grip over your waist and then let go and moved an inch away. You looked at him for permission before calling out:

“Be our guest”

In an attempt to look as casual as it was possible, you grabbed the plate with your cold eggs and passed Neil his coffee. Sitting back down on the bed, you pasted a neutral smile onto your face. As if that would divert anyone’s attention from your tangled hair and Neil’s flushed cheeks. Ives opened the door and scrutinized you both quickly, not missing how you frowned upon the first bite of your breakfast. Then he gave Neil a quick pat on the back:

“Good to see you, mate” he perched on the windowsill for the lack of any other furniture “I was hoping you’d at least come to say hi” he gave you both a knowing glance.

Cursing your own inability to say no to Neil, you grudgingly finished the eggs and took another sip of the lukewarm coffee. Next time, food first, then kissing. No matter how irresistible the bastard might be.

“I was planning to, only…” the bastard in question shrugged before glancing at you shortly.

“Oh, I know. Priorities and all that” Ives smirked upon your deepening blush “I get it, believe me. Plus, seeing how often Y/N is glued to her phone, I reckon you two are doing good” he winked.

Sensing Neil’s growing discomfort, you shot back:

“Don’t talk about me as though I wasn’t here” it was hard to look threatening when staring at someone like Ives, but you did your best.

“Or?” he arched his eyebrow amusedly.

“I’ll shoot you”

The sudden tense silence got interrupted by Neil breaking into a laugh, collapsing against you. So much for pretending you could keep away from each other. Once he calmed down, he rested his head on your shoulder and said:

“And that’s why I like you”

You did not know it was possible to blush even more. And yet. Even though what he said was hardly a surprise, he never mentioned anything like that with others present. Before you could come up with any response, Ives commented:

“Aren’t you two cute, eh?”

Lord give me strength…  

“Ives” you warned, reaching for the gun you always kept in the drawer by the bed.

He laughed and raised his hands in defence.

“Okay, I’ll stop now” he glanced at Neil, who was comfortable enough, still leaning on you “Has he given you any more clues?”

You relaxed once the conversation steered onto more professional tracks.

“Not really. I ran the analysis on the gold bar he sent, and well, there’s literally nothing concrete there” Neil shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the plutonium piece that went missing back in Kiev” he added.

“Is that part of the Algorithm?” you asked.

The topic has not really come up since your first conversation with TP in Boston, but from the information you got from Neil and others in the organisation, it seemed like the pieces were set in motion. In the Kiev Opera, another part of the compound has been lost. Maybe its purpose was to resurface in Tallinn so that you could take over.

“Yeah” Neil confirmed your suspicions with a curt nod.

“How… how do you know about this?” it was Ives’ turn to be confused, looking at you with palpable shock in his eyes.

Right… Sometimes it was hard to keep track of who knew what and why. And that was one of such moments. Straightening your back, you explained:

“TP told me. Apparently, I’ll have a role to play hence why I’m being dragged into this” glancing at Neil, who all of sudden looked rather sombre, you added, “Not only because of this idiot” giving in to the temptation, you ruffled his hair.

“…thanks” pouting, Neil moved away.

“Welcome” 

*** You have left the apartment and quickly checked the maps again. Neil set your meeting for a rather obscure park square in the downtown area of the city since that was where he was supposed to meet TP later. At first, you wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was risky to go for a walk with the boss nearby. But then, you knew there was not much point in saying no to something that tempting. It was enough that you might not be able to spend time together at all the next few days.

Just when you were sure you have gotten lost in the greyness of the apartment blocks and identical streets, you spotted him waiting on the bench. The icy wind was ruffling his hair as Neil stared at the pavement, unaware of your attention. You smiled at the sight of his brown and green outfit and those strange shoes; you have seen the brogues before in Oslo. Now that was something worth a call out later. Ending the scrutiny, you approached him and, as a means of greeting, brushed the hair away from his forehead. That worked, as it always did. The blue eyes snapped up to meet yours:

“Hello” you offered him a small smile.

“Tere, kallis” the grin combined with the strange words he uttered made you frown.

“I hope that was something appropriate”

He took your hand in his and pulled you down onto his lap. The happy sparks in his eyes were almost enough to make you ignore the cold and the embarrassment of the situation.

“I thought you said we’re going for a walk” forcing a stern tone was difficult with how Neil gently cupped your flushed cheek.

“That we are. But first, I wanted to get you up close and personal” he brushed his nose against yours tenderly.

“I see…” with the corner of your eye you could see an older woman observing you from the nearby bench.

With a start, you realised how very much alike a couple you must look to any passerby. Sitting on Neil’s lap, with his arm securing you around the waist and your faces inches away, there were no questions about the nature of your relationship. But, somehow, that was okay. A stronger gust of wind made you shiver, which he noticed straight away and pulled you even closer, your lips nearly touching. The blue of his irises and the depth of focus in them made you gasp. It was always like this with him, as though you were the only person in the universe that mattered.

“We’ll get going now, only…” Neil met your gaze with a silent question.

You nodded. He could do anything he wanted anyway. He met your lips in a slow kiss, relishing in the feeling for at least half a minute. You placed your hand on the back of his neck to bring him a little closer, suddenly grateful for the position he put you in. Then, just as the kiss threatened to get more heated, Neil broke the contact and leaned back, taking in your dazed expression. He always knew how to get to you.

“Now we can go” he smirked, and you had no choice but to slide off his lap.

As soon as you were both standing, Neil grabbed your hand again and intertwined your fingers. As usual. It did seem like neither of you wanted to pretend today, and instead letting yourselves explore the ‘not-quite relationship’ you got into. For once, the voices in your head were silent, seemingly agreeing to the new developments. You did wonder how long that was bound to last.

“Ives says hi, by the way,” you broke the silence, looking around the cityscape.

This part of Tallinn certainly was not as picturesque as the city centre, but it had to do. After all, your sole focus was Neil. Not much else mattered when you were together. If that did not confirm your feelings, then god knows what did. Sighing, you turned to look at the man in question.

“You told him we’re meeting up?” he asked with a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Confusion, then.

“No. I just said that I’m going out for a walk, and he told me to say hi to you” laughing at the idiocy of the moment you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

In response, you got the signature Neil grin that was the beginning of your downfall all those months previously. Despite the absolute horror you felt during the initial conversation with Ives, now it was somehow less terrifying.

“Ah, I see” his tongue clicked thoughtfully, only making you laugh harder.

It was difficult to get the next sentence out.

“He also added that he’s surprised he’s not yet caught you sneaking out of my room at night”

The small snorting sound Neil let out made you want to kiss him right there, in the middle of the busy street.

