#in order to maintain feeling special or am i ignoring the facts in front of me in order to maintain the illusion that one day i might fit in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

be11atrixthestrange · 4 years ago

Text

Mischief Managed

TW: Smut

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Mischief Managed

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

Hermione always valued law and order. She was Head Girl after all, it was her job to enforce the rules. She knew them well, she understood them, and she believed in their importance… most of the time.

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

She resisted the appeal of rebellion for years, always staying in line and trying to keep her friends there too. But Ron must be rubbing off on her, because the allure was back, and she suddenly found comfort in the mantra of the Marauders Map.

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

She paced quickly down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, repeating the words that validated her choice to break school rules. The fact that the map only worked with the promise of mischief reassured her that sometimes rules were meant to be broken.

Hermione wasn't technically supposed to leave school grounds, but McGonagall granted her special permission this time. As far as McGonagall knew, she was visiting with her parents, who had returned from Australia for the week. Last time she got special permission to leave, she said she had to attend a funeral for a great-uncle. And the time before that, she was— allegedly— in her cousin's wedding. Hermione could only imagine the repercussions if McGonagall ever found out all of those had been shameless lies.

She reached her destination, and knocked loudly on the door. Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed when he approached. She probably looked like she was angry at him— Which would have been an easy mistake to make. For Hermione, anger and attraction had always been closely linked, and Ron was finally beginning to understand the differences between the expression she wore when she wanted to punch him, and the one she made when she wanted to shag him. There is something about a man that didn't back down from a screaming match— Ron was never afraid to stand up to her. He challenged her.

"Hello?" he asked when the door cracked open.

"Hello," she said, leaning against the door frame. "Fancy seeing you here."

He was smiling now. "We're closed."

She couldn't help but crack a grin upon seeing him smile. "I know."

"And," he continued, "we're not supposed to let customers in after hours."

Hermione shrugged playfully. "You've never been one for following rules."

With his signature lopsided smile, Ron opened the door to let her into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was true— Ron had never been keen on rules, and it was one of the many ways he challenged her.

"I suppose you're here for a different kind of service, then?" he asked, eyebrows raised imploringly.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her around so her back was to him. Then he gently slipped off her jacket to hang it up. Even though it was just a jacket, the effortless way he hooked his fingers into the collar and slid it down her arms made her shudder. It was the same easy way he would unhook her bra, or guide her knickers down her thighs. It seemed almost like he was ignoring another rule— one that said undressing someone should be a big deal.

The way he did it was entirely non-sexual, like he was simply opening a door, or pouring her a glass of wine. The casual manner in which he could take her clothes off drove her absolutely insane. Whether he was intentionally evading the eroticism of the act or not, all it did was inject sexual tension into every other mundane thing he did.

After he hung up her jacket, he placed his hand on her lower back to lead her to the lounge in the back room. That simple act made her mouth water.

There was an alcohol cabinet in the lounge, and the way he poured her a glass of red wine made her breath hitch.

And when he handed her the glass, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, all it was to Hermione was foreplay.

He could tease her by turning off a light, opening a drawer, or reading a book. It wasn't fair.

"So," he said, letting his hand linger for a moment behind her ear. "You must have missed me."

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to keep her expression neutral. "A little bit."

Thankfully, Ron removed his hand— if he had kept it there longer, it might have left a burn mark. He smiled that goofy grin, took a sip of wine, and interlaced his fingers with hers to guide her to a sofa in the corner of the room.

She winced— it was another broken rule— red wine on a white sofa. But she couldn't help but admire the way he expertly balanced his glass as he sank into the couch without so much as a drop spilled. She was about to sit next to him, but he placed a hand in front of her to stop her, and shook his head.

Hermione smiled— all while groaning internally— when he nodded toward his lap. She bit her lip, balanced the wine in her hand, and sat down facing him, one leg on either side of his.

His calm, nonchalant expression broke for a moment, and she could see a flash of desire in his eyes. It took just a few seconds for him to scan her body. His gaze lingered on her breasts, before moving to her thigh, where his hand was resting. He let his hand slide up her thigh, ever so minutely, so that his fingertips slipped underneath her skirt. Then, just as suddenly, his expression turned neutral again and he met her gaze.

His eye contact burned right through her, taunting her even more than his hand on her thigh. She quickly buried another sip of her wine.

"How's school?" he asked, inching his fingers further under the hem of her skirt. His expression was still frustratingly neutral.

