#if anything he’s closest to how I see my inner self but don’t act on or show ppl djdjdjs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jarofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Stay

A/N: this is one of the little one shots we wrote for @majorharry’s 20k fic celebration (congrats to cass she’s is amazing!! we love her writing so much 🥺) we used prompt 30 “you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” Our take on punk!harry catching feelings for a hookup

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: a bit of angst

word count 4k

“You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” Y/N watched as Harry scrambled to get his clothes on.

This was a regular routine for the two of them, Harry would text her telling her to be ready when he arrived. She wouldn’t exactly call their relationship a relationship. She felt like calling it a booty call made her feel gross though that’s the closest to what it was. Y/N wouldn’t even call it friends with benefits. Harry wasn’t her friend, he never tried to be. They were from different sides of the spectrum. Harry was rough around the edges, blunt, pretentious. An arrogant son of a bitch if you asked Y/N. She leaned more on the safer side of things, not a good girl, but not exactly bad. Just your average girl. She’s boring and uptight if you asked Harry.

“It’s 2...” Y/N trailed off to look at the clock, “2:46 in the morning, just stay.” She sighed, sitting up and bringing the sheet up with her to cover her front. She wasn’t sure what his deal was, but it started to get under her skin.

“That isn’t my thing, Sweetheart.” Harry chuckled, feeling the panic bubble in his chest at the idea of staying. Of being too close to her. Y/N was equally as terrifying to him and she had to have some clue.

Harry didn’t do relationships. Hell, this was the closest thing he had to being truly intimate for years and he was terrified. He had gotten a bit too comfortable with Y/N and found himself wanting to stick around too long after their fun. It was made abundantly clear to the both of them that they weren’t going to be anything more than a booty call. After the last time, it had been insanely good and he had fallen asleep in her bed. Waking up with her curled up on his chest, the warmth, the comfort? It was so amazingly lovely and so terrifying he could cry. No. He wouldn’t allow himself to get attached again.

Besides. She was... god. She was fucking immaculate. Smart and kind, talented and sweet. There was no damn way she would actually want a relationship with someone like him. Covered head to toe in tattoos and piercings and shit. Smoking and drinking and all that too. No. She deserved a nice guy. Someone with an office job.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She hated that fucking nickname. It felt patronizing, but she knew that wasn’t the angle Harry was coming at this all with. He was avoiding her. She could see it. The way he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Harry was well aware she could read his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to hide from her then.

“Harry, it’s fucking pouring.” He didn’t have a car, she knew he had full intentions of walking back to his apartment on campus. Y/N looked at him with furrowed brows, realizing he wasn’t stopping. She reached over and slipped her Fleetwood Mac shirt back on, getting up to walk over to him. “If you’re that fussed about it, you can take the couch, or I can take the couch, but I’m not letting you walk home in the fucking rain in the middle of the night.” Y/N spoke sternly, but her voice was soft. What was the big deal?

“No. You aren’t taking the couch— get back in bed.” He sighed, closing his eyes. Fuck. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, Y/N didn’t do anything wrong at all. She was being her normal, sweet, tender self and wanted to make sure he was safe and he understands that but... fuck. “Go back to bed. I’ll sit until the rain stops and call an Uber or something.” He was nervous. He knew that if he laid back in bed with her that he would like it and want more of it. Those kisses would be soft and not the rough ones he was used to and he would melt. Normally his hookups didn’t make him nervous— but she absolutely did. Very much so. “Don’t give me that pout please.” He groaned when she looked up at him with puppy eyes and approached him slowly. Oh no. He was a strong man but he knew his inner weakness for her. He felt it. Didn’t want it.

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.” Y/N frowned, genuinely confused. What I’m earth was he on about? Sitting until the rain stopped or getting an uber? Was she really that unbearable? Y/N wasn’t going to beg for him to stay, but if he really wanted out there must be a reason? She thought maybe since they’ve been having regular sex for a few months that maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal for him to just stay. “I don’t understand you, ya know?” She muttered, looking at him as if she was examining him. What changed so much? He had come into her home all guns blazing a few hours ago, pinning her against the wall, ravishing her after a night of drinking with her friends. She even thought they made progress when they had a little laugh about it afterwards, but then he was up and itching to get out. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of me, but do you have to be so fucking stubborn?”

Wait. What? Harry furrowed his brows and looked at her with disbelief. The way he had just fucked her as if his life depended on it? How did that translate into him not liking her?

“Hold on. No— I don’t dislike you or anything. M’not trying to get away because I don’t like you.” He said lowly, face full of confusion and a bit of irritation. “Jesus Christ. It’s the opposite. That’s why I can’t bloody stay in your place.” He felt a bit stupid admitting that because even to him it didnt make total sense. All he knew was that she wouldn’t like him the way he could end up liking her and he already had the beginnings of something more than a crush. He knew he fell in love quickly— far too quickly. And he didn’t want to set himself up for more disappointment.

Now Y/N was confused.

“And that’s supposed to make sense?” She asked with furrowed brows, her arms crossing over her chest in defense. It was chilly in her apartment, but she wasn’t about to go put on more clothes when they could just get back into bed and go to sleep. If he would just listen. “You stayed here last time and you were fine.” Y/N stayed simply, “just go lay down, can go home whenever you want tomorrow....” She was giving up on fighting with him, but of course his words were still ringing through her mind. If he liked her why was he so desperate to leave? Why did he want to get away from her so bad? It didn’t make any sense at all.

“Yeah, I did and we cuddled! We aren’t supposed to do that.” Harry stressed. When her face was even more confused he let out a dark groan, covering his face with his hands. How did she not understand this? This dilemma, this crisis? They were meant to be fuck buddies. Nothing more. She wouldn’t be interested in more and it was so fucking embarrassing to think of himself catching emotions for her when she would just laugh or not want to be involved at all. His last girlfriend had summed it up by explaining that Harry was fun for a while. Fun to explore and live out that bad boy fantasy with his motorcycle and crazy parties and tattoo artist apprenticeship but he wasn’t boyfriend material. If she thought that —and she wasn’t a total prize once he thought about it— Y/N would for sure laugh if he wanted more than that.

“You understand you’re making zero sense right now right?” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “You were balls deep in me and cuddling is what you’re worried about?” She asked with a small sigh, taking a few seconds just watching him. “Look, I’ll stay on the other side of the bed if you want. Just stay. It isn’t a question, you’re not leaving.” Y/N didn’t like being challenged, she liked getting her way and he was making no sense with his talk. She reached out and took his hand, pulling him back towards her bed. She was tired, sleep was visible on her face but she wouldn’t sleep until she was sure he wouldn’t leave.

Truth be told she didn’t want him to leave for other reasons. She liked having him around, even if sometimes he didn’t act so fond of her and pushed her away. Y/N liked having his calm energy around, liked him roasting her, liked how he always found a way to get her to wind down. Not to mention sharing a bed with him during the night was incredibly comfortable. When they started this whole thing, Y/N knew that there was a possibility that she could catch feelings. However, she let those die. He wasn’t interested. She was just some good pussy to him.

He felt squirmy. Sitting in bed with her and not touching her felt wrong. It felt weird and uncomfortable and he just wanted to pet her hair and gently touch her skin and it was such a weird and odd feeling. He wanted to vomit. How the fuck was he even doing this?

She was terrifying.

He didn’t realize he had said that out loud until she turned over and looked at him with a questioning look. Fuck. Oops.

“I... didn’t mean to say that out loud.” He cleared his throat, face flushed as he realized he didn’t know how to get himself out of this.

To say Y/N was thoroughly confused was an understatement. Y/N was getting antsy, she didn’t like all this scrambling around, she wanted to have an adult conversation with him.

“Can you please just tell me what is on your mind? Cause I’m lost.” Y/N sighed, “you text me telling me you’re going to come over, you get here all eager to see me, fuck me for two hours straight, then want to get out of here faster than I can say your full name. Say you’d rather wait the rain out or get an uber than sleeping here. Tell me it’s not because you don’t like me but because you do like me, then say I’m terrifying? Am I reading this wrong or?” Y/N wished he could just be straight up with her, she didn’t have time trying to figure him out.

“For fucks sake!” Harry sat up on the end of the bed so he didn’t have to look at her. It was too embarrassing. Getting flustered over this. “I’ll get too comfortable. I’ll sleep here and we’ll cuddle again and I’ll feel close to you and you’ll end up getting tired of me.” He huffed. “No one keeps their feelings for me for too long and I’m fun to fuck around with but I’m not relationship material.” It was obvious he had heard this before and it had stuck in his mind. Very much so because it was like he was reciting it bitter from memory. “And then you’ll be tired of me and I’ll be used to sleeping in your bed, and I’ll be fucking worthless with sleep again and it’ll fuck me up. I don’t want that shit to happen. I’m not the type of guy you want to cuddle or sleep with anyways. M’only decent for a fuck.” Plus, she hadn’t shown any real interest besides the fact she did want to fuck him.

Y/N sat up, completely taken aback. She didn’t realize it was getting like this. Hell, she was fully convinced he just didn’t want to be around her outside of their sex life. But to think he had been sat here convincing himself of things that just weren’t true? Assuming that she wouldn’t want him when, if given a proper chance, she would? “And how the hell do you know what I want?” She asked out right, “you never asked me... and I never said anything about it. You’ve barely even attempted conversation with me, fuck... and you just—” Y/N knew she had to relax. “If I didn’t want you sleeping here I would have let you leave. If I didn’t care about you I would have let you leave.” Her voice was softer this time. She took a few moments to calm down and then decided to speak again. “You know you could have asked me... what I wanted? Know it’s scary— and... I don’t know who hurt you.... but I don’t want to be lumped in with them. I don’t think like that...”

Harry clenched his jaw. He didn’t know what to think. With Y/N being as sweet as she was, he didn’t think she would be one to lie about it. It did make sense if he thought about the fact that she never kicked him out. He was just the first to leave so she wouldn’t have to be the one to say it and make him feel weird about it. He was used to that.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still not turning around to face her. He felt like a bit of an idiot as it was. He didn’t want her to think that he didn’t want to stay either but he wasn’t sure how the hell to go about it. “You’re... I dunno. You’re nice and different and it’s terrifying. I don’t want to be rejected by the nicest person.” He said lowly. “You’re really sweet and I’m scared to get to know you properly. Everyone talks about how lovely you are and I know you must be.” God, talking about feelings? He didn’t know how to properly do that without sounding like a damn idiot. “I’ll probably like you a lot more than I should. The sex is fucking fantasitic. But then I think about you kickin’ me out or waking up and realizing what you’ve done and get upset.”

Y/N could understand him, sure. It was self preservation. He assumed because of his past and naturally, he wanted to be ahead of the curve. He didn’t even give her a chance. Y/N felt like this type of behavior didn’t help anyone, only landed them in situations like these.

“Hurts a lot more when you just get up and leave ya know?” Y/N swallowed thickly. “Feel dirty... used... convince myself it isn’t what you mean and that maybe it’s just cause you’re ashamed or something.” She said with a shrug, “know you’re a nice guy, know you don’t mean it like that... but..” it still hurt. “We decided it wasn’t going to be anything more and I wasn’t expecting anything more, just thought maybe we could be I dunno... not like this?” Y/N chuckled sadly. “Thought that we could be friendly even if it wasn’t real? Dunno, just... the last time you were here it felt nice? Felt like what I wanted it to feel like, minus the awkward bolt you did once you realized where you were.”

“Fuck. I’m a dick. I didn’t want— I don’t want you to feel like that.” That had him turning around, piercing in his brow slanting down with the snarl in them. “I just can’t do this shit right, huh?” He groaned, a sarcastic chuckle leaving his throat. “Jesus. I don’t know how I manage to fuck shit up so damn bad. I don’t want you to feel dirty or used cause you’re not. I enjoy myself, darlin’.” There was a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. How the fuck did he end up getting it all wrong? “Wasn’t leaving cause I didn’t like it. Left because I did. Too much. S’not what I’m used to and I don’t think I could have stomached you telling me to leave, so I just left before you could tell me to.” He looked down at his lap. “M’sorry, Y/N. It wasn’t my intention. Know that doesn’t do shite to make you feel any better and doesn’t take away the fact that I’ve been a dick but, I thought you’d want me to leave.”

“Why?” Y/N asked softly, deciding that if she got him talking she might as well get the answers she wanted out of him. “Why did you think I’d want you to leave? Cause I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Y/N told him honestly, “it isn’t polite and even then I thought... I would feel like shit if someone asked me to leave.” She explained with a small sigh. “Just because we decided it was nothing more than sex didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to at least try to be your friend or something... I just assumed that wasn’t what you wanted. Practically ignore me everywhere else.” Y/N knew that no one really knew about them. They sat there for a few moments before she decided to be bold, to look at him properly and just get this over with.

“Do you want this to be more than sex?”

Harry sat and thought about it for a moment. Of course, he did. His little crush on her was massive now and he had been kidding himself every time he left to walk away and do dumb shit like this.

“I didn’t think you had any interest because you didn’t really show any besides wanting to fuck.” He said bluntly. Which is true. “I thought I’d be overstepping boundaries by suggesting more. Plus... you’re so.... good. You’re sweet as fuck, you’re smart, I would have thought you’d want an office dude or someone who’s going to give you some sort of good stability. Not some guy like me.” Harry shrugged, looking over to her. “I can’t tell what you’d want. Maybe s’partially my fault because I leave so quickly. But... I dunno. Maybe? It’s... it’s hard.” He didn’t know how to explain it properly. On the outside, he was a dickhead. A bad boy. He fucked, drank, smoked, dabbled in coke and shrooms. He was an artist, wanted to be a tattoo artist, didn’t see himself leaving at least for another 2 years. Then he wanted to go to New York, or New Orleans. Something bigger than him. Would she want any of that?

“Could’ve asked me out for a drink or something... didn’t have to be this elaborate thing.” Y/N sighed and played with her fingers some more. Obviously she enjoyed herself, obviously she didn’t want it to stop, but he wasn’t wrong about her not showing him any signs of wanting more. They agreed to it being strictly sex so she kept it at that. “So what then, you’re just going to keep coming around and fucking me and leaving again?” She asked quietly, “what do you want me to do?” Y/N didn’t know how she could help in this situation. She didn’t deny him, never said she wasn’t interested, but when asked if he wanted more he deflected. Y/N had been single her whole college career. She wanted to focus on her school work, besides, all the college guys were assholes... most of them were. They just assumed they knew more, tried to mansplain everything. She hated it. Y/N didn’t want that. If she was going to get into a relationship of any kind, she would hope that they brought out the best in her, made her feel like she could have fun the way Harry did.

“No— obviously m’nit gonna do that. I didn’t realize it made you feel shitty. S’what everyone else has wanted but... I should have realized.” Harry licked his dry bottom lip. “You’re a lot nicer than them. Softer. I shouldn’t have just treated you like everyone else and m’sorry for that.” Of course she was different. She was just... sweet. She never made him feel poorly and always praised him during sex. Always was excited to see him. He really felt like a massive dick. Especially seeing the worry in her face. “What do you want?” He asked, picking at the non existent lint in the bed. “Like... would you want to do somethin’ other than that?”

“I wanna go on a date...” Y/N said without really thinking, “if you want... we can like, go for coffee or a drink or something just... talk.” She didn’t know what he was going to say, she felt like she would bite the bullet in this case since he was far too nervous to take initiative. She had to force it out of him. “And if it’s not up to your expectations then I guess we can just pretend it never happened or something... you can even come here for dinner if you want?” Y/N didn’t want to make a fool of herself. “and if you don’t wanna do any of that then maybe we can just like... be friendly?” She rubbed at her eye, feeling extremely sleepy. He really did fuck her good.

The two of them were realizing that they were both full of shit. They should have communicated better, shouldn’t have been guessing. Neither of them wanted to comprise the sex but sometimes, adult decisions had to be made.

“I’d... you’d really want to go on a date with me?” It wasn’t something he had ever initially expected but hey. Harry would take it. Especially because she was so shy usually but she had been the one to switch roles and take charge when it came to talking about feelings. “Yeah. We can do that.” He noticed she was sleepy, rubbing at her eyes and felt guilt course through him as he noticed it. “Why... don’t we talk about this in the morning’. You’re so tired.” And damn, was she cute. He felt a bit of pride as well knowing a good fuck could help aid in the sleepy thing.

“I promise I’ll be here in the morning.” He stood up and took his jeans back off but kept the shirt on, not sure what was proper when sleeping with a girl when you weren’t fucking them. This was good, yeah? Cuddling was still foreign so he wasn’t going to attempt it— he would let her decide if that’s something she wanted. “Any of that sounds good to me. M’sorry I was a prick. I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me but that’s my own fault.”

“It’s okay, you can make it up to me.” Y/N was happy that he agreed to go on the date with her. She felt like it would be nice for them to actually have a conversation without it leading to sex. Just for them to get to know each other properly and not just based on what they’ve heard. She hummed as she felt sleep coming on, immediately falling back on the bed and getting all cozy. Y/N curled up and pulled the pillow closer to her, looking up at him as he stripped back down. “Shirt too.” She mumbled. “cause you’re warm.” Y/N cooed and patted the spot next to her. She moved to curl up to him, lifting his arm so she could rest her head on his chest. “What? You said you liked the cuddle.” She teased, nuzzling against him. “Could you turn off the light?” She asked, pointing to the switch above her bed.

Harry felt okay now. A bit shaky— but better. He didn’t know what would come of this, but he could feel that he was comfortable and warm and bright. Happy. She made him feel at ease with these simple things and had even suggested a date. A date. Something the man hadn’t imagined a girl like her would ever be into but, look at them now. When he turned off the light and settled into the bed, feeling the warmth of her body as she clung on to him— there was one thought that kept going through his mind.

It’ll be alright.

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

A/N: ahhh thank you for reading, this is something a bit different for us, but hopefully these little oneshots/blurbs we can post a bit more often in between series updates! also, but congrats to cass once again, you a queen. we love you 🥺 - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #majorharry20k #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry writing #harry styles angst #punk!h #jarofstyles

1K notes · View notes

missskzbiased · 4 years ago

Text

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (17)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 7,5,K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness

Notes: It’s Hyunjin’s Pov. I got to finish chapter 18 today. Probably gonna try to write some of 19 later. I’m posting earlier just because I’m really tired and I’m afraid I might be too sleepy later LOL

Updates: Tuesdays

////

HYUNJIN’S POV

You were being ridiculous.

You crossed your legs, sighing as you stared at both cups in your hands in wonder. Why would you be sitting on a bench on a Monday morning with two cups of coffee ─ well, actually one cup of black coffee and one of iced Americano ─ if not to wait for someone? It was so painfully obvious that for a second you thought about throwing them away in the trash and acting as if you weren’t a… You didn’t even know how you should be calling yourself now.

You scowled, getting up from the bench and heading to the closest trash bin, settled in assuming your usual fuckboy façade to try to approach Y/N. Why would you act differently now? It wasn’t like you loved her or something… Maybe you were a little bit infatuated by the fact that she could listen and understand you better than anyone else –

See? That kind of awfully awful thought… You should be ashamed.

You kinda were.

“Hey” Yeah… Of course, she would see and talk to you at the exact same moment you were about to throw coffee away for absolutely no reason. You exhaled slowly, closing your eyes to recompose yourself before turning around with a smug smile.

“Hey” You offered back in a husky tone.

“Did you scratch your throat or something?” She asked in confusion, frowning as she stared at your neck “You sound… I don’t know… Kinda different?” She said unsurely, hands trailing to her own throat and massaging it mindlessly.

Great… Exactly the reaction you wanted.

“Oh, no!” You cleared your throat, massaging it as well “I bought these drinks and I drank yours by mistake” You explained, handing her the cup. She narrowed her eyes at you, studying you closely before reaching for it.

“Thanks…” She said warily “What’s the occasion?” She asked, tilting her head, eyes wandering around your face before she sipped the coffee, humming in appreciation “This is really good!” She raised her brows in surprise, shifting her gaze to the cup.

“Well, I stopped by a café to buy some for me on my way here, and… Well, I remembered you have an exam today, right?” You smiled at her, knowing far too well that what you just said was bullshit “I thought you could use some real coffee today” You shrugged.

“I don’t have an exam today…” She frowned, holding the cup with both hands as she thought about it.

You fought back a smile, watching as she scrunched her nose and tried to figure out what was going on; lips slightly projected forward in something close to a pout but not quite. The way she held the cup with both hands made her look smaller than usual, and for some reason, you found it incredibly endearing. There was something soft spreading in your chest, some kind of warmth that made you want to wrap her in your arms and squeeze her but you ignored it.

Y/N wasn’t the cute little type… She would hit you for sure if you tried to do anything similar to this. You were yet to understand how she didn’t just kill you after the fake kiss at the stairs… You were lucky as fuck. She raised her eyes to you in question, making you gulp down. You had those eyes so close to yours… That nose brushing against yours… Those lips…

“You don’t? I must have heard it wrong then” You lied, sipping your drink mindlessly. Or at least, you hoped she thought all of it was natural and unplanned “Well, you like coffee anyway…” You shrugged, glancing at her as you walked together towards the stairs “Consider it a friendship treat” She hummed, nodding in mock acknowledgment.

“Why does it sound like a poor excuse to buy me something?” She laughed, nudging your side “It’s awesome to have two rich friends to pay for my stuff” She joked, taking another gulp of her coffee “I guess this one is pretty good because it doesn’t even feel like grumpy o’clock anymore” You laughed at this, smirking at her.

“Maybe it’s not the coffee but my company” You said suggestively, wiggling your brows at her, making her chuckle, “Or it could be the sugar” You said playfully, grinning when she took the bait.

“Not really, those from the stands are usually really sweet… This one is actually way more bitter than I’m used to” She admitted “But it’s g—“ You didn’t even let her finish.

“Oh? So you’re saying you prefer sweet things?” You could tell she knew you were about to make some silly input just by the way she arched her brow in expectation “If you want some more sugar, I can be your Sugar Daddy, you know?” You joked, fighting back your laughter as she grimaced at you, huffing.

“Really?�� She couldn’t help but chuckle “That must have been the worst pick up line you have said in your whole life” She pointed out, grimace dissolving into a playful expression “You’re too young to be my sugar daddy, though” She reminded you, shaking her head in amusement.

“I can be your honey, then” You chortled when she choked on her coffee, pushing your shoulder lightly as she looked at you astonished.

“Oh my God… You’re a compulsive flirter, what the hell!” She whined, wiping her mouth “How can you come and show your face when you’re like this?!” She asked dumbfounded, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Did you look at my face? There is nothing to be ashamed of here” You joked, and she grimaced again in mocking disgust “Come on! You love me just like this” You said in a singsong “You said so yourself” You reminded her, making her snort.

“I do love you just like this” She agreed, offering you a small smile that made your heart flutter for a second “The amount of self-esteem oozing out of your ass is going to be my thesis’ theme, so I have to love it” You rolled your eyes when her small smile dissolved into a mocking one “I may even get a prize… I don’t think someone ever saw something as big as this” She joked, making you snort.

You opened your mouth to retort her but she beat you to it.

“Please… No comments about your dick and your hook-ups” She pleaded, furrowing her brows at you in disgust.

“Hey, I wasn’t going to say something like this!” You protested, even though it did cross your mind “I was going to smoothly change the subject to the book I couldn’t finish reading because I had to save Han’s ass that day” You threw her your best condescending smile, getting a knowing mumble as an answer.

“ I see… So you want the juicy gossip” She mocked, making you roll your eyes “I have the book back if that’s what you want… But the coffee and that not so smooth change of the subject make me think that you want to know more” She smirked.

“Not really” You shrugged, though you really wanted to know, “I just want the book back so I can finally finish it” You lied, and she nodded, clearly not buying your words “I mean it” You tried to emphasize your fake intentions but she just rolled her eyes.

“What do you wanna know?” She asked bluntly, stopping to rummage through her bag before handing you the book “We’re okay now… He needs more time and I’m okay with it” She summarized, zipping her bag close “Everything is fine and I’m late for my classes” She chuckled, hoisting the bag over her shoulder.

“So… He talked to you like an actual human being?” You sneered, and she threw you a look before sighing.

“Yes… He made a good point, to be honest” She giggled, remembering something from their conversation “He was afraid to talk to me about needing more time because he knew I’d go and try to convince him otherwise” She seemed to find it funny “Anyway… He has a lot to deal with right now, and I can wait for him to act normal again” She shrugged.

“I see…” You pursed your lips, patting the book’s cover distractedly “And what about Paris? She told me she kinda confessed to him…” You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject again.

She narrowed her eyes at you, suspicious of your question.

////

The book was good but that wasn’t the only reason for you to be here.

You looked around the library, trying to find an inner excuse to be here apart from returning the book to Y/N, but finding nothing interesting enough. You leaned on the counter, waiting for her to show up as you mindlessly flipped through the pages, clearing your throat to see if you could catch her attention on the back. As much as you felt ridiculous doing things like this, there you were acting like a needy crushing boy…

What goes around comes around.

Would you even imagine that one day you would be trying to catch someone’s attention instead of simply having it on your own terms? No. You wouldn’t. You could just return the book to her tomorrow ─ when you would see her in class anyway ─ but you choose to come to the library on a Thursday afternoon just to do it… Someone should be stopping you from being… A Han or something.

Ugh.

“Oh!” She blurted when she came back to the counter, looking at you with curious eyes “What are you doing here?” She asked interested, suddenly frowning and seeming to think deeply “Shouldn’t you wait like… I don’t know some weeks to break up yet?” She seemed genuinely confused by your presence, and you found it too amusing.

“Can’t I come here to visit a friend?” You teased, arching your brow as you failed to fight back your smile.

“I mean- Well, yeah…” She floundered, clearing her throat “It’s kinda unexpected” She admitted, chuckling “Not even Chan comes to visit me in here and he actually likes to read” She joked, and you leaned on her way, resting your chin on your palm as you smirked at her.

“Well, maybe you should pick me instead” You suggested, looking into her eyes with your best alluring look but the girl seemed to be built to ignore all your charms.

“You wish” She snorted “At least, Chan doesn’t jokingly flirt with me all the time!” She rolled her eyes, bumping your nose playfully before organizing some books on a desk behind her.

“Neither do I” You said sincerely but she laughed dismissively.

Well, you weren’t jokingly flirting with her… She was just too dense.

“Anyway!” You shrugged off, placing the book on the counter with a thud “I’m here to give it back to you” You smiled at her as she glanced over her shoulders “I’ve finished it and I hate to admit it but you were right… It’s really good” And you weren’t just saying it.

“Oh? Better than your drama?” She taunted, grinning mischievously.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself” You grimaced at her, making her giggle “But I was wondering… Do you have any more indications? I may have liked it enough to read some more…” You muttered, and she smiled knowingly at you.

“I always have some good indications!” She chirped “I knew you would like it! We have a section here that is filled with books that might be of your liking… Do you want to check them out?” She asked excitedly, and you had to fight back the urge to coo at her.

She was too cute for her own good.

“Well… Why not?” You shrugged as if you weren’t interested at all “I can help you out with those” You gestured to the books pile behind her “And then you can show me this section… Maybe I’ll find something I like” She smiled at you, picking up the books and placing them on the counter for you to have access to them.

“Sounds great!” She said, studying you from head to toes “And kinda suspicious too…” She narrowed her eyes, a grin plastering on her face “First you buy me coffee and then you help me out with my work? Spill the beans” She said teasingly, and you looked at her with unimpressed eyes.

“If Chan was the one doing it… Would you find it suspicious?” You asked, arching your brow at her “You’ve been saying I’m too flirty and all that… But I’m beginning to think that you like to think I’m flirting with you, Y/N” You smiled condescendingly at her, tilting your head in a silent mockery.

“I didn’t say you were flirting with me now” She pointed out, grimacing at you judgingly “I said you were being suspicious” She reiterated “Maybe you’re the one who likes to think I want you to flirt with me, Hyunjin” She sneered, making you scoff as you looked away.

She was a too attentive piece of shit…

How could she be so perfect?

For Lord’s sake… You were wasted.

////

You were lucky enough to not be soaked to the bones.

You walked into the classroom, fingers running through your wet hair in a slow-motion that wasn’t really intended but also not completely unplanned. You didn’t mean to make it an event but what could you do? You knew what people wanted to see. You stopped in front of the board, fixing your hair as you looked at Y/N, licking the drop of water that reached the corner of your lips.

You lifted your chin just a little bit, half-lidded eyes fixing on your friends as you stretch your neck, letting the drops slid down your throat to your covered collarbone. You could hear some gasps around, and the quiet admiration fueled your ego as you shook your head to get rid of some of the water in it. You licked your lips, biting them before making your way to your seat.

You felt Y/N’s eyes on you, lighting up your smugness.

“Morning” You smirked, tilting your head as you threw her a look, eyebrows millimetrically positioned to give off the confident and sexy vibe you were aiming for “How are you today, ladies?” You asked jokingly, taking off your coat.

“Cold” Y/N answered mindlessly, studying you from head to toes.