“Why do I feel like he wants it to happen” he glanced at you quickly with an amused expression.

“Maybe it’s his thing” you retorted, savoring the laugh it prompted from your companion.

After that first morning in the safehouse, you have both decided to try and keep away from any rash actions or decisions while in Estonia. You certainly had enough of interruptions, and with the team sharing the space, it was all too precarious. Hence you have been meeting up outside, for strolls or lunch, talking about everything and nothing. Only now, that TP was around, it was bound to change, and you expected that this might be the last of those stolen moments.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet around here today” Neil interrupted your slightly melancholic thoughts “I wanted to take you out somewhere again, but he called, and I think it will be on soon” he lowered his voice to a slightly conspicuous tone, making you smile.

“It’s okay, at least that means I’ll know why the fuck am I even here” shrugging, you looked around at the shops you have passed by.

“For me?” Neil batted his eyelashes innocently while tightening his hold over your hand.

“Apart from that” this time you allowed him honesty “Don’t you ever get tired though? Of me?” the self-sabotaging voice contributed a question.

It was too late to take it back. But the way Neil looked at you then, with disbelief and fondness, was enough to excuse the moment on insecurity.

He stopped walking, making you freeze despite the streams of people going in both directions. You were like an island amidst a fast-flowing river. Neil forced you to meet his gaze by tilting your chin upwards. There was nothing playful in his eyes, just sincerity and love. And determination.

“Do you need me to remind you why that’s impossible?” you did not know when did his voice become so husky.

“Maybe” biting your lip, you searched his face, fascinated and curious.

Neil glanced at the teeth nibbling on your lower lip, and his tongue darted out, seemingly on reflex. Oh. When his eyes met yours again, you could see a hint of a new emotion there. He was hesitating for approximately 10 seconds before he started leading you again with purpose. Before you could ask a single question, he turned sharply into a non-descript alley between two crumbling buildings. It was empty save for a few pieces of trash lying around and a rusted door at the other end, with a metal padlock and a heavy chain. But your quick scan of the environment got interrupted by Neil wrapping his arm around your waist and pushing you at one of the walls. Just before your head could hit the bricks, he cradled the back of it, providing a safeguard. Ever so thoughtful. Wide-eyed, you glanced up at him to gauge the intention. The darkness and resolve you found were enough of an indicator.

“The walk will have to wait” he spoke before crashing his lips against yours.

The instinct kicked in instantaneously, making you respond by bringing him closer with your hand taking hold of his tie. Kissing Neil was like a fix for an addiction you did not want to fight against. No matter how urgent it was, you could always find a tempo that suited you both, neither fighting for dominance. It was like a dance where both were willing to lead and follow. Neil bit into your lower lip, drawing blood, tinting the kiss with that coppery taste. Fuck. You gasped into his mouth, shivering when his tongue ran along the split, licking off the droplets. It was enough to make you want more. As a payback, you caught his upper lip with your teeth, tugging at it lightly to remind him of the potential. But only when you pulled on his tie sharply, making Neil almost collapse against you, he broke the kiss with a groan. His eyes were hazed with lust, making you lightheaded the more you kept on gazing. The bloody shade of red on his lips made your pulse quicken. You still kept the hold on his patterned tie, making sure he was within your reach. His tongue darted out and licked off the remains of blood. That was a good cue to sober up. You released his tie and placed your hand over his heart, relishing in the way he was looking at you, as though you were a sight he could never have enough of.

“Huh…” you broke the silence and glanced at the entryway to the alley.

Thankfully no spectators.

“Is this all you’re going to say?” Neil’s perplexed facial expression made you laugh.

Sometimes it was fascinating to see him that disoriented after a kiss. Because it was a clear sign that not only you were affected by everything that transpired. Another reason to believe that maybe the feeling was mutual. Calming down, you started toying with his shirt collar. Even though heated kisses in dirty alleys were never your kind of thing, with Neil that too was exciting. And something you wanted to repeat.

“I mean… this is rather nice” you met his confused gaze and added, “Being with you like this”

Coherence for more complex sentences was nowhere to be found.

“I’m glad because I wanted that last hour of normalcy before we go back to the usual” Neil staggered over the sentence as well, making your heart stumble with fondness.

Pouring the feeling into your gaze, you grinned at him, running your hands over his shirt and lapels. You knew exactly what he meant. But still, with tongue poking out, you noticed:

“That sentence didn’t make sense, and yet I agree” the way his eyes darted onto your lips was enough to cause a resurgence amidst the butterflies.

Neil leaned in again, eager for another kiss. But you had other ideas, struck with the courage to tease him a little. You dropped your head and kicked him in the foot lightly. Just enough to bring his attention onto the subject of your scrutiny.

“The hell are those shoes though” you smirked upon his utterly lost gaze.

“What? You don’t like them?” the slight pout only made your grin wider.

With the hair in disarray, reddened cheeks, and pink lips, he was more than a sight to behold. And all that because of you. Wow.

“They look a little like you wanted to channel Pennywise or something” you laughed at his blank stare “Remind me to go through your wardrobe one day because you’re selling yourself short with those fashion choices” to emphasize the point you tugged on his tie again and frowned.

But it seemed like Neil managed to recover enough. He placed both of his hands on the wall, blocking your way out. The well-known smirk came back too. You had a feeling that you were about to lose this one battle.

“And yet here you are” he practically purred with a hungry look in his eyes.

You swallowed. Whenever he got like this, showing how much he wanted you, it was hard to think. Raking your head for a response, you settled on honesty again.

“That’s because I admire your soul” eyeing him intently, you added “And hair”

You tugged on the golden strands, making him whine in frustration. Good.

“And eyes” he met your gaze purposefully, a hint of a knowing smile on his face.

Of course, he’d know.

“Yeah” you raised your head.

A challenge he took without hesitation. Neil reached for the scarf wrapped around your neck and loosened it just enough to have access. Before you could do as much as exhale, his lips were on your neck and throat, attacking all the spots that were bound to make you gasp and search for something to hold on to. Cursing, you closed your eyes, letting yourself block everything that was not Neil and his touch. Soon his hands joined in with the exploration, brushing over your body, slipping inside the opened coat and underneath your blouse. Any resistance you might have had was slowly breaking. Blindly, you found his tie again and started to work on undoing the knot with shaking hands. Once you loosened it and undid the first three buttons, you slipped your hand underneath his shirt. You did not even know what you wanted to do. He was there, yours and in reach. That was enough to cause urgency. But any intent you might have had disappeared when Neil finished his study with a harsh bite over your collarbone.

“Jesus Christ…” you huffed and pulled him closer with a finger around his belt loop.