"I hate not having you there." She reached a hand toward his face, gently brushing her fingers across the stubble of his chin. He was a little scruffier than she remembered, and she realized she had no idea what a few days unshaven would feel like against her neck, or her breast, or her inner thigh.

"Stressed?" he asked, pulling her out of her reverie. His fingers were slightly— she might have imagined it— stroking her thigh, but he maintained his curious gaze on her eyes.

Hermione nodded. "That's why I'm here," she said, letting her hand move from his stubble to his hair, which was longer and messier than the last time she saw him.

He removed his hand from under her skirt. She frowned, as the space on her thigh now felt cold and empty. It was only for a moment, to swiftly take her wine glass from her hand and place it on the coffee table. Then he pulled her a little closer to him and leaned back against the couch. His hand found it's home back underneath her skirt, and she tangled her fingers further into his hair. She leaned forward to place a kiss against his head, fully aware that the v-neck shirt she had strategically worn hung wide open for him.

Maybe she could tease him as much as he was teasing her. She shifted forward on her hips, sliding her leg against his hand, so that his fingers brushed the tip of her knickers. He responded by clenching her shirt into a fist at her lower back. Her lips moved down to the side of his head, and she slipped the tip of his ear between her teeth. A muffled groan escaped his throat, his stubble brushed against her neck, and his fingers dug into her thigh.

She released his ear from her grasp to move her mouth to his neck, biting down and sucking his skin into her mouth. He took in a sharp breath, and she paused, waiting for his signal to continue.

"You can bite harder," he said, tilting his head aside to give her better access. So she did. "Leave a mark," he added, and the thought of it— of marking him— just made her want him more. It was like writing her name on her homework, the only way to get full credit.

She could tell he wanted her too when his fingers slid to her knickers, and he dipped his thumbs underneath the fabric. He ran them along the edges, toward her center, until they met one another in the middle. She automatically leaned back slightly to allow him access, and he rightfully interpreted her shift in posture as permission to slip his thumbs down to her clit and caress her.

She moaned and bit his neck harder, and he responded with more pressure from his fingers.

"Do you care about these knickers?" he asked her.

She didn't care— just like her loose blouse, her knickers were a strategic choice. Their transparency made them fragile enough to rip, and assured that her warm, wet response to his touch wouldn't go unnoticed.

She shook her head without removing her mouth from his neck. He firmly gripped the fragile lace and ripped them apart. She lifted her hips so he could tear them fully off, and he discarded them on the floor below the sofa.

Her hips sank back down to his lap, his fingers edged back to her center, and he slipped his thumbs between her lips to spread them apart, giving himself the access he needed to stroke her.

She detached from his neck so she could press herself more firmly into his hand, and smiled at the mark she had left. She lifted onto her knees so her breasts hung dangerously close to his face.

"No bra," he mumbled, starting to trail kisses from her collarbone to her chest. "I love that." Another strategic choice. It didn't take much to push her blouse out of the way so he could cover her breast with his mouth. She felt his tongue run across her nipple, bit her lip, and let out a soft moan.

He increased the pressure of his fingers. One hand continued stroking her, while the other gently spread her, exposing more sensitive skin for him to touch. When her thighs clenched and buckled from the pressure, it was his expertly placed fingers that overrode them, their caresses simply suggesting that she open her legs wider for him. So she did, letting herself get lost in the moment. Then she felt one finger slip inside her, and her breath caught in her throat while her hands gripped his scruffy hair. One finger became two, and her breathing grew louder, a breathy whine escaping with every exhale. She knew he liked that sound. The vibration of his appreciative hum was rattling against her breast, his thumbs confidently massaging her most sensitive places, and she felt his teeth caress her nipple.

Then he released her from his mouth and buried his face into her chest. His hands kept moving on her, in her, and his unshaven chin against her breasts caused her whole body to quiver. "You're so fucking wet" came his muffled voice, and she could almost feel the corners of his mouth turning up into a satisfied smile. "Can't wait to fuck you...Hear you come…"

As a general rule, Hermione didn't love dirty talk. But when it was Ron...

She pressed into his hand while her fingers tugged at his hair. He increased the pressure of his strokes again, and she shut her mouth tight to muffle her growing moans.

"Let it out, Hermione," he whispered into her ear. "We're alone, you can be loud. Scream for me."

Ron was definitely an exception to the rule.

She obliged, letting the sound of her pleasure escape her lips. Ron pressed his lips against the front of her neck, letting a kiss linger there, and he kept his hands moving determinedly, teasingly.

The tension was about to peak, and she felt herself involuntarily clench down on his hand.