You chuckled at her ─ making sure your voice sounded husky enough to enhance your attempt to look desirable ─ dusting off your shirt that was half-way opened. You noticed how she fixed her gaze on your bare chest for a second, though you couldn’t really tell what was going through her mind, and you smirked at her as she did. You opened your mouth, ready to tease her about it. The ‘Like what you see?’ almost slipping from your lips.

“Aren’t you feeling cold like this?” She asked in utter confusion “It’s freezing outside…” She added, tilting her head and looking at you as if you had three heads “Didn’t you see it was going to rain today? Do you need a coat? I can ask Chan to pick up something in my room” She offered, and you had to fight all your instincts not to scowl at her.

I can ask Chan to pick up something in my room… Tsk.

Unbelievable.

You glared at Paris as she snorted, looking at you filled with amusement. You grimaced, pretending to laugh along with her before sulking and sitting down. She pinched her nose’s bridge, trying to concentrate enough to not laugh straight to your face. You were surrounded by great friends… You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief as you buttoned up your shirt.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” Paris asked playfully “Can’t you see that he’s too hot to be cold?” She mocked you, giving you a teasing look that quickly turned out in a pained one as you stepped on her foot.

“I don’t think that’s how it works” Y/N chuckled, resting her cheek on her palm and leaning forward on her seat to look at both of you.

“Don’t you think he’s hot enough for heating up the room?” She continued her teasing, and you had to breathe deeply not to slap the back of her head.

“You guys are so funny… Ha!Ha!Ha!” You rolled your eyes, huffing.

////

You should thank God for not being a spy.

You couldn’t really say you were doing a good job at hiding your newfound feelings ─ though feelings might be too strong of a word ─ from your friends. It was more than obvious that Chan would find suspicious the fact that you just fucking snapped your head to the mere mention of her name on the phone. So right now ─ as you sat on the couch, back straightened unnaturally ─, his eyes seemed to shoot a hole in your head to search for something in your soul.

“What?” You spat annoyed, trying to cover up for your slip-up with some fed-up manners that were bound to make him go away if you were lucky.

You weren’t.

“What?” He repeated fascinated “I’m the one who should be asking it” He chortled “You almost broke your neck just to pry into my call” He pointed out, brow arching up in suspicion. You pretended not to notice his narrowed eyes and musing; humming before he finally asked it “Hyunjin… Are you into Y/N?” the amusement under his tone was heavy enough to hit you like a brick.

“Please… What is there to like about her?” You scoffed, but Chan didn’t buy it at all. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his back on the counter as he studied you with attentive eyes. You cleared your throat, averting your eyes from him before connecting them again.

“Well… You tell me” He sneered “I wasn’t the one who got hard because she was on my lap” He reminded you; the teasing mixing with contempt as he huffed “I also wasn’t the one who spent weeks fucking random chicks trying to get the idea of fucking her out of my system” You paled at this, the cold sweat getting to your palms.

“I wasn’t trying to –” He interrupted you with a scoff.

“With all due respect… I have known you for years, Hyunjin” He rolled his eyes “You have never once fucked so many girls in a short amount of time like this… And just after you had a boner like a bloody teenager?” He snickered, grimacing at you knowingly “It sounds like someone was trying to prove something to themselves and failed” He tilted his head, challenging you to say otherwise.

“To be fair, I didn’t fail…” You muttered grumpily “It was all good until she talked with me…” You were fully aware that you weren’t making any sense, grumbling like a kid that had just been separated from their toy.

“Care to enlighten me?” He smirked.

Yes, I do! Fuck off…

This is none of your business!

What do you have to do with it? Are you her boyfriend?

“There isn’t much to tell…” You answered instead, shrugging at him “I realized that we have more in common than I thought… And it felt good to be listened to and have someone who understands me…” You cleared your throat “I was pretty much convinced that it was just a thirsty episode after…” You hummed, trying to search for a good word “That week…” You trailed off.

“So you actually fucked her out of your mind” He chuckled, finding it funny the way you tried to be polite about it now.

“Yeah…” You agreed embarrassed “And then she started to go after Han and it got me really mad because… Well, you know” You rolled your eyes “She was trying to make it all better and he was treating her like shit and…” You glanced at him uncertain but as his smirk dissolved into a serious expression, you knew he had understood it “Yeah” You concluded warily.

“It doesn’t answer my question” He pointed out, and you sighed.

Would he be less attentive someday?

“So I kinda pretended to kiss her to throw him off…” You mumbled, and you never saw Chan straightening his back so fast before “But I had my thumb over her lips!” You blurted, eyes widening as he uncrossed his arms.

“You did what?!” He sounded more surprised than mad, brows arched in utter disbelief “And it didn’t cross your mind to tell me this?!” He chortled “Didn’t she punch you or something? She definitely can take you down in a blink of an eye” He mused, looking for any bruises on you.

“She didn’t” You admitted, still finding it strange “I guess I was too hurt and she saw right through me… She knew that there was something wrong and she wanted to listen to me… So we talked it through and…” You played with your hands, glancing at Chan in expectation “Well, I don’t know what else to say” You shrugged.

“Just say you like her” He suggested, chuckling at you.

And that was exactly the thought you were trying to avoid all this time.

What was it to like someone? You had asked yourself thousands of times already. Was it about what you wanted them to see in you? Was it about what you wanted from them? Was it about how you felt when you were with them? Was it about the understanding between each other? Was it about wanting to be with them?

You wanted her to see you as the best one out there.

Although you found this urge silly and embarrassing, you kept acting like a fool every single time you were around her. You thought that trying to make someone like you, acting differently around them, and trying to convince them that you were the best version of yourself… It was definitely liking.

The problem was that as much as you wanted her to notice you and see you under a whole new light, you knew that there was no need to hide anything… She knew the deepest and darkest parts of you and didn’t run away. So, yeah! Maybe you were putting too much effort ─ even if you weren’t planning to do so ─ into impressing her but you knew that it didn’t matter in the end.

She liked you just the way you were.

For you, liking someone meant to be obsessed with things that shouldn’t matter at all. You didn’t expect her to do anything special… You didn’t expect her to say sweet things to you, or take care of you, or run her fingers through your hair… Well, you kinda wanted it but it didn’t really matter. As long as you had her smiling and sharing things with you… As long as she could tease you and laugh with you when you guys stumbled over each other around the campus…

You didn’t want her to go out of her way for you.

You wanted to be on her way.

You couldn’t remember a time when you felt genuinely happy with a girl… You could remember being smug as you walked around with them as if they were your new trophy. You could remember being playful and teasing and thirsty… Well, you could definitely remember being thirsty a lot of times. Yet, you couldn’t remember feeling so… At home? You didn’t even know if you could actually say something like that.

It was like she could understand all of you and still welcome you at the end of her day. It was like she could set you on fire and give you some kind of light and warmth that you didn’t feel for ages. It was like being with her was an adventure and still, you didn’t fear anything when you were beside her.

It was humiliating to feel like this.

And you probably were a hell of a masochist because you loved it.

You had to be stupid to think that all that had come from a simple talk on a Friday afternoon. You knew it was much more than that. It came from years of being disgusted with each other… Hiding and searching for the greatest weakness you could find. It came from being vulnerable enough to open up and redeem yourselves… It came from accepting each other… It came from listening, sharing, teasing, healing…

You scoffed, nodding at Chan as you met his eyes.

“Yeah… Maybe I like her” You agreed, lowering your gaze to the floor.

The problem was that Friday didn’t show you how you liked her… It showed you every single thing you were trying to ignore until now. It showed you how much you have gone through and how much both of you were connected to some extent.

It showed you that liking wasn’t quite the word you were looking for.

////

The first step was to acknowledge your feelings.

Bullshit.

The first step should be you burying your feet into Chan and Paris’ heads so they could stop being so painfully obvious about all of it. Was it just in your head or were they actually working together to humiliate you right now? Maybe they were just too excited… To be fair, you couldn’t understand what was going on inside their heads anymore.

It wasn’t like knowing your friend’s favorite dish was a crime, right?

Apparently, to the two holy detectives that watched every single step of yours, it was the worst of the crimes; worthy of knowing looks and teasing kicks. What a great way to live your life. You deadpanned as you looked at them, arching your brows to see Paris giggling as she retreated her leg and Chan smirking in your way. You let a hint of disgust show on your face as you wandered your eyes between both of them, wondering why ordering Y/N’s favorite dish should be an event now.

So what that you wanted to please her?

“Isn’t that like your favorite dish, Y/N?” Paris decided to play innocent. The way you had to hold back to not kick her under the table ─ just like she had been doing with you every two minutes ─ was worthy of mention on Guinness Books.

“Won’t you go to the kitchen to cook it?” Chan arched his brow playfully, and you closed your eyes to breathe deeply, trying to stay composed. You opened your eyes to stare at him, lips quivering as you held back a grimace and laughed it off sarcastically.

Of course, Y/N laughed about it as well.

So maybe on Saturday ─ when you finally acknowledge your feelings to Chan after he invited her over for lunch ─ you had let it all go to your head and tried to pretend you were a good cooker… But did he need to expose you like that? What a great friend you had! You kinda expected Chan to tease you about your feelings but you also thought it would be something more… Private, to say the least.

So, I made it for you… You had said to her and as soon as those words came out of your mouth, Chan chortled, almost choking on his food, throwing you an amused look.

You meant made the order, right? He laughed, and Y/N giggled along with him, pushing your shoulder.

“Fucking hilarious” You snickered, scrunching your nose “You should drop Med school and try to be a comedian or something… You’re so talented” You added, utterly done with them.

“You make it too easy” Y/N mocked you, grinning as she rested her cheeks on her hands, leaning on the table “No, but seriously now!” She said, grinning dissolving to an attentive frown “Even though roasting Hyunjin is one of my favorites hobbies” You scoffed, rolling your eyes “Paris and I actually wanted to invite you guys to a party” You frowned at her conclusion, tilting your head, intrigued.

“A party?” You decided to make sure, suspicious of it.

“Yeah” Paris intervened, smiling at you “Minho got into a team!” She said excitedly, and you couldn’t help but snort, grimacing at her as if she had just told you the best joke ever.

“So what? We don’t even talk to him” You pointed out, getting a nod from Chan, who also seemed curious about their suggestion “I mean… Congratulations to him! But why would I go to a party because of this?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at Paris.

“Well… Han—“ You chortled, poking your cheek with your tongue.

“Really?” You sneered “So Han suddenly have the time and the urge to speak to you again?” You rolled your eyes “Unbelievable…” You darted your eyes at both of them, frowning “And both of you are going to go?” You gestured between them, arching your brow.

“And hopefully you and Chan!” Paris chirped, trying to keep the mood at the table “Come on… He was having a hard time figuring everything out and finally, something worked for him!” She pleaded, offering you big doe eyes that didn’t make you flinch a bit “Come on, Hyunjin! Do it for the team!” She forced a smile, and you sighed, shoulders dropping as you did.

“What in the hell makes you think that we would agree to go to his party?” You asked tiredly “You know far too well that I don’t like him… He hates me, he punched me, he hurt Y/N… I don’t have a single reason to talk to him” You enumerated, pulling one finger at a time as you did.

“He’s our friend, Hyunjin” Y/N reminded you “We’ll keep talking and walking with him and if you both keep hating on each other it’ll make everything awkward” You scowled at her “Just saying!” She shrugged “You don’t need to come but Paris and I really want you and Chan to get along with him at some point” You tried to hold her gaze but ended up averting your eyes anyway, tsking.

“Well… I don’t have anything against him” Chan shrugged “I don’t need to go to a party to hang out with him… I hung out with Paris wanting to choke her every once in a while for all this time!” He added, chuckling as she tried to slap his arm.

“Will it hurt you to go to a party, Chan?” Y/N nagged, rolling her eyes and getting a chortle out of all of you “I’m counting on your Daddy vibes to keep Hyunjin under your wing and prevent them from fighting” She pouted, trying to convince him.

Ridiculous and yet cute… What the hell.

“I don’t even go to parties to have fun… Why would I ever go to babysit them?” He grimaced, arching his brow “Moreover… Pouting doesn’t work with me, Sweety” He smirked, patting her hand over the table “You’ll have to try a little bit harder” He sneered, and she kicked him under the table, smiling obnoxiously at him.

“Was that hard enough?” She taunted.

“What about a deal?” Paris interrupted, trying to negotiate “If we convince one of you to go by the end of the day, then both of you will come with us” She smirked, throwing you a smug look that made you scoff, tilting your head.

“Deal” You shook her hand.

There was no way that Chan would agree to go.

////

So you had a party on Saturday.

“How the hell did you convince him?” You whined, looking at Paris in a devasted way as you sauntered through the campus, trying to find a bench to sit down. She chuckled, nudging you and taking a look at your face before grinning mischievously, shrugging her shoulders.

“I have my ways…” She answered mysteriously, making you roll your eyes.

“You’re working together to play matchmaker, aren’t you?” She stuck her lower lip out, tilting her head in a mocking way that said ‘who knows?’ and making you shake your head in disbelief “You’re sly as hell” You whined, getting a chortle from her.

“Come on! You clearly need it!” She insisted “You’re being way too obvious, Hyunjin! Paying attention to her likings? Buying her coffee? Ordering food and pretending to cook it?” She snorted, grimacing at you playfully “Trying to seduce her with a half-opened shirt?” She broke into a fit of giggles, probably picturing the humiliating scene.

“Look, I wasn’t thinking straight at the time” You scowled at her, pouting as you thought about it “If it really was that obvious, she would have said something by now” You pointed out, and Paris snickered, giving you a thumb up in mockery.

“Yeah! Because Han was so subtle and she totally figured him out” She sneered, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree. In fact, Y/N was blind to any kind of romantic feelings. You could come with a bouquet and a love letter… She would still find a way to see it as a great gesture of friendship.

You were too naïve for your own good.

“It’ll be so cute to see the two of you dating!” She chirped, eyes twinkling as she clasped her hands together, finally sitting down on a bench. She looked straight at you, waiting for you to say something, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer her at first.

Dating? Who said anything about dating? You didn’t want to date her… You frowned as you looked at Paris, unsure of what to say to her as you cleared your throat, wondering how you should put it. Yes, you might be in love with her but… Dating? You snorted. A relationship demanded too much from you… Were you ready to attach to someone like this?

You didn’t think so.

“What is it?” She narrowed her eyes at you, suspicious of your behavior “Why do you look like…” She studied you from head to toes before settling her gaze on your face “…This?” She floundered her hand around, gesturing at you with a disgusted frown.

“What do you mean?” You tried to play dumb, sitting down beside her.

“You know far too well what I’m talking about” She accused, eyes narrowing once again “Hyunjin, by any means are you thinking about playing with Y/N as you do to the other girls?” She asked cautiously, searching for any sign on your eyes that confirmed her assumption.

“Never” You reassured her, hand going to squeeze her knee “It’s just… I mean, I don’t think I’m ready to go all in, you know? Yeah, I like her and all this… She’s my dear friend and I may or may not be in…” You gulped down, eyes darting at her as you cleared your throat “…to her” You finished, afraid to speak your real feelings out loud.

“In…To her?” She snorted, looking away for a second before throwing you a look “You’re in love with her, that’s what you are” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief “You never did anything like this before, Hyunjin… You’re the type of guy who has people throwing themselves at your feet” She acknowledges, and you shrugged smugly, a playful smirk playing on your lips “Tell me one time you tried so hard to get someone’s attention” She requested, crossing her arms and leaning back on the bench in a silent challenge.

Romantically?

Not even once.

“Exactly” She grimaced, looking at you as if she could read your mind “If you don’t want to date her, why are you trying so damn hard? What is your point?” She asked skeptically, tilting her head as you opened your mouth to answer her.

Just to close it again in wonder.

She was right… Why were you trying to impress her so much if you had no intentions of actually getting into a relationship or something? It was more than obvious that Y/N wouldn’t be the kind to hook up with you and then just go with it… As far as you could tell, she had no experience in love. None. At all. There was no way she was going to just go with the flow and… And what? What were you expecting from all this?

“Hey, Hyunjin” The husky voice got you out of your thoughts, making you realize that someone was standing right in front of you. Not only someone. You remembered her from… Maybe a month ago? You couldn’t even remember last time you got laid “I haven’t heard from you for a while…” She continued; tone still sexy enough to turn your smug façade on “New catch?” She asked, studying Paris for a second, a subtle smirk on her lips.

“We’re just friends” Paris voiced your thoughts before you could, jolting her leg for you to let go of her knee. The girl chuckled, tilting her head as she seemed to eat Paris with her eyes, licking her lips before averting her eyes to you.

“Yeah… I’ve been his friend a couple of times too” She joked, winking at you “If you guys are up to more friends…” She let her sentence hang in the air, shifting her gaze in a suggestive way that made you flustered. Good Lord… She was asking Paris to join your… Oh my God.

“No need!” You blurted out, getting up abruptly “I mean- Do you want to be her friend?” You looked at Paris startled at the thought, getting furrowed brows that answered you right away “We don’t need any more friends, thank you!” You rushed to say, getting a blank stare before she averted her eyes to Paris, landing them on her for a few seconds.

“I see…” She hummed, smiling at both of you mysteriously before throwing a few glances over her shoulder as she walked away.

For some reason, it didn’t settle too well on your stomach.

////

You snorted, rolling your eyes as you smirked at Paris.

“I’m telling you!” She insisted, leaning forwards to slap Minho softly on the knee “The girl just came out of nowhere and suggested a threesome with me!” She laughed, leaning back on the chair as Minho huffed in disbelief.

“There’s no way” He looked at you in awe “I’ve heard your reputation but… I mean- Where can I sign in?” He joked, arching his brows playfully as he chuckled. He crossed his arms, letting his body relax on the chair as he looked at you in amusement, tilting his head as he seemed to ponder something.

It turned out that Minho wasn’t as unbearable as you thought.

“You’re not really my type” You fought back a smile as he scowled, nagging at you as he gestured mindlessly for you to get off of his tail “I guess you have to be born with a pretty face like me” You joked, and he groaned in answer, throwing his head back.

“Is that what you need to get girls now? Have an obnoxious attitude like this?” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief as he connected his gaze to you again, trying to hide his smile “You’re not really my type either, baby boy” He scorned, grimacing at you sarcastically.

“Who said he gets all the girls?” Paris teased, looking at you with grinning eyes that twinkled devilishly “A little bird told me that Hyunjin has a crush on someone and I haven’t seen him getting laid recently” You glared at her; lips quivering as you tried to hold back your frown.

“Wait” Y/N slowly raised her eyes from her beer, snapping them at you in surprise “You’re crushing on someone and everybody knows except me?” You paled, clearing your throat as you stared blankly at her, trying to think of an answer.

That’s how blind you are…

It’s not my fault you have such busybody friends!

Yep! Because that’s you.

“Aren’t you too interested in my love life?” You asked instead, trying to maintain a smug façade as you smirked at her, arching your eyebrow questioningly. She narrowed her eyes at you, seeing right through your attempt to change the subject. You hated when she did that… Yet, it was kinda endearing to know that she could figure you out like this.

“I won’t even begin to talk about how you’re always meddling in my life” She raised her hand as if to tell you to stop with your bullshit “You’re a fuckboy and you’re not getting laid! How can I not be curious about this?” She scoffed, making you chortle.

“I see… So you’re interested in my sex life” You corrected yourself, and she rolled her eyes “You can’t just live your sex life through me, sweetheart” You teased, pouting at her as she glared at you, clearly done with your teasing “You should have your own experiences… Actually having some sex instead of trying to stick your nose into my business” You chuckled as she huffed, poking her cheek with her tongue.

“Who said I didn’t?” She arched her brow in a challenge.

“What?” You asked, tilting your head in confusion as she gulped down her beer.

“Who said I didn’t get laid?” She repeated, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at you “I may not be like you but I had a share of affairs as well” She shrugged nonchalantly, and you could swear your jaw was on the ground by now.

“You’re not a virgin?!” You blurted out in utter surprise hand snapping to your mouth as soon as the question slipped from your lips “Sorry! I didn’t mean to ask that” You rushed to say but she just snorted.

“I always thought you were a virgin” Minho added anyway, sounding surprised as he frowned at you “You’re always working and eating hot dog… When the hell did you have the time to bang?” He asked in wonder, tilting his head “I can’t be the only one who’s not getting some here” He nagged, making you chortle.

“You guys are too naïve” Paris chuckled “Y/N was clearly the cool mysterious kid that had a bunch of people over her feet!” She reasoned, gesturing to Y/N to make her point “It’s obvious that she got laid at some point of her life! Just look at her” She stated matter-of-factly, giving you all a know-it-all look.

“Not really” Y/N chortled “I just got laid because I ended up hooking up with Chan—“ You could have choked to death right at that moment but as soon as you opened your mouth to gasp, Chan’s voice reached your ears, startling you to the point that your choking died on your throat.

“Hey, Sweety!” He called, interrupting her “Can you come over here?” He gestured for her to get closer, and she frowned at him, suspicious of his behavior “I wanna talk to you” He added, making her sigh in surrender.

You watched her making the way to Chan, attentive eyes glued on his figure as you tried to process what she had just said. So Chan and Y/N hooked up in the past? And they had sex?! You were kinda suspicious of them lately… You wouldn’t lie. The sheets all messed up in the morning? His comment on how she was like a beast? The way he inquired you about your feelings on that night? The way he held to the bulge incident? The way he spent over a week at her place?

They had to have something going on…

You clicked your tongue as you thought about it, furrowing your brows as she finally got to his side, being guided ─ and you didn’t fail to notice his hand on the small of her back ─ to somewhere more private. The thing that didn’t make any sense was that Chan was actually trying to help you out to get your feelings out of your chest… Why would he do that if he liked her? But again… Who said anything about liking? They could be just banging.

“Wow” Minho said as soon as she left, looking at you and Paris “So the rumors are true? They’re together?” He arched his brows in awe. As soon as he arched his, you frowned yours, confused by his question. What rumors?

“What are you talking about?” Paris asked, as lost as you.

“Haven’t you guys heard about it? I’ve heard Chan has been visiting her at the library and there are even some rumors talking about how he spent the night at her dorm” He explained, trying to find any signs on both of you that confirmed those rumors “Chan is quite popular, so I guess people just tend to pay attention to it… He also called her sweety right now, didn’t he?” You scoffed, poking your cheek.

“People talk too much” You reassured him “There is no way they’re dating… One of them would tell us” You looked into Minho’s eyes, shrugging “Never heard them fucking either” You added, shifting your gaze to Paris, looking for something that gave them away “So I guess those are just rumors…” You chuckled, trying to act nonchalantly.

You weren’t so sure yourself though.

////

Obviously I had to forget something LOL

Tag List: Guys, If you wish to get notifications to this fanfic, please go here

85 notes · View notes

joonie-beanie · 5 years ago

Text

Masquerade

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Word Count: 3,026

Preview: Alcohol leaves the Avatar of Pride a bit less up-tight than usual, which leads to admission of some feelings, and...a bit more.

“I’d be okay with you being selfish. As long as it’s for me—and not just because you’re drunk.”

“I’m far from drunk, I assure you. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/1/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Lucifer is…tipsy.

If you asked him, he’d deny it, and act no different than usual. He’s sure that if he had to, he could pull himself together, but…he’s definitely not his regular self.

And it’s all thanks to Mammon.

Sure, Diavolo had been the one to offer him a taste of the coveted, Devildom brewed moonshine—one with a proof so high that it would likely kill a human with a sip—but he knows the original mastermind behind this plan is none other than Mammon.

Lucifer isn’t sure how stupid Mammon thinks he is, but the Avatar of Greed hadn’t exactly been discreet when he’d pulled Diavolo aside upon their arrival and whispered something in his ear.

The future Ruler of the Devildom had decided to throw a masquerade for all of his closest acquaintances, which meant he had invited all occupants of the House of Lamentation. Lucifer had assumed that one of his brothers (more than likely Mammon) would try something during the party, but he hadn’t expected his brother to convince Diavolo to help get him drunk.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Diavolo is a fan of seeing different sides of him, so he’d agreed to go along with Mammon’s plan. And Lucifer was more than certain that Mammon—that little bastard—had specifically chosen Diavolo to play a role, knowing Lucifer wouldn’t be able to turn down his offering.

So now here he is—feeling a bit warm in his cloak, and suit. Around him, people are dancing—women with their arms wrapped around their partners necks, and men with their hands on their partners waist—

--A familiar figure across the room catches his gaze, and without thinking he struts forward—

But some men’s hands are dipping a bit too low.

“Excuse me,” Lucifer speaks up, a very fake, and obviously malicious smile spreading on his face. “I’ll take it from here.”

The fellow demon—apparently realizing who he is—doesn’t stick around to argue. Satisfied, Lucifer steps in and continues the dance.

You sigh with relief as Lucifer rests his hand appropriately on your waist.

“Your timing is impeccable,” you tell him honestly, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Lucifer wonders if it’s the alcohol that has his heart beating a bit faster, or the radiant glow on your face as he holds you.

“I noticed your partner was getting a bit too…friendly,” he responds, frowning. The tempo of the song picks up, and Lucifer takes the lead—spinning you around and pulling you a bit closer. Unlike with the previous man, you seem comfortable with him—your eyes creasing happily behind your white masquerade mask.

It offsets your black dress—perfectly fitted in all the right places (you’ll have to thank Asmo later)—but Lucifer personally thinks the combination is stunning.

“If any man at this party touches you intimately—come to me. I shall take care of it,” Lucifer tells you seriously. He expects you to roll your eyes, or tell him you can take care of yourself, but instead…he sees your skin flush a bit.

“I mean…aren’t we a bit…intimate right now?” you ask, voice shy. Blinking, Lucifer wonders what you mean by that, until he looks down and realizes that he has unconsciously pulled you even closer during the dance—your chest pressed against his.

…he’s seriously going to kill Mammon later.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, sighing at himself and creating some distance. “I had something to drink earlier, and I’m…”

“Feeling a little touchy?” you respond, a teasing tone to your voice. Lucifer cocks an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward.

“I was going to say that I’m not myself at the moment, but sure.”

Just then, the song ends, and the two of you slow to a stop. For a few seconds, the two of you simply stare at each other—your hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, and his hand on your waist. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You look like you may want to say something—but you don’t.

So, Lucifer reaches down and takes your other hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you for the dance,” he says.

Your fingers begin to slip from his grasp as he turns to walk away, but you don’t let him get far. Reaching out, you grip his hand tightly.

Curious, Lucifer turns back to face you.

“I…,” you start, your cheeks pink with embarrassment. For a moment, you can’t even look him in the eye.

“If…if it was you, I’d be alright with it.”

Perhaps the alcohol in his body is causing his brain to work a bit slower, or perhaps he simply wants to hear you clearly state what you mean by that, but—

Lucifer steps closer, his hand moving to your waist and guiding you back to him. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you so embarrassed before—gaze looking everywhere but him.

“Are you sure you’d be alright with that?” he questions, his other hand lifting between you. He gently crooks a finger beneath your chin, and your eyes finally meet.

“If so, then say it.”

“I’d be okay with you touching me,” you tell him, and for Lucifer that’s all he needs to hear. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of the ballroom. The music and chatter are left behind as he guides you through the halls of Diavolo’s castle.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so hot and flustered. Maybe it had been the atmosphere of the party, or simply the way Lucifer had treated you while dancing that had elicited such a response from you. After all, this wasn’t a revelation or anything—you’d figured out a long while ago that the Avatar of Pride…made you feel a certain type of way.

Offering to hold your hand in scary moments…slight touches here or there when he was proud, or even a bit playful. Eventually, any sort of affection from him had caused your heart to skip a beat. You hadn’t exactly planned on telling him about your feelings, but…obviously tonight you were both being a bit more honest with yourselves than usual.

“How--,” he begins, his deep voice smooth, and enticing as always. Lucifer has led you into one of the many rooms in the castle—your back pressed flush against the door, with him towering over you. “—would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…want you to touch me however you like,” you respond after figuring out the right words to say. Lucifer hums thoughtfully, his gloved hand moving to grip your thigh where your dress is slit. Immediately goosebumps raise on your skin, and Lucifer takes note—a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Are you sure of that?” His fingers skim against your skin—dragging higher up your leg. “I may be a bit more selfish than you were expecting in this regard.”

“I’d be okay with you being selfish,” you respond with a breathless laugh. “As long as it’s for me—and not just because you’re drunk.”

At that Lucifer can’t help but laugh as well. “I’m far from drunk, I assure you. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Before you can think of a comeback, Lucifer’s lips are on yours. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut, and your arms lift to wrap around his neck. Lucifer watches your actions through half lidded eyes, his hand subtly moving to caress the inside of your thigh. Instinctively, you part your legs for him—granting him more access, and the demon debates scolding you.

However…as long as it’s for him, he supposes he doesn’t mind.

Lucifer steps forward, his knee moving between your legs in place of his hand—and when he purposefully presses it up against your womanhood—

“Mm--!” you gasp, the sound muffled by Lucifer’s lips. Perhaps thoughtlessly, your body moves downward—trying to grind against his thigh, and the Avatar of Pride realizes his slacks are starting to feel quite tight.