As his hips met yours, he raised his head and met your gaze shamelessly. Nothing but want and adoration. A sudden commotion on the street helped you remember the surroundings. Sighing, you pieced together a sentence:

“This is rather risky, don’t you think?” if anything, the unconscious way in which you bumped your hips against his again was a contradiction to the statement.

Your head was a mess. On one hand, wanting nothing but Neil, right here and now. On the other, doing anything like this in an alley spoke against the last bits of the reason you tried to preserve.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy the thrill” Neil brushed his hand over your stomach and smiled devilishly.

If your experience was anything to go by, and the way it felt when his crotch brushed over your hip, he too was rather invested. That thought gave you some needed courage to respond.

“You like being caught? Then I’m surprised you were so unsatisfied in Oslo” the cheeky smile and a quick touch of your hand over the front of his pants did it.

Neil swallowed hard and took additional few seconds to find words.

“More than being caught I like you. And everything we do... or could do” experimentally, he traced his finger along the line of your belt.

The goosebumps and rising tension within your core were good enough clues towards your feelings on the matter.

“Like what?” the breathlessness of your voice made you frown.

“Like this” in one swift motion, Neil undid the buckle.

Shit. That was enough to raise concern. You wanted him, urgently, but…

“Neil... do you seriously think fucking in an alley is a good idea?” you did know where that word came from, but it was pretty spot on.

“First of all, we’re not fucking. This isn’t that primal” for some reason the way he pronounced it only made matters worse, as did that smirk “Unless one day you feel like it and-” oh hell.

You placed one hand over his mouth, shutting him up, the other ventured into the pocket of your coat, where you always had the small hunting knife hidden.

“I’m going to stab you. Here they won’t find you for days” aiming for a threatening tone, you raised the hand from his mouth.

But not before he somehow managed to kiss your fingers. His eyes were dark, determined to make you break any internal rules you could have.

“Wow, you really have it bad for me” Neil whispered, getting ever closer, ignoring your threats.

Too lost in the strange conversation you have not even realised when he managed to unzip your jeans. Only once you felt his hand slipping between your thighs, you huffed with frustration. Thinking on reasons against letting him do it was getting increasingly harder.

“Neil” was the only warning you could manage.

All thoughts disappeared when he palmed you through the underwear. Searching for support, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I just want to check if you’re still interested... still so eager,” the satisfied grin told you that it felt just as bad as you expected.

Like this, with him having direct access to check what was working for you, there was nowhere to hide. Once again, he managed to bring you to such a state with worrying ease. His whole body was pressing against yours, with one hand teasing you through the thin layer of clothing. The other has somehow managed to wrap around your throat. Not strong enough to apply pressure, but at the same time making you face him. And increasing the need you felt.

“You’re a bastard” the insult got muddled by the longing you could not hide from your gaze.

Neil caught it, grinning mischievously. The game was on.

“Well... it takes two and all that” he feigned nonchalance, arching an eyebrow.

You knew full well what he was implying. You could practically feel how drenched with arousal you were. Your underwear was wet to touch, thighs clenching around Neil’s hand. That was his cue to keep your legs parted by inserting his knee between them. Here we go again. You wanted him to do something. Anything. But he was resolved to keep you waiting, thinking about all the different ways to make the situation even more unbearable for you. To make you beg for whatever he was willing to give. Your futile attempt to grind on his thigh got stopped with a stronger grip around your throat and a glimpse of something darker in his eyes. You had enough.

“Why are you doing this?” the hoarse tone of your voice was rather shameful.

“Because I know that you actually enjoy it” Neil shrugged and met your gaze with playful sparks in the blue eyes.

You did not want to know how obvious it must have been for him. Then, he slowly stroked you there, earning a muffled curse.

“I would if you finished it for once” you breathed, letting the frustration take over.

The ache between your legs was nearly driving you over the edge now. It was too much. Neil was too close, and yet not close enough.

“I’m giving you food for thought, so to speak” he murmured.

His hand moved; thumb tentatively hooked around the hem of your panties. An offer to take it a step further any second now.

“That you are” you met his gaze defiantly.

If he was so determined to make you suffer, you might as well give him what he wanted.

“Have you been... dreaming about this?” Neil glanced down at where his fingers were getting closer to where you needed him most.

As though he needed to ask. Of course, you have thought about this scenario before. And many others too. After all, you had to somehow deal with those countless times when his pure existence frustrated you in every meaning of the word.

“Mhmm” you hummed, hoping that will be enough of a response.

The smirk was a reward.

“Good”

Unable to withstand the tension any longer, you kissed him hungrily, taking everything you could have. Soon enough, you were both gasping for breath, yet you did not want to let go. Biting, sucking, and nibbling on every part of his mouth available, he was your drug. With his hand still in a loose chokehold and the other so close to your pulsating core, Neil became the sole reason for your existence. Your knees buckled when he sharply tugged at your panties and touched you without the barrier of the undergarment. You broke the kiss and met his wild gaze, both shocked by the sheer pull between you. Only once he drew a finger between your folds, collecting some of the wetness, the moment got interrupted by Neil’s raspy chuckle.

“It’s quite flattering to see you like this and all because of me” you were not sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him.

But then that was a usual thing with Neil.

“Just don’t get cocky…” it was hard to put together a string of words.

“Or?” his thumb touched your clit, and you hissed sharply “I already know how I’m making you feel”

To prove a point, he drew another gasp from you by starting a circular stimulation of the sensitive nub. You whimpered, suddenly aware of what a sight you must be for him. Utterly ruined because of kisses, touches, and words. You hated being at anyone’s mercy like this.

“Neil…” a weak plea made him meet your gaze “Please just…” helplessly, you tried to convey everything through the expression in your eyes.

He searched your face before letting go of your throat and instead cupping your cheek tenderly. The juxtaposition was enough to make your head spin.

“What do you want?” it was that question again.

Simple and yet not at all. Awaiting the response, Neil stopped all the movement, increasing your frustration and need. You knew that there was no way you could ever walk away from this as though nothing happened. You might as well have some relief.

“Help me before I lose my fucking mind” you breathed out, expecting the smug smile.

Instead, you got the most sickening grin you have ever seen on his face. But combined with the adoration in his eyes, you knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear from you.

“With pleasure” the words rolled off his tongue, and before you could prepare, he went back to stimulating your clit.

Your head almost slammed onto the wall behind when he picked up the pace. Even though you both knew that you hardly needed any additional preparation, Neil took his time, never taking his gaze off you. At the edges of your consciousness, you could feel the rising shame that was bound to consume you later. After all, this was the second time that you have asked him to help you like this. Surely, he would soon get tired of having to deal with your issues and never getting anything in return. But before you could follow that train of thought, Neil inserted a finger, and an unwanted cry rose in your throat.