"That's right—" he said against the front of her neck, centering his thumb directly on the mound of nerves, pressing, and driving her mad. It was almost like he had studied her body, learned the rules, and knew exactly how to please her.

She felt heat rising between her legs, her breath deepening, and almost let out a moan of satisfaction—

But he swiftly removed his hand from between her legs, seconds before she would have unraveled completely. She groaned, now simply in frustration— he was an expert at pleasing her, and knowing exactly when to pull back to drive her mad. She should have expected this— they could go on all night. Half of her hoped they would.

"I'm not ready to be done with you," he said mischievously, before shifting her off of his lap and onto her back. He climbed on top of her, but just before she captured his lips with hers, he ducked away, landing on her neck.

"Tease," she sighed, while he chuckled. His hand slid up her shirt and cupped her breast, while he kissed his way to her ear.

"Takes one to know one," he whispered, and his hand progressed down her stomach, shortly followed by his head, lifting her skirt up when he got there. He kissed her inner thigh, and trailed his lips to her center. Finding her clit, he ran his tongue across her and it didn't take long for her to feel the build up again.

This time she wrapped a leg around his head to hold him in place, just in case he decided to tease her again. He smiled against her and stopped the motion of his tongue. When she loosened the grip of her leg, he slowly nodded, and resumed. She tried it one another time, pressing her leg into his head, forcing his lips against her, and he paused. She could tell he was smirking even though his face was obscured by her bunched up skirt.

"I hate you," she said, in a tone that implied the opposite.

He removed his lips from her for a brief, tantalizing moment, and locked eyes with her. "I love you."

He might have reached up and literally turned the corners of her mouth up in a smile, it was that automatic. She both loved, and despised, how effectively his words could make her melt.

She let her head relax against the couch cushion and her knees opened wide. He dove right back in, covering her with his tongue, and now that she understood the rules of his little game, she submitted.

Her breath picked up again and the muscles in her legs spasmed as she quickly approached her edge again, but she made every effort not to show it by muffling her voice into the couch cushion, steadying her breath, forcing her legs to relax…

But he didn't buy it. This time, he slowed his tongue and steadied his mouth on her milliseconds before she screamed his name, and broke contact right before she reached her hand to his head to try to keep him in place. What would have been a sound of satisfaction came out as a frustrated groan. With that same infuriating smirk he kissed his way back up to her neck, all while undoing the buttons on his jeans and pulling his erection free.

He pressed his tip against her opening, raising his eyebrows for permission. She nodded and wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed in.

They'd gotten quite comfortable being with each other this way. This was a far cry from the clumsy, self-conscious Ron of last summer. There were no awkward position shifts, mumbled apologies, nervous fumbles— this was a Ron who knew what she liked. He knew exactly where to touch her, how fast to thrust, how to angle her hips against her to make her bite her lip, close her eyes, and come undone. She was quite proud of how quickly he had learned the rules of her body.

But of course, it was his mischievous side that made him a Weasley, and breaking the rules was his ultimate motivation for learning them. It was his style as a quidditch keeper, a chess player, a prefect, and as it turns out, a lover.

So this time she didn't get her hopes up. She let him snake his arm around her lower back, lift her hips, press his thumb to her clit while she clutched blindly at the couch cushions, exhaling his name with every breath. He continued to pump into her with finesse, his own breath pace was picking up, and a rosy color creeping up his neck. He must have felt her tightening around him as she approached climax again, because he slowed his pace, removed his hand from her, and withdrew. He exhaled a stiff, cooling breath like it had taken incredible self-restraint to pull away.

"Turn around?" he said.

Was it a question? A command? As a rule, she didn't love being told what to do, but when it was Ron...

He didn't have to say it twice. She flipped over, balancing on her forearms while he gripped her hips and pulled her back to her knees. He held her steady and pressed himself into her for the second time, and her name escaped his lips as a moan when he started to pump.

Yes, Ron was an exception to the rule.

His fingers wandered underneath her, found her center, and began to stroke her, keeping pace with his thrusts. Like no time had passed, she was approaching the cliff again— it always happened more quickly the longer he teased her. Her legs buckled, she felt herself clenching down on his cock, and dug her fingers into the couch cushion.

He picked up his pace and pumped into her faster and harder until the couch was shifting with each thrust. She could sense that he was almost over the edge, and she was right there with him. She buried her face into the throw pillow to muffle the high pitched scream of his name, just as he pressed himself powerfully into her and let himself unravel, moaning expletives that that would have offended her if she heard them from anyone else.