Reaching up, he cups your cheek with one hand and grasps your covered breast with the other. Any moan, whine, or otherwise is swallowed by his tongue. And when Lucifer finally breaks the kiss and leans back to look at you, the sight before him has heat spreading through his limbs like a wildfire.

You’re panting, lips shiny and pink, and eyes blown out with lust. Experimentally, he squeezes your breast and grinds his knee upward at the same time. Immediately your eyelashes flutter, lips parting and head angling back against the door in pleasure.

Lucifer’s Adam’s apple bobs against his throat.

Whatever control he’d been holding onto is now gone.

“Let me have you,” he breathes against your lips. There is a hint of desperation in his tone—one that you’ve never heard from the Avatar of Pride before—and it makes you feel quite hot.

You lock eyes with him, and nod without a hint of hesitation.

In a flash, you’re on the bed across the room. Lucifer is at the end of the mattress, looking very much like a predator stalking its prey. He pulls his leather gloves off with his teeth, and discards them at the foot of the bed along with his cloak. Your eyes never leave him—watching his every movement, and he’s very aware of that.

A devious sparkle in his eye, he reaches forward and runs his hands up your legs. His touch sends a shiver up your spine—his fingers oh-so-gently making their way up your calves, and to your knees. Once there, he hooks one hand beneath your knee and presses it up towards your chest. You flush red at the compromising position—knowing your panties must be wet.

However, if they are, Lucifer doesn’t stop to tease you. Instead, he leans down, his lips meeting the skin on your inner thigh. Languidly, he kisses his way up towards your womanhood—each touch of lips causing your pussy to throb.

And just when he reaches your panty-line, his mouth barely an inch from where you want it to be—he stops. You can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips, and Lucifer chuckles.

“Did you think I’d let you get what you want so easily?” he chides, moving forward. You’re face to face again—the demon nestled between your parted legs, and you can feel his clothed erection on your lower stomach.

“I didn’t think you’d be a tease, since you obviously want it too,” you respond, breath hitching in shock as Lucifer suddenly slides the straps of your dress from your shoulders—your breasts spilling out into the hot air between your bodies.

“As much as I’d love to give into instinct and fuck you until the bedframe breaks--,” a wanton sound bubbles into your throat at the idea, “—I still want to play with you a bit more.”

Immediately, Lucifer’s mouth latches onto your breast—his free hand moving to fondle the other. His tongue flicks over your nipple, and with every lick, you flinch beneath him—your hips rolling against his own.

“Hng--!” you gasp when he suddenly squeezes your breast harshly. Immediately your hips cease their grinding, and Lucifer’s grip lightens. You pant beneath him—his point made.

You’re not allowed to rush this.

And so, Lucifer fondles your chest for what feels like forever—his tongue, teeth, and hands working at the soft flesh. If you could cum from your breasts being stimulated, you’re sure you would’ve gotten off at least twice by now.

“Lucifer,” you whine, one of your hands lifting to card through his hair. He doesn’t stop, but his dark eyes open and peer up at you. His gaze is heavy—lust-filled.

“Please,” you say, and his mouth lifts off of you.

“Please what?”

You feel your face heat up once more, but the arousal pooling between your legs outweighs the embarrassment of telling him what you want.

“Please fuck me. Please, I need it.”

Lucifer pushes himself forward, his lips finding yours in a tease of a kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“I want you to have me, Lucifer,” you respond without pause, your hands lifting to cup his face. You drag him back in for another kiss—and he can sense the desperation on your lips. Despite himself, he moans against you.

The sound urges you on, your hips grinding up against him once more. He bites your lip in retaliation, but doesn’t stop you. Instead, he breaks the kiss, leaning back. Quickly, undoes his belt and works to shed himself of his slacks. It doesn’t take long before he’s bare from the waist down—his black hair disheveled, and the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

You’ve never seen anything so sexy before.

“Oh, fuck. Stop teasing,” you tell him when he leans forward and rubs his cock against your clothed pussy. You bite your lip—seriously too on edge to handle waiting any longer—and Lucifer chuckles.

He supposes he’ll give into you just this once.

Reaching down, he moves your panties to the side. Your folds are glistening for him, and his cock jumps at the sight.

One of Lucifer’s hands moves to brace your thigh—the other grabbing his length as he rubs it against your pussy. When the head of his cock moves against your clit—the bud far too sensitive thanks to his previous teasing—you gasp. Your hands fist in the sheets beneath you, and Lucifer repeats the motion several times—reveling in the way jolt with each touch.

However, just when you’re about to scold him for teasing you more, you feel his cock press between your walls. Your eyes go wide—because god, he’s not exactly small—but the feeling of him stretching you open is second to none.

After a few seconds, your hips are flush together—your pussy throbbing around Lucifer’s cock. He watches the rise and fall of your chest—your back arching off the sheets. He pauses for a second, giving you a short period to adjust, before he rocks back and then in again.

The pace Lucifer sets is slow to start—the drag of his cock between your walls heavenly. He rests his free hand on your lower stomach, his thumb reaching down to rub at your clit.

“Mm,” you moan, your walls tightening around him as he continues to rub circles against the aching bundle of nerves.

“Lucifer, more, please,” you whine, one of your hands lifting to grab his shirt. He allows you to drag him in for a kiss, and the second your lips meet, he fulfills your request.

Your cry is muffled against him—lewd, wet sounds filling the room as he nearly doubles his pace.

Lucifer is the first to break the kiss, and you fall back against the mattress. You keen, one hand returning to fist in the sheets while the other takes hold of his dark hair. He watches you with passion burning in his eyes—soaking in the sight of you.

The swell of your breasts—your prettily parted lips. Your flushed cheeks, and the way your legs twitch at every thrust.

Fuck.

A moan threatens to escape you as Lucifer pounds into you particularly hard—his thumb still working at your clit. With every passing second, you feel pleasure pooling in your gut—like a wire gaining tension and threatening to snap.

“L-Lucifer,” you manage to speak, and his eyes flit to your face. “I’m—I’m getting close.”

“I am as well,” he responds, and briefly pauses in his rhythm. You blink, wondering what he’s doing as he grabs your hips and adjusts your position ever so slightly. However, the second he thrusts into you a moan leaves your lips; you don’t mind that he had stopped.

“There it is,” he chuckles, and you hate him in that moment. Grinning above you—his cock dragging you into the depths of pleasure with every stroke. How dare he.

“Fuck, Lucifer--!,” You gasp, your skull thrown back against the mattress. Every movement has the bed frame creaking, but at the moment neither of you care about how much sound you’re making. You’re both too close to climaxing to think of anything else.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he tells you, and you’re helpless to obey. The tension in your gut spills over, and you lose it. With a cry, you come undone around him.

The feeling of your pussy pulsing around cock, and the fucked-out look on your face as you cum is enough to get Lucifer there as well. With a grunt, he thrusts into you one last time—a bit breathless as he empties his load inside of you.

For a minute, the only sound in the room is that of your and Lucifer’s panting. You lock gazes once your highs have subsided.

Without any exchange of words, he leans down and kisses you between your eyebrows—his softening cock slipping out of you at the same time.

“Do you think the others have noticed that we’re gone?” you giggle after a beat of silence, and Lucifer breathes a laugh.

“With all the people at the party, I would think not. But…then again…,” he pauses, sitting back. His eyes rake your disheveled form, and he quietly stores the sight in the back of his mind. “Considering he tried to get me drunk, Mammon may have.”

“Well…if he did notice, it will be kind of like revenge, right?”

Lucifer cocks an eyebrow at you. “Explain.”

“Despite saying he hates me, he’s obviously a bit…protective.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes at your wording.

“So, if he realizes both you and I were gone together…he’ll think that something happened—which it did, but he doesn’t need to know that—and get jealous.”

Lucifer stares at you, considering the idea. Then, with a chuckle, he leans in to kiss you once more.

“What a devious girl.”

“You like it,” you retort, whispering against his lips. “And me.”

“True,” he responds, and cups your cheeks between his palms. His eyes sparkle playfully. “And that’s why I won’t be sharing you with anyone else.”

#obey me!#obey me #om! lucifer #om! smut #obey me fic #obey me! smut #lucifer smut #om! lucifer smut #okay I series hate tagging shit with my entire soul #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc

929 notes · View notes

briefinquiries · 4 years ago

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Worshipped

Prompt: You’re feeling a little insecure and just need Luke to show you how much he loves you.

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis , @reidswords, @ssa-morgan , @garcias-batcave , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut

A/N: this one officially killed me :) as promised here’s some luke fluff / smut.

You were curled up in bed, reading an old book, when Luke got home that night. You hadn’t had a good night of sleep since he left for a case in New Mexico three days ago. This wasn’t surprising, since you never slept without him there, but the relief that washed over you upon his arrival was evident.

You hear his keys clink against the granite countertop, before his footsteps gradually grow closer and closer to the bedroom.

“You awake?” he asked, peering into the room.

You sit up in bed, setting your book on the nightstand before throwing the comforter off of your body.

“No, no, no-” he interrupts your movements. “Don’t get up. You look so comfortable.”

Your lips form into a pathetic pout, but before you can protest the fact that you wanted to get up so that you could properly greet him, Luke’s crossing the room to do just that. He leans over where you’re sitting and presses a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Hi baby,” he whispers into your hair.

You hum, closing your eyes to his touch. His familiar smell filled your nostrils and his warmth radiated into you. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he replies. He pulls away all too quickly and turns to walk towards the master bath. “Be right back,” he promises, before crossing the threshold.

You relaxed back against the pillow, smiling peacefully to yourself. Nothing was better than having Luke home.

You go back to your book, only getting through a few paragraphs before he emerges from the bathroom, smelling of mint toothpaste and face cleanser. You look up long enough to notice that Luke has traded in his jeans for a pair of black, athletic shorts. They sit low on his hips, revealing his defined ‘v’ line. You marvel for a moment at his tanned, bare chest before looking back to your page.

Luke digs through the top drawer of his dresser briefly. After shutting it, you barely hear him cross the room, yet again. Only when he approaches your side of the bed and sits just beside where your legs were outstretched do you look up at him.

Without speaking, Luke grabs hold of the top of your book and tosses it carelessly to the side.

“What’d you do that-”

But your sentence remains unfinished as Luke leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is slow, every move he makes is deliberate. His hand cups your cheek lightly and you don’t hide the hum of satisfaction that leaves your lips as his thumb traces down the length of your jaw line.

Luke’s other hand finds its way to your hip, which makes you hesitate briefly. You trusted Luke, wholly and completely. But you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious whenever he touched your stomach and hips. The man was sculpted like a Greek God, so it was only natural to feel insecure about your softer tummy.

You try to ignore the little voice in your head that was currently screaming at you. He can feel your fat. He’s repulsed by it.

You shift in bed, grabbing the hand he had resting on your abdomen and clutching it in your own instead. Luke doesn’t think much of the gesture. Instead, he uses the moment to slide further onto the bed, never breaking your kiss as he moved on top of you.

Luke’s hand moves to the hem of your shirt and begins pulling the fabric up. He wants you to shed the layer. You’re not sure why tonight was so bad- but the voices in your head wouldn’t stop going on about how unflattering you looked in comparison to your boyfriend. Luke and his perfectly sculpted abs were on top of you, and having your flab on full display in the brightly lit bedroom was unsettling.

You pull away, your lips breaking contact for the first time in minutes.

“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, when his eyes land on your worried face. His lips are flush and swollen.

“Nothing,” you try to act normal, but Luke can see through the act.

“Tell me,” he whispers. His palm is resting on your thigh. He squeezes the soft flesh reassuringly, but it just makes you more insecure.

“C-can we just turn off the lights?” you ask weakly.

Luke leans in again, this time his lips attaching themselves onto the tender spot on your neck he knows always gets you going. “But I wanna see you,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. It sends shivers down your spine, but does nothing to ease your anxiety.

You squirm out from under his grasp, shaking your head. “I- I just wanna turn them off.”

Luke’s stupidly perfect face contorts into a frown, he backs away from you, giving you space, but his eyes never once leave you. “What’s going on?” he probes.

You’re shaking your head, fighting back tears.

“It’s nothing- I’d just feel more comfortable if it were dark.”

He nods slowly, his lips slightly parted as he tries to understand. “Okay. Can you tell me why?”

You bite your lip and stare down at your lap. You can tell he’s officially worried now, because his head keeps dipping lower to try to get you to look at him, but you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Baby-” he pleads so softly. And finally you think, fuck it.

“It’s nothing, I’m just- I’m a little insecure is all.”

Luke’s entire face falls. “What?” he asks, like he can’t just believe it.

“Luke-”

But he ignores your protests. “With me?”

You scoff, which only makes him look even more hurt.

“I mean, look at you,” you gawk, motioning towards his figure. “You’re…” your voice trails off. “You’re perfect.”

“So are you-” he tries to interject, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m not. I’m not, and that’s okay- but sometimes, especially in the light, I’m a little insecure. It’s no big deal-”

“Don’t I get a say?” Luke asks. You watch as he shifts his weight on the bed.

“In what?” you wonder.

He sighs. “In deciding how perfect or imperfect you are?”

Your eyes fall to the safety of your lap again, your cheeks burning at his words.

Luke scoots forward and collects your small hands in his much larger ones delicately. “Baby please- I want you to know how perfect you are to me.”

Slowly, Luke brought your fingertips to his lips, where he planted the softest kiss on your knuckles. You sighed, feeling guilty for even bringing any of this up in the first place. But you knew that each word you heard Luke say would help make you better- he made you feel loved and worthy.

And in that moment, you decided that maybe you did just need to be praised and taken care of for a night.

“I’m so lucky that I get to be with you.” Luke said. He leaned over and kissed you again, but with slightly more intensity this time. With his tongue, he licked your lower lip, you immediately opened your mouth wider, allowing him deeper access. Your tongues started sliding against one another.

Once again, Luke reached for the fabric of your t-shirt, and when Luke felt you stiffen underneath his touch he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” he whispered in your ear, his words making you melt against him.

The atmosphere was heavy, and you couldn’t seem to get enough air in your lungs. Luke’s mouth on your neck was doing wonders and all you could do was desperately grab at his biceps. You liked the feeling of his muscles moving when he did.

“Are you okay?” he asked lovingly.

You nodded frantically, “Yeah, please keep going.”

Luke smirked at the thought of you begging for him, and suddenly, you felt his hands sliding underneath your shirt, brushing your sides tenderly. Between his mouth still working at your neck and now his fingertips, you couldn’t help but arch your back and moan.

“Can we get rid of this now?” Luke asked, he was motioning towards the tshirt his hands were currently under.

And suddenly, you felt so safe, so cared for, that it didn’t seem to matter as much. So, you nod, and Luke quickly peels off the fabric.

Almost subconsciously, you let go of Luke’s biceps to cover your exposed tummy.

“Don’t hide from me,” Luke pleaded. He was now kissing down your chest and making his way towards your abdomen. “Wanna show you how much I worship you,” he grumbled. “All of you.”

You moaned with pleasure.

Luke kissed across your stomach, leaving wet marks all over you, while he simultaneously squeezed the fleshy part of your hips.

“So beautiful,” he whispered.

Slowly, Luke worked his way back up your body, his mouth only stopping once he reached your chest. He began kissing and licking at your nipples and you knew that you were soon going to be a writhing mess.

When Luke moved up your body, he pushed his hips forward. Despite the several layers of fabric, you could feel him hardening beneath you. You whined and gripped at Luke’s hair. You knew pulling at his hair would make him groan, and of course, you were right.

Luke detached his wet lips from your chest, kissing your lips again, murmuring sweet nothings in between breaths.

“My beautiful- perfect girl,” he said. “Gonna love you- all of you- forever.”

Tears were streaming down your face. You felt so loved and so needy for Luke.

You couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, oh my god, please…” you cried; your voice breaking.

“I got you, baby.” Luke said, gripping at the hem of your pajama shorts. Luke lowered himself down your body. He bent forward to undo the drawstring with his teeth and suddenly, you couldn't breath. This is the closest Luke had been to your heat all night and you wanted him more than anything.

Once you were bare and writhing beneath him, Luke dipped his head between your legs. You gasped when he wrapped his arms around your thighs to spread them apart. As soon as his lips attached to your skin, you let your head fall back against the pillow. Luke licked up your folds and sucked at your clit and kissed your inner thighs. Your hand was squeezing his curls between your fingers, as you desperately tried to find some sort of release. He used his fingers to part your throbbing fold, now pumping and licking at you wildly. A heavy, guttural groan escaped your lips.

“I’m so close,” you were barely able to mutter.

Luke hums between your legs. And with a curl of his finger and flick of his tongue, you completely let go, unraveling and crying out in relief beneath him.

You go limp on the mattress and Luke finally emerges from between your legs. He gives your inner thigh a soft kiss before crawling up your body.

“So beautiful,” he repeats, lust clouding his eyes.

By now, you’re exhausted, but you want more. You can’t seem to get enough of him, so you pull him in for a long, sweet kiss.

Luke smirks, willingly leaning in to your embrace.

Your hands trail down his back until they reach the top of his shorts. You snake your fingertips beneath the band and mutter, “Why are these still on?”

Luke chuckles and shimmies out of them, freeing himself from their confines.

Carefully, Luke straddles you, once again, lining himself up with you before whispering. “You ready, baby?”

“Yes- please.” You stuttered.

When Luke entered you, you wondered how it was possible that it got better every time- how he felt better every time. You gripped onto Luke’s shoulders with everything you had.

As Luke began moving, both of you moaned out in content.

Luke’s thrusts started deep and slow, but after a few moments, he began picking up his pace as he started to chase after his release. You pulled him in, your mouths colliding messily in between thrusts and Luke had no choice but to go faster.

He wanted to make you come again.

Wildly, Luke slipped his hand between your bodies and started to rub the bundle of nerves above your folds. You arch your back and let your head fall back, moaning at the contact.

Luke uses this opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, nipping at the skin lightly.

“Feel so good,” you stammer incoherently.

You were close again and you bit your lip with the urge.

“Come for me, baby,” Luke grumbled against your throat. His deep, strained voice was enough to push you over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, and begin writhing beneath him.

Luke thought it was just about the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And just like every other time, the feeling of you clenching beneath him led to his own release. He kept thrusting through your orgasms, until you both were breathless. Luke all but collapsed on top of you, exhausted, before rolling onto his side. With what little energy he had left, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest tightly.

“Believe me when I say you’re perfect now?” he asks sleepily, kissing the top of your head lightly.

You hum in response, feeling so content and happy in his arms. Before giving in to your exhaustion, you heard Luke whisper into your ear how much he loved you.

You had no trouble falling asleep that night.

691 notes · View notes

your-eternal-muse · 5 years ago

Text

I’m Getting Colder

Heather Series Part 6 (Were halfway through it!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Bonus! Readers Card Confession

Summery: Reader leaves the BAU for some personal time, and turns to her vices to deal with the voices in her head

Warnings: Description of someone falling into a deep depressive episode, self-deprecation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, description of emotional breakdown, reader is not in a good mental state so please be prepared for that before reading

Words: 1.8k (she smol)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather Charmical, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader

A/N: So, this is not a light chapter. It’s not that long in my opinion, but it is very depressing. I do not recommend reading this if you are not in a well state of mind. Reader is very depressed, and she is falling deeper into that hole as we speak. I promise it does get better, but this chapter is just sad. I took from some personal thoughts and feelings I had when I was at a low point in my own life, which made it kind of difficult to make it any longer than I did, though I’m going to try and make the following chapters longer. I do recommend reading the bonus episode I posted, as it gives a lil insight to something said in this chapter. If you did not see, I sadly had to close both my permanent and my heather tag list, so if you are not already on there, and you want to be notified when I post a part, I suggest turning on my post notifications. Okay, that’s all. Love You!

~~~~~~~

“You really think he would love someone like You?”

“I will never love you.”

“Look at you. You’re disgusting.”

“I did love you. And then I met Heather and realized how much better she was.”

“Worthless.”

“Stupid Girl.”

“Useless.”

“UGLY!”

My eyes snap open.

My room is dark, and the sun is just barely rising over the horizon, the dim blue light leaking through my curtains.

The alarm on my phone goes off.

5:30 A.M. Meeting with Hotch at 8.

I slide my thumb across the dismiss button, and rub my face. All I want to do is go back to sleep, crawl deep under my covers and stay there until the end of time.

But I can’t.

My therapist's voice echoes through my mind.

“You’ve been through some emotional turmoil, y/n. It’s okay to take a break to get yourself better. But you need to talk to your unit chief in order for that to happen.”

So, that’s what I’m doing. I have a meeting with Hotch to discuss medical leave, where I’ll turn over my badge and gun and leave.

I sit up in bed, running a hand through my hair, trying to convince myself to get up.

Spencer comes home from his honeymoon today.

And if I haven’t been in the right head space when he hasn’t been here, then I’m definitely not okay to be shooting a gun when he is.

He called.

I didn’t answer.

He left a message.

I didn’t listen.

I don’t need to listen to him telling me that there's nothing we can do.

That it’s over.

That I have to move on.

No thanks.

I’m good.

I get up, and walk though my dark apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as I go.

I strip in the pitch black bathroom, only lighting a candle so I don’t trip and break my neck.

The water is cold, and I let it run over my spine.

I leave once my teeth are chattering.

I get out and hastily dry off, before running a brush through my hair and cleaning my teeth.

I avoid my own eyes in the medicine cabinet mirror, but they slip back, and I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me.

I blink, pressing my palm to my eye, using my other hand to open the cabinet, turning the mirror away from me, so I don’t have to look anymore.

By the time I’m dressed and ready to leave, it’s 7:15.

I grab my purse, and my keys and head out of my apartment.

Once outside, I light up a cigarette, walking the short block to where I’m parked, climbing in and cranking the heat.

I used to stop and get a bagel and coffee from the bakery around the corner, but my appetite has left me.

My smoke will suffice for breakfast.

It’s a quiet ride to Quantico.

Mornings of listening to the radio, turning up my favorite songs have all but disappeared.

I pull my chin into my chest to keep the cold from biting my nose, as I walk up to the building.

The eyes of the security guards that I used to greet each morning follow me, as I keep my gaze glued to the floor.

The warmth of the elevator is no longer welcoming.

I’m the only one in the bullpen, as I walk past desks covered in files and papers.

I knock on Hotch’s door at 7:56.

“Come in.”

We’re the first ones here, and I know any moment, the others will trickle in, and their eyes will scan and find me standing before him, through his open blinds, where they will proceed to profile and figure out why I am acting the way I am.

I enter the office, and close the door behind me.

“You didn’t give a reason for this meeting, just stating that it was urgent that we met.” He sets his pen down, and gives me his full attention. “May I ask why?”

I rub my forehead, a headache already forming. “I didn’t know what to put for a reason. Every time I thought about what to write down, it seemed stupid.”

“Y/N, if something is bothering you, it’s never stupid.”

I nod, sniffling, taking my purse off my shoulder and pulling out the note from my therapist, handing it to him.

“I need at least two weeks of mental medical leave.”

He’s quiet as he reads through the letter, looking up at me every now and then.

I look out the window, and see all their heads turn to avoid eye contact, as if they weren’t just sitting and watching the whole exchange.

I bet they’re talking about it right now.

When he’s finished, he simply folds it and places it on his desk, waiting for me to speak.

I look down at my shoes.

I know he knows.

I'm pretty sure everyone knows now.

“I can’t be around him, Hotch.” My voice is no louder than a whisper, but I know he can hear me.

Jesus, I’m so sick of crying.

“Everything changed that night. I can’t even look at him without wanting to cry or…” I pinch the bridge of my nose again, harder, trying to distract myself from the pain.

“I can’t. At least not yet. Not now. And I’m not in the right state of mind to turn it off during the work day so we can work like a team.” I turn to look out the other window, so I don’t have to deal with the eyes.

“I just need some time to work through it. And I don’t want to put the team at risk during that time.” I shove my hands in my pocket, and bite my lip.

He nods.

“I understand. I hope you know your job will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

I nod, breathing in to keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“Good. I need your badge and gun please.”

That’s when the tears start falling.

I love this Job.

I love these people.

And here I am, abandoning them all because I can’t get over myself.

Yeah because you’re weak. Letting a boy take over your life. How Pathetic.

I untie my jacket, removing my badge from the inner pocket, placing it before him on the desk. I then remove my gun from the holster from my hip, making sure the safety is on, before setting that by my badge.

He stands, as I make my way for the door, moving out of the eyesight of the others.

“Y/N,”

I stop and turn, only to be met with his arms wrapping around me.

I fall into the embrace, so uncommon for Hotch, but oh so needed at this moment.

Hotch is a father through and through, and right now, a father’s embrace is what I need.

“I’m always here if you need to talk. No matter what time. I’m here for you.”

I squeeze my arms around him, taking in his scent before backing away. “I know. Thank you, Hotch.”

He nods, smiling softly, before stepping back as I open the door, and walk out into the bullpen.

The team stands, unashamedly staring at me as I walk down past them.

Now including Spencer.

I hastily wipe my cheeks, and shove my hands back into my pockets, beginning to walk past them.

“Baby girl,”

“Don’t, Derek.” I spit. If he hadn’t been a dick….If i had just watched where I was going.

Spencer is closest to the door, and I turn my head away from him, not wanting to engage in anything with him.

He reaches out and grabs me by the crook of my elbow.

“Reid.” Hotch says, but Spencer’s eyes are burning into the side of my face.

“You asked me to come and catch you.” His voice is soft, and once again, I wish someone would scream at me.

I swallow hard, and pull away from him, stepping back, retreating as far into myself as possible.

“I’m not yours to catch anymore.”

I place a hand over my mouth and practically run out of the glass doors.

I don’t stop running until I get to my car, where I collapse into the cold, and sob against the steering wheel.

“Come and catch me?”

“You asked me to come and catch you.”

He knows he’s killing me.

He has to,

He can’t say shit like that and not know.

My phone lights up with his name, and I slide my thumb across decline, before starting my car and pulling out of the parking lot.

The minutes blur by as I make my way home, just wanting to collapse into bed, and sleep away my problems.

My apartment is lighter now, but it’s still relatively dark. Light seeps through my curtains, but it doesn’t reach far.

I kick off my boots, and take off my jacket, tossing it across the counter.

A full length mirror hangs from my corridor wall, watching me. Taunting me.

“He’s just trying to talk to you.”

I pinch my eyes close. This isn’t happening. Not again.

“But you’re too selfish to accept him as anything other than a friend.”

The voice talking is high-pitched, and stings like a bell.

Heather.

“Seriously? You think he would ever want someone like you? When he could have someone like me? You’re pathetic.”

I turn to the mirror, where she stands staring back at me in the reflection.

“Shut up.”

“You are so stupid. No one wants you. No one will ever want you. The team will be so much better off without you.”

“Shut up!” My teeth grit, and I know I’m talking to a figment of my imagination, but I don’t care.

I can’t care.

“You’re so useless. You’re so stupid. You’re so pathetic. Do you know you’re the last thing on his mind? Especially when he’s deep within me, and I’m making him feel so good.”

“I said shut up!”

I grab a stray book laying open on my counter, and throw it at the mirror, watching it shatter upon impact, the pieces looking like snow on my floor.

I bawl into my hands, leaning over my counter.

Who have I become?

I pull myself together long enough to grab the bottle of whiskey sitting open by my sink, taking a long drink from it.

With it still clutched in hand, I shuffle over to my couch which is pushed up against my windows.

I lean over the back of it, opening the one above it, the cool air freezing the tears on my face.

I set the bottle down and pick up a stray smoke, lighting up and leaning back, exhaling the smoke up into the air and out the window.

My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing Spencer’s face pop up yet again.

In the photo, he’s smiling, birthday cake on his face. I hit decline.

Another swig, another hit.

My brain is becoming fuzzy.

A text comes through from Derek.

I swipe the notification away.

I lie down on my couch, holding a pillow close to my body, my cigarette hanging from my fingers, the bottle down on the floor next to me.

Another text.

I turn my phone off.

Permanent Tag List: @criminalcow @pinkdiamond1016 @eternityofaxiom @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @marvels-gurl @theamuz @write-from-the-heart @sungieeeeeee @mjloveskids666 @chococereal @itzsoff @gia-kerks @doctorspencereid @imsuperawkward @andreasworlsboring101 @itsmoony @cielo1984 @heistmaster69 @nevvvv @theseuscmander @completmentaryvacuum @waywardswain

Heather Tag List: @drsoftboyreid @lindaze @urie-bowie-mercury @racerparker @avaholcombe @rodgertayloroof @stephanieisgay330 @swiftspaperings @rainsong01 @darthseph @liaabsurd @tracyn910 @kxllyxnnx @holypicklelightnickel @pianofirepirate @radtwinkie @madcrazy50 @bweakmybonez @constantlywishingonstars @l0ve-0f-my-life @expressiodepressio @flannelpjpants @x-midnight-violets-x @kwyloz@todaynotseen @caitlin-f @mylovehes @spencerreidsimptime @yoongi-holland @vamp-army @realimbo @stardream14 @magicbeanssss @jessaminelovelace @darthvadersturd @nikkilikewoah @mellifluouswildbluebells @lex-rodgers-sheild @crist1216 @voguekristen @doctorspencrreid @girlwithcrocs @harryscherrymoon @cherriesnwatermelons @heyitssomegirl101 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @colorfulsunflowerx @falcon-arrows @hereforbeebo @leagallyplatinumblonde @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #spencer reid x female!reader #dr spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #arron hotchner #song fic #heather #conan gray

529 notes · View notes

magnoliapip · 3 years ago

Text

The Storm Inside

Title : The Storm Inside

Book : Open Heart series (Choices - Pixelberry)

Description : Casey has been pushing everyone away and spiraling since the attack on the hospital and her loved ones are concerned.

Pairing : none established / ambiguous

Characters : Open Heart FMC (Casey Valentine), Sienna Trinh, Bryce Lahela, Jackie Varma, Rafael Aviero, Elijah Greene, Aurora Emery, Kyra Santana, Danny (mentioned), Bobby (mentioned)

Warnings : mention of death, mental health

Prompt : “What’s the weather outside your window doing right now?...”

Casey stared vacantly out the floor length windows into the night sky above Boston from her seat against them on the living room floor. The sky was as clear as could be, a rarity for the area, but in a city as populous as Boston seeing the stars was a gift they were never granted. She stretched out her cramping legs to a different position as she leaned her head and left shoulder against the cool glass.

She looked out of windows with alarming frequency now. She had never really done so before, preferring to always be doing other things. She’d always thought of herself as a social person who enjoyed others company, though she could be either out dancing in a packed club or relaxing away a quiet night in with the same level of enjoyment. Friends and loved ones was all she really needed.

The attack on Edenbrook had changed everything, down to her very bones.

Some days her mood was somber but calm, like a cloudy day. Those were her best days and the ones she liked best. The cloudy days could be darker with threat of rain or lighter with the sun just missing the opportunity to come out. It was the closest to her old self she could feel. Unfortunately for her, those days were not only fleeting and the least common, they were becoming a rarity.

More often, her moods were a range of levels of sadness. All the way from a misting drizzle, enough to coat everything in water and make the air humid, to a torrentially pouring rain. Buckets from heavens and flash floods. The only thing those floods never seemed to leave clean was herself.

Other times she was cold. So, so cold. The best of those days were accompanied with a blizzard. Cold, but manageable with a shovel. On the days where she left her heart covered in an inch thick layer of ice and brandished her words like weaponized icicles, frigid and sharp, the people around her knew to steer clear. She was getting a little too good and stabbing them where it hurt.

Her worst moods felt like she should alert the National Weather Service. Tornado warnings and hurricane evacuations were a courtesy she never felt up to extending, adding to her already astronomical guilt. Like a twister, she could feel so angry and out of control she would tear through everyone in her path with no regard for who or what was in it. She had hurt people, especially the ones she loved, deeply but couldn’t bring herself to stop. It was like watching her body act with someone else at the controls.

It was just one more thing about herself to hate lately, and it had a long line to stand in.

The weather in reality never matched what she felt inside. It fascinated and disgusted her in equal measure. It had been sunny (mostly) since the funeral. It was repulsive.

Bobby was dead. Danny was dead. Raf had almost died and would have god knew how many long term problems ahead because of the illness. She had nearly died. And the world just kept spinning.

Couldn’t they see? Couldn’t any of them see that she was stuck there in that room. That she had never recovered. That she couldn’t recover.

At first, when her friends had noticed her strange new affinity for gazing outside for hours every night, they tried to pull her away. Distract her with things like herbal teas, chocolate ice cream and support. They tried to shower her with her favorite pastimes from before. They tried dancing around the apartment to silly pop songs and playing video games with her. But they didn’t understand. And they didn’t stop.

So she bit them. Hard.

Now they left her alone.

She was an awful person. She shouldn’t have been allowed to live. Someone should have realized it at the hospital and just let her die.

She could feel the tears well up again, stinging her eyes as her inner clouds started to rain again. The night sky outside stayed perfectly cloudy.

It was going to be a long night.

Sienna stood around the corner, watching her best friend shatter silently, as she had done every night for over a month. She whispered to those behind her, “Don’t you all see? Nothing is helping and she’s getting worse. After the last time she panicked when I reached out, I thought I’d give her space. We all did. But it’s not working. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

The gathered assembly of those in the cramped penthouse hallway who loved a young doctor named Casey watched her crumble, weeping without making a sound...and no one said anything. Some of the smartest doctors in the nation, and no one had an answer.

Not Bryce, who stood off to the side watching the pain on the face of the first true friend he’d made while at Edenbrook. Someone who had looked past the brash, self-confidence he used as a shield. The first person he hadn’t been afraid of discovering his past.

Not Rafael, who stood at the back of the crowd, down the hall, not able to stand to look at the person who made him believe he was worth as much to her as these intelligent, talented and more well off friends of hers. Not as she could no longer see how much she was worth.

Not Jackie, who was used to facing her problems by cackling at them until they scurried off with tails between legs or tearing them out with her teeth. But this was a problem that required delicacy, the type she had been shown by the very woman who now needed it.

Not Ethan, who leaned against the wall as he saw his protégé, the first person he’d ever believed in this much, destroy herself. She had forced herself, her goodness, into his life and helped fix his hurt self. Now it was his turn and he, for the first time, found himself at a loss.

Not Aurora, her rival turned friend who showed her at her loneliest that having friend was worth something after all. Not Elijah, a beacon of positivity who felt entirely inadequate with this situation that left her emotionally impaired. Not Kyra, desperate to find some way to give Casey the support she had given. Not Sienna, whose heart broke as she watched her very best friend, her dolphin, her rock in many ways fall further and further into herself.

Each one of them loved her. Each one of them cared for her. Each of them had a purpose and a reason to be at Edenbrook, but Casey was the glue that had held them all together. That glue, their foundation, was compromised. This time, they needed to find a way to save her. This time, she couldn’t waltz her way into a miracle seemingly handed down by the divines themselves to fix the situation.

Giving voice to their silent thoughts, Bryce whispered softer than before, “She needs us. She has to know it. She has to know we’re here somewhere inside, but can’t ask. Won’t ask.”

“We’ve already lost so much because of the attack,” Sienna said quietly. “We can’t lose her now. I can’t.”

“None of us can,” Rafael replied softly.

There was practically a flashing beacon over Casey’s head, screaming help me please. It was long overdue for them to stop ignoring it. For a few pregnant minutes, they all looked around at each other and back to her. This mismatched band of misfits and nerds, bound this night by their affection for one single woman. They stared at each other, desperate for answers…

Until the one who loved her most went rigid. Then stepped toward the rest, speaking slowly.

“I...may have an idea.”

[BREAK]

Notes : I left the ending open for interpretation on purpose. This story is not intended to be expanded on or have a second part. Y’all can decide who the person who loves her most is (and if that person isn’t presently named in my story, you can put them there yourself :D)

Also, I want to extend a heartfelt thank you to the amazing writers I’ve talking to lately. Due to some truly awful comments and the way they were affecting me mentally, I recently purged all of my works but a few from fanfiction.net, AO3, and here on tumblr. Talking to, interacting with, and just seeing you lovelies in action has led me to believe I should start to do this again.

Huge shout out to @jerzwriter and @lovealexhunt for being the lovely souls they are. You may have no idea who I am, especially on this blog rather than my main, but I will never stop being grateful for the positivity you put into the world. Thank you.

#choices #open heart #choices open heart #open heart mc #casey valentine #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #jackie varma #rafael aveiro #sienna trinh #elijah greene #aurora emery #kyra santana #magnoliapip

10 notes · View notes

trashlord2020 · 4 years ago

Text

Adam Smasher (Cyberpunk 2077) 18+

A-Z NSFW Headcannons

WARNINGS: dubious consent (suggested) Necro (only mentioned in passing) and a callous disregard for partners enjoyment and wellbeing.

I provide these warnings so if any of it bothers you at all you can choose to not read this. If you disregard this and get upset by what you read, you've forfeit your right to complain, fight me. These are of course my own interpretations, in no way is this a 'end all be all'

A = Aftercare

What, letting you live isn't enough? But seriously, don't expect anything resembling 'care' outta this guy. At the absolute most if you happen to be in a room he owns you could get real lucky and he'll leave you to sort yourself out...just don't be there when he gets back.

B = Body part

He's a full body cyborg, every part is his favourite. He's almost constantly having things tuned or updated whether it's through Arasaka or his own hard earned eddies, But if he had to pick? His Hands, they're the thing that could end his partner in the moment with just one strong squeeze and having their life literally under his hands does something primal for him. His favourite body part of his partner? He might disguise it under mocking comments and insults but deep in there somewhere there's a man still and he's a thigh man for certain. Thicker they are, the better grip they provide and if his partner is able to pay enough attention they might catch how he almost caresses the skin...

C = Cum

Bodily fluids? disgusting. When he got his ah, 'upgrade' he most certainly passed on that. Sorry ! Sections provide required lubrication (don't forget to bring your own!) for the sake of avoiding friction but his own brand of 'popping the cork' is more of a build up in static and electricity. One he can control the build up of by adjusting 'sensitivity'.

D = Dirty Secret

He's not a shy kinda guy, he'll have his partners against the window just to brag if there's one available. No, this is more of a vulnerability than anything? Under the metal casing of his chest on each side the tubes and connectors tucked away are very sensitive. The purpose is so he knows if something is amiss or stuck and needs tending too but this has provided a sort of erogenous zone, one he's not at all keen to share with another.

E = Experience

Before his full body conversion you could say he was quite experienced, if paid partners counted of course. It's always been about him though, even when he (rarely) chooses to provide a helping hand it's been more of a show of dominance than anything. Now with his full Cyborg body and working for the worlds most powerful Corp he rarely finds himself having to pay, most people are either curious enough...or too scared to say no.

F = Favourite Position

Anything where he can shove his partners head down and bend them across something be it the floor, bed, table or counter He'll use it. As mentioned before walls and windows make a good substitute too. He prefers to be above his partner and them in a position of vulnerability where they have no control, he's in charge here and he takes every opportunity to prove that. It's very rare to find one self facing towards him, often too 'intimate' for his liking.

G = Goofy

If a partner has the guts they might be surprised to find that a little back and forth sarcasm and snark is enjoyed, even respected. Just be mindful not to insinuate any insults on his behalf, he won't take that lightly and if (when) he grows bored of the talk he'll make that known none too gently, better catch the hint sooner rather than later. So I'd say about 85% serious and 15% Snark.

H = Hair

He's got a slappable head, bald as a plucked chicken and well...he's all metal down there. No surprise.

I = Intimacy

If you really squint and tilt your head you might be able to trick yourself into believing the way he may cage his partner in from above as almost 'intimate' but it's really not...Just a show of pure dominance, nothing about enjoying the heat pouring off them at all... In all honesty this isn't making 'love' he's simply not capable of that, likely never was. He may lower his voice till you feel it more in your bones than hear it to whisper awful, dirty things only your both privy too but there's no true intimacy in his actions or words.

J = Jack Off

Araska didn't provide him with his 'tool' no, that's something he chose to indulge in with eddies from his freelance years and when the work was done he certainly took time to test things out. Nowadays he rarely indulges, why would you need to if he could have almost anybody that happens to spark his interest.

K = Kink

Breath play, no of course not his. The act of cutting somebodies life line off, holding them in suspense and watching the fear grow in their eyes as they wonder if he's even going to bother letting go...it really gets him riled up. The only reason he does bother to let them go instead of squeezing a little harder is that a corpse hardly has the same appeal, don’t mistake it for mercy.

L = Location

While Adam owns his own room he often has little use for it, spending at best an hour in there a day. You'd be lucky to be taken back there. He often finds himself in hotels/resorts instead, not his issue if it gets trashed then and nobodies going to barge in to investigate all the noise, not when mutters of 'smasher' quickly spread like wild fire. Enjoy your walk of shame back home. :)

M = Motivation

Often it's just a a general build up that leads to him indulging but a bloody fight will always leave him with some built up 'charge'. Many of his partners in recent years have been people he's done a recent job with, something about watching the blood steam off their cybernetics as they catch their breath really does it for him. Basically a callous and shared disregard for life is what would really catch his interest, otherwise it's purely down to cosmetics in which case don't expect a repeat.

N = NO

Making love...you probably saw this coming a mile away. As mentioned he's not shy, he knows what he wants and has little issue with obtaining it but if you're expecting a tentative partner who takes care of your needs? Keep looking, he'll never be that.

O = Oral

He's got no means of which to give oral, his jaw is made out of metal and there's no tongue hidden away. A small (very small) part of him laments not being able to taste what's he's enjoying but again, it would of been more for his enjoyment than anything. On the other hand he certainly enjoys the sight of somebody figuring out their way around him with hands and tongue, the tremor in their hands is something he picks up on without fail but this is never how he achieves his end goal. Attempting to blow Adam Smasher is the closest thing You'll get to foreplay.

P = Pace

A constant rough pace from start to finish, as mentioned somewhere above he can control his sensitivity so if he finds his charge building up too quick for his likening he doesn't have to slow down, just dial things back a little. There's no stuttering or slipping either as it's all controlled due to years of working with his cybernetics and yet, somehow it never fails to feel so raw and animalistic.

Q = Quickie

He likes for things to be 'to the point' as he's certainly not here for tea and biscuits... If he's free for the whole day and just finished a big job you might want to look into hiring a wheelchair for the next week but on average he's here to get his jollies and move on. Make sure to undress yourself though, it's an obstacle and we all know how much he enjoys tearing through those.

R = Risk

What your everyday joytoy may consider a risk he may simply see as a little spice to make things more interesting. He doesn't care if somebody was dumb enough to walk in on him but they sure as hell better be quick about leaving, he doesn't share. If his partner has (foolishly) made it obvious they don't want to be caught? He might find that a little insulting and make it a point for them to be caught or seen, again, it's about the dominance he has over them.

S = Stamina

There's no refractory period, none. If he wants to go again he can, the only thing that's going to stop him is the potential heat build-up from too many overcharges in too short a time. This right here is why you'll want to bring your own lube, things are going to get sore and quickly otherwise.

T = Toy

What he's got going on down there could be considered a 'toy'. Lots of interesting features he enjoys tormenting his partners with. That's not enough for you? He's not going to pretend to be thrilled about it but if you somehow got your own toys on hand then so long as they don't get in the way of his enjoyment, use away. Likely the only real chance you have at getting your own enjoyment to be honest, just don't try using them on him. He won't be amused.

U = Unfair

He enjoys demeaning and talking down to his partners, talk about how 'easy' they were or laugh at how weak they're proving to be. Might physically tease, bring them to the edge if he's super into the moment but he's only going to push you over if you really beg for it...not often he will though, he's in charge and he gets to decide how this plays out.

V = Volume

Besides all the inner workings of his cybernetics powering away and the times he decides to speak? Practically silent. No moans or gasps as he has no need to breath. If a overcharge proves to be particularly powerful (usually due to a lengthy build up) his Voice emitter may play some static feedback, closest thing you'll get to a groan. Besides, his partner will be more than making up for the silence.

W = Wild Card

He's bisexual but straight leaning. It's leftover from the gang he ran with once long ago when he was a everyday nobody. Nowadays he's simply not bothered what others think, incapable of considering it even. Women and more feminine leaning partners will have an easier time garnering his attentions but anyone's game if they prove themselves interesting enough.

X = X-Ray

Custom Hardware baby. Don't ask me what unlucky gonk had the job to make this but it's kitted out. The shape is as expected but the length can be retracted and extended at will. When in use the shortest it can go is 6 inches (he will never keep it this short though, that's below him) and the maximum length is 14 inches although ‘yikes’ lets be real, not a lot of people are going to be able to handle that, it's bragging rights and intimidation factor more than anything. His common use of range is 8-10 inch. He can move individual sections, vibrate and even cause minor shocks at will.

Y = Yearning

If no outside factors are taken into account it can take several weeks before he considers a roll in the hay. A lack of hormones means a lack of natural drive. But a busy week of fighting and killing will quickly land him in a private 'meeting'.

Z = ZZZ

Sleep? you're kidding right. Every few days (or weeks if it's a boring month) he has to have a system scrub and recharge of sorts. He has a private station for this so nobody is going to catch him unaware. Once the deed is done he's over and out, no pillow talk or sweet nothings. If you've managed to really leave an impression he might throw you a contact for seconds. It's run through a security system of course, can't have just anybody being able to contact him.

#I laid awake at 3am thinking about this #lost control of my life #gotta do everything myself stg #Adam Smasher #cyberpunk 2077

103 notes · View notes

mimik-u · 4 years ago

Text

“Homeworld Bound” Thoughts:

I wasn’t going to watch this one today, but then I realized that I really missed the Diamonds and wanted to consume novel content, so!

OOH, good on the show for taking us directly to the aftermath of “Fragments” instead of putting space between the episodes. That’s just... a really good choice narrative wise.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl’s expressions are so distressing here. He’s been gone for three days; they must’ve been so worried.

Jasper steps aside to reveal an absolutely ruined Steven.

He just technically killed a gem and then resurrected her. How intensely will that forever lie on his psyche? Oh my g od

NO, NOT JASPER PASSIVELY MAKING THE DIAMOND SIGN IN THE BACKGROUND AUGH

“You can’t just disappear for days without telling us!”

Steven silent walking up to the Observatory as the Gems continue to freak the fuck out is harrowing. And Dee Dee Magno Hall is killing it with her voice acting here. The simultaneous fear and anger and horror in her voice. Oh my g d

“You guys... I love you, but you can’t help me anymore. I’ve been avoiding the only people in the entire universe who can.” 🥺 This is sad, but I’m also, like, problematic grandmas time!!!!!

“Find something better to do with your life.” God, Jasper’s look of disbelief and sadness here. I didn’t really delve into this during my “Fragments” watch because I was just roridoodwrjfkrkeke reeling, but her reaction to being accidentally shattered is psychologically devastating???? I’d wager that she simultaneously respects the fact that she’s been subjugated by a being more powerful than her, that she’s grateful to Steven for being both subjugator and savior, and likely, she’s conflating this new loyalty with her former loyalty for Pink. This is a really complex psyche (a tragic one most of all).

Garnet: “Steven, remember, we’ll always be your family.” I’m so fucki n emo

AWHWHWH, HOMEWORLD IS SO BRIGHT AND COLORFUL NOW!!!

YO!! Homeworld has a democracy now!! The Zircons!!!!!!!

THE WALL GEM IS MOVING??????? KWOEOEIDJDKSJS

Can u imagine being a wall cursed with sentience. that is so funny on so many levels

But it’s also really interesting, too. If the Wall Gem is a gem in the way say Topazes are gems, which, judging by her mobility, she is—then her explicit purpose in Era 1-2, as molded by presumably Yellow, was to b a wall omg. (Or, arguably, I think it can be argued that the inanimate object Gems, like Comby, were probably accidental sentient creations, made in relationship to their proximity to the Diamonds during their various secretion rituals!!)

Anyway, I love thinking about Homeworld worldbuilding. It’s fascinating.

SQUARE PERIDOT

SPIIIIIINELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

Her heart eyes!! She looks so happy!

Steven, angry af: “Spinel, what is wrong with you?” / Spinel: Oh, you know—the usual.” KEKDSKDK

Also, Steven really wanted to say fuck there. NEKDDKKSSKKS

“I was such a wreck then, but I am so much better now.” We stan character growth 😭😭

One thing I have loved the Crewniverse so much for doing is never taking away the physical signs of gems’ mental distress, even after they’ve gotten better: Blue’s eye bags, Volleyball’s eye, Spinel’s running mascara. That is so important.

YELLOW SITTING AT HER LIL VANITY!!

IT’S LIGHT INSIDE HER ROOM! THERE R FLOWERS! THRIVE, QUEEN, THRIVE.

YELLOW REVERSING HER GEM EXPERIMENTS OH MY G D

FUCKING QUEEN!!!!!!

(I’m sorry in advance. The rest of the live blog is just going to be screaming about the Diamonds.)

“I can permanently alter any physical form!” She’s so proud of herself. 😭😭😭 I fuckin’ love her.

Yellow laying down on the ground like that is SENDING ME SKSKSJSJ.

Ugh, and her being such a good mom to Spinel. I’m cry in f

“If anything’s out of proportion, it’s your temper. You can be big if you want to, or you can be small if you want to, but if you’re going to be upset no matter what, then this problem isn’t physical—it’s emotional. Go see Blue.”

I really like her advice here because it’s advice that comments so clearly on her own character arc. At her lowest, she was quick to anger, aggressive, and temperamental, which she diagnoses in Steven here. Additionally, she was the Diamond who was concerned largely with physical actions. She coped by maintaining the Empire through conquering planets and maintaining the minutiae of leadership; she thought the only way to receive justice for Pink was through the physical act of destruction. And in doing so, she pushed her own emotions deep, deep down until they manifested in anger, aggressiveness, and temperamental outbursts. This hurt the people she cared about, and it hurt herself most of all.

Also, “Go see Blue. That is her department.” Ejdoiddjdjjsjdjdks, “go see ur other grandma.”

BLUE FLOATING ON A CLOUD!!!!!

“Your powers have been causing you dramatic mood swings? That seems awfully troubling Steven.” God I love her