“Jesus…” to stop yourself from being too vocal, you bit down harshly on your lip, bursting the barely sealed cut.

But Neil tilted your chin, meeting your gaze again.

“No need for that” he caught your lips in a short kiss “Don’t hold back”

Readjusting your hold on one of his shoulders, with the other hand you tugged on the tie you have messed up earlier. He took that as a cue to insert another digit. Too much.

“Christ, Neil” the breathless tone was a revelation even to you “You’re…” unable to finish the sentence, you moaned quietly.

Neil had no issues finding the perfect spot again, making you squirm and roll your hips, grinding down on that conveniently placed thigh. He thought of everything, it seemed. You did wonder how many times before he brought people to their downfall with those hands alone. But then, you would be lying if you would not admit that he had rather nice hands. And that you have not thought about this before Oslo.

“Glad it’s working, love” he commented upon a louder gasp from you.

For some reason, the nickname acted like a trigger. Feeling a surge of frustration, you bucked your hips against his, needing more.

“Don’t call me that” you spit the words out, relishing in the look of surprise in his eyes.

But he only needed a moment to shake it off before picking up the pace and curling his fingers inside you. Now it was close.

“What then?” Neil searched your eyes intently as though he was doing anything else but taking you apart with his two fingers and a thumb.

In response, you could only shudder, feeling your muscles tense in the anticipation of the near end.

“My love?” the proposition broke through the haze overwhelming your mind.

My god. Only with him, those two simple words could cause such an onslaught of feelings. There was something so achingly tender in his gaze that no matter the situation, your heart was set ablaze. He looked as though he was relieved to finally use those words. Suddenly, it was not just Neil lending you a helping hand in an hour of need. It was an act of love, further cementing your status as lovers. You were not sure whether it was that realization or what Neil has been doing to you that made the world explode before your eyes. Perhaps it was both. You only managed to breathe out a warning in the form of his name, but he understood.

“Look at me. I want to see what I did to you” he angled your chin again so you were forced to meet his gaze “So that I can remember this later” the husky whisper was the ultimate push over the edge.

Oh christ. You gripped his shoulder tightly and undid the tie, making it fall to the ground. Neil did not even notice, staring at you mesmerized. With the last bits of sanity, you took hold of his neck, bringing him close. The wave of pleasure made you tense up like a bowstring before you came with a shudder and a cry.

“Neil…” you got struck by the hope you saw in his eyes.

This time nothing was stopping you. No lips on yours to take over the words that were slowly choking you. The high he gave you took away all the inhibitions and worries. Neil was there, with you, a solid presence beneath your fingertips and an anchor to keep you from getting lost in your head. And that was enough.

“I love you” the three words were easy to utter for something you struggled to keep inside that long.

In response, Neil smiled and pressed his forehead against yours tenderly. The darkness in his eyes made way for pure happiness and conviction. Maybe this time it wasn’t a mistake.

“I know” he whispered and covered your lips in a sweet kiss.

Now that you were not holding back anything kissing Neil felt like absolution. You were never particularly religious, but he could be your eternal salvation, for the body and the soul. The only person you ever needed that much. 

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Neil took a step back and retracted the hand that was still stroking your navel. You watched with a slight surprise as he glanced at a watch.

“Are you in a rush?” with cheeks burning, you took out a tissue and passed it to him.

He took it with a curt nod and cleaned his hand. As you observed him like that, with messed up hair, unbuttoned collar, and slightly flushed cheeks, the reality of the situation started dawning on you. Not only have you allowed Neil to finger you in a dirty alley, but also you have confessed your feelings in the heat of the moment. And yet, he was still there…

“Unfortunately, yes, the meeting is in ten, and I still have to get there” Neil picked up the tie from the ground and brushed off the dirt “Trust me, I’d love to continue with this…” carelessly he tied the knot and took a step closer again “But we should leave something for the future too” with playful sparks in his eyes he brushed the hair away from your eyes.

Oh my god.

“Can’t you for once… not do this” sighing heavily, you focused on readjusting the underwear and zipping up your pants.

Everything was better than looking into those blue eyes.

“Where would be the fun in that” Neil buckled your belt, just as quickly as he undid it previously “I must admit that after this, I’m curious to see how you’ll react once I do it properly one day… with my mouth and then…” he trailed off, fingers brushing over your stomach once again.

“Neil… don’t” using your own power, you brushed your hips over his “Or you won’t make it to that meeting” you glanced at his crotch knowingly.

“As tempting as that is… I’d rather not disappoint TP” with a final caress of your side, he took a step back again “Don’t worry about me though. I’ll deal with this later” he adjusted the trousers slightly “I’m used to it” the hint of a smile was enough to help you understand.

You gaped. It was hard to think straight again. Surely…not? Right?

“You- what? Because of me?” you stuttered, bewildered and perplexed.

“Yes, absolutely” Neil shrugged and attempted to smooth his hair “Pretty often, but then you’re quite the inspiration, my love” he winked, enjoying your sudden paralysis.

Now that sort of image was bound to keep you up at night. For some reason, you never thought that he would think about you like that, always assuming there were better fantasies to use in need. But maybe… maybe he had it just as bad as you did.

“I have to run” Neil kissed you on the cheek, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

“Does this… change anything?” you met his gaze, hoping he will catch on to the meaning.

“No, not at all” the soft smile contrasted the recent conversation tone “I’ll text you later”

“You better” you mirrored his smile, watching him disappear in the crowd.

Wow… Now that was an interesting walk. Sighing, you rested your head against the brick wall for a few minutes longer, trying to level your breathing.

*** You were not given much break from Neil that day. To clear your head, you went for a walk around the city centre, visiting curious shops, and spending time in a cosy café. Just anything that did not have to do with the blonde bastard was good enough to shut up your rebelling brain. After all, now he knew everything, and that was a dangerous situation. You did your best to ignore your phone for most of the day however when it buzzed on your way back to the apartment it was hard to resist checking. He did text just as promised:

“Did you miss me?” and then “I’ll have some news for you all later”

Maybe things, in fact, have not changed…

“Maybe a little” smiling, you keyed in the code to the door.

Inside, you quickly settled on the sofa with some indulgent crisps, about to tune into the team’s favourite Estonian soap ‘Õnne 13’, which you all watched every evening. It was terribly boring (especially when one did not understand a single word), and yet after a few days, you wanted nothing but to know what Alma will have for dinner that night. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The latest dose of drama from the shithole called Morna got interrupted by your phone ringing. Neil, of course. Ignoring the offended stares from the other eight people in the room, you picked up the phone:

“Hey”

“Evening, my love” you could hear how happy he was to use those words.