He collapsed onto her, his fingers in her hair, but she still felt light under his weight, floating on the euphoria of their joint orgasm.

Well damn. Dirty talk, telling her what to do, swearing, and teasing her— none of that was in the rulebook. Leave it to Ron to make the wrong things feel so right.

They recovered, and Hermione turned back around to face him. He lowered his body back to hers, and captured her lips in a kiss. This time, when he tried to pull away, she pressed her hand to the back of his head to keep them connected. He didn't tease or resist, but melted into her and deepened the kiss, breaking the rules of his own game.

Mischief Managed.

#ROMIONE #romione smut #hp fanfic #hpromione #hp ficlet #hp fandom #ronweasley #ron and hermione #Hermione Granger #ron x hermione #romione fanfic

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miraculouscontent · 4 years ago

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*moon walks in* have you ever written anything for zutara? If not that’s cool *moon walks out*

I’ve written a piece, yes. It’s a what-if on Zuko’s scar getting healed by Katara instead of them getting interrupted after their conversation in the catacombs:

"It's a scar. It can't be healed."

"This is water from the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole. It has special properties, so I've been saving it for something important. I don't know if it would work, but..."

Likewise, Zuko didn't know why he allowed Katara to touch his scar. He'd long grown used to the fact that he had it, but that also didn't mean he let people idly touch it like it were something to gawk and poke at.

And what did he really expect? That his scar would be magically taken away, just like that? His life had never been that easy. He'd struggled all throughout his existence, and any wounds caused along the way were likely there to stay.

This girl was clearly fooling herself, acting as if it'd just be--

"Yeah, I--" Katara summoned forth her spirit water. "--I think this might work."

He gave her a weird look, though given that his neutral expression usually made him come off as sour anyway, she probably couldn't tell. "What?"

She seemed to ignore him, her spirit water bending around her hand. She looked up at him, eyes briefly squinting like she was unsure, then stared down at the spirit water with the same expression. She took a breath, apparently solving whatever mental debate she was having as she raised her hand to touch his scar again.

He flinched, and then hated himself for flinching. The water had been freezing.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Sorry. You're a firebender, so it must be too cold for you."

He was almost suspicious, but the look in her eyes seemed genuine. He had a slew of responses for her, most of which were sarcastic, but he somehow ended up saying, "It's fine. I can handle it," instead.

She tilted her head, concerned, but that just made him more determined to prove her wrong. He forced himself to stand rigidly in place, staring her down like he was ready for a fight.

She snorted - actually snorted - at him! Was she amused? The nerve!

"Alright, hold still," she ordered gently, raising her hand again.

Zuko tried not to look so obviously like he was steeling himself up. Thanfully, if Katara had noticed anything this time, she showed no sign of it, and the water touched his face without issue. He was surprised in a way, as he'd expected her to make the water colder just out of spite.

It was nice to be wrong, he supposed.

The water felt strange against his skin. He couldn't see what she was doing obviously, his left eye closed from the water while his right could see a bit of her hand if he really tried. Katara's gaze, meanwhile, was focused and steady, never wavering from where her hand was.

He was only forced to stop looking when the water began to glow. The temperature of the water suddenly stopped mattering, as he couldn't determine it. Maybe it was numbing him?

He could feel the vibration as the liquid shifted like a calming wave, like it were washing over the left side of his face over and over despite it already being submerged. At first, he didn't understand how it felt like it was seeping into his skin, seeking impurities and washing them away, without hurting him at all.

But water was the opposite of fire. His father's flames had burned him and the heat had dug so deeply as to leave a scar, so it would only make sense if water could reverse it. He'd just never imagined it was possible, and he was more glad than anything else that the light forced him to close his eyes as to avoid Katara seeing any more emotion than he was comfortable sharing.

Could someone's sins really be washed away with something as simple as water?

Suddenly, there was the sound of rocks collapsing nearby, jarring both he and Katara out of their state. Katara staggered forward in surprise, but seemed compelled to keep her hand on the left side of his face. Likewise, he tried not to move, unsure of how interrupting the process would go and not wanting to tempt fate.

His left eye couldn't see beyond the now-faint light of the healing water, while the right could only stare at Katara. She'd averted her gaze, presumably to look at what'd caused the disturbance, and although Zuko couldn't see it himself from where he was at, he knew well enough that she was capable and would say something if anything were wrong.

Katara's eyes widened. "Aang!"

Recognizing the name of the Avatar, Zuko's head twitched on reflex to look, only barely managing to keep the rest of himself still as Katara's hand was still on him. She went through something similar, shifting her body as if to run off before remembering the situation.