“You don’t seem troubled.” This is a really interesting line because it comments on how Blue’s emotions, especially her negatively charged ones, used to be so visible all over her; indeed, she both wittingly and actively used to project them on other Gems, forcing them to feel her suffering, too.

OH, SHE GOES ON TO SAY THE EXACT SAME THING EOEODODISSJJS. LISTEN, I REALLY VIBE WITH BLUE.

“Back before you came into my life, Steven, I wanted every one to feel the pain I felt. I realized I must make up for my awful behavior by bringing joy to others.”

Another thing I’ve appreciated about the writing in this episode: So far, both Blue and Yellow have used the adjective awful to describe their former actions. It’s the self-awareness and the refusal to try to excuse themselves that powerfully shows how much they’ve grown. And it’s their continuous endeavors to keep moving forward, to help the Gems that they’ve hurt, that indicates that they’re willing to constantly keep growing and atoning.

NFOFOFDKSSKSKSK, THESE CLOUDS ARE JUST HER VAPORIZED TEARS HELP.

Sick vape clouds, Blue

I’VE HEARD THE SONG BEFORE, BUT EVERY TIME SHE SINGS, I LOSE MY SHI T

LISA HANNNNIGAAAAAAAN

This is such a pretty line: “Cold palace walls, and endless empty halls, haunted by echoes of laughter.”

BLUE ASCENDING THROUGH THE CLOUDS AUSHAHHSHD

BLUE MAKING HEART CLOUDS FOR SPINEL!!

BLUE CALLING SPINEL N STEVEN HER LITTLE REASONS WHY.

“I’LL NEVER MAKE YOU CRY.” This line is particularly lovely because I think it plays well with Steven’s line to her in “CYM:” “How many times did you make her cry?”

BDJDJDJSJDJ, BLUE LAYING ON HER CLOUD LIKE YELLOW LAID ON THE FLOOR.

The way she sings the last “loving you.” 😭😭😭😭 I’m gonna weep. I love her so fucking much.

“I found happiness. If that's not something you think you deserve, then I suspect this is an issue of self worth. I suggest you go to White for assistance with such matters.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 And like Yellow did, Blue gets to the heart of her arc cleanly.

Before Steven and before her own emotional reckoning, she didn’t think it was her place to be happy: “I know my purpose isn’t to be happy.” But in learning to love others, Blue has found true, inner happiness, which she literally shares with others. Wow.

And I think there’s something powerful in her distinction between true happiness and self-worth. You can’t find one without espousing the other.

White’s room is so pretty. 🥺

THE FLASHING STROBE LIGJTS DDNJDFJDJDNF.

SPINEL WHITE DIAMOND?!/!:$;8;83&:&:

SHE FUCKING LETS OTHER GEMS CONTROL HE R HELP.

SPINEL MAKING WHITE TAP DANCE FICODODOFODJDNDJSJDJDJJDDJDJ

Steven’s horrified expression omg

“I’m scared I’m gonna hurt people; I guess I already have.” God.

And that’s another thing that this episode has called to mind. Blue, Yellow, and White alike once used their insane powers to hurt other Gems and to hurt themselves, and here, throughout this series, we see Steven discovering that same capacity for destruction and self-destruction. Along with the systematic oppressions they facilitated, a big part of the Diamonds’ modus operandi was that their powers were directly correlated to their mental states and their various inabilities to confront their own selves and effect inner change. The corrective wasn’t necessarily Steven; the corrective was him helping them to do that initial act of introspection and looking inwards. And so, too, will Steven have to do the same by the end of this series. But I presume that his family, all the people and gems who have loved and cared for him, will in effect be his Steven, just as he has always been for them.

“Half a Diamond, half a creature of Earth—in all the universe there's no one else that could know what you’re going through, so maybe it's time you talked to yourself.” This is so viscerally sad. White hits the nail on the head here. Steven’s human friends/family and his gem family and even the Diamonds, who come the closest to matching his own strength, can never fully understand him. It’s the tension that underscores a lot, if not the entire show.

White briefly touches Steven with her nail, and you can viscerally see the trauma on his face; he hasn’t forgotten her act above all, wrenching his gem out, nearly killing him.

“I’m... I’m a Diamond.” Steven, in looking at White Diamond, realizes that she’s a mirror of himself. Holy fucking shit

“I don’t want to be you! I don’t want to be anything like you!” HOLY FUCKING SHIT

“Don’t hurt me! She can’t hurt me! I’m controlling her...” And here, Steven doesn’t light upon the essential thing... in making White punch the wall, nearly knocking a huge rock into him, he’s the one hurting himself.

This show, oh my g o d

“She’s the one who should be afraid.” STEVEN?!!!!????!??!

“No, stop it! I don’t like this!” / “Please, you’re scaring me.” OH MY GO D

HE FUCKING MADE HER SLAM HER GEM AGAINST A PILLAR HOLY HE LL

“What... what was that?” Christine’s delivery here. Holy shit. 😭😭 And both of them are surrounded in the carnage of Steven’s wrath. Holy fucking shit.

This act is fundamentally different than him accidentally shattering Jasper in “Fragments”; this was an intentional attempt to hurt White, to crack her, to break her. Holy fucking shit

Spinel, Blue, and Yellow waiting for Steven outside of White’s door has my heart a little and a lot tender 🥺🥺🥺🥺

SPINEL SINGING I CAN MAKE A CHANGE SO DRAMATICALLY DJDIDJDJDJDJD. (But yeah, lmao, this will absolutely be the conclusion of Steven’s arc at the end of Future.)

“Steven! Let us help you, Steven!” The Diamonds are so concerned (mirroring the Gems back at home, too). 😭😭

He leaves a flip flop behind like Cinderella lmao

“Steven, let us help you!” / “We’re your family!” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

And just as he implored the CGs, he tells the Diamonds not to follow him either.

Steven is completely and utterly alone.

Not by necessity.

But God, by choice.

Okay, this is my new favorite Future episode.

#blue diamond #white diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe #spinel #s: future #mimiku #DIEOEODJDDNSNSJJD #this episode really did it for me

61 notes · View notes

masonscig · 4 years ago

Text

pairing | mason x detective sofía olmos

word count | 2.8k

warnings | smut. very nsfw. minors keep scrolling

tags | @raleiighcarrera ; @pixeljazzy ; @lyuyu ; @bellarxse ; @bceky ; @twc-thoughts-you-didnt-ask-for ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @pixelsandkink ; @katbee ; @admdmrtn ; @agentsunshine ; @echohauville

author’s note | well! the prompt is pretty self explanatory. and plus it’s mason. yall know its ab to get smutty. this is my first and only submission for day 14 (throat) for @31daysofwayhaven also kudos to all the writers that’ve managed to be consistent – hats off to you seriously! um i’m terrified bc this is my first mason smut piece so please be nice [kudos appreciated on ao3]

read it on ao3

•─────────────────•

He laced his fingers through her thick hair, reveling in the way his skin looked contrasted against the midnight of her hair.

On her knees, clutching his thighs with a grip that nearly broke the skin, his cock buried in her mouth, she took him all in. Her lips pursed around his head, tongue sliding against his shaft as he eased his hips forward.

“You almost got it,” he purred, watching as her mouth opened wider, lips tightening as he pumped into her slowly. “That’s it.”

Her throat pulsed, and he felt spurts of air from her nostrils against his lower stomach, sending a chill up his spine.

He held her in place, feeling her tongue writhe against him. A groan rumbled through his chest, his grip tightening on the back of her head.

The moment she choked, coughing, he pulled himself free from her mouth, his cock twitching at her initial gasp. Her eyes fluttered, gaze fixated up at him, spit glistening on her chin, her mouth parted as she hungrily gulped the air.

“Did you like that?”

She nodded, blinking rapidly. “Yes, I did.”

She stuttered, like she couldn’t believe she was saying it herself.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she breathed.

“You’re gonna try to take it all for me, alright, sweetheart?” He smirked, one hand sliding from the back of her head to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

He leaned down, kissing her open mouth, tugging gently on her bottom lip, caught between his teeth. She groaned as he pulled himself back into standing position, belt buckle jingling at the movement.

“I know, I know, I’m hypnotizing, but I need to know you want this,” he laughed breathily, watching as she came to, nodding furiously.

“Yes, please,” she nearly whined, her hands clutching his thighs once more.

He repeated the first few steps, pumping himself in her mouth slowly, the short strokes making his eyes roll back into his head. He’d normally throw his head back and focus on the feeling, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her lips stretched over him, her rosy lipstick rubbing off at the corners, streaking down the sides of his shaft.

God, sloppy, messy head excited him. After all these years, all the people that sucked him off, he’d never get tired of that particular disheveled look.

But if he had to pick his favorite person wearing that look, it’d be Sofía. He wasn’t even close to being finished with her and he knew she wore it best.

He pushed a little farther into her mouth, deepening his strokes, feeling her tongue flatten against him.

“Fuck…” he moaned under his breath, inciting a hum from her, and when it traveled up his body, he was the closest to heaven he’d ever get.

The typical person would think Mason preferred the act of coming, the brief euphoric peak that overtook his already heightened senses a high he chased often – but it was completely the opposite.

He loved the chase – hunting, trapping, planning on how he’d go in for the kill. That was what excited him the most.

So watching her try her hardest to hold it all in for him was nearly pushing him over the edge. He couldn’t recount a time where he was that close, that fast.

He watched her carefully, pushing himself all the way in, her lips grazing the trimmed hair above the base of his shaft. She held eyes with him, squinting as she tried to hold back a gag.

Tears formed at the corner of her eyes, and her chest flexed, like she needed air. He pulled himself out of her mouth, watching a thick string of saliva drip onto the floor.

She gasped, eyes half lidded, lipstick smeared onto her glistening chin.

“You want more, sweetheart?”

She nodded, mouth open, tongue pointed. The tip of it grazed the head of his cock, making him inhale sharply.

This time, he pushed himself in all the way, a little rougher than before, eyes still locked with hers. The broken garble that came from her as he pumped into her mouth ripped a growl from him, every sound she made triggering an animalistic response of his own.

“Fuck, Sofía –” He breathed, gripping her jaw with his left hand, his other hand tangled in her hair.

She tapped his leg lightly, a gentle warning, so he pulled out once again, revelling in the way her desperate breaths sounded, the way her chest glistened, adorned with spit, the way her lengthy locks looked against her bare skin, freckled just like his.

“I can handle more,” she breathed, leaning forward to suck gently on his head, hazel eyes transfixed on his.

He’d been looked at before by a woman on her knees, but never like that. Something about Sofia brought out his most primal instincts. He couldn’t deny that she was stunning and as adventurous as he was – and something about that made him want to stake his claim on her.

Despite her voice, which was dripping with desire, her eyes were glimmering innocently, like every word she said doubled as sexy and sincere.

“‘Do you trust me?’ ‘Of course.’” It played on loop in his brain – the way the words fell from her lips without hesitation. Like a reflex. Like it was second nature to do so.

“If you want me to stop, tap my leg just like before,” he said, barely able to choke through the words as she lazily swirled her tongue around his tip.

She nodded, squeezing his thighs in anticipation.

He cupped her face around her ears, gripping her head firmly. This time, since she was eased into the idea, he went all in.

His hips snapped into her, burying himself in her mouth, watching himself disappear behind her pretty lips. Saliva bubbled out of the corners of her lips, leaking out and down her chin. Making a mess of her was his favorite thing.

His hands snaked into her hair again, this time gathering it at the nape of her neck. She groaned, evoking a soft “shit” from his lips, followed by a sharp intake of breath. He twisted the hair around his wrist like a dark rope until he could guide her bobbing head at the pace he wanted.

He felt her tighten her lips as he pumped into her, the heat of her mouth making him shudder. She dug her fingernails into his bare thighs, eyes watering, brows furrowed. Her knuckles were white with the effort, but she didn’t tap his leg.

She just kept her eyes focused on him like he was the only thing that mattered.

God how the fuck did she manage to make throat fucking into something more with a single look?

But he didn’t mind it. Or at least he didn’t think he minded it. He’d figure it out later. She didn’t say she wanted more than whatever their arrangement was. So maybe she didn’t. Maybe the look was nothing –

A tap on the leg broke his train of thought.

When he pulled out, she gasped, swiping the back of her hand across her chin, smearing the rouge color even more.

“Trying to clean up the mess I made?”

“Maybe,” she ran a tongue over her bottom lip, a soft, sultry smile blooming.

“Well, don’t. I worked hard on that,” he laughed breathily, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” She whispered, one hand still firmly gripping his thigh, the other slung between her bent legs, grazing her inner thigh.

Mason hadn’t seen her since she left the meeting a trembling mess, her bounty weighing heavy on her conscience – as he expected.

He realized later that walking to her car, thinking about her on and off throughout the day, and the general uneasiness he felt at her absence was unmistakable – he was concerned for her.

He didn’t hate the feeling, but it tugged at him, distracting him from his normally laid back demeanor. He was on edge.

So days later, when he volunteered to visit the station to check on her and found out she was off for the first time in months, he jumped at the chance to see her. Smoothly, of course.

“Yeah, after the, uh, ‘news’ I kinda need a weekend to relax… but I don’t even know if I’m capable of that,” she chuckled, nervousness fraying the edges of her laugh. “I should be on high alert, you know? But instead I’m looking for a distraction.”

She chewed her lip and wrung her hands, staring out at the setting sun. The wind swept her bangs around, catching a loose strand in her glossy red-toned lipstick.

He liked Sofía like this. Deep in concentration, brows furrowed, gaze set. Quiet.

“I can help with that,” he said, matter-of-factly, breaking her train of thought.

“Huh?”

“I can help with that,” he said again, unwilling to explain.

“You don’t have to distract me, Mason. I’ll be okay,” she shrugged, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

She was way too easy to read – half of the time she turned him down because she wanted to hear him ask again.

“You and I both know you’ve been waiting to get your hands on me since our meeting,” he said under his breath, stepping towards her, where she stood next to the front door of her car.

“And you haven’t?” She asked innocently, but challenging nevertheless.

She always did that and it both infuriated him and made him hard – she acted like she didn’t know that she was driving him crazy. But she knew. She had to.

“You know I have,” he grinned, taking another predatory step towards her, trapping her against her car. “I’ve been thinking about you wrapping those pretty little lips around my cock.”

Her mouth parted, but no words came. The flush that spread across her face was swift, like a wildfire of scarlet. He never really knew what would do the trick, so he found himself trying anything to get her to trip over her words.

“Do… you wanna come back to my place?”

He knew she was gonna ask but it didn’t hurt to hear it.

He knew she was gonna click the radio on, apologizing profusely when it burst through the speakers, grating at his ears.

He knew she was gonna refuse to look at him from the walk to the car to the apartment, like she was unsure it was really happening – or she was embarrassed.

He knew she was gonna lock the door behind them and immediately stride to the kitchen to offer him a drink. And he knew she knew that he would turn it down every time.

He knew she was gonna wait for him to be the first to make a move, darting across the room to wrap her in a frenzied kiss, feeling her melt in his hands.

He knew she was gonna eventually writhe beneath him, fingers knotted into his hair while his mouth worked its magic, her gentle moans of his name falling from her mouth so adoringly despite him never saying hers that way.

He knew she was gonna eagerly reciprocate since she strived for perfectionism in every aspect of her life, especially one where she knew the other person was more experienced than her.

But what he didn’t anticipate was the way it felt that time. The way he felt – the way she was acting. Something was different. Like she had something to prove… more than usual.

Wordlessly, he pulled her up from her knees, gripping her chin in one hand. He kissed her open mouth, revelling in the familiarity of her scents that enveloped him. The faint minty gum on her breath, the lingering smell of her floral shampoo, even the remnants of the lipstick on her chin smelled sweet.

“You always have something to say,” he nearly growled, backing her towards the countertop. “But you never tell me what you want.”

Normally they could manage to stumble back to her bedroom, but neither of them could wait. She barely had time to offer refreshments before his pants were at his knees.

He lifted her onto the counter, splaying her thighs out, ignoring her yelp as the cold countertop hit her skin, raising goosebumps on her legs.

“Mason…” she breathed, half-lidded gaze trained on him.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he smirked, nipping lightly at the skin of her inner thigh, laughing softly as he heard her pulse jump. “Can’t do anything if I don’t know what you want from me.”

She chewed her lip and he half-expected her to blush again, but what happened was the complete opposite.

Her hands slid down her stomach, towards her lacy underwear – the ones she wore when she thought she’d see him (he noticed). She pulled the crotch to the side, exposing her glistening lips to him, parted, beckoning him closer.

“Make a mess of me,” she breathed, slowly swiping a finger upwards towards her clit, before circling it languidly.

Fuck.

He gripped her hips and tugged her forward, face fitting snugly between her thick thighs. The second he dragged his tongue through her folds, settling on working her clit, a strained whine escaped her lips.

“Mason – oh, fuck –” her breath quickened, her hips bucking slowly like she was trying to ride his face from her position on the counter.

He flicked his tongue against her with fervor, taking note of her short breaths.

“I’m close – please –”

Before she could chase her release, he kissed her inner thigh again, suckling her skin lightly, grinning as she let out a frustrated huff.

“You’re really gonna tease me like that?” Her voice was hoarse. They’d barely begun and she was already disheveled.

“You’re asking me if I’m teasing you? Sweetheart, you must be joking if you think I’m gonna let you get what you want so easily,” he grinned, slowly sinking one finger into her, curling it towards him, hair raising on his neck when the moan rumbled through her chest.

“And you’re asking me to beg?” She laughed through a moan, thighs flexing as he pumped in and out of her.

A growl rolled through his body, mirroring the moan that traveled through her own, like she’d passed the torch to him.

Whatever she was doing, he wanted more of it.

“No, I’m telling you.” He tried adding a second finger, but her hand was quick, grabbing his wrist and tugging him out of her.

“And I’m telling you to keep going. Make me come,” she said confidently, while her hands quivered, giving her away.

That line alone made him want to throw her leg over his shoulder and fuck her until she forgot her own name.

But her hesitation afterwards made him think twice.

“Make me forget,” she said, quiet and unsure, her demeanor nearly deflating.

Before she could take another breath, he surged forward again, flattened tongue licking precise stripes where she wanted him most, a firm hand holding her left thigh down, the other curled under her thigh, hand splayed on her hip.

“Oh my god – fuck –” She sighed as he expertly swirled against her clit, her hand shooting out to grip his hair.

He wasn’t a masochist by any means, but the way her fingers were tangled in his hair, roughly guiding his face like she wanted – he didn’t mind the pain.

Squatting so that he could get a better view, he watched her expression contort with each stroke of his tongue.

He liked her like this, too. Deep in concentration, brows furrowed, gaze set. Loud.

Her mouth was prettiest when it stretched around his name. The drawn out “m” sound when she got lost in his touch, barely able to finish her thought, drove him wild.

But none of that changed her eyes – through her climax, she looked at him like he was it for her.

The twinge in his chest told him all he needed to know.

It wasn’t just a self indulgent fuck. He was doing what he did best to help her feel better.

He still had no clue what about Sofía drew him to her. But he wasn’t gonna deny there was some pull.

As her legs shook beneath him, and he tugged her over his shoulder to lug her to the bedroom, he shoved another realization to the side.

Yeah, the chase excited him, but Sofía’d already hunted, sinking her trap into him innocently – like she didn’t even realize she was doing it, despite clearly vying for a place in his life more than he ever tried with her.

He’d let her catch him. Just this once.

––––

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #agent mason #n*fw #31daysofwayhaven #the more i read this the more i hate it so i have to post it GOD DSKFJSKDF #i know i keep asking for yall to be nice but please be nice <3 #nsft #my fic

102 notes · View notes

moving-accounts-uwu · 4 years ago

Text

Right Where You Were Meant To Be (Bucky x Plus-size!Reader)

Fandom: Marvel

Characters: Bucky x Plus-size!reader

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, body-shaming

Story type: One-shot

Word count: 2.7k words

Summary: Reader has a crush on Bucky the second she looked at him but she also has feelings of self-consciousness about her body and doubts she’d ever end up with Bucky or any guy like Bucky. That all changes one night at one of Tony’s parties.

(A/N: This is a cute little one-shot idea I had and just wanted to write out. I feel there aren’t many plus-size!reader stories so I wanted to make my own. I’m a chubby girl and felt like I needed some love, lmao. Any mistakes I take responsibility for, this story wasn’t beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!!! Also, the gif isn’t mine, but he just looks so precious <3)

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

It all started when you looked at him for the first time. He had just moved into the Tower, and you had just gotten the job as Tony's new assistant since Pepper had become CEO of Stark Industries. Because you worked in an environment with superheroes who were very fit and healthy, you had become self-conscious of yourself; whether it would be what you wore, the things you ate, or just how your body looked in general.

Being a bigger girl, it often took a toll on your mental health when you would notice the glances, the whispering, the judgmental stares, and how shopping for clothes in your size was difficult, and it made you feel like you had to lose weight to fit in and belong. You felt alone and isolated.

You didn't have any friends; you didn't even talk to many of your co-workers, and just kept to yourself a majority of the time. When Bucky moved in, you noticed he did the same. He didn't speak much to the rest of the team, he mostly stayed in his room, and only hung around Steve. Bucky was very fit, and his muscular body showed it whenever he wore tight-fitted clothing. You would never wear tight-fitted clothing for fear of having your plumpness accentuated.

After five months working for Tony and having a more friendly relationship with the rest of the team, you had built a few close bonds with some of the heroes. Wanda and Natasha were your closest girlfriends and would regularly have 'Lady's Nights' every Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Tony, Clint, Sam, and Steve were like your older brothers and would look out for you.

You and Steve made it a routine to do small exercise and yoga in the afternoons just after 4 o'clock. How this all started was because you wanted to accomplish small goals for yourself, as Sam told you to do to help with your mental health.

"Steve," You called out as you stepped into the Tower's gym, the one place you knew where to find Steve if he wasn't in the common room.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)! What's up?" Steve turned to face you as he held the punching bag still while he watched you walk closer to him, noticing you fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

"I just... I wanted to start doing light exercises, you know, to boost my endorphins, and so I have something to do in the afternoons when I've finished with work." It wasn't a complete lie, but it just sugar-coated the fact that you just wanted to lose weight to gain confidence in yourself.

Steve had agreed to help you; he wouldn't push you too much either because he didn't want you to strain anything and not push you out of your comfort zone too much. Both of you would exercise for an hour each day in the afternoons. This routine had been going on for six weeks, and you were enjoying it. You felt better about yourself each week when you would check your progress and write down how much you lost during the week; you were more confident than you were all those weeks ago before asking Steve for help.

During one of those afternoon exercises, you and Steve were both in the Adho Mukha pose with Steve wearing his usual tight t-shirt that you swore was a size too small, and shorts while you wore a loose, black tank top, and tight-fitted leggings that complemented the shape of your plump ass. You were so in the zone that you hadn't heard the gym doors open and the sound of footsteps coming closer to you. Bucky stood behind you and Steve, him getting an eyeful of your butt while he cleared his throat to catch his best friend's attention.

"Hey, Bucky! I didn't notice you were there. (Y/N) and I were doing some yoga, would you like to join us?"

You. Were. Mortified. You quickly stood up beside Steve and looked down at your feet, trying to avoid looking at Bucky after having your ass practically in his face.

"Uh, I kinda have to get ready for 'Girl's Night' tonight, but I think Bucky can keep you company." You nervously spoke, having your words jumble out quickly due to your inner-embarrassment. "I'll see you later, Steve!"

You bolted out of the gym as fast as your legs could go and made it up into your room without another incident. When you flopped onto your bed, you let out a loud, exhausted sigh before closing your eyes shut tightly. 'Why did I have to act like a nervous wreck? You didn't even let him talk for Christ's sake!' After beating yourself up over the little incident, you started to get ready for 'Girl's Night' with Nat and Wanda.

It was two hours into 'Girl's Night' and you, Nat and Wanda had, at least, drank four glasses of Kraken Rum and about three shots of Vodka. You were more relaxed and carefree, enjoying your time with your best friends while gossiping about an episode of Criminal Minds you all saw the other day together.

"Not gonna lie, I would love to have a man like Morgan. Have you seen his muscles? And how he kicks down doors like a badass?" You gushed.

"That is true, and I fully believe Morgan and Garcia should be together. They have chemistry and look so cute!" Wanda loved her Morgan and Garcia ship.

"Eh, I like to have a super cute genius but that's just my opinion" Nat took a sip of her fruity vodka drink while shrugging her shoulders.

"Of course you would, you're with Bruce and that's a little bias, Nat." You gently shoved your red-haired friend playfully.

You and Wanda giggled like school girls when Natasha scoffed before she pointed an accusing finger at you.

"Well, says you, (Y/N)! You practically drool whenever you see Barnes."

That shut you up quickly. 'How does she know?! Play it off'

"That's very funny Nat, but I don't know what you mean."

"Don't bullshit me, (Y/N). I've seen the way your cheeks get all pink and how your eyes are glued to him whenever he walks by. You're so smitten it's grossly cute." Then Wanda turned to you with a small smirk on her face.

"Maybe you should ask him to work out with you and Steve!"

Flashbacks of your embarrassment earlier that day made your face go pale. 'Absolutely not'. You shook your head furiously, staring at your two friends with fear. There was no way you'd have the guts to do such a thing, not after how you acted around him before. Plus, you didn't want him to look at you with disgust when he looks at you working out. You shake off all the negative thoughts before finishing off your last bits of rum.

"I think I'm going to head off to bed now, gotta wake up early tomorrow. Tony wants me to help him organize and plan a gala party to celebrate his newest project. And when I say to 'help him' I mean I'll be doing most of the work while he hides away in his lab with Bruce." You said before walking off and waving the girls goodbye.

2 weeks later...

You had most of the gala planned out. You had booked a cute catering company to organize some food dishes for everyone and even hired a group of people to decorate one of the large common rooms that would fit all the guests on Tony's guest-list. You had even bought a cute new dress to wear for the party. The party was starting that night at 7:30 and you would hopefully get everything done while having an hour and a half to spare to get ready.

When the decorating and planning finished, you quickly made your way to your room and got showered and changed. You stood in front of your mirror for quite some time, nitpicking every flaw you could see, judging your appearance because you knew how the other women at the party were going to look flawless and have every man swooping in for them. A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your negative thoughts.

"(Y/n), you ready?" Wanda's voice called from the other side.

"Y-yeah! I'm coming now." You dashed for the door to get away from the mirror so you can't put yourself down even more. Once opening the door, Wanda linked your arm with hers, and both of you walked toward the elevator.

Telling FRIDAY which floor, you both arrived just as a few of the guests were mingling around; drinking, eating, and chatting. You glanced around, hoping to see the familiar faces of your friends, spotting Sam, Nat, and Clint near the bar where Natasha was serving the drinks. Tony was standing next to Pepper and being an absolute flirt as always while Steve and Bucky were standing near a corner with drinks in hand. Before you could make your way over to the bar, Wanda told you to wait where you were while she goes to quickly touch up her make-up, disappearing before you could say a word. You stood there awkwardly and looked around, making sure everything was going swimmingly until you felt a presence behind you. A tap on your confirmed that someone was indeed behind you.

You turned around to see a group of two slender women and three muscular men staring at you with smug and cocky smiles on their faces.

"Can we get some more drinks? And make them with a little more alcohol this time." One of the men quirked an eyebrow, waiting for you to scurry off to grab their drinks.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not part of catering. I'm-"

"You certainly look it though, I mean, you're not dressed like you're here as a guest. The dress you're wearing looks like the other catering staff." A woman spat, her eyes narrowed at you. You started to feel self-conscious about your outfit now, realizing the color-scheme looked very similar to the catering staff.

"Plus, the dress isn't that flattering for your body hun. We can practically see your muffin top and panty lines with how tight that dress is on you." The other woman commented while she leaned to the side to glance at more of your plush figure.

A stinging sensation began to appear behind your eyes, feelings of doubt, and an anxiety attack began to make themselves known. So looked away from the group and quickly made for the elevator, shooting Wanda a quick text saying you weren't feeling too well. 'How stupid of me to think I even looked good or that I could fit in at the party.' By the time the elevator doors reached your floor and the doors opened, hot tears were falling down your cheeks as you tried to furiously wipe them away with zero results. The tears kept flowing down as you began to walk down the hallway to your room; quiet footsteps barely making noise as they followed you. Just as your hand settled on the door handle, a warm hand clasped onto your shoulder gently. With a yelp, you spun around with a jump to look at your "attacker", only to find a pair of stormy blue eyes staring at your teary eyes intensely.

Bucky's eyes held hints of concern and worry, but it was hard to see because he was good at hiding his emotions, and the fact that your eyes were blurry from crying.

"You okay, (Y/n)? I saw you leave the party quickly and noticed how fast your breathing was." Bucky had to look down at you because he was so tall, or was it because you were just very short?

"I'm fine, Bucky. I just don't do well in crowded places or with so many strangers. I got a bit overwhelmed but it's fine now." You weakly smiled but he could see right through it, he always did.

"You had a panic attack after speaking to a group of people, and judging by the looks they gave you while talking to them, I can only believe it wasn't a pleasant conversation." Bucky then brought both his flesh and metal hands to cup your face while he peered into your eyes more. "Tell me what happened, doll."

You sighed, you knew he wasn't going to let this go. Even though you both barely spoke to each other, he still cared for you like the both of you knew each other for years. Something about his calm voice and caring nature helped your nerves settle.

"They thought I was part of catering and asked if I could get them more drinks. I told them I wasn't catering, only for them to make snarky comments about my outfit and body. But it's fine, I'm used to having those comments made to me, I've dealt with those types of people all my life." Your hands gently held his and tried to move them away from your face but Bucky didn't budge.

"You don't believe them, right? I mean, I think the dress looks good on you. It shows off your curves and any man who doesn't get blown away is blind."

You gave a humorless laugh and shook your head at Bucky, looking down at the floor.

"You're just saying that to be nice to me, Buck. We both know girls like me don't belong in a place like this, or a party like that. You can go back to the party, I don't want to waste more of your time." You went to turn away when Bucky held your upper arms tightly.

"Not a chance, doll. I'm not a fan of crowds myself and was about to leave the party myself until I saw you run away. I'd rather spend my time with you and making sure you don't ever think that you don't belong."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, his stare was intense with adoration and love while you stared at him in shock that he'd want to spend time with you. Before you could blink, Bucky leaned down and you felt his soft lips on yours, his arms wrapping around you and caging you into a warm and gentle embrace. Your hands rested onto his firm chest while his hands rested on your lower back, just above your butt. At first, you were in shock but then you gave in to the kiss and snaked your arms around his neck, your fingers embedded into his long hair.

The kiss was full of passion, and so much love that you didn't think it was possible. When the need for air was too much, you both separated and looked into each other's eyes once again.

"H-how? Why me? We barely know each other!"

"Because, (Y/n), I've been smitten for you since I first laid eyes on you but didn't have the guts to tell you. Steve's been a punk and trying to get me to join your work out sessions for weeks but I was too nervous to do it." Bucky's cheeks tinted red as he chuckled.

"And why's that? I was scared that if saw me working out, that you'd be grossed out by my body." You explained, chewing on your bottom lip.