Your heart summersaulted, making you exhale.

“I like the sound of that” grinning you walked out into the corridor to hide from the curious looks.

“Me too. Is everyone there with you?” jumping straight into the business was probably good for you both.

“Yeah. You’ve interrupted our shitty soap” at your adjective, a choir of outraged voices rose in the living room.

“My bad. Can you put me on the speaker? I could give you a run over the plan”

“Of course,” you motioned for everyone to gather around the table and put your phone in the middle “You’re on”

“Okay, so basically TP wants to take over the plutonium piece that is being transported through Tallinn in three days on its way to a nuclear depot in Italy. The point is not to let it get into Sator’s hands who thinks we’re cooperating with him”

“How will it be transported?” Ives propped his chin on his hand, listening intently.

“Reinforced truck with police escort front and back. Tracked via GPS” leaning back in the chair, you listened to Neil’s voice “Any unplanned stop or different turn and in come the reinforcements”

“What’s his plan then?”

“I believe he wants to take it out on the move with the use of a fire truck. Among others”

The hint of a smile in that sentence made you comment:

“So, you’re not the only crazy one around” earning a few amused grins from the people around, you briefly felt victorious.

Briefly.

“Something tells me you’re into that. Judging by what you let me do to you in that alley”

Fuck. A sharp gasp you let out made everyone turn to look at you. Gripping the edge of the table, you wanted nothing but to disappear. Or die. All the blood drained from your face as you stammered.

“Neil- you-” there was not enough air in the room “I-”

Wheeler shot you a worried look after you let out a small choking sound and spoke:

“Anyway…  why are we needed?” the professional tone made everyone turn their attention back to the mission.

You had to thank her later for saving your dignity. And life.

“To be on hand if things get dirty. I’ll send you the brief now it lists the details of his plan” Neil resumed the topic as though nothing happened “Tomorrow, I’ll call to let you know what exactly I need. That’s it for tonight, enjoy your evening”

Before anyone could make a move, you snatched your phone from the table and muttered:

“You’re dead”

You ended the call and stormed off to your room, slamming the doors. You could not believe his audacity to say something like that with everyone on the receiving end. The bastard ought to pay for that. Unable to calm down, with hands shaking violently and your head in absolute disarray, you grabbed the coat and made beeline for the exit out of the flat. It was pretty late for a solitary walk, but you hardly had anything to lose. Before you could make a swift exit, Ives’ stopped you with a hand on the arm. You met his gaze with impatience:

“So… how was the alley?” while he kept his face straight, the amused tone was there.

Bloody men.

“Fuck off” you shook off his hand and opened the door “I’m going out, and hopefully I’ll get killed. Don’t wait up”

Before you slammed the door in his face, you heard the parting words:

“Have fun”

The cold Estonian breeze was a welcomed sensation for your tired and thoroughly pissed off mind. You put up the hood of your coat and wandered off into the night.

*** Unfortunately, no one was willing to kill you. Around 1 am, you grudgingly made your way back to the apartment, relieved when no one was around to corner you. Once you were safe in your locked bedroom, you took out the phone for the first time in three hours. Unsurprisingly there were two missed calls and three texts from Neil, plus one message from Wheeler. She was checking whether you were still alive, which was a rather touching gesture, and so you replied to her first. Then, sighing heavily, you went through the texts from Neil:

“I’m sorry” then “But I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?” and finally, “Are you alright?”

That son of a bitch…

“You’re so going to pay for this” you typed back and lied down on the bed. He was quick to reply, which meant he stayed up. Potentially waiting for you to reach out. Talking about confusing signals…

“I was hoping you’d say that” you groaned.

“After that disaster of a meeting, I went for a walk. Found a perfect spot for murder in cold-blood. You won’t even know what hit you”

Maybe that will do the job.

“You did. Only a lot earlier than you think”

It didn’t. Sighing, you cursed your inability to leave him on read.

“I’ve had enough of you today, g’night”

“I seriously doubt that, but good night, darling” and then “I hope your dreams will be as good as our little moment”

That surge of frustration was only made worse when you found a stray short blonde hair on your blouse while changing for bed. The idiot not only had your heart, but everything else too, it seemed.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Craving

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day Four: (Time Skip, Craving, Fashion) Really could be time skip too, just a small one.

A/N: Here we are, safe to read for anyone, manga reader or not! Please enjoy the rest of the week! It’s all fluff : ) Word Count: 2,056

Shinobu checked the time on her phone, noting with surprise, that it was nearly midnight. She marked her page and pushed her heavy textbook aside before stretching her arms high above her head.

Getting up from her desk with the intent of going to bed, she only just pulled back her covers when her phone buzzed in her hand. There was only one person who would be texting her this late and she could bet she knew exactly what they were texting about.

She looked down at her phone and sure enough, Mitsuri’s name shone back at her with a simple one word question surrounded by an array of puppy dog eye and heart emojis. It read, “food?”.

Shinobu was no stranger to Mitsuri’s late night cravings by now. A smile tugged at Shinobu’s lips as she typed out her reply, “Sure. Usual?”

Almost immediately Mitsuri responded with an enthusiastic, “yes!” and even more emojis. Shinobu chuckled to herself and then headed to her closet to change out of her lounge clothes.

Every once in awhile since they had started dating officially a couple months ago, Mitsuri would text or call Shinobu in the late hours of the night to join her for a midnight meal. Something about food always tasting better when sharing it with someone you love. Shinobu was happy to go wherever Mitsuri asked, whenever she asked, but the late night excursions always left her drained and grumpy in the morning. It was worth it to her though. She was just amazed at how much stamina the older girl had. Shinobu was convinced Mitsuri was superhuman, pulling all nighters seemingly without consequence.

Shinobu finished putting on her shoes and quietly exited her home in the dead of night. Kanae already knew about the habit, having teased Shinobu relentlessly after catching her coming home in the wee hours of the morning. She just asked that her sister keep her phone and pepper spray on her for protection.

Shinobu walked for a couple blocks towards the nearby shops. Many were darkened at this late hour, but a few still glowed with promises of warm food. A little further down, she spotted Mitsuri waiting on the sidewalk, a young, disheveled man appeared to be talking to her. Her guard immediately went up and she picked up her pace.

“I’m jus’ sayin’ is not safe for pretty girls t’ be out alone at nigh’. Lemme keep all the baddies away, huh? I’ll walk ya t’ my place an—“

“Back off. She’s fine.” Shinobu put a protective hand over Mitsuri’s back, the other was covering the pepper spray in her pocket. Glaring up at the greatly intoxicated man.

The man laughed in her face, making Shinobu wrinkle her nose at his foul breath. The man had no idea who he was dealing with and tried to pull Mitsuri into what he thought would be a hilarious joke.