She peered up at him, the light intensifying now that her focus had returned. She tilted her head and eyed him critically as she ran her thumb where his scar was. He may've taken the critical gaze personally under normal circumstances, but he supposed it was just the water having an effect on him.

Finally, the light died down, Katara pulling her hand away along with the water. Zuko was immediately hit with the strange sensation of just the left side of his face, covering it with his hand in surprise at the shift in his vision.

Katara had already run off. He straightened, looking over to see her in the middle of hugging Aang, who was currently glaring at him. Iroh was nearby, rushing to Zuko to embrace him. It wasn't that Zuko wasn't happy to see his uncle, but he focused on returning Aang's glare, not sure what the Avatar's motives are.

Given that, he wondered aloud, "Uncle, I don't understand. What are you doing with the Avatar?"

Aang broke away from Katara and replied, as if he'd been asked, "Saving you, that's what."

Needless to say, Zuko didn't appreciate the cheekiness in his tone. He tried to move, ready to fight, but Iroh hugged him tighter to prevent him from going anywhere.

"Zuko, it's time we talked," he said sternly, but quietly. Finally pulling away - allowing Zuko to lower his hand from his face - Iroh turned to face Katara and Aang. "Go help your other friends. We'll catch up with you."

Aang bowed, then ran off for the nearest cave. Katara followed, but kept a slower pace to look back at Zuko.

He saw a slight raise of her brows, then a smile that wasn't directed at the Avatar, but at him. He tried not to show too much of a reaction to it, not matter how bizarre it was, but that didn't stop him from continuing to maintain eye contact until she'd fully disappeared into the cave.

Then, remembering himself and that Iroh had never answered his question, he turned. "Why, Uncle?"

Iroh faced him, looking serious. "You're not the man you used to be, Zuko. You--" He cut himself off, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open in surprise. Apparently, all the seriousness had just drained out of him. "You're really not the man you used to be!"

"What?" Zuko asked, but realized a second later exactly where Iroh was staring. Bringing a hand up to his face, he finally felt along where his scar was.

Or rather, where his scar used to be. His skin was smooth, his vision just as good in his left eye as it was in his right. In fact, the only sign that there'd been a scar at all was his lack of a left eyebrow, though that could grow back with time.

"The... Katara," he began, "she used a type of water she got at a spirit oasis."

"A spirit--of course..." Iroh's expression regained its calmness as he placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Zuko, listen to me. You are stronger and wiser and freer than you have ever been, and now you have come to the crossroads of your destiny."

Zuko raised a brow (well, the only one he had), not sure he understood.

Iroh continued, "It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good."

Zuko opened his mouth, but the conversation was cut off by a sudden earthquake. He managed to keep his balance, but a slew of crystals suddenly burst through the ground, separating him from Iroh and trapping the latter in a crystal prison.

He gaped at the sight, then assumed a fighting position at nothing in particular and readied himself, not showing any emotion even as Azula descended form the sides of the crystal chamber alongside what he presumed to be two earthbenders.

Walking to Zuko and Iroh, Azula kept up her usual demeanor despite his vanished scar. "I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle, but Zuko," she began, "Prince Zuko, you're a lot of things, but you're not a traitor, are you?"

Zuko glared. "Release him immediately!"

"It's not too late for you, Zuko," Azula insisted as she stopped in front of him, not paying his order any mind. "You can still redeem yourself."

Iroh shouted to Zuko from his containment in the crystals, "The kind of redemption she offers is not for you!"

"Why don't you let him decide, Uncle?" Azula challenged. She glanced back at Zuko, voice softening as she continued, "I need you, Zuko. I've plotted every move of this day - " She raised a fist for emphasis. " - this glorious day in Fire Nation history, and the only way we win is together. At the end of this day, you will have your honor back. You will have Father's love. You will have everything you want."

Father's love? Everything he wanted?

"Zuko," Iroh called out gingerly, "I am begging you. Look into your heart and see what it is that you truly want."

Zuko looked back and forth between the two, Azula's eyes unusually gentle while Iroh's were as gentle as they always had been. However, he lowered his gaze, not meeting either.

"You are free to choose," Azula said. She raised a hand, the gesture wordlessly telling her guards to leave the premises. That done, she simply walked off into the cave that Aang and Katara had gone.

Zuko thought back to Iroh, though still not looking at him. I'm begging you, he'd said, and it was familiar because he'd said it before. Zuko had been down this path before, being asked what he wanted and what his "destiny" really was back when he tried to take the Avatar's bison. He remembered it well.