"I could never be grossed out, sweetheart. I love a woman with curves and plumpness to her. I was nervous that if I watched you work out, I would try to make a move on you too fast and scare you away. I didn't want that to happen." Bucky grabbed your chin and leaned in again, his lips almost touching yours. "And you looked downright sexy in those tights, they shape your ass well."

You gasped and lightly smacked his shoulder while he smirked at you. His playfulness coming through. You made the first move this time and got onto your tippy toes to kiss him. This is was quicker than the first but still held the same emotions. With so much strength you underestimated he had, Bucky lifted you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he opened your door and carried you over to your bedroom. Both of you watched a bunch of movies in your room; many kisses were shared before you both passed out, cuddled up under your fluffy blankets, safe in Bucky's arms. Right where you were meant to be all along.

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

Thanks for reading!!! <3 <3 <3

200 notes · View notes

the-blue-fairie · 4 years ago

Text

Whenever I talk about how Frozen 2 feels more individualistically-minded and Frozen 1 feels more communally-minded, I always feel self-conscious and feel like I have to explain myself. Because, on one level, Frozen 2 is very communally-minded and in a beautiful way - and I don’t want to discount that. It’s a story about coming together, of finding commonality and connection, with the communities of Arendelle and the Northuldra both united by love by the end.

But at the same time, Frozen 2 is very much focused on the the individual interiority of its characters - so that the individual interiority comes to the forefront. The main characters tend to process their emotions in a more individualistic fashion in Frozen 2 instead of talking things out among themselves. When I Am Older, Lost in the Woods, Show Yourself, and The Next Right Thing aren’t solely individualistic, of course. To a degree, they all express how each member of the main cast connects with their loved ones and the world around them. But they all do so at points when the individual singer is separate from the family group.

What I love about the first Frozen and the shorts is that we see the family group interacting with each other, connecting with each other, and healing together.

We see Anna and Elsa reconnecting after years of isolation and it feels like a relief because it is a relief. Their interaction helps them both, helps both sisters who have gone through distinct but entwined traumas.

We see Anna and Kristoff working together to fight off the wolves. We see their rapport, their chemistry, their spark. We see what a great team they make.

We see the positive impact of Anna reaching out to Elsa. While the For the First Time in Forever may end in Elsa’s panic, there are so many moments that show Elsa softening, putting aside the walls she has erected all her life in moments of purest love... moments where Anna’s words reach Elsa. At the same time, we see Anna’s understanding and her love. While the sisters may have opposing positions at this point, we see them reaching out to each other, communicating with each other. It’s a step forward - and that step forward comes from their opening up to one another and beginning to talk things out.

We see Olaf helping Anna and, in the process of her rescue, the two talk about their feelings and perspectives and both Anna and Olaf grow from the experience.

We admittedly don’t see much of Elsa and Kristoff’s interactions, but what we see is cute and gives room for some lovely expansion in future.

Watching all these scenes, I latched on deeply onto the idea of this little group as a found family coming together - with particular emphasis on together because Frozen makes a recurring theme of isolation and the pain it causes. Anna’s loneliness, Elsa’s loneliness, even Kristoff’s loneliness in that he spends so much time in the mountains with Sven - aloof from other people (though he has his troll-family, who took him in when it was just “him and Sven.”) And Olaf - born a few hours ago but wanting to know more, wanting to engross himself in the world and engage with it, engage with everyone. And I immediately wanted to see more of this little family working together - because the narrative starts with them all in varying degrees of isolation and they find each other and the narrative ends with them all skating together as a family and ahhhh the found family feels.

I wanted to see how this family interacted together, how they talked together, how they solved problems with one another, how they connected with one another.

And Frozen 2′s answer to how they do all that is that... in a crisis, they each solve things individually and the narrative just happens to work out that they all come together in the end.

The narrative structure of Frozen 2 privileges processing one’s emotions in isolation despite having a support network around you.

Kristoff needs to be left behind for Lost in the Woods to have its weight.

Elsa needs to be on her own during Show Yourself because it’s all about her inner journey.

Anna needs to be alone for The Next Right Thing because it’s all about what you do with everyone, everything, and every hope gone.

Even When I Am Older is set up as Olaf on his own and thinking to himself.

When everyone tries to talk to each other, they are met with walls - Elsa not telling Anna about the Voice, Anna leaving Kristoff behind, Elsa leaving Anna and Olaf behind. How will this family interact together? With miscommunication, uncertainty, and doubt, until those last few minutes.

Now, I know people are going to rush to point out, “But Liza, isn’t discussing miscommunication and conflict between individuals with different identities important?”

Yes, of course. But Frozen 2 never really discusses the roots of the miscommunication or meditates on the characters’ differing perspectives - especially with regards to the sisters because that conflict is born of the trauma of the childhood separation and Frozen 2, as I’ve discussed already, refuses to have the sisters talk together about the shared trauma of the childhood separation even though it would be really healthy for them to talk it out together. (Some have pointed out that Frozen 2 has Elsa and Anna directly address the trauma of the separation in their individual responses to it and references to it in their individual songs - but that only proves my point about Frozen 2 being more individually-minded.)

The neatest resolution comes for Kristoff and Anna with her apology and his, “My love is not fragile.” In spite of the fact that the conclusion of all the narrative threads at F2 feel somewhat abrupt, that’s a beautiful little moment. Does it really ruminate on everything that Anna has been going through? Not exactly, but it gives her affirmation and that’s lovely.

But that’s the thing. The abruptness of the conclusions really show in Frozen 2. They’re not even bad conclusions - in many cases, they’re good conclusions - but we can’t pause to have Elsa and Anna talk together about their shared traumas, however healthy and beneficial that would be for them, the film has to end, and end quickly.

And that quickness is how we get things like, “A bridge has two sides... and mother had two daughters,” which signifies that Elsa and Anna are both the Fifth Spirit but because it’s so oblique and we have to jump the the next resolution of a plot thread, it doesn’t hit the way it should - if the amount of people who consider simply Elsa the Fifth Spirit is anything to go by.

The abruptness means that the discussion of miscommunication and character conflicts and everything else at the end feels shallower than it should. Like the Fifth Spirit reveal, it doesn’t land as well as it might have.

The movie clearly wants to focus on how miscommunication, uncertainty, and doubt impacts this family group and how they nonetheless overcome it and persevere together, and that’s good, don’t mistake me - but by spending so little time on the “overcoming it and persevering together” part, the film undercuts its ultimate goal.

I know people are still going to come to me and say, “But Liza, those last few minutes undermine your whole point! Because it does show the family coming together, united to help each other!”

I’d argue that Elsa is a bit disconnected from the group and it’s unclear how much she knows after unfreezing and all that kind of exposes the haphazardness of the “together” message, but hey, she communed with the spirits so now she’s up to speed... and that’s still not the main cast interacting together as they work in common cause, that’s Elsa suddenly getting information and going to act on that information but it’s okay because it all works out in the end and we can happily assume that Elsa can process everything to do with her own unfreezing, Anna’s choice, the spirits’ decision, her own emotions after being back in the world, Anna’s devastating emotions, and everything else within the span of moments because we need to tie everything up neatly even if it doesn’t give the emotions we have painstakingly crafted time to breathe.

There’s that oft-quoted philosophy from Don Bluth that, if you attach a happy ending, you’ll be able to explore many mature and intense themes. That philosophy only goes too far, because sometimes the aftermath of that pain needs to be explored in more depth. Because when it comes to trauma, there are... aftershocks...

Moreover - and I realize this next thing is just... personal on my part - I don’t think the focus on individualism works particularly well with Elsa’s arc in Frozen 2. That no doubt sounds completely insane because Let it Go is the most iconic Elsa moment and Elsa’s arc in Frozen 2 is a personal journey of self-understanding, but here’s the thing. The ending of Elsa’s arc in Frozen 2 hinges on community even when the meat of Elsa’s arc doesn’t focus on it. When Elsa chooses to stay in the Forest, it just... makes me want to see more of her interacting with the Northuldra throughout the film. It makes me want to see Elsa connecting with the Northuldra, learning their customs, feeling more and more at home there.

But the film doesn’t give me that.

The film puts the focus on Elsa’s individual inward journey but doesn’t balance it out with Elsa connecting to the people she eventually decides to find a new home amongst. Yes, she connects with them in Ahtohallan - but in an abstract sense. Disconnected from actual physical interactions with people.

And I know this is personal, but I don’t think that was the right direction to go in for Elsa - the little girl who spent years of her life alone and terrified of interacting with others. I want to see her interacting with people, connecting with people, broadening her horizons.

And the end of the film sort of gives me that, but it gives me that without ever actually showing Elsa spending a great deal of time with the Northuldra. The closest I get to that before the film’s end is her short scene with Honeymaren and her brief interactions with Yelena. All of which are unfortunately fleeting and not the focus of Elsa’s arc.

Which is a shame because the ending would feel more earned with more of a communal focus and it would also give characters of color more screentime.

And, as I’ve said before, it’s always great to give characters of color more screentime. I know the film is more “about” Elsa’s inner journey than it is about the Northuldra - but the narrative would be made better by enriching the Northuldra’s presence in Elsa’s journey.

#bigfrozensix #frozen #frozen 2

56 notes · View notes

minnochu · 5 years ago

Text

Lustrous (pt. 18)

Hybrid!Kook x Fem!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19

Warning: A copious amount of dialogue :’)

(A/n): Hope everyone’s doing well and staying safe and healthy! Just remember to stay humble and kind and take this time if you’re self-quarantining to practice self-love!! Hope you enjoy :’)

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Namjoon asks when the whole pack has taken their seats at the dinner table the next morning, and the others notice one seat has yet to be filled. They look towards the hybrid in question, who averts his eyes.

“She left,” he muttered, swirling his chopsticks around in his bowl of fried rice.

The others grow alarmed at this. Jimin piping up from beside him, “What do you mean, she left?”

The younger grows irate in result, his eyes glaring a bright blue at the other wolf, “She. Left.”

“And why didn’t you stop her?” Yoongi calmly interjected as Seokjin whispers a small spell to pull the two wolves’ chairs apart, “You were with her last night, weren’t you?”

He flinches at that, eyes dimming in result. It was true. There was no denying that fact.

The elder’s eyes narrow at the youngest pack member, “Stop being a fucking prick and explain to us why exactly the one person we need to protect is running away from us.”

Namjoon clears his throat as tension continues to rise, opening his eyes to flash his golden irises dangerously in warning at the pensive pack members, “I think we should eat first before the food gets cold, we’ll discuss this later.” His eyes briefly meets the youngest and the whole table settles down into a heavy silence. Jungkook’s shoulders sag as a result, clamping his mouth and turning his attention to his meal. Angry Namjoon was not one to mess with.

The warlock releases a relieved sigh at the temporary cease fire and makes work to levitate dishes and food from the kitchen. He quietly prays he won’t have to clean up too much of a mess if anything escalates to anything more than a peaceful explanation. The aura surrounding the boys is turbulent, no doubt insinuating a quarrel when the food has finally been devoured.

“Gods help me,” the warlock sighs.

“Want to explain to me why you’re suddenly phasing into my attic at such a god awful hour?” Yahiko smiles softly as she sets down a blanket and pillows on your old bed. You ran to the one place you could only think of, your old home with the kitsune. You had crash landed, phasing in mid air before dropping with a loud thud on the wooden floor. The elderly woman had come rushing with her orbs flashing fiery orange, only to calm down when you came running into her arms.

She didn’t question it at first, welcoming you back into your old room with a mug of warm milk and honey, but you knew she would ask eventually.

“Don’t forget that I’m a kitsune, child,” she quirks a smile, “I may be over thousands of years older than you, but I still have a keen sense of smell.”

“And you reek,” she cackles, causing you to blush and smile in embarrassment. Dainty fingers push the locks of your hair behind your ear, “What troubles you? I smell distress and conflict within you.”

You mull over what to say first, about Jungkook, about your apparent feelings for him, about the Blackwells.

“Is it that wolf-boy?” She muses nonchalantly, only speaking hypothetically, not expecting you to flinch from beside her, nearly sputtering and choking on the contents of your mug. “Oh, I’m correct?”

“There’s a lot on my mind right now,” You defend helplessly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Including that boy, no?”

Your shoulders sag in defeat, there was no denying it to her.

“It’s complicated…”

Yahiko makes a face, tapping the tip of your nose with her index finger, “You act like I had never dated a man before, (Y/n).”

“I, like many supernatural creatures, had a mate. He’s not here right now, but I assure you he’s watching over me,” She smiles softly, reminiscing her years with her fated, “He was a human, if you didn’t already connect the dots. I imprinted on him a long time ago, and the stupid man outgrew me.” The kitsune chuckled softly, glancing upward as if she could see his spirit watching her.

“What was that like?” You ask tentatively, although it made you feel worse thinking about how this must be how Jungkook feels about Hyejin. The realization is a smack in the face, he must be hurting out of rejection from his fated.

Yahiko elbows you with a wry smile, “Your face is like an open book, child.”

“He was my world, to put it simply, losing him hurt. A lot. I wanted to die with him,” she says solemnly, “I wonder sometimes how I still do it when I still miss him very much.”

“How did you know he was yours? He was human right? He didn’t reject you for being a kitsune?” The elderly woman glances at you with amusement stretching her lips, causing you to clamp your mouth shut. As your cheeks burn from embarrassment, she can only laugh good naturedly at your curiosity.

“You like that wolf very much, don’t you?” she sighs, “I must say, I have to apologize for rudely assuming that he’d hurt you based on the color of his true eyes. I hope he’s treating you well.”

Your silence proves her hypothesis correct, you like Jungkook, and that scares you. It hurts to know that he’ll only ever pine for Hyejin’s affection despite her obvious indifference towards him.

“I was initially terrified, all the others in my family were mated to creatures of the same kind if not different types - such as the thunder kitsune - so then why was I different? We were taught to stay away from the humans… since at that time, the supernatural and the humans had not yet finalized the pact for peace and bounty hunters were much more prevalent than today. He was one of them.” She pauses to regard your gaping mouth, snickering when she taps your chin to shut it, “It felt like everything was just right when I met his gaze, but he didn’t know it then and tried to kill me. Of course, I overpowered him and let him go, but every time we encountered one another, we began to talk and understand the other and get to know one another as a living being. I told him about my family and showed off my powers” she emphasizes by holding out a dainty hand with her palm facing towards the ceiling and a spark of golden foxfire ignites abruptly from her fingertips, “In turn, he talked about his life, his fiance, his guilt for hunting my brethren when he realized we weren’t evil or to be feared of.”

“Fiance?!” You gasp as you watch the flames disperse and the light has died down from her hand.

“Yes, yes,” she frowns, “He had a fiance at the time, and it hurt, alot. Every time he brought her up, I wanted to change the subject, it filled me with envy and pain. Each time he said her name with that stupidly handsome smile on his face, it was like a sword twisting in my gut.”

“I thought I could’ve lived with the pain, or mate with a widow from another pack, but it wasn’t the same, and he saw that sadness in my eyes.”

“He confronted me about it, and I spilled. I told him about the imprinting, about my feelings. Gods that man was so infuriating, made me actually scared for my life if he were to be disgusted at my affections. Humans… they are quite fickle beings when it comes to love. Is this real? Is this your actual feelings, and not something forced upon you by the stars or your inner beast or what have you? I wondered those silly questions myself… but I wouldn’t have wanted any other man if suddenly the next day, I wasn’t bound by my imprintee.”

You wonder if that were the case with your friend. The idea of being imprinted on and its implications may have caused Hyejin to believe that Jungkook had no real affections for her. It wasn’t like she was chosen at random, you suppose, the stars saw it fit that the two were meant for each other, soulmates as you would put it. Fated for one another. So, why did she fear and hate him so much when he could be anything she wanted him to be. He would be at her every beck and call.

Fuck. That hurt.

You liked Jungkook. That revelation on the rooftop hurt. Finally you could put a name to the emotions you felt around the wolf-boy, but it didn’t lessen the pain of knowing he was meant for someone else, your closest and only friend made at school. At least… other than the boys.

Yahiko saw it, she could feel the conflict dripping off of you in tangible waves. You didn’t know it, but she knew with the way Jungkook acted and looked at you the way he did. It reminded her of her own situation, she only hoped the whole ordeal would sort itself out quickly. Else you would spend years hurting each other.

Children, she inwardly giggled at the coincidence of the predicament, if only they knew how to communicate properly. Although she couldn’t say much with the way she and her human mate had also suffered the same conflict.

“Did he say so himself, that he imprinted on her?”

Um. Well.

The way you hesitate speaks volumes. Now that she mentions it, he didn’t really deny it or confirm it. The more he called you out for being nosy continually irritated you, why couldn’t he just give you a straight answer for once?

“Give the boy some time to sort out his feelings, my dear,” She sighs, “He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

“I’m not sure he’ll ever be,” you frown, “I don’t know what I’m waiting for, it seems like just last night I realized I… I like him… but who’s to say that he feels the same when he can barely open up to me, Hyejin pops up and he just stops functioning, and now!” You stammer your confession more lowly, barely above a whisper, with a beet red face.

You freeze as the woman lays a gentle hand over yours. Then do you realize the way your lip had begun quivering.

“How am I supposed to face him?”

“You don’t,” Yahiko says after much silence, “Leave them alone long enough and he’ll sort out his feelings soon enough and give you a proper explanation.”

“Have some patience and get some sleep, you’re far too young to be looking so concerned like that.”

And that you do, finishing the rest of the milk she had brought up and shifting into your old bed. The kitsune leaves you with one last gentle caress of your head before she bids a good night. Morning comes and you have to force yourself to go to school, praying to whatever god there is that you don’t run into the boys. And you don’t, but Hyejin noticed the distance between you and the pack and has to put a stop to this nonsense.

“(Y/n), this needs to stop now, what’s going on?”

Hyejin stops you from leaving school that day, dragging you to the nearest fast food chain for a much needed sit down and talk. It comes after first being bombarded by Jimin and Taehyung about your whereabouts and wellbeing, and finally when Jungkook confronts her. Nothing is ever that important for the subject of her hatred to talk to her himself. Perhaps there was more to the problem than just fixing your lost memories.

She sighs when you both get seated at a booth with your meals, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I think it’s badass that you’re a witch, but I’m really worried for you being away from the boys when you’ve got your whole family tree planning on killing you.”

You want to tell her, clamming up in the palms when your feelings for the wolf-boy are teetering on the tip of your tongue. Should you tell her? She was your friend. What was stopping you? Her past relationship with him? What if she still liked him? Was this going to ruin your friendship with her?

“To be honest… I left to clear my head after finding out you and him dated before,” You blurt out, pursing your lips and expecting the worse. Silence is your answer, and when you peer over at your friend, she is blinking at you in evident surprise.

“How did you find out?” She starts off meekly, taking a generous swig from her soft drink, “I mean… Did he say anything?”

“Not really…” You wince, thinking about the time he forcibly shoved you from his head at the appearance of the girl in his memories, “It was only last night when he finally told me you both dated previously.”

The other exasperatedly exhales, her palm meeting her forehead, “That stupid dog.”

“You… You don’t like him still, do you?” You ask hesitantly, holding your breath in anticipation of her answer. Meanwhile, the other has to hold back her obnoxious cackle at that question, nearly spewing out her soda. Eyes softening, she cracks a small smile.

“You idiot.”

The reply astounds you, mouth opening and closing like a fish at the unexpected insult.

“You know, you’re really dense you know that? Here I am, unable to believe the coincidence that you, my only friend at school, has fallen for Jeon Jungkook, and now you’re asking me if I still like him!”

“If you’re still wondering… No. I do not,” Hyejin snickers at your visible relief, “I think it’s really cute, your crush, but I still refuse to accept that it’s him.”

The girl takes a french fry between her index and thumb, pointing the tip in your direction, “I probably do, deep down. Truth be told that I broke up with him out of fear. I knew he was a wolf, and kept that in mind, but I wasn’t expecting him to be a wolf and more. And like any other human, I ran.

“He was a cute boy in middle school, a grade above me, taller than most and very shy. He did everything and anything he could to catch my attention. The clumsy little idiot… we eventually dated, it continued into his first year in high school while I had one more year in middle school when I had come over to their cabin to hang with the pack. I had been helping out Seokjin with dinner when I dropped a plate, it shattered on the floor and over my bare foot, and my dumb self had attempted to pick up the larger pieces and nicked myself. Jungkook must’ve been hungry and went on a rampage...

“He charged at me, eyes blue and gold, like I’d never seen them before. He was snapping at me, growling and breathing heavily… Couldn’t even speak coherently. The boys tried to tear him off me, but there really wasn’t a known way to calm him down… According to the boys, it was the first time he’d done something like that around them.”

Hyejin pauses, closing her eyes as the memories come rushing back of the terrible day, “I left that day with a disgusting scar, Seokjin wasn’t as proficient at healing at the time and could only close the wound long enough to get me to the hospital, but even the doctors could not get rid of the remnants of it.” Her hand grips at the hem of her uniform top before carefully pulling it up just enough to catch the sight of the fleshy tissue that runs jagged on her right abdomen. “I could not look him in the eye without seeing the deranged beast I saw that day, I left him soon after, crying and heartbroken, not because of relationship problems, but because I was scared… that he would someday kill me if he could just as easily lose control the way he did that day. I guess we just grew hateful of each other over time...”

Her eyes catch yours staring down at where her scar had been recovered by the top, and she quirks a small curl of her lips. Reaching over the table, she offers an open hand, to which you take gratefully with a meek smile in response, “You know… I’m surprised to hear you managed to calm him down…”

It makes sense, she thinks, after all, you didn’t know it yet who the hybrid truly imprinted on.

“I think I’ve calmed down quite a bit… but seeing Jungkook full hybrid again at the cabin brought me back to middle school. It still haunts me, not as much as before… I used to get nightmares almost every other night. It’s at least once in a while now, I suppose.

“Which is why I always urged you to stay away from them. I didn’t want what happened that day, to eventually happen to you. You’re my only closest friend at school, I don’t want anything bad happening to you… I want to protect you (Y/n), but there’s only so much a human like me can do… Which is why I’m just a little grateful that you have Jungkook to protect you.”

The questions gnaws away at you.

There was no harm in asking right?

“You think Jeon Jungkook imprinted on me?” Hyejin nearly bursts into laughter, hopelessly trying to stifle the giggles with the back of her hand. Thankfully, she wasn’t too hung over having to remember and retell her relationship with Jungkook, but that didn’t warrant her nearly doubling over with tears in her eyes at your abrupt question. Your cheeks puff with a bright rosy hue at her reaction, suddenly feeling embarrassed for even asking.

If only you knew, the girl thinks with a shake of her head.

“Dear God no, he did not, he’d have died by now just from me breaking up with him,” she muses with a wave of her hand, “That stupid dog just has a funny way of letting girls know his feelings.”

“So he does have an imprintee?” You ask expectantly, your heart in your throat at this point.

The look of determination and anticipation on your face is adorable, Hyejin thinks as she replies with a subtle shrug.

“I think that’s something you need to wait for him to talk to you about.”

“For now, you both need to fucking make up before I do something about it.”

And that you do.

You return to the cabin that night. Hyejin leaves you at the door with a comforting hug before she bids you good luck. Good luck and more is much needed when you sense the overwhelming bundle of aura sitting right on top of the roof. No one else but Jungkook had that much unrestrained magical aura, and you knew right away as soon as you came closer and closer to the house. Surely, he must’ve picked up on your scent as you phased onto the roof where the hybrid sat.

He didn’t turn, nor did he make any indication in regard to your entrance. You knew he had been expecting you. So you take a seat beside him, pulling your knees close to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

“I’m still a little mad at you,” You whisper, your two index fingers twirling around one another. Glaring down at your feet, your hair falls down, casting a curtain on both sides and obscuring your vision of the hybrid beside you. “But… I should probably apologize for running away like a child… and that I shouldn’t be forcing you or expecting you to tell me anything like there’s any reason for me to know…”

Its silent between you both, and you wonder if he’s resorted to ignoring you or is just sleeping. When you turn slightly, you catch a glimpse of his side profile glaring up at the sky. His doe-like eyes are wide and reflect the colors of a galaxy. Dazzling azure with dozens of golden droplets like the stars. You have to fight the urge to reach over and touch him. You want to hug him, and tell him how you feel about him. But now wasn’t the time when you were so sure he only had eyes for Hyejin.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” He finally speaks, voice barely above a whisper that you have to lean towards him and strain your ears, “I’m afraid. And I don’t even trust myself. I’m just not ready yet.”

He catches your eyes before you can look away, the corners of his lips stretching into a taut smile, the ends just barely curling upwards.

“I’m sorry… just give me some time.”

“N-No, I understand and I’ll wait until you feel comfortable enough to open up to me,” You stammer, quite flustered with the sudden eye contact. His irises are glowing, shimmering under the moonlight so beautifully that it catches you off guard.

Despite your reply, you didn’t really understand. Was it not simple for him to just out right tell you that he had imprinted on someone else, or just straight up didn’t like you. You inwardly gasped, what if he knew of your feelings and was trying to prepare himself to reject you?

“If it makes you feel better,” he swallows, turning his head to look away, “I uh, I never imprinted on Hyejin.”

In contrast to your worrying thoughts, the relief that washes over you is massive. Your whole body physically relaxes and sags. Cheeks flushing, you thank any god out there that he was looking away.

“I-I see… I don’t think this is gonna make you feel better though…”

His neck cranes, glancing at you curiously.

“I talked to Hyejin,” you shrink in your spot, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed for going to her for information he wasn’t ready to spill.

“What did she say?”

“About what broke you two up.”

Silence. You wonder if maybe you spoke too much or should’ve waited for him to tell you. It feels like he’s growing increasingly distant from you.

“I see…”

Should you apologize? The growing discomfort in your chest became unbearable. You shifted on the roof till, unsure of what to say to soothe the atmosphere between you both. He hates you, you conclude.

“...So you know then?” He finally asks, “That I went berserk on her. Seokjin had me locked in my room with his perfect cube spell... In the whole chaos, other than Hyejin, I really hurt Yoongi bad. Jimin and Taehyung managed to get away with scratches, but Yoongi could only heal so much on his own with Seokjin-hyung’s help that we had to turn to admitting him to the hospital.

“You don’t understand how much I hated myself for that. I hurt my family, I hurt Hyejin too. Fast forward today, I ended up attacking you. I can’t forgive myself for hurting people I care about.

“Why did I have to survive the transition? Why me and not Junghyun? Why did I have to be made into this hybrid that can barely control himself when he goes on a rampage?”

You interject at that, “But you did control yourself, Jungkook, you were able to come back to us after that fight with Minerva. You were able to handle yourself when we fought with those bounty hunters. I’ve seen you many times trying to keep yourself at bay, and you’re doing your best at figuring out how to take control of your genes. No one could ask for any more than you already do. It’s not your fault for going through such a cruel transition, and it’s also not your fault that as a result you couldn’t control yourself, but you’re making progress and that’s all that matters.

“I trust you Jungkook, I hope that makes you feel better. It doesn’t matter to me that you had to drink from my blood. It doesn’t matter to me that you attacked me that night. I’ve forgiven you. You just keep blaming yourself and I hate it.

“You don’t think I hate myself for having to be protected by you guys? We’ve had to fight off my reanimated mother, a vampire, and bounty hunters. You guys wouldn’t have to go through this if it wasn’t for me. I just barely regained my memories, sure I remember spells and skills I learned with my mother, but that shies in comparison to the little training I have in utilizing them in an actual situation, moreover the fact that I have zero self defense experience.

“Don’t you dare tell me that I don’t understand. You said it yourself! You and I… we’re the same. Outcasts. Mutants. I thought you cared for me…” Your voice trails off and silence settles between you both, not as pensive as it was before, but still awkward with more questions swirling between you. Shoulders slumping, you didn’t mean to mope, but you were still at a loss.

“I do care for you (Y/n), did you not just hear me say how much I hated myself for hurting you and everyone?” Jungkook sighs after much thought, reaching a hand towards you before regretfully retracting it. He knows he’ll want to do more than just hold your shoulder. “I cared for you from the very beginning, there would have been no reason for me to keep letting you hang around me or saving you from those wendigos, no matter how hard I tried to keep you from sticking close to me.”

The realization of his words clicks in his mind and he hissed, turning away with his hand covering his dreaded mouth. Darn him for succumbing to you, if you were able to connect the dots, that would have been him smacking you in the face with a sign that read “I LIKE YOU, MY DUMBASS IMPRINTED ON YOU” in large bold characters. Thankfully, you turn and smile softly at him.

“Sorry, I… I just don’t want you to hate on yourself for hurting me when I’m fine really.”

Despite himself, he leans over and taps your forehead with his index finger, the force just enough to move your head backwards just slightly.

“Then don’t hate yourself for being a burden to the pack, you’re not just a guest in our house now, you’re pretty much a pack member. The boys don’t treat you any differently than they would each other.”

Your cheeks burn, hand rising to brush over the spot on your forehead, the gesture was slight but it did well to make your heart beat wildly. With a pout, you mull over his words before scrunching your eyebrows and raising you head to glare at him, “What do you mean burden? I’m a burden?”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, an action you catch as he turns his head away.

“Hey you! Answer me!”

LOL tell me why I totally forgot to put the tags.

Tags:

@twilight-loveer @reinyrei @mistytail @mygukandonlyficrecs @xanny91 @unpocodesoledadywisky @xxqueenwxtchxx @lildemonangele @gukworld @sunnyoongles @serendipity-secrets @ilaria-np @jules-park @treetops68 @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @jeonkooksgirl @coffeeismylife28 @nshitae @bookoffracturedescapes @ellsbells72 @zamirayinyue13 @hannahdearr @tiredjedi @sushibunn @perrshian @lovinggalaxies @ditttiii @cookies-are-done @mintyrae

When like two of you I can’t tag for some reason asjfhksdjhg... anywho~ thank you thank you so much for all the replies on the last part!

#lustrous #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk scenarios #kpop fanfic #bts au #hybrid!jungkook

274 notes · View notes

cicada-bones · 4 years ago

Text

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 25: A Royal Visit

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Rowan shifted uncomfortably, rolling his weight from left to right. Aelin glanced up at him, her brow furrowed. Apparently, the small motion hadn’t escaped her notice. It didn’t help that Rowan usually kept his body exceptionally still.