“Aw, are you lost little girl? We can drop you off at the elementary schaAAAHH!”

Shinobu didn’t bother with the pepper spray, instead she kicked him so hard that he fell into the gutter, holding himself tightly as he squeaked a string of expletives between wheezes.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Shinobu said, already moving Mitsuri away from the drunken imbecile.

“Did you have to be so harsh?” Mitsuri asked, interlacing her fingers with Shinobu’s and swinging the entangled limbs between them.

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he’ll learn that not every girl out on the street is there for his pleasure and remember to mind his own business from now on.” Shinobu grumbled.

“He was rather insistent. Thanks for helping me, my knight.” Mitsuri leaned over to place a kiss in Shinobu’s hair, making her cheeks become a little rosy. If pressed about it, she would have blamed it on the chilly night air.

“Next time wait inside the restaurant, okay?” Shinobu asked.

“But I was so excited to see you!”

“You would see me either way.” Shinobu rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.

They walked into the western breakfast chain restaurant. The smell of syrup and bacon warmed the girls up immediately. They were quickly seated as there were hardly any other patrons who wanted a western breakfast so late at night. However, if a bar decided to close earlier, it would almost certain to get more lively in there. For now though, it was peaceful.

They were seated at a booth in front of the window and were given their menus. Mitsuri wiggled happily in her seat as she browsed through, trying to decide what she’d like to order.

“When I first texted you I was thinking pancakes but you can never go wrong with waffles!” Mitsuri grinned. “Now if I could just figure out the right combo order...”

“If you come up with any complications let me know, I’ll be happy to coordinate with your desires.” Shinobu smiled in return, as she glanced over the menu herself.

“I love you so much.” Mitsuri declared. “I desire you above all else, you sweet and amazing girl!”

“Love you too.” Shinobu bashfully replied. She still couldn’t get over how Mitsuri could say such things so freely. She didn’t seem to realize the gravity her words carried sometimes.

They figured out what they wanted and ordered. After a bit of talk about school, then family, and what they might like to that weekend, the conversation fell to a lull and Shinobu tried to hide a yawn in her sleeve.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Mitsuri nudged Shinobu’s foot playfully under the table, “you could have told me you wanted to stay in.”

“I’m not that tired. I’d rather spend time with you anyway,” Shinobu nudged her back.

Mitsuri covered her blushing face in her hands and Shinobu laughed. Their food arrived shortly after and soon the only sound beside the clatter of dishes in the background and quiet chatter, was Mitsuri’s enthusiastic humming as she sampled every item on her plate, as well as Shinobu’s.

“You’re reminding me of Rengoku-sensei right now,” Shinobu laughed, clearing her throat before taking a bite of her own food. “Tasty!” She declared, though more quietly and with less enthusiasm than the teacher would have. Mitsuri quickly caught on and giggled along.

“I love Rengoku-sensei, you know he’s the volleyball coach too, right? I guess spiking wasn’t the only thing I picked up from him.”

“He should think about switching to coaching track, Tomioka is such a bore. It’s a wonder he got the job in the first place.”

“You would miss Tomioka if he left, don’t deny it.”

“Only because he’s so fun to mess with.” Shinobu clarified.

“Of course.” Mitsuri nodded, a knowing smile forming around her fork as she savored another bite of Shinobu’s meal.

By the time they finished eating their meal and a shared dessert, it was nearly one in the morning and Shinobu was definitely feeling it. It was a good thing she didn’t have early practice tomorrow because she needed every minute of sleep she could possibly get before heading to school in a couple of hours.

Mitsuri noticed Shinobu’s fatigue and insisted she hop in a taxi with her to get home. An idea that Shinobu had no issue agreeing to, the sooner she got into her bed, the better.

It was a relatively short walk to Shinobu’s, so the drive was even shorter. However, almost as soon as they had buckled in and gave the taxi driver the address, Shinobu had fallen asleep and her head lolled onto Mitsuri’s shoulder as the taxi turned onto the street.

Mitsuri simpered, containing the squee she felt bubbling in her throat so as not to disturb her very cute girlfriend’s slumber until they made it to her front door.

When the driver pulled up, she quietly thanked and paid him before gently shaking Shinobu awake.

“Shinobu-chan, we’re here. Time to get up.” Mitsuri whispered, giggling when the other girl released a grumpy grunt and burrowed deeper into her side, trying to sap up all the warmth Mitsuri had to offer. Mitsuri directed her attention back to the driver waiting patiently in the front seat.

“Sorry, this might be a little tricky.” She apologized, undoing her seatbelt and Shinobu’s before opening the door.

“Yeah, sure.” The driver nodded. There were be worse things he could be dealing with on a Thursday night.

Mitsuri propped Shinobu back up against the seat and got out of the car, crouching over so she could pull Shinobu closer to the door. Once she was close enough, she hooked her arms under the sleeping girl’s back and knees, carefully lifting her out of the car with care and ease. What she appreciated most being as strong as she was, was how easy it was to pick Shinobu up. Even if Shinobu didn’t always like it.

“Thanks again.” She nodded to the driver, getting a grunt in response. She knocked the door close with the side of her foot and made her way up Shinobu’s stoop before realizing this was actually going to be a bit harder than she anticipated.

“Hey, Shinobu, do you think you could get your key out and open the door for me?” Mitsuri asked, adjusting her hold.

Slowly, Shinobu’s eyes peeled open though just a smidge. She looked reminiscent of a grouchy, sour child and it was the cutest thing Mitsuri had ever seen.

“Put me down.” Shinobu fussed, lightly slapping Mitsuri’s arm. “Just because you can pick me up, doesn’t mean you should.”

“But you are so cute and sleepy! I couldn’t just leave you in the back of the taxi anyway.” Mitsuri said in return, though she did as Shinobu asked and set her down.

Shinobu dug around in her bag, it’s strap hung over Mitsuri’s shoulder, silently cursing every time she picked up something that wasn’t the key to her front door. Finally, with a small noise of triumph she picked up the right item and unlocked the front door.

The sleepy track runner pulled Mitsuri inside with her before locking the door snuggly behind her. Then she sat down to take off her shoes, motioning for Mitsuri to do the same.

“Come on it's late, your parents would rather you be here than out by yourself.” Shinobu said.

“Thanks, Shinobu!” Mitsuri clapped softly. She was always excited to stay the night.

“Mhm, now hurry up.” Shinobu said impatiently, already stumbling to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Mitsuri kicked off her shoes and followed after her. She had already stayed over frequently enough that she had her own little pack of bathroom supplies in the cupboard. They brushed their teeth together before heading to Shinobu’s room to change into more comfortable clothes.