I'm begging you, Prince Zuko! It's time for you to look inward and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you, and what do you want?

Prince. Iroh had called him that, even back then. Azula was doing it now as well, but...

Zuko knew deep down that it was one of her tricks. He'd played her games too many times; been played too many times. He wasn't foolish enough to think otherwise, but he also couldn't be sure that Azula would betray him completely.

Already, he could hear a fight ensuing in the the direction that Azula had gone. His feet were itching to move; to do something, but what?

Iroh spoke up, "You said it was water from a spirit oasis."

Zuko glanced over at him, giving him his attention.

Iroh continued, "Zuko, that scar you had was full of suffering and terrible memories. Had you truly wanted to go back to that, I'm sure that you wouldn't have been able to be healed from it." He shook his head, his voice thick with sorrow. "All this time, you've been trying to make up for something I've never held against you."

"What do you mean?"

"Think," Iroh urged. "You spoke up, yes, but against the idea of lives being lost! Are you going to apologize for that?!"

Zuko blinked, eyes wide at the fact that he'd never thought of that.

Iroh's voice softened. "I'm sorry that I let you into that meeting. I had to live with that guilt for the scar you had on your face."

"What? Uncle, no, I'm the one--"

"You were young, but you were already a far better Fire Lord than your father will ever be. You cared about the lives of others even if they weren't for your own benefit. I'm proud of you, and I'm so happy that you have a moment to start over again." He paused, squirming briefly within the crystal restraints. Realizing that he was firmly stuck, he looked back to Zuko, uttering firmly, "Go."

"But, Uncle--"

"Go!"

Zuko's feet finally moved. He dashed past Iroh and into the cave as quickly as he could.

He felt stupid. He felt pathetic. He'd spent all this time torn and twisted between two sides when his heart had made up its mind a long time ago and his body struggled to listen.

"The Fire Nation took my mother away from me."

"I'm sorry. That's something we have in common."

Common. Relating to someone was not something he often did. His father and sister had long since convinced him that he was less than nothing without earning his honor back, but what did honor mean? If he was less than nothing, why could he get so close to the Avatar and his bison with his own efforts?

The only thing he had in common with Ozai and Azula was blood, and it'd been boiling away ever since he'd been banished.

Who are you, and what do you want?

As he made it out of the cave, he jumped, letting out a blast of fire between the ongoing fight that Azula, Katara, and Aang were having. They all stared at him as he landed, his stance ready for action as he looked around at the lot of them. Now that his mind was clear, he could see the almost expectant look in Azula's eyes, along with a hidden threat if he dared to betrayed her.

He was no pawn. Not anymore. He wrote his own destiny.

"I'm Zuko," he declared firmly. "and I want the kind of honor that you and my father could never give me!"

He inhaled, then thrust his arms forward to let out a blast of fire so loud that it drowned his own cry of frustration. Years of pent-up aggression were put into the flames, and he just barely caught the sight of his sister's wide eyes before she almost seemed to become engulfed in it. It wasn't that he thought he'd truly destroy her with it, but finally letting it out gave him a sense of freedom he hadn't felt before.

Aang and Katara flung themselves back due to the heat, despite not being within the flames' particular range. Aang gaped, confused, then glanced at Katara for answers.

But she wasn't looking at Aang. She was meeting Zuko's gaze with her own. For the moment of calm in the battle, they simply stared at one another.

They said nothing, but shared an unspoken promise, held together by the simple commonality they shared.

Let's take down the Fire Nation together.

#other: non ml talk #((Could've sworn that I'd posted this a long time ago. Sorry about that!))#Zutara

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starrywhump · 4 years ago

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Hero is outnumbered and captured bonus points if it is a recapturing and hero knows exactlybwhat will happen of they are recaptured and fights it as much as possible extra bonus points if sidekick who was told to hide trys to help hero only to get captured themselves and hero feels worse because now SK will be subject to the one thing hero was trying to get them to avoid. Triple Bonus points if the situation of capturing is SKs fault cuse they didnt listen to hero

“Give up Hero, you can’t beat all of us,” the Villain smiled at the sight of their pray completely trapped.

A ring of the Villain’s strongest men surrounded the Hero.

The air crackled and popped, a faint glow surrounded the Hero. The adrenaline brought on from being so utterly outmatched feeding into their powers. Their hair floated around their face, their face was set in a serious grimace.

“Stop with the theatrics darling, you’ll hurt yourself.”