But this evening hardly counted as ‘the usual.’

They were standing at the entrance to the fortress, in the small interior courtyard that rested just behind the battlement wall. Rowan hadn’t changed for the evening, only bothering to don his cleanest overcoat and leave the more cumbersome of his weapons behind in his rooms.

Aelin, however, had bathed, dressed in a pleasant yellow tunic and loose pants, and carefully braided her hair across her brow and rolled it beneath her right ear. It was almost like a crown – a golden circlet.

She was practically radiant.

In fact, the only thing marring her appearance was the scowl currently darkening her features. Not that there was anything Rowan could do about that. Well, except for freeing her of any obligation to help him through this evening.

Not that that was much of an option. The closer the royals drew, the more convinced Rowan was that the only thing that would keep him from completely losing a handle on his temper was Aelin’s presence.

Remelle’s icy laugh wafted through the mist and towards the fortress gates, accompanied by the sound of bells and merry voices. They were close. Rowan barely manage to suppress a groan. As it was, a huff of breath escaped through his nostrils.

Aelin slid him a sideways glance. “Really? You need my help with these prancing idiots?”

Rowan clenched his jaw, and sent her his most vicious glare. She didn’t react. “Keep your voice down,” he muttered, and gave a pointed glance to her ears.

She rolled her eyes, but her lips closed into a disdainful frown and stayed that way. Rowan’s gaze lingered perhaps a little bit too long on her mouth.

He jerked his head away just as the company came into view, passing over the drawbridge and entering the small inner courtyard where he and Aelin stood in wait.

There was a total of five Fae in the party, two bored-looking guards having accompanied the three royals. Remelle was in the lead, her pale blond hair twisted carefully into place, her snow-white face touched with rose petals, her posture perfectly poised to show off her figure. She was stunning. No matter how much Rowan disliked the female, he had to reluctantly concede that fact.

Remelle’s piercing blue eyes flared bright as they fixed on him, and her expression shifted, becoming snakelike. A serpent with it eyes on the mouse. Rowan’s jaw tightened, anger curdling in his gut.

The female was beautiful, but she had nothing, nothing, on the soft perfection of the princess standing beside him. Her beauty was cold, her manner conniving and insincere. She thought nothing of others, had nothing driving her beyond blind ambition.

How Rowan had spent a whole season in her company was beyond him. He guessed there was something to be said for limited choices. And for giving in under pressure – she had been ferocious in her pursuit of him.

Rowan carefully let his gaze casually slide away from Remelle’s, fixing his expression into bland disinterest, and onto the next in line: Benson.

Rowan had last seen the male at a ball he’d been dragged into attending by Fenrys, half a dozen years earlier. Benson had gotten thoroughly drunk, cheated Fenrys at cards, ruined several other guests’ attires, and ended the evening flat on his ass in the middle of the dance floor, passed out drunk.

Rowan could also recall a few memorably rude comments escaping his lips at dinner, most of them directed a demi-Fae server. They now ran through his head, making his nostrils flare, and his lips curl in disgust.

In short, Rowan had little love for the male. But he didn’t outright despise Benson – Fenrys had taken his revenge for the card-cheating (with minor thievery and a dunk in the river), and the male had learned his lesson. Or at least, he appeared to have.

The last in line was Essar. She was also looking at Rowan, but her eyes were warm, and the hint of a smile lightened her expression. Her form was relaxed, comfortable and uncalculating. The opposite to Remelle.

And, she was the only one of the three royals who seemed to notice Aelin standing at his side. Her eyes tightened slightly in confusion, and she tilted her head, asking a silent question. Rowan ignored her, his gaze shifting over to the remaining members of the small party.

The two guards had straightened, their slumped shoulders now set back and their sloppy postures rigid, almost severe. They both looked intently at Rowan, in wariness or interest, he did not know.

Illar and Yestrya. Rowan had trained them both, a few decades’ past (or was it more than that now? He couldn’t remember) in preparation for war with the Parthynians. But they did not know each other well, and Rowan found himself wondering if the soldiers were acting thus to impress him, or if they were actually preparing themselves to fight in order to protect the royals under their guard.

Remelle slid gracefully off of her white mare, and advanced towards Rowan, her gaze intent. “Rowan!” she exclaimed, and held out her hands towards him.

“Lady Remelle,” he said coolly, and took her proffered fingers in his. She looked as if she expected a kiss in greeting, and Rowan barely managed to keep from shoving the lady out of his space as he dropped her hands unceremoniously and turned towards the others, now also dismounting.

“Lord Benson,” Rowan said evenly, and the male dipped his head in greeting. “Lady Essar.”

The female smiled warmly at him, her eyes glowing with a genuine kindness as she reached out her arms to greet him. Rowan took her fingers in hand much more willingly than he had Remelle’s, and he could almost feel the waves of ice emanating from Remelle in response to his obvious preference.

But irritatingly, Remelle recovered quickly, and by the time Rowan had dropped Essar’s fingers she was already smiling prettily and saying, “It’s been an age, hasn’t it? You never come to our parties, and Maeve keeps you all to herself.”

Remelle placed a proprietary hand on his shoulder, her long, thin fingers like spiders’ legs through the cloth of his overcoat.

Rowan felt his whole body go still. But Remelle either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, as she continued, “There was a time when I got to keep you to myself. Sometimes I miss those days.” Her face twisted into an exaggerated pout.

Rowan breathed deep, locking his muscles in place. Remelle’s hand felt like a thorn in his shoulder – aching to be ripped out. But instead of pushing her away, Rowan just turned to the guards and said, “Stables are to the left.”

They both nodded gratefully, evidently appreciative of the opportunity for a break from their companions, and the promise of a decent meal and a bed for the night. They left the courtyard quickly.

Aelin had been quiet through the introduction, a silent presence hidden in his shadow, lying in wait. He could sense her clever eyes taking in the royals, and marking them as only she could. The princess who was an assassin.

Rowan extended an arm in her direction, silently asking her to come forwards. For a moment, she hesitated, and while he didn’t exactly blame her, her reluctance still stung somehow.

But then she strode forwards, walking closer and closer, until she was standing right beside him, and he could have tucked her into his side. He had to stop himself from doing exactly that.

All of a sudden, Rowan’s breaths came easier, and his muscles began to unclench. “This is – Elentiya.” He had to stop himself from slipping and using her real name. “I’m training her at the queen’s request. Elentiya, this is Lady Remelle, Lord Benson, and Lady Essar.”

Aelin’s expression was blank and cold as she dipped her head at the royals. Remelle and Benson pursed their lips in annoyance, but Essar gave Aelin a warm hello, and she shot up somewhat in Rowan’s estimation.

“So you are a half-breed, then,” Benson said baldly, his dark eyes raking over her golden form greedily. Rowan bristled, his muscles trembling with the growl he forced down his throat.

Aelin’s smile was tight. “My great-grandmother was Fae. So if that makes me demi-Fae, l don’t know.”

Remelle shot Rowan an exasperated look. Really? You brought a half-breed to meet us? How common of you.

Rowan forced his expression to remain blank, straining his limbs into stillness. He was honestly impressed by Aelin’s self-control. Her embers were smoldering dully, but her face was calm and her scent was clean and light on his tongue. And instead of striding forwards and knocking the royals into the dirt, as he knew she must long to, she just stepped even closer to Rowan, until their arms brushed lightly against each other.

Now Rowan was forced to exercise control of a wholly other kind.

Meanwhile, Essar’s eyes were flicking between the pair of them, seeing and understanding far more than her two companions.

Though he and Remelle had been lovers, it was Essar who Rowan considered himself closest to. For a while, she and Lorcan had been involved, and he had seen her rather frequently. So she knew Rowan, knew his history and understood how he operated.

Perhaps enough to see more than Rowan was comfortable with.

But before he could either step away from Aelin or say something to justify her presence, Essar’s gaze relaxed and she said, “WeIl, I look forward to hearing about your adventures, Rowan – and how you came to be here, Elentiya. But ﬁrst, l think I should very much like a bath and something to nibble on.” She slid an apologetic look in Aelin’s direction. “I’d kill for anything chocolate right now.”

The hint of a smile graced Aelin’s face, and Rowan could almost feel the corners of his mouth lift too. But then he looked away from Aelin to see Remelle staring daggers at him, through her pleasant, smiling mask – and fury once again pooled in his stomach.

···

“So, you and Remelle,” Aelin’s voice teased from behind him, where she was lounging casually on the bed.

Rowan snarled, ripping the whetstone past his hunting knife with perhaps a bit too much force. He could smell the amusement in Aelin’s scent from all the way across the room.

They had just returned from dumping the royals at the baths, after showing them where their rooms for the night would be. Luckily for Rowan, there had been three demi-Fae more than happy to vacate their acceptably-large bedrooms if it meant getting out of the way of the royal visitors.

But there was still an hour before dinner, and Rowan didn’t think he would be able to take the anticipation for much longer. He didn’t know if he’d ever wanted something to be over and done with more than this evening.

Except perhaps his task training the princess. How that had changed.

But, as it seemed distinctly unlikely that his relationship with Remelle was about to pull even a splinter of the one-eighty his relationship with Aelin had, Rowan resolved to remain sullen, and pissed off.

Aelin, however, was not. He could feel her smiling behind his back, undoubtedly using his silence to supply her seemingly bottomless arsenal of mockery.

The words unwillingly fell from his lips. “Remelle was…a very, very big mistake.”

“Seems like she doesn’t think so.”

Rowan turned his head over his shoulder to glare at her. He had been right of course, Aelin was near-jubilant. “It was a hundred years ago.”

She didn’t blink. “She acts like you cast her aside this winter.”

“Remelle just wants whatever she can’t have. A condition many immortals suffer from to stave off boredom.”

“She was practically clawing at you.” Oh, Aelin was enjoying herself. It might have even been fun to watch if he hadn’t been so pissed off.

“She can claw all she wants, but I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Sounds like you made that mistake a few times.”

Rowan leveled a vicious gaze at her. “It was over the course of a season, and then I came to my senses.”

“Mmmm.” Aelin’s brows were touching the heavens, her lips tightly pressed together. A weak guard against the laughter threatening to explode from her chest.

Rowan stabbed the knife into the table and stalked over to her, a glower fixed to his face. “One laugh,” he warned. “Just one laugh, and I’m going to dump you in the nearest pond.”

Aelin was shaking now, the mattress trembling with the force of her barely-restrained delight.

Rowan leaned over her small frame, close enough that he could see every golden glint in her turquoise eyes. Close enough that her joyful embers caught in his throat – a pleasant spice, a delicious heat.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” he growled, and though he was furious, seeing her so happy was calling the hint of a grin to his own face. “If you – ”

The bedroom door clicked open, and Rowan was snarling before he even fully registered the sound. But then a familiar scent washed over him, rose and ice and swan feathers, and Remelle came into view.

She blinked in shock. “Oh!”

It took no time at all for Rowan to see the scene from Remelle’s perspective. Aelin, sprawled across the bed, comfortable and relaxed and familiar. Rowan, braced over her, far too close to be just casual. The smell of joy and teasing and playfulness that permeated the space. The way their scents mixed together, close and intimate…

Rowan straightened quickly, concealing his reluctance at having to leave behind Aelin’s warmth. “What do you want?”

Remelle’s eyes were grazing over the space, taking in all the details that marked Aelin’s presence – her hairbrush on the dresser, the undergarments she’d left tossed over the back of a chair, the ribbons she used to tie back her hair, the small boots in the corner beside his larger ones. All things that filled Rowan’s chest with a strange twisting whenever he saw them, but now sent worry shooting through his stomach.

“I wanted to catch up,” Remelle said, looking everywhere but at Aelin, “but it seems you are…occupied.”

“We’ll talk at dinner,” Rowan said simply, a clear dismissal.

But then Aelin popped up from the bed, her face lit up with a wicked grin. “I have to go help Emrys with the meal, actually.” She stood, and moved quickly towards the door. “Why don’t you stay, Remelle?”

Rowan sent her a glare that would have rendered even the hardiest soldier to a blubbering mess at his feet, but Aelin’s eyes just twinkled at him, and she sauntered off out the door and down the hall, whistling to herself. Leaving him alone with Remelle.

Rowan was going to kill her. As soon as they resumed training, he was going to murder her. And then murder her again.

Remelle was frowning in the direction Aelin had gone, her eyes unreadable. But when she turned back to face him, that serpentine smile was once again dancing on her lips. “Is this part of her training, too?”

He had no patience for this. “Get out.”

Remelle clicked her tongue. “Is that how you speak to me these days?”

"I don’t know why you bothered to stop here, or what you expect of me—”

“I heard you were here, and thought I’d say hello and spare you the tedious company of half-breeds. I didn’t realize you’d taken to them so much.”

Rowan pursed his lips. He had no desire to argue with the conniving female, and if he just outright denied her claim, all it would bring was a headache. But letting Remelle assume he was bedding Aelin was equally unacceptable.

It would, without a doubt, get back to Maeve. And the more she knew, the worse their footing would be when they inevitably returned to Doranelle. But – hmm. There was a chance –

“And who was it that told you I was here?”

“Maeve, of course. I complained to her that I missed you.”

Rowan nodded to himself. The question was whether or not Remelle was a willing or unknowing spy. Not that it changed much in all practicality. He still had to find a way to convince her that what she saw, wasn’t what she thought she did…

“As your friend, Rowan, l have to say…the girl’s rather beneath you.”

He held in a laugh. So Maeve hadn’t informed her of his purpose at Mistward. The thought was somewhat comforting. Maeve hadn’t pulled her very far into her confidences, spy or no.

“One,” he said, “you’re not my friend. Two, it’s none of your business.”

Remelle’s eyes narrowed, a promise of violence. Rowan could almost see her mentally zeroing in on Aelin, resolving to make every minute until she left a living hell for the princess, having no idea the manner of predator she was provoking.

So rather than see Remelle’s blood splattered across the fortress walls before dawn, he said, “There is a shortage of bedrooms here, and we’ve had to share quarters as a result.” Not quite a lie, but not the entire truth.

Remelle only switched tactics. “Well, I suppose that’s good news for Benson.”

“What.”

“He has needs that must be attended to, and finds her attractive enough. Maeve said it was more than fine if she – "

“If Benson lays one finger on her, he’s going to find himself without his insides.” The words escaped through is lips as fury rose up within Rowan like a tidal wave – breaching over dams of reason and restriction as if they were only pebbles, or woodchips. Maeve had suggested that the princess was available for – what? Prostitution? Sex on demand?

Rowan almost wanted to see him try it, wanted to watch the male burn to ash in an inferno of Aelin’s making just for even suggesting, for assuming that Aelin was his to do with what he wished –

Remelle’s surprised voice broke through his mental tornado. “Honestly, Rowan, what do you think most of the half-breeds wind up doing in Doranelle?”

Rowan was struck dumb. That, along with the rage still pulsing through his veins, rendered him momentarily speechless. Remelle just shrugged, indifferent. “Benson will be gentle with – ”

“Benson looks twice at her, and he dies. He looks twice at any of the females in this fortress and he dies.” The words were laced with a growl so fierce that they were barely understandable.

But Remelle understood. Perhaps too well.

Rowan didn’t know how much she had inferred from his reaction, and he didn’t care. His thoughts were tumbling through thornbushes. Did Lorcan know? Was he aware what went on in their city? It was disgusting – worse than disgusting. The Fae were better than that. But Maeve –

“I’ll make sure the warning is conveyed,” Remelle purred, and she left without another word, her rose-ice-and-feather flavored scent streaking behind her, a rippling cape.

A moment passed, Rowan collapsed on the bed, suddenly exhausted. For the first time that day, Rowan was no longer sure he actually wanted them all to make it through the evening unscathed.

He couldn’t help but think that they deserved it, that they all deserved it, many times over. Deep down, Rowan thought he’d known about the purpose of the demi-Fae in Doranelle. He must have.

He’d seen their empty, expressionless faces. Hopeless. Abandoned.

The weight of the world’s hatred settled in on him, bags on sand on his chest. The demi-Fae deserved better. They all deserved better: better than a system that crushed people underfoot, better than the seemingly endless wars, better than Maeve.

The thought curdled in his chest, the blood-oath twinging and pulling. Although deep down he’d always believed it, had always known it, he had never said such thing so blatantly, so openly, before.

The Fae deserved better than Maeve.

Guilt, and a deep, all-consuming shame twisted in his gut. He was hardly any better than she. Yes, he’d had no choices, but still, he had supported Maeve for most of his too-long life. Had helped her subjugate foreign peoples, had fought and killed and tortured on her orders.

But he had always known, deep down, that what he was doing was wrong. He’d just been too far gone to let himself care. Perhaps that was why Remelle’s and Benson’s attitudes grated on him so sharply.

They had no qualms. No doubts. And they supported her freely, without force or threat of punishment and death.

Yes, they deserved whatever they got. And in the grand scheme of things, what was one brawl, really?

···

From the moment they entered the dining hall, Rowan knew that the evening was completely hopeless. A lost cause. Each of them was a lit match, a shortening fuse, just waiting to set the whole room alight.

All Rowan wanted to do was sit back and watch the flames spew – but reason won out. Against his better judgement.

Rowan, as the highest-ranking member of the party, was forced to sit at the head of the table. The plan had been for Aelin to sit on his left side, with Essar beside her, leaving Remelle to his right side, and Benson next to her.

But Remelle, quicker than either he or Aelin had anticipated, had steered Benson into the seat intended for Aelin and taken the seat on Rowan’s other side for herself, trapping Rowan between the two of them and leaving Aelin with the option of sitting beside the icy female, or the leering male.

She chose Benson, to his obvious delight. The male’s dark eyes wrapped around Aelin’s figure greedily, taking in every curve and dip in her soft form, his oaky scent filling with lecherous intent.

Rowan’s gaze fixed on Benson, his expression turning lethal as the killing calm washed over him. If the male so much as twitched, if he made any move towards the princess whatsoever, Rowan would be ready.

Aelin studiously ignored the male, taking a too-casual sip from her wineglass.

For a minute or so, there was quiet as they waited for the first course to be brought out – a roast chicken soup that left Remelle and Benson frowning.

It tasted divine, but Rowan barely managed a spoonful before Remelle finally broke the silence. “So you’re from Adarlan’s empire.” The question was innocuous enough, but Remelle eyed Aelin the way one does a small animal right before you poke it with a stick.

Aelin took a slow spoonful of soup, her face carefully blank. “I am.”

Remelle didn’t pause for a second. “I thought l detected the accent – Adarlan and…Terrasen, am I right? They do mangle their words over there so brutally. I doubt even years here will cure you of the boorish accent.”

Rowan felt his muscles stiffening slowly, as if he were undergoing some alchemical process that was turning his limbs to stone. The fury was like magma, a force greater than any above the ground, yet it was unseen, hidden within the rock of his body. Even so, the threads of his self-control were beginning to fray…

Aelin, however, seemed to be keeping a better hold on her temper. She took another slow spoonful of soup.

Essar dipped into the silence next, saying, “I ﬁnd the accent quite charming, actually,” her pleasantry only somewhat forced. Benson grunted in agreement, giving Aelin another too-long look. Rowan’s fingers twitched.

“Well, you had such a provincial upbringing, Essar.” Remelle said brightly. “I’m not surprised that you like it.”

Essar’s face tightened, and her eyes flashed. There was a quick spark of invisible power, and when Remelle went to take a delicate sip of her soup, she let out a hiss and nearly dropped her spoon.

Essar had heated her stew. Rowan’s lips twitched. Essar gave the female an innocent, questioning look, but Remelle only said, “The beastly cook boiled this soup.”

Either the lady was denser than Rowan remembered, or she was purposefully misdirecting her anger in order to piss him and Aelin off. Either way, it was working. Aelin’s jaw was now clenched tight, and Rowan was ready to explode.

But before he could unleash any of his fury, Aelin breathed deep, checking her own anger, and turned to Essar. “You grew up in the countryside?”

Remelle rolled her eyes, but Essar smiled, giving Rowan time to breathe and regain some equilibrium. “My father owns a vineyard in the southeast of our territory. I spent my youth roaming the olive orchards and the cypress groves. But I moved to Doranelle when it was deemed time for me to enter society.”

“Alas, Essar has been rather unlucky when it comes to fulﬁlling her parents’ wishes to ﬁnd a proper husband,” Remelle said, her voice dripping with condescension.

But Aelin’s reaction was surprising. “Husband,” she asked, confusedly. “Not – mate?”

Rowan was unsettled to discover that the word barely touched him. In his current state, it should have toppled him over the edge, should have sent him reeling with pain and sorrow. Should have rent him through with the sound of Lyria’s screams.

But it didn’t. Which was almost more disturbing than the pain.

As if they were in another room, Rowan could hear Remelle click her tongue and provide an explanation, but the words did not touch him. He was far away, lost in the realization that he couldn’t remember the last time he had thought of Lyria, couldn’t remember the last time he had dreamed of her. And it terrified him.

But before he could completely lose himself to the swirling whirlpool of his thoughts, Remelle’s voice cut through the fog. “But as a half-breed, you won’t have to worry about such things. Finding a mate is even rarer for those with diluted blood – and none of us would marry you, anyway.”

This time, Rowan couldn’t hold in the hushed snarl that sent faint reverberations through the surface of the table.

They stared at each other, Aelin’s features frozen in place, Remelle just smiling sweetly back at her. But Essar’s brow was furrowed, and she was looking between Rowan and the princess as if she was putting the pieces together.

Her voice was soft, cautionary. “Remelle.”

But the lady ignored Essar’s warning, and instead turned to Rowan and began speaking in the language of the Fae, still smiling viciously. “You wouldn’t marry her, would you Prince Rowan? Maeve might tolerate a small dalliance, but marriage? Certainly not.”

When Rowan didn’t reply, Remelle turned to Benson. “Though she is rather pretty, is she not, Benson? A worthy addition to the notches on your bedpost?”

A flicker of a grin passed the male’s lips. “Certainly.”

Remelle opened her mouth to say something else, but then Rowan finally found his voice. “Speak the common tongue, Remelle.”

Remelle put a hand on her chest in a mockery of an apology. “Sometimes I forget – It’s not every day I’m in the company of half-breeds.”

Rowan’s muscles jerked involuntarily, tiny cracks beginning to appear in his stone form as the lava beneath began to bubble and spit.

He forced himself to remember why he had to avoid a brawl in the first place, why he had to keep control on himself, why Maeve couldn’t find out that he’d brawled with her spies –

Luca and Emrys appeared, bearing platters containing the next course – roast meats and vegetables – and they cleared the soup away, giving him a quick moment to recollect himself. Emrys loitered in the doorway for a moment, waiting to hear their reaction to his food.

Aelin took a bite of some rabbit, and nodded her enthusiasm to the old male. He grinned, his face flushing.

But then Remelle interrupted. “Rowan, it must be a trial for you to have to eat this day in and day out.” She pushed her meat around on her plate, setting her fork down with a damning clink.

Emrys slunk from the room noiselessly. Yet to Rowan, his departure echoed through the hallway, each soft step reverberating on his nerves like a gong.

His voice was lethal. “I eat better here than I do in Doranelle.”

“There’s no need to be nice on account of the help,” Remelle said. “if they don’t learn what we like, whatever will they do in the capital?”

Something in Aelin’s voice had curdled. “The next time you insult my friend, I’m going to shove your face into whatever plate is in front of you.”

Remelle blinked. “Well, I never – ”

“Remelle,” Essar whispered, insistent.

But Remelle just put a hand on Rowan’s forearm, her long, cold fingers like talons. “You mean to let her insult me like that? To make threats against a member of the royal household?”

Rowan went utterly still. “Get your hand off me.”

Remelle ignored him, instead turning to snap at Aelin. “You are dismissed from this table. Get out.”

Rowan felt the cold pleasure of the fury beginning to leak from his tense muscles as he loosened the grip of his iron resolve.

Aelin appeared to be at her limit as well. “Take your hand off him.”

“I can do as I please, and if you have any sense, you’ll vacate this hall before I have you whipped – ”

Before he could move, before he could even breathe, fire was erupting before his eyes, and Remelle’s panicked scream was echoing off the stones.

Rowan saw orange as a living flame wrapped itself carefully around Remelle, not burning, not singeing, just – encasing. Even the hand that was touching Rowan’s arm was ablaze with flickers of gold and red.

There was no heat to the flames, no threat – only light, and the bright, furious scent of Aelin’s power.

Rowan was stunned stupid.

Aelin had never even come close to displaying this degree of control, had never practiced anything even beginning to resemble such a feat. And yet, she had done it. Had wrapped the lady in her power as easily as one might clothe her in linen.

Remelle’s eyes were wide through the haze of flame, fear billowing from her in waves. Rowan felt his lips stretch into a grin.

She turned to Essar and said, shakily, “Release me.”

Essar only looked at Aelin, her face blank with shock and awe. “It’s not my magic.”

Aelin’s eyes tightened in pleasure, her red lips curving into a delicate smile as her flames flared with heat. Not enough to burn – only enough to make the lady sweat. To make her understand the precariousness of her position.

Then, Aelin said, her voice a loving caress, “If you ever raise a whip to anyone, I will find you, and I will make sure that these flames burn.”

Remelle seethed. “How dare you threaten a lady of Doranelle.”

Aelin laughed, wild and reckless and utterly free. “The next time you touch Rowan without his permission, I will burn you into ashes.” Then she turned to Benson. “And if you look at me or any female like that again, I will melt your bones before you have a chance to scream.”

Showing more wisdom than he thought the male capable of, Benson nodded quickly and averted his gaze.

Essar’s face paled as Aelin turned to her, pulling her teeth back into a snarl and saying, “You keep everything you learned here to yourself.”

Essar only nodded.

Aelin at last faced Rowan, the gold in her eyes molten with power and fury and delight. A mirror to his own amusement. “I defer judgement to you, Prince.”

Rowan turned to study Remelle, who was hardly breathing. Some deep, dark part of himself wanted to see her burn, wanted her to scream, to suffer for what she’d said. But the reasonable part of himself won out.

He jerked his chin. “Release her and let’s eat.”

The ﬂames winked out so fast it was if they’d never existed.

In the silence that fell, Remelle leaned over the arm of her chair and vomited on the ﬂoor.

···

Dinner concluded in silence, and they returned to their rooms with barely a word of goodnight to the Fae royals. Benson still couldn’t look Aelin in the eye, and Remelle was just quietly seething. Essar, however, was contemplative, her thoughts lost to him.

It had him worried.

But as he and Aelin undressed and got ready for bed, Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about how Aelin had jumped to his rescue, had lost control of her anger not when the lady had insulted her or Emrys, but when Remelle had tried to place a claim on Rowan.

Remelle had posed a threat to those Aelin saw as hers. And she had reacted in kind – swiftly and brutally.

Aelin had placed a claim on him.

Had declared one, openly and for all to see. He was hers – was her friend. And she would protect him with her words and her power, regardless of the social or political cost. In Doranelle, that meant something. Whenever a Fae invoked the Old Ways, it speared a bond into the ground, solidifying it.

They led down to sleep in silence, Rowan still lost in thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable in another’s presence. Not even with Gavriel did he feel so at peace. The jasmine and lemon verbena of Aelin’s scent washed over him, tying him in knots.

The heat of her body warmed the blankets pleasantly, and Rowan found himself longing to reach out and touch her. To stroke his hand across her face. To tangle his fingers in her hair.

She had stood up for him, had claimed him. And he wanted her.

The blood oath pulsed uncomfortably in his chest, an unwelcome reminder.

“If I never see them again, it’ll be too soon,” Aelin’s voice pierced the darkness of their room.

Rowan let out a low laugh. “I though you liked Essar.”

“I do, but…you should have heard her trying to get me to talk in the kitchen.”

“About what?”

Aelin was still facing away from him, looking out the moonlit window. “About you. About our – relationship. I think you’ll go home to a host of unpleasant rumors.”

Rowan grimaced. “I think the status of our relationship will be the least of the rumors after tonight.”

There was a pause, and then: “Essar said that you and Lorcan once decimated a city together.”

Rowan hissed in surprise and remembered pain. “Ah. Sollemere.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s because it doesn’t exist anymore.” His voice was wry.

She turned over, staring at him in the moonlight that slipped in through the curtains. Her face was pulled into a worried frown. “You wiped it off the map – literally?”

Rowan hesitated for a moment, considering. “Sollemere was a place so wicked, full of monstrous people who did such unspeakable things, that…even Maeve was disgusted by them. She gave them a warning to stop their ways, and said if they…”

He clenched his jaw at the memories that flooded his mind. Images of children, of babies, sacrificed at the altar, raped and beaten and mutilated. All in the name of some half-remembered god.

Sollemere’s priests were beyond anything he had seen, lost to the esoteric workings of their own brutal machinations, adrift in a world where it was not only acceptable, but revered, to bathe in the blood of thousands and consume the flesh of their enemies.

Rowan huffed a breath, his throat tight. “There are some acts that are unforgivable – and I won’t stain this room by mentioning them. But she swore to them that if they continued to do it, she would obliterate them.”

“Let me guess; they didn’t listen.”

“No. We got out as many children as we could with our legion. And when they were safely away, Lorcan and I leveled it to dust.”

“You’re that powerful.”

Rowan stared at her. “You don’t seem shocked by it.”

Aelin’s voice was pragmatic. “You’ve told me plenty of harrowing stories. If what these people did was so awful that you won’t repeat it, then I’ll say they had it coming.”

“So bloodthirsty.”

“Is that a problem for you?”

“I find it endearing.”

Aelin gave him a playful shove, but he caught her hand and gripped it in his own, feeling the rough calluses that marked her scarred skin. “You could do that, you know,” Rowan said softly. “Make an entire city burn.”

Her voice was just as soft. “I hope I never have to.”

“So do I.” He threaded his fingers through hers and held them up to examine the scars along the back of her hand, her fingers. Scars that marked her for who she was, just as his tattoo marked him.

His lips twitched. “But I’ll never forget the look on Remelle’s face when you shot fire out of your mouth and eyes.”

“I did not.” She was almost indignant, and Rowan laughed softly in response.

“Part woman, part dragon.”

“I didn’t spew flames.”

“Your eyes were living gold.”

Aelin just narrowed those same eyes at him, a question. “Are you going to reprimand me?”

Rowan lowered their joined hands to the bed, but didn’t let go. “Why should I? She was given fair warning, she ignored it, and you followed through. It follows the Old Ways, and you had every right to show her how serious you were.”

There was a moment of silence where Aelin seemed to be considering that, her face angled down towards their entwined fingers. Then she said, her voice tentative, “It scared me – how in control I was. How much I meant it. It scared me that I wasn’t scared. It scared me that…”

She trailed off, and her gaze flicked up to meet his. Her eyes were filled with a deep emotion that he could not name, but felt reflected in his very bones. “It scared me that …”

Rowan read the silent sentences right off of her worried face.

It scared me that I’ve come to care so much about you that I’d draw that sort of line in the sand. It scared me that I would burn and maim and kill for you, and yet and yet at the end of the day, you still belong to Maeve, and there is nothing I can do, no amount of burning and maiming and killing, to keep you with me.

Rowan felt his heart beating in his toes. He released Aelin’s hand, only to raise his pale fingers to her soft cheek, as he had been longing to do all evening. Had been longing to do for days.

Aelin closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, as if she understood what he was trying to say, as if she knew the words that were written on his face without even having to look.

I know.

···

The next morning, the royal party readied themselves to depart, the first light of dawn still shining through the mists. Rowan didn’t bother to bring the princess down to see them off. Assuming, correctly, that her presence wouldn’t exactly be welcome so soon after the events of the previous night. Or perhaps, ever again.

Remelle was still seething – yet jumpy, as if she expected the princess to appear behind corners, flames at the ready. Benson was refusing to look anyone in the eye (a definite improvement), but Essar was still lost in thought, her gaze tearing up the cobblestones beneath their feet.

Rowan waited until they were all mounted before he approached, not caring to provide a formal farewell. Rowan ignored Remelle’s icy glares, and grabbed hold of Essar’s horse’s bridle to stop her.