Mitsuri claimed one of Shinobu’s large and all encompassing hoodies and after shooting her parents a text about her whereabouts, she leapt into Shinobu’s futon with a satisfied giggle.

As grumpy and tired as Shinobu was, she couldn’t help but smile warmly at the endearing girl. She slipped into bed behind Mitsuri and wrapped her arm over her. The older girl hugged the arm to her chest sighing happily. Her back pressed snuggly into Shinobu’s front.

“Did you set up an alarm for school?” Mitsuri whispered.

“Regrettably, yes.” Shinobu sighed into the back of Mitsuri’s neck.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” Mitsuri spoke up again after a few minutes.

“You’re welcome,” Shinobu mumbled, pressing a small kiss into Mitsuri’s skin.

“What do you want to do after school tomorrow?”

“Mitsuri I love you, but please, go to sleep.”

“But I’ve got another craving...” Mitsuri said, a mischievous little smile tugging at her lips as she left Shinobu shuffle in the covers to lean above her.

“What the hell, Mitsu? Why didn’t you say something before we left the restaurant?” Shinobu repined.

“Don’t worry, it’s something really easy that you can give me without even leaving this bed.” Mitsuri cryptically responded, craning her head back to bat her eyelashes at Shinobu.

Shinobu released an amused huff of air from her nose, immediately understanding what the other girl wanted. She leaned down and kissed Mitsuri’s honey sweet lips, nearly making her swoon.

“Good night.” Shinobu breathed once they broke apart, laying back down fully against the futon.

“Good night indeed.” Mitsuri murmured dreamily in return.

[beth--b]

Persistent Cough

Written for @sicktember promt 2 - persistent cough

  Growing up with the Dursleys had taught Harry not to bother anyone when he was sick. From the slightest of sniffles, to raging fevers there was no sympathy or care coming from his relatives. In fact, if he did complain, and a complaint could simply be a cough within earshot of his Aunt, he was thrown into his cupboard until such time as he was well again. How long that was varied usually from 2 days to a week.

So, when 12-year-old Harry woke up with a slight tickle in the back of his throat while staying at the Burrow, he didn’t say anything.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33635335

By the end of the day, he was trying so hard to stifle his coughs so as not to be noticed. It was much harder to pretend to be ok when he was surrounded by Weasley’s. When it was finally late enough to go to bed and not seem suspicious, Harry gratefully took his chance to escape into Ron’s room. At least if he coughed around Ron, he knew that he probably wouldn’t really notice.

Apparently, Harry was wrong. During the night he woke up coughing, and he couldn’t seem to stop. He tried and he tried but the tickle in his throat had turned to something sharper and truly painful and the coughing was only making it feel worse, which in turn made him cough more. His eyes were watering, and he felt like he couldn’t stop long enough to get a decent breath, and then Ron was awake and rubbing his back and trying to help him. After a few minutes Harry’s coughing fit finally seemed to be slowing down and he managed to drink the water Ron had fetched him.

“Are you alright mate?” Ron asked, once Harry seemed to like he wouldn’t start to cough again.

Harry managed to nod, and Ron looked at him suspiciously.

“I’ll just go get my mum-”

“No Ron, really it’s fine.”

Ron shook his head and moved back over to his own bed, “Fine but if that starts up again, you’re not getting any say in it.”

Harry just nodded and closed his eyes trying to get some more sleep.

When he woke up again it was morning and his throat ached fiercely. It took all his willpower to supress the cough that wanted to burst out of him.

Ron was still snoring on his bed, so Harry quietly got up and went downstairs, hoping to make himself a cup of tea before everyone else was up.

He made it downstairs and froze at the sight of Mrs Weasley sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea.

“Harry dear,” she said with a warm smile, “you’re up early.”

Harry nodded his head slowly and finally tried to speak only to let out a barking cough instead.

“Oh dear that doesn’t sound too good, come on over here and I will run a few simple checks on you.”

She stood up and beckoned him over, Harry didn’t really want to have anyone fuss over him, but he couldn’t exactly just walk away.

“I’m fine,” he croaked out, wincing at the pain talking caused.

“Now Harry, I have seven children and have seen my fair share of ailments in my time and you dear, are not fine.”

For the first time in a long time, Harry wondered what it would like to have someone care if you were ill. When he was old enough to realise that the Dursley’s were never going to care, he forced himself to stop thinking about it. It only hurt more when he would remember that nobody cared, and nobody ever would care. Perhaps he had been wrong though. Mrs Weasley had never been unkind to him. She had even hugged him before, and the Dursley’s certainly never hugged him.

While Harry was having this revelation, Molly was casting a few basic diagnostic spells to check for and of the common illnesses that children had the tendency to pick up. When she finally addressed Harry again, he looked up with a start.

“Alright young man, fine you are not. Back to bed with you and I will be up shortly with some pepper up and some nice tea with honey for that cough.  

With a nod Harry turned and headed back up the stairs. So this is what it felt like when someone cared. He may have felt awful and tired from coughing, but he also felt a warmth in his chest at the thought that someone was looking after him for no other reason than they wanted to.

[domesticdeanwinchester]

i know the rain like the clouds know the sky

read it on ao3 or below // 1.7k words

It must have rained last night, or maybe very early this morning.

Either way the sky is a cloudy kind of grey. Overcast with those darklight smudges of stratocumulus. It isn't ominous, though, the clouds. They're calm in the sky. Peaceful.

Peace. It isn't a feeling Dean's very used to, the last two decades of his life being the chaotic, apocalyptic, traumatic mess that they were.

But the last couple of months... they've been his first real taste of that. Of the calm after the storm. Of easy days, of settling down and moving slow, of being worry-free. Well, relatively worry-free. There may not be any big bads looming over them and the last of the apocalypses may be behind them, but he's still got a husband with a rebellious streak a mile wide, a brother and a sister-in-law who both encourage it far more than they should (and can get into a fair amount of trouble themselves too), and a once-capital-G-god-turned-four-year-old-toddler to take care of and keep entertained. So yeah, maybe not entirely worry-free.

It's good though. It's really good. For the first time in Dean's life, he's at peace with it. He's happy.

Dean stares out at the sky through the kitchen window as he waits for the coffee to brew, letting himself get lost in the matching clouds of his mind.

The staccatoed hiss of coffee dripping draws him back to the kitchen, and he watches as the drip turns steady and the pot starts to fill. When the stream comes to a stuttering stop, Dean waits for the last hesitating drop to fall from the nozzle. Once it does, he removes the pot and pours himself a cup — this chipped old thing that reads "I never dreamed I'd be a grumpy 70 year old man but here I am killin' it", with the "grumpy 70 year old man" bit in big red letters, that Claire got him as a joke, but that he secretly loves. There's still plenty of joe left, so he replaces the pot and leaves it for Castiel, knowing it won't be too long before he's up too to claim it for himself.

Dean cradles the mug in one hand and pulls his dead-guy robe tighter around his body with the other, ambling towards the back door. He slides it open and takes the mug out onto the porch.

The morning air is crisp, cool and a little bit biting, but he likes the slight sting. There's still a hint of a mist to it, too, that makes Dean think that more rain isn't too far off. It smells like the rain, like fresh earth and a hint of that residual lightning storm ozone smell that reminds him so much of Castiel.

He stands at the railing, wiggling his toes in his toasty slippers, holding the mug between both hands. It's warm against his palms, and he brings it to his lips to take a sip, letting that warmth trickle down his throat, settle in his belly, and bloom throughout the rest of him.

It's quiet outside, only the soft wisp of the breeze moving through the trees to keep him company. The rest of the world still slumbers on.

Eventually the back door creaks behind him, and the wood of the deck groans a little beneath footsteps. Dean doesn't have to turn around to know it's Castiel joining him.

A pair of strong arms slide around his waist, and Castiel hugs him from behind, pressing his warm cheek to Dean's shoulder. Castiel brings his lips to kiss the point of his shoulder blade, and even through the material of the robe Dean can feel it.

"Thought I'd find you out here," Castiel murmurs. "It's cold," he adds, burrowing closer.

Dean shifts back against Castiel, nuzzling into his hug as best he can. "I like it," he says.

"Mm, of course you do," Castiel says.

They fall into a companionable silence after that, just the quiet sounds of the world around them and their steady breathing filling the space between them.

"Come inside?" Castiel asks after a moment.

"I will," Dean answers. He doesn't move, though.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asks gently, shifting from pressing against Dean's back to burrowing into his side.

Dean doesn't answer right away this time. Instead lets the question settle, lets it bleed into his bones. He watches as a bird takes flight from a branch of one of the trees, sees the light breeze make the small patch of grass dance, admires the still surface of the lake in the distance. He thinks of Castiel, living and breathing right behind him, thinks of Jack, young for the first time in his life tucked away in the racecar bed he'd begged for with his worn in stuffed bee cuddled close, thinks of Sam and Eileen and brand new baby Maura probably starting their morning too all those miles away.

A faint smile pulls at the corner of Dean's mouth. "Yeah, I am," he tells Castiel, and he means it. He really really means it. He pulls his gaze from the lake and turns in Castiel's arms to look at him head on, to meet his eyes and hold his gaze. "I am."

A small smile graces Castiel's lips, and they just kind of stare at each other for a moment before he brings a hand up to Dean's cheek. His palm ghosts over it before settling against his jaw, cupping it softly. "Good," he says, then leans in to kiss Dean's cheek.

They stay like that for a few beats longer before Castiel runs his thumb over the arc of Dean's cheekbone. "I'm going to go back inside," Castiel says, trailing his fingertips over Dean's chip before letting his hand fall back to his side. "It's too cold out here," he adds, scrunching up his nose in a way that pulls a fond chuckle from Dean.

"Yeah yeah, go inside ya big ice cube," Dean says, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the porch railing.

"Don't be too long," Castiel tells him, moving towards the door.

"I won't," Dean assures, and takes another sip of coffee. "There's more in the pot for you, should still be warm," he adds, lifting his mug in reference.

Castiel smiles. "Thank you," he says, reaching for the handle. He opens the door halfway, then pauses. "When you come in we should make pancakes. Jack will like that."

It's Dean's turn to smile as a memory of the last time he'd made pancakes filters to the surface. Jack had been asleep that time too, but when he followed his nose into the kitchen to find Dean behind the stove, flipping a pancake the size of Jack's head he'd been so excited. And so amazed too, by how many different kinds of pancakes Dean had whipped up — chocolate chip, blueberry, cinnamon sugar. He'd even tried out a special new recipe, with fresh honey and vanilla. Jack insisted on assisting with the remaining batter, eager and insistent on helping Dean when it got time to flip the pancakes. All the flavors had been a hit, and Jack had been gleeful all morning — a sticky, syrupy, chocolatey mess, but a very happy one nonetheless.

Based on the look on Castiel's face, Dean figures he must be remembering that morning too.

"Yeah, okay," Dean agrees, giving a nod. "I'll be in soon," he promises.

Castiel nods and disappears back inside.

Dean will follow shortly, he will. He'll head back inside and he and Castiel will make stacks upon stacks of pancakes, and maybe one of them will go wake Jack, or maybe Jack will come find them laughing together over the half cooked, half gloopy pancake Castiel accidentally flipped out of the pan and onto the stove. They'll dig into their breakfast with Jack, sitting around their little table together. And later he'll call Sammy. Ask how Maura is. How Eileen is. Maybe they'll video call, and Jack will steal the phone and hold it way too close to his face, and he'll show Sam the new space in his mouth where he'd just lost his tooth. It might rain again, and if it does Jack will want to put on his ladybug rain boots and his new froggy rain hat and jump around in the puddles. They'll bundle up for it, and Dean might indulge his inner child too and jump around in the puddles with him. Castiel will watch from the porch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he'll disappear back into the house just before Dean and Jack decide to come inside to start up a batch of hot chocolate. All three of them will curl up on the couch and put a movie on. Jack will fall asleep halfway through, tired out from his day in the rain despite the sugary treat afterwards. There will be a chocolate mustache still on his lip, and Castiel will try to gently wipe it away without waking him. He'll curl into Dean's side after, right under his arm, pulling the thick knit blanket tighter around them, and Dean will kiss the top of Castiel's hair. They'll fall asleep like that, too, until Jack wakes them up rejuvenated from his nap and ready for something new. In the evening Dean will make butternut squash soup — one of Castiel's favorites, and they'll eat it with freshly baked crusty bread and some warm apple cider to boot. He and Castiel will tag team giving Jack a bath — he'll beg for bubbles and they'll indulge him, of course — and once he's wrapped up in his favorite pajamas they'll tuck him into his bed and Dean will read him two stories and then Castiel will read a third, and they'll both kiss him on the forehead and say goodnight. Dean and Castiel will take a hot shower together, no fooling around, just the warmth of the spray and their gentle hands on each other's skin, washing, cleaning, touching. They'll dry off and dress in their pajamas, then they too will climb into bed. That night, as another bout of rain pebbles soothingly against the window, they'll drift off beneath three blankets with Castiel curled around Dean. And in the morning, they'll do it all again.

But that will all come later.

For now Dean revels in the peace.