The Hero gulped, trying to maintain their composure. Their mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out a way out of this. If they stayed calm and focused, maybe they could win this. They didn’t have to fight them all, just enough to get an opportunity to escape.

Even if they couldn’t win, they would rather go down fighting then surrender to the Villain. To go back to... back then.

“Oh darling, you look absolutely amazing like this,” the Villain cupped the Hero’s face. They held it up to examine the Hero’s assorted cuts and bruises, the evidence of hours of the Villain’s hard work.

The Hero let out a broken keen, everything hurt. They didn’t have the strength to fight back or even move by themselves, so they let the Villain move them as they wanted.

“I think you can be even better. Some more bruises, the purple brings out your eyes. God and red is absolutely your color! We only have a little more to do, I will make you perfect.”

nonononononono

Fear and power surged through their body, their blood turned to liquid flames under their skin. A wave of light burst out from the Hero, knocking away the closest of the Villain’s goons.

The air grew hot as the Hero’s power extended out to slam against more of their attackers.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the Villain’s was calm, unbothered by the Hero’s sudden increase in capability. A smirk was plastered across their face, they had the Hero exactly where they wanted.

The color drained from the Hero’s face, the heat and light in the air disappeared. They were frozen staring at the Villain.

The Villain holding a knife against their teammate’s throat. Their Sidekick who they had made promise to stay away from the Villain.

But there they were wide-eyed and trembling in the Villain’s grasp.

“What are you thinking! I won’t let you go!” The Sidekick grabbed the Hero’s arms, pleading with them.

“You don’t have a choice, I need to face them. If it’s not me than the burden falls on someone else.”

“So let it fall on someone else! Hero, please it doesn’t always have to be you. Let me help you, so at least you’re not alone. I can fight... I can help!”

The Hero sighed, “I know you can. But that’s exactly why you can’t. Someone needs to be around if I... Besides, no one else needs to get hurt. This is my mess.”

“But-”

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll stay away, that you won’t interfere, no matter what.”

“o-ok”

“Let them go,” the Hero’s voice shook.

“No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think you aren’t in a place to be making demands.”

The Hero moved from their frozen stance, moving their hands up above their head, “I give up, just let them go. They won’t fight you, if you let them go, they will walk out of here without any trouble.”

The Villain ran their free hand through the Sidekick’s hair, “Hmmm, is that true little one?”

The Sidekick flinched away from the Villain’s touch.

“They seem pretty feisty to me. Since your egotistical, self-sacrificing tendencies have obviously rubbed off on them, I do believe they thought they were going to save you. That they are strong enough to save you,” The Villain chuckled, pushing the knife farther into the Sidekick’s neck, causing a few droplets to bead along the edge of the knife, “Tell me, do you feel strong now?”

The Sidekick ignored the Villain’s mocks, schooling their expression, even as their eyes filled with panic, “Fuck you,” they gritted out.

The Villain laughed at the Sidekick’s outburst.

The Hero glared at the Sidekick, silently telling them to shut up, “Then tie them up,” the moved their eyes back up to the Villain’s, “Leave them here. Even if they try to follow you later they won’t be able to find me, we both know that.”

The Villain grinned, clearly relishing how much the Hero was still affected by their time together, “And why are you so sure I want you back? Maybe I just want you dead.”

The Hero clenched their jaw, “you won’t kill me, you like hurting me too much,” tears stung their eyes as they spoke.

“I do, I do... But the thing is I very much enjoyed breaking you. And you’re already broken-”

“I am not broken-”

“Do not interrupt me, not unless you’d like your friend here to die.”

The Sidekick yelped as the Villain suddenly increase their grip’s pressure, blood flowed more freely.

“No! Don’t, I won’t interrupt!” The Hero had to stop themselves from running to the Sidekick.

“That’s hardly an apology,” the Villain’s smile grew, enjoying this game of cat and mouse. They both knew what the Villain wanted, and they both knew the Hero was going to give it to them.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You know better than that pet.”

The buildup of tears in the Hero’s eyes finally spilled over, trickling down their cheeks, “I’m sorry... sir.”

The Sidekick’s eyes widened at the sight of their mentor’s blatant surrender. The Hero looked at the floor, not wanting to meet their gaze.

“See what I mean? Broken. I don’t know if you’ll be fun anymore. But, here, delivered to me on a silver platter, is a new, fresh plaything. Full of fire, just like you were back then.”

“No! No, I said I’d go back with you. Stop with these games and just let them go!” the air sizzled as the Hero yelled.

The Villain’s paused, “and you will go willingly?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll do whatever you want, just let them go.”

“Hmmm,” the Villain mused, looking between the Sidekick and the Hero.

“I’ll go,” the Sidekick’s voice was small but firm, they were scared out of their wits but still trying to save the Hero.

“No, you won’t!” The Hero’s eyes blazed with even more anger than before.

“Hold them,” the Villain shoved the Sidekick towards some of the few of their workers left standing after the Hero’s attack.

The Sidekick reacted quickly fighting against the men trying to get a hold on them.

The Villain looked to the Hero, sending them an unspoken threat.

“Sidekick! Stop. Do what they say,” the Hero ordered.

The Sidekick paused for just a moment surprised by the Hero’s words. That was all it took for the Villain’s men to get a grasp on the Sidekick’s arms, roughly shoving them down on their knees.

“Tie them, gag as well,” the Villain ordered. The men nodded.

With that taken care of the Villain turned their attention back to the Hero, “For you, I have something special,” from their belt they detached a part of thick black cuffs.

They approached the Hero slowly, enjoying each step.

The Hero looked ahead blankly. They held themselves back from running or attacking as the Villain came to be only a few inches from their face.

“I’ll have you know these are custom made, I spared no expense,” The Villain reached up to grab the Hero’s wrists, moving them down in front of their body.

The Hero let their body be moved as the Villain wanted.

Up close the cuffs didn’t look that special, just two black bands of some type of metal with a bar between them, they softly clicked into place around the Hero’s wrists.

The Villain moved their hand to the middle of the cuffs, pushing in a small panel on the underside of the cuffs. There was a soft pop and the Hero felt a jolt of pain in the inside of their wrists. They grimaced.

“Oh if you think that hurts wait until you feel what happens in, three, two, one-”

The Hero took in a strangled gasp. Weakness, spread through them. Panic washed over them. Their legs gave out, they fell forward into the Villain.

The Villain lowered the Hero down to the ground, “it’ll pass. You just need to get used to it.”

The Hero couldn’t breathe. The warm comforting feeling of their powers inside them was replaced with a terrible hollow feeling. It hurt. They couldn’t move, or breathe, nothing worked. They weren’t whole and they couldn’t-

“Calm down it won’t be any easier to work through if you’re panicking,” the Villain stroked the side of the Hero’s face, “it must be hard suddenly losing something you’ve had since birth.”

The Hero looked up to the Villain in horror, “..h-how?”

“I made it just for you. Specifically to render you utterly powerless. These cuffs administer a dose directly to your bloodstream. And this is just the basic version, when we get back to the compound we can try out all the different variations I’ve made for you,” the Villain moved their hand up into the Hero’s hair, running their hand through it.

The Hero sobbed.

The Villain stood gesturing to a few of their men to come get the Hero. One of them lifted the Hero, holding them bridal style. In any other circumstance, the Hero would have fought tooth and nail to get out of such an embarrassing situation. But even if they wanted too, the Hero could barely move. Their head lolled back over the man’s arm.

“Into the van,” the Villain ordered. They looked over at the Sidekick, now bound with rope, “them too.”

The men holding the Sidekick began to drag them after the Hero.

“No! You...you said...they could go,” they Hero struggled to form the words. But they had to make sure the Sidekick would go free. They had to, or this was all for nothing.

“Really? I don’t remember ever saying that.”

No. Nononononono they were such an idiot. Of course, the Villain wouldn’t let the Sidekick go.

And now they were too weak to try and fight them, powerless to stop them from doing whatever they wanted.

This was exactly what the Villain wanted.

How could they have been so stupid?

Now the Sidekick would be hurt and it was their fault.

Why did they think they could save anyone, they couldn’t even save themselves.

Another sob escaped the Hero.

The man holding the Hero dropped them down into the back of the Villain’s van. The Sidekick was shoved in next to them, they stopped fighting the men to get over to the Hero. The Sidekick’s hands were tied behind their back, and they were gagged, but they tried to convey as much comfort as they could through their eyes.

The Hero didn’t notice, their eyes were squeezed shut, trying to work through the cocktail of pain, guilt, and fear in their head.

The van doors slammed shut. Leaving the pair in total darkness.

#whump #sidekick #hero #villain #hero/villain #superhero whump #creepy whumper #flashbacks #conditioning #pain #poison #sacrifice #capture #kidnapping #recapture #knife to throat #knifes #blood #crying

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ddaenggtan · 5 years ago

Text

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist }

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!)

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being.

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you.

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin.

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour."

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind.

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand.

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly.

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