His words were laden. “Let’s hope last night was the most eventful of your journey.”

Essar just looked up at the fortress, as if she could see through moss and stone to the princess sleeping within. Her golden-brown skin was radiant in the early morning light, her hazel eyes glinting.

Essar was a beautiful female—soft and inviting and clever—and he’d never understood why Lorcan hadn’t tried harder to keep her. She had been good for him. But Lorcan’s ruthlessness and cold ambition were his best tools and worst enemies. He had only seen the female for what she offered inside his bedroom.

Essar’s voice was quiet. “I do not think any of us will forget last night anytime soon.”

Rowan pursed his lips. She knew. Essar had figured out what kind of magic smoldered in Aelin’s veins, and she knew that last night, the Princess of Terrasen had made a claim on him. If Essar told Maeve about it …

The others in the party moved out, Remelle stiff-backed, but Rowan remained with Essar.

“Name the price for your silence,” Rowan said.

Essar’s dark brows rose. “You think I would run to the nearest gossip and tell them Aelin Galathynius is training here?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Essar’s dark eyes narrowed. “I would not run to Maeve, either. Remelle will tell her that the girl threw a tantrum and attacked her without provocation – she’d never admit to any of the truth behind it. Or figure out who she really is. And Benson…leave him to me.”

“And your price?”

She shook her head. “There is no price, Prince.”

He gripped the bridle harder. “Why?”

Essar studied the disappearing party, then the fortress. “We have known each other for a long while now. Through all the centuries, I have never seen you present another female as your equal – as your friend. And I do not think you did it because of who she is.”

Rowan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she said, “I would not take that gift away from you, Rowan. Because it is a gift. She is a gift – to the world, and to you.”

Before he realized what he was doing, his fingers were slackening on the reins, and Essar motioned her mount into a walk.

“She is going to fight for you, Rowan,” Essar said, looking over a shoulder. “And you deserve it, after all this time. You deserve to have someone who will burn the earth to ash for you.”

His heart was pounding wildly, but he kept his face blank, his will ice and steel.

“If you see him,” Essar added with a sad smile, “tell Lorcan I send my regards.”

And then she was gone.

···

Things fell back into their usual rhythm in the two days that followed, though Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about what Essar had said. Because he knew it was true, because…because he wanted it to be true.

Aelin said nothing about it, though he’d sometimes catch her frowning at him, as if trying to decipher some puzzle.

He was pouring over a report Lorcan had sent him, which detailed the conclusion of the conflict between the Erriagti people, and his plans to return to Doranelle within the next few weeks, when Aelin walked into their rooms that night. The smell of chocolate and nuts hit him, and when he twisted in his seat, he discovered her carrying a small, misshapen cake, a sheepish smile on her face.

“It took me hours to make this damn thing, so you’d better say it’s good.”

She set it in front of him, along with a plate, fork, and knife. The blade she used to slice into the chocolate-frosted lump, cutting a large piece. It was layered with a lighter frosting – some sort of creamy-looking filling between the dark cake.

“Chocolate hazelnut cake?”

She plopped the piece on the plate for him and took his hand to press the fork into it. “You have no idea how hard it was to get the ingredients. Or to find some sort of recipe. I haven’t even tasted it yet. Emrys looked like he was going to faint with horror.” When Rowan just stared at the cake, she clicked her tongue. “This is the favor you owe me. Just try it.”

He gave her a long stare that usually sent men running, but she only bit her lip and glanced down at the cake, tentative. It was enough that he frowned, adjusted his grip on the fork, picked up a piece, and brought it to his mouth.

While he chewed and swallowed, she was practically hopping from foot to foot and wringing her hands. So he let out a grunt of pleasure, took another bite, and then another, until the entire piece was cleaned off his plate.

Then he took another piece. And another. Until his stomach was protesting and all but a sliver was left on the platter.

“I told you it was delicious,” she preened, giving him a triumphant smile as he set down his fork. She moved to ruffle his hair, but he caught her wrist, squeezing gently while he rose from his seat and brought his face dangerously close to hers.

He knew every fleck of gold in those remarkable eyes – knew how her very blood tasted. And this near to her, their breath mingling…

“Now we’re even,” he said, and stalked out of the room.

He was about three steps down the hall when Aelin’s fork scraped against the platter, no doubt scooping the sliver of cake he’d left. A moment after that her curse barked off the stones of the fortress, followed by spitting and coughing.

Despite himself, Rowan was smiling when he shouldered open the bathing room door – and quickly cast up the contents of his stomach.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#tog #throne of glass #rowaelin #rowan pov #the warrior and the embers

63 notes · View notes

meta-squash · 4 years ago

Text

Brick Club 1.8.4 “Authority Gains Its Power”

“Fantine had not seen Javert since the day the mayor had saved her from him. Her sick brain could not grasp anything except that she was sure he had come for her.” This makes me wonder about Fantine’s grasp on time while she’s been ill. It’s been two months since she first fell ill, but it seems like she thinks it’s been almost no time.

“Javert did not say “Hurry up!” he said, “Hur-up!” No spelling could express the tone in which this was said it was no longer human speech; it was a howl.” FMA really doubling down on the wolf imagery here translating “rugissement” as howl instead of roar. I love it.

“To him Jean Valjean was a sort of mysterious and intangible antagonist, a shadowy wrestler with whom he had been struggling for five years, without being able to throw him. This arrest was not a beginning, but an end.” This line and the one from the beginning of the chapter about Fantine thinking Javert has come for her secures him once again as a sort of Angel Of Death for both of them. This arrest is the literal end for Fantine and the symbolic end for Madeleine-Valjean.

Also this line establishes just how much Madeleine’s real identity has consumed Javert’s thoughts in the past 5 years that he’s been a major community leader. It hasn’t just been a passing “huh, this guy really reminds me of that convict Valjean from Toulon” type thing for Javert. It’s been a sort of conflict and, probably since the cart incident at least, an obsession. It’s also interesting because it seems to establish Javert as believing that Valjean was his responsibility, and coming to that belief as soon as he learned about Valjean’s theft of Petit Gervais’ coin. Like, Valjean is not an antagonist he’s struggled with only since Madeleine became mayor and this person Javert maybe suspected suddenly became more high-profile, it’s an internal conflict he’s had since the robbery was reported, which probably wasn’t more than 6 months after its occurrence (I would assume). Javert’s wasn’t just obsessing over Madeleine possibly being Valjean because maybe finding a wanted convict would be good for his name or whatever, he was obsessing over it because he fully felt it was his responsibility to find this wanted man.

Jean Valjean is no longer Madeleine to the reader. Hugo’s narration only calls him Jean Valjean, the full name, this entire chapter. His old identity has been pulled away and he can no longer wrap M Madeleine around himself. And he’s only going to be Jean Valjean or Madeleine for another chapter; the next time we see him after that, he’ll be Prisoner Number 9430. For a long time in the narration he was Madeleine, then he was just “the man” and variations thereupon, then he was both “Madeleine” and “Valjean” and now he is only Valjean.

The weirdest thing in this chapter is that Hugo blatantly states that Sister Simplice is in the room with them this entire time. She is here and she does absolutely nothing. I mean, this is understandable. Not only is she a woman, but she also doesn’t have any sort of leverage over either of them in any other way. She’s just a nun, just a woman of the church (and not even a woman, according to Hugo, she’s something else entirely), and she can’t really do anything to stop Valjean’s arrest or appeal to Javert or anything. But in the next chapter Javert is literally stopped from entering by Simplice’s Authority of Religiosity. So why isn’t he stopped by her religiosity here? Because this is a mirror of Fantine in 1.5.13, begging Javert for mercy and Javert telling her that “The Eternal Father in person couldn’t help you now.” Again, the law is above god here, and again he will not be moved to mercy, even by god.

“She saw the spy Javert seize the mayor by the collar: she saw the mayor bow his head. The world seemed to vanish before her eyes. Javert, in fact, had taken Jean Valjean by the collar.”

This is pretty obvious, but Madeleine is literally turning into Valjean before Fantine’s eyes. I love the way that Hugo says it though. I get the sense that it’s not just that Javert is seeing Valjean as Valjean now, but that Madeleine’s entire demeanor has changed. So he’s literally not taking Madeleine by the collar, because his demeanor would have been Madeleine’s; he’s taking Valjean by the collar, because he’s dropped the Madeleine act (at least at this very moment).

“Aloud, speak aloud. People speak out loud to me.” Ugh god this line is just so self-serving and shitty. This isn’t Javert being morally righteous via the law or acting as society personified. This is just Javert being petty and shitty because he was humiliated by Madeleine before, and now he wants that personal power reversed.

“Javert stamped his foot.” Is this meant to be as childish as it sounds? This is a really intense moment, but Javert is weirdly powerless as both Valjean and Fantine start talking back in their own ways, refusing to go quietly.

“Miserable town, where convicts are magistrates and prostitutes are nursed like countesses! Ha, but all that will be changed, high time!” It’s so interesting that Javert says this now, because it’s revealed later that after Madeleine left, Montreuil-sur-Mer’s prosperity crumbled. Which means that the town will go back to being like any other poor, garrisoned town, with a prostitution trade and plenty of depths of depravity. And I think we’re supposed to think that without Madeleine there to run a system that helps to uphold the morals and productivity and prosperity of the town, it’ll just fall back into corruption. Except that all of that depravity already existed under Madeleine’s leadership, it was just hidden better than maybe it would be if the whole town was failing. So once he leaves, yes, probably the prostitutes and criminals etc will be treated the way Javert wants them to be treated, rather than with any sort of sympathy or willingness to listen and mediate that Madeleine maybe offered to some but not all.

Fantine’s death is, I think, the only death in the book that gets such a visceral description. M. Pontmercy is already dead when we see him, Eponine just puts her head on Marius’ knee, Gavroche’s death is fairly poetic, all of Les Amis get their deaths described but they’re all so quick it’s like a montage, Javert’s actual death isn’t described. Mabeuf’s death might be the closest in terms of intense description, but Fantine’s definitely is the most detailed. Also, we get more drowning imagery. If Javert is the personification of the Law and the justice system, he is part of what tosses the unfortunate into the night-sea of prison and the mud of poverty. She is drowning because what killed her is also what drowns the poor. And I think it’s interesting that she looks to each of them, trying to speak, but she can’t reach anyone. She can’t speak to Jean Valjean (note that he’s not Madeleine here) because she doesn’t know Jean Valjean, and he’s no longer her savior, she can’t speak to Javert because he will not bend and has no mercy, and she can’t speak to the nun because currently authority will not bow to religion and she knows that because it didn’t bow to religion the last time. Now that Valjean has no power to free her, she can’t go to him. Also, I want to know the significance of her head hitting the headboard. Hugo doesn’t have her just fall back onto the pillow; she bangs her head first, like a strange sort of last injustice.

I also feel like the actual actions of Fantine’s death as well as Valjean whispering in her ear afterward have some sort of religious parallel that I’m not catching because I don’t know enough?

Also just ugh. Fantine dies knowing that Cosette is not out there, that Cosette is not anywhere near here, and that she will not see Cosette. It’s just such a horrible, blunt betrayal after she was so full of hope. I wonder if that’s why (later) Valjean can’t talk to Cosette about her? He doesn’t know how to confront the fact that, intentional or not, he had a hand in this betrayal? It makes sense that it is at this moment that she dies. She has been holding on for Cosette, the hope of seeing Cosette has been keeping her alive. Now, she has the realization that Cosette is not in M-sur-M, and then almost immediately after has the realization that Madeleine is not going to be able to go and retrieve Cosette.

“Jean Valjean put his hand on that of Javert, which was holding him, and opened it as he would have opened the hand of a child; then he said, “You have killed this woman.”

There’s so much child-behavior in Javert in this chapter, and I’m not sure what to make of it. The stamping of the foot, the sort of loud, frustrated insistence of respect, this opening of his hand, the way he yells at Valjean to listen to him or it’s the handcuffs and Valjean just ignores him. Javert is so impatient here and Valjean is so grave and calm. But that’s how it seems to be from now on. @everyonewasabird talked in his last post about how this is actually where Javert’s fall is, or at least where it begins. I totally agree with that, because it’s also where his grave, stable behavior starts to falter. In the last chapter, he was gleeful. In this chapter, he’s impatient. In Paris, we won’t see him display behavior this extreme until he’s at the barricade, but his behavior still seems different from the Javert we originally met. Much as I adore the “Would you like my hat?” line, it’s so dramatic and, I don’t know, sort of smug? Which I could see this current Javert doing, but not Javert from 1.6.2 or earlier. This whole episode has caused, as Hugo said, an inner earthquake for Javert, and I think it literally changes his entire personality. Not drastically, nothing crazy, but it does what an earthquake might do: it shifts some things around, changes his inner terrain just enough that it looks totally familiar but the ground he’s walking on is just a little rougher than before.

I’m so glad my post from a couple chapters ago included that comment about Javert and Valjean’s back-and-forth conflict because! This shift in power! Now it’s Valjean who is righteous and Valjean that is terrifying and Valjean that has the control! This chapter is just a fencing match between the two of them. Valjean starts off mildly more powerful: Javert doesn’t touch him while Fantine’s eyes are closed; it’s only when she opens them again that he again has the power over her and over Valljean. He takes Valjean by the collar and Valjean doesn’t attempt to struggle or get free. Once Fantine is dead, Valjean again assumes control and opens Javert’s hand like it’s nothing. I sort of feel like he still kind of retains the upper hand (at least morally) even at the very end when he gives himself up to Javert’s disposal. (Also, it’s interesting that Valjean has the control when Fantine isn’t looking, but Javert has control when she is. Not sure what to make of that.)

Javert’s retreat to the door is so odd. It feels so calm and detached. He doesn’t actually seem frightened or threatened by Valjean’s diy truncheon. I wonder if this is Javert’s version of the way that Valjean does things on autopilot when he’s in shock. Everything that’s happening is just so stunning that when Valjean moves away from him, Javert just automatically moves to the door. And his decision not to call the guard feels like he’s making excuses? It’s pretty obvious at this point that Valjean isn’t going to move from Fantine’s bedside until he’s ready. Except that at this point, Valjean is the one with the control, and the conflict is between him and Javert. Calling the guard adds another element and upsets the balance.

“His iron bar in hand, Jean Valjean walked slowly toward Fantine’s bed. On reaching it, he turned and said to Javert in a voice that could scarcely be heard, “I advise you not to disturb me now.” Nothing is more certain than the fact that Javert shuddered.” My first thought is: I don’t know what to make of this? Is Javert scared? Overwhelmed? Confused? Feeling Valjean’s authority? My second thought is: this is the start of Javert’s eventual change at the end of the novel. He cannot admit it to himself here, but he’s seeing Valjean act with the same selflessness and mercy that he’ll see with himself at the barricades and Marius at the sewers. His inner change can’t happen until then, but I wonder if this affects his later ability to change how he sees Valjean.

Fantine does get, like, the closest thing to a happy ending that any of the dead people in this book can get. Whatever Valjean tells or promises her, her spirit seems to hear and smiles. She suffers so much at the hands of society, at the hands of everyone, and she dies in betrayal and misery. It’s like the least Hugo could do was give her soul some sort of happiness after the fact.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #lm 1.8.4 #les mis #les mis meta #i'm sorry if some of this is weird or only kind of comprehensible i am in a MOOD tonight #also Valvert shippers I'm truly starting to understand you

17 notes · View notes

writer-dreams · 5 years ago

Note

I read your post "Enough" and I loved it so much! I was wondering if I could get another Slytherin Reader who is with Draco. She has anger issues and sometimes punches walls (hurting herself) because she blames herself harshly whenever she fails or messes up. Maybe, she's a death eater and she accidentally got Draco hurt (not killed) somehow? And he comforts her and tells her to stop blaming herself. Whatever you decide, I'm super excited to read. Thanks again❤️

Not Your Fault (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Hello, thank you so much to @beautifulbows924 for requesting. This has been sitting in my inbox for so long, it’s about time I got to it! I hope it’s close to what you wanted and I also hope you enjoy!

House: Slytherin

Blood Status: You choose

Warning: Mentions of torture, blood, self harm, and blaming oneself. Angsty.

Note: Angsty. The reader in this story is female / uses female pronouns.

Word Count: 3,123 words

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

3rd Person POV

"Draco, you know what we're doing could get us killed, right?" Y/n stated to her blonde-haired boyfriend.

The male nodded silently and urged her to continue moving. The two knew that if they were caught here, they would both be executed by the Dark Lord. Although the very idea of that terrified them, they pushed on. They had to, it was the right thing to do. The once lively corridors of Hogwarts were now dark and deathly silent. The only source of light was the soft blue light emitting from Y/n's wand.

Y/n and Draco hated their current situation. The both of them were Death Eaters, definitely not by choice. They were held at wand point and threatened that if they didn't join then one of them would die. Y/n blamed herself, cursing herself for not being stronger, for not being able to defend herself. She felt personally responsible for making the two of them what they despised most. She hated that now the two of them had the ugly tattoo of the Dark Lord on their arms permanently. This is why she sought to make things right.

Since last summer, she had been sneaking out of the Death Eater headquarters and coming to meet Potter. She would tell the boy of the upcoming attacks and brought the plans for the next week. She knew it was dangerous business, but as long as it could help Harry defeat Voldemort, she could care less. It wasn't until a few months later, that Draco caught her and joined along. He too knew the risks, but he just wanted for this war to be over, and spend the rest of his life with Y/n. They had promised to each other that if one of them had been compromised, that the other must keep silent and continue giving Harry information.

So here they were, creeping around the halls of Hogwarts, trying to get to the Room of Requirement, where Harry was surely waiting for them. The couple quickly scurried up the stairs to the seventh floor, constantly checking over their shoulders to see if they were being followed. They finally stopped walking when they reached the familiar tapestry. On the wall across from the banner, the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. As the door was opened, they spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione standing by a table, talking amongst themselves. The trio turned with hopeful faces when the door swung open as they noticed who entered the room.

Y/n was always grateful for the golden trio. They were some of her closest friends and she could trust them with anything. When she had first told them about her relationship with Draco, they accepted it with a little time and threatened Draco that if he ever broke her heart, they would curse him into next year. They weren't angry when she told them that she had become a Death Eater. They understood what was at risk and knew that she would never support Voldemort. It was at times like this, she was glad she had such great friends.

So far, the Order of the Phoenix have been able to intercept and stop any attacks that the Dark Lord attempted. Voldemort was getting frustrated but he didn't yet suspect any traitors on his own side.

"Y/n, Malfoy." Harry greeted as he pulled her into a hug. "Were you careful that you weren't followed?"

"Yes, everyone else back there still believes that we're in the manor." Y/n nodded.

"Then we better get this over with quickly before they notice." Hermione stated.

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

Harry studied the girl in front of him. Y/n's eyes definitely had heavier bags underneath, and she was noticeably smaller than he remembered. He knew that she was stressed and blamed herself, though nothing he said could convince her otherwise.

He remembered the first time she had told him of the plan, that she would act as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix from within the Death Eaters. At first, he disapproved of her plan. He didn't want another one of his best friends to die. However, he saw the desperation in her eyes, the desperation to do something right, to dig herself out of the hole of self-hatred she had placed herself in. He reluctantly agreed, giving Y/n what she felt was a sense of redemption, for being weak and powerless against the Death Eaters.

He watched her as she spilled out all the places that the Death Eaters planned to terrorize for the next week. Malfoy stood beside her, often adding some extra details that Y/n would forget. It seemed so long ago that the five of them were sitting at a table during Hogsmeade weekend. Ron would be playing wizard's chess with him, Hermione would be reading a book next to Ron, Y/n and Malfoy would also be seated and enjoying each other's company. Harry would kill just for another moment like that, where they didn't have to worry about a dark lord, where they weren't risking their lives everyday, where they were all together and enjoying life.

Of course, that wish wouldn't be granted until this war was over. He hated it. This war, everyone involved, they were fighting for him. His friends were willing to put their lives on the line for him, for the good side to win.

Y/n finished what she was saying, handing a couple of papers to Hermione. She bade them goodbye, saying to meet back here next week. Malfoy followed close behind, his hand moving closer to Y/n's until he had grabbed it and their fingers interlaced with each other. Harry narrowed his eyes at the sight, he still wasn't exactly the biggest fan of Malfoy, he still thought he was a prat. However, even if he hated to say it, he was grateful that Y/n had Malfoy with her. That she wasn't alone at the Death Eater headquarters.

He admitted that at first, he wasn't exactly the most enthused to hear about her relationship. As he watched their love blossom, Harry noticed the way that Malfoy looked at Y/n. It was always filled with affection and adoration for her, proving to Harry that this relationship was true and it wasn't just Malfoy toying around with her. Harry could see that the two of them were willing to die for the other, which was something that he admired, how deep their affections ran for each other. Slowly, he began to accept Malfoy as some sort of close ally, though never as a friend. Maybe once upon a time, he would have wished for their relationship to end but now, he couldn't find someone better for Y/n.

Take care of her, Malfoy.

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

A couple of months had passed. Months of acting as spies for the Order of the Phoenix. It was starting to get harder and harder to sneak out, with Voldemort ordering for there to be more security around the manor. The Dark Lord feared that if the Order had been able to interrupt all of his plans so far, then they would eventually plan to ambush him at the mansion.

Y/n and Draco were laying down on his ridiculously massive bed, Y/n's head rested in Draco's lap as he gently stroked her h/c hair. Suddenly, Narcissa Malfoy opened the door and walked into the room, giving the two teens a grave look.

"What is it, Mother?" Draco asked, trying to mask his fear at his mother's expression.

"Come downstairs. The Dark Lord is hosting a meeting with all of his Death Eaters."

Y/n and Draco exchanged worried looks but got up and followed Narcissa to the dining room. All the Death Eaters were seated around the large table, with two empty spots reserved for Y/n and Draco. Voldemort sat at the furthest end of the table, a terrifying smile on his face.

"Ah, there they are! My favorite young couple!" He grinned evilly.

The two did not reply and opted to silently sit down, trying to ignore the stares from everyone else. Under the table, Draco grasped Y/n's hand and gave her a small, comforting smile. The Dark Lord cleared his throat loudly and got up from his chair.

"So, as all of you know, the Order of the Phoenix has been able to foil all of our plans for the past few months," Voldemort started as he began walking slowly around the table.

"They always appeared to be ready, as though they were expecting us. It has come to my attention that we have a possible traitor in my inner circle." He walked past Y/n and Draco slowly, resting a hand on both their shoulders for a fraction of a second before he continued walking.

"They would have to be someone close to me. Someone sitting right at this very table. Only my most trusted followers may be seated here. They would have heard about my plans and reported it to Potter. So, who is it?"

Nobody moved or said anything. Any movement could lead to the Dark Lord believing you were the traitor. "Anyone? It's better to give yourself up now. No one else has to be hurt."

Still, everyone was as still as a statue. Even Narcissa had a blank look on her face to stop any emotion. "If you won't come out, then I suppose I'll torture it out of you. Each and every one of you." Voldemort sneered.

He pointed a wand at Y/n. "L/n! How about you be the first to feel how painful a 'Crucio' curse can be." He scowled.

"No wait!" Draco shouted while standing up, drawing Voldemort's attention from Y/n. "It's me! I'm the traitor! Torture me, not her!"

"No, my Dark Lord! It is me! Please, I beg you, don't hurt Draco!" Y/n cried out, also getting out of her seat.

"Don't listen to her! She had nothing to do with it! She's just trying to protect me."

Voldemort smirked at the two. He fiddled with his wand with his long fingers. His face was twisted with cruel smile and he chuckled a little.

"Ah, young love. You two would truly sacrifice yourself for each other. It's pathetic. Love is weak, darling. You'll learn that nothing good comes out of it. Take this, for example. Love is forcing you to suffer through pain, and for what? Just so your partner can live? How utterly ridiculous." Voldemort laughed. "Now, Malfoy, you're claiming that you are the true traitor and she's lying to protecting you?"

Draco nodded, though Y/n was sobbing and squeezing his hand tightly, begging him to just let her take the blame.

"Very well. You shall be taken in and executed for your betrayal to me." The Dark Lord walked over to Y/n and held her chin tightly between his index finger and his thumb. "Look here, my dear. Look at what love does to you. You plan to die for a person that will most likely forget you in 30 years. What is the point? The answer is nothing. After your lover here is gone, I hope you'll change your mind about something as useless as love."

He let go of her chin and adjusted his cloak. Two Death Eaters got up and casted a spell on Draco so he had heavy chains bound tightly against his wrists. Y/n couldn't move in fear of what the Dark Lord would do to her. She could hear Narcissa also crying out. Lucius stayed silent with a poker-face. Y/n couldn't even tell if he cared if his son was going to be executed.

"Wait, my Lord!" Narcissa shouted, her hand outstretched. Voldemort turned, seemingly amused at the pain in her voice. "My Lord, please. Lucius and I have been such loyal followers to you. I'm begging you to spare my son. Perhaps we could simply lock him away or prevent him from being able to hear us."

Voldemort seemed to consider this for a moment. He then nodded towards Narcissa, who's rigid posture relaxed slightly. "Very well. You are correct that the two of you have been some of my closest followers. It's a shame that your son couldn't do the same. The boy will be spared, however he will be tortured as punishment for what he's done. Then, he will never be able to attend any other meetings to prevent future plans from being spread."

He leaned closer to Draco, who had changed his expression to a blank one, similar to his father's. "When I'm done with you, you'll have wished that I had killed you instead."

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

Y/n paced around in Draco's room. Her head was spinning and she felt sick. From somewhere deep in the manor, she could hear Draco's bloodcurdling screams. Her hands were balled up tightly into fists, digging her nails into her palm. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she faced the nearest wall and punched it with as much force as she could. The wall cracked but she could care less. This was her fault. She should have told Harry to leave some of the plans alone to evade suspicion. This was her idea. She was caught and failed but Draco ended up paying the price for it. She punched the wall again, ignoring the pain that shot up her arm. It was probably nothing compared to what Draco was going through.

Again and again, she relentlessly attacked the wall. Again and again, she pictured Draco's poor face and listened to his screams that would surely haunt her nightmares. Her tears streamed down her face and they showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. Why did Draco love her? He didn't deserve to suffer the consequences of her actions. She should be down there. She should be the one that Voldemort was torturing. It should be her that was screaming, not her lovely boyfriend. Her fists were bleeding but she brushed it aside and continued her assault on the wall, screaming like a banshee.

By the time she was done, there was a decent hole in the wall and her fists were dripping blood. Did she care? No, not when her boyfriend was still downstairs and suffering. Any pain she was going through right now, Draco was feeling it ten times stronger. She leaned her head against the wall, sinking down slowly to the floor. She took her head into her bloody, shaky hands. The salty tears began to drip into her cuts, causing them to sting. She felt pathetically weak, wanting nothing more than for the floor to swallow her whole. She wasn't sure when or how, but she soon felt her eyes grow heavy and darkness surround her as sleep overtook her.

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

She woke up to the door opening. It was clear that the person was trying to be quiet, as they closed the door quietly behind them. Y/n was drowsy and wasn't sure what time it was. Outside, it was dark and moonlight spilled into the room through the open windows, barely lighting the room. How long did she spend on the floor? Her neck ached and her hands had dried blood all over them. She continued to watch the intruder, seeing them limping in her direction. At first, she didn't recognize them and her heart lurched thinking that it was a Death Eater coming to drag her downstairs. She tried to get up but as soon as she moved her head, the world spun wildly and she stumbled. Y/n looked back to the intruder but stopped as she saw the familiar blonde hair in the moonlight.

Immediately, she stopped and waited for Draco. He limped closer to her, his face contorting in pain with every step. He sat next to her on the floor slowly before rummaging through his pocket and pulling out a first-aid kit. He gently took her hands, seeing the blood, and taking out rolls of bandages from the kit.

"Draco..." Y/n tried to speak but Draco stopped her as he started to wrap her hands.

"I heard you screaming from downstairs. Clearly, I wasn't the only one who was tortured tonight." His face was the only thing she could see as the darkness hid the rest of his body. She could see his dark and tired eyes, his split lip and the various cuts that were scattered all over his skin. She immediately felt bad. Here was Draco, dressing her wounds before he could tend to his own, which were surely worse than hers.

"Draco, I'm fine. You're the one who needs medical help." She allowed him to finish wrapping her knuckles before she turned to him, with the kit between them.

"I'm fine." Draco brushed her aside.

"That's hogwash."

He reluctantly allowed her to help him undress, revealing all the bruises that littered his body. There was a large gash on his chest in the shape of a V. Y/n gasped and her guilt only grew. It was her fault that he was like this. If she had just been more careful, if she hadn't let him help her, if she hadn't-

"Y/n." Draco's soft voice interrupted her racing thoughts. She looked up at him with regret in her eyes.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this. I know that face, I know you're thinking of all the things you could've done to avoid this. However, the truth is, nothing could have escaped this. I was tortured and I would do it again and again if it meant keeping you safe from that Dark Lord bastard." He pressed a kiss to her bandaged hands, "Don't hurt yourself over things you can't control. We both knew what we were getting into. I love you so much and I would never regret giving myself up for you."

He looked so sincere that Y/n felt tears running down her cheeks again. Draco wiped away her tears before kissing her lips softly.

"I love you too." She whispered back before she pulled away and began bandaging his wounds. "Draco, how are we going to help Harry? Now Voldemort has locked us in this damned manor and there's no way to leave. I don't know any way to help him anymore."

"You've already done as much as you could. Trust me, you've more than redeemed yourself. Now, the rest is up to Potter." His warm eyes bore into hers as she finished wrapping, pulling her close to him and laying her head in his lap.

Y/n closed her eyes as Draco soothingly raked his fingers gently through her hair. He was right, she had done all that she could at this point. Now the two of them had to hope it was enough for Harry to defeat Voldemort.

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

Once again, I want to thank @beautifulbows924 for requesting this, I actually enjoyed writing this one. I’m sorry if this was triggering or really horrible to read. I am in NO way romanticizing torture, self harm, or blaming oneself. If you are suffering from any of these, please seek help. My inbox is always open and you are always welcome to PM me if you need someone to talk to. Thank you for reading this story. If you have any requests, feel free to ask. Until next time.

-Jade

192 notes · View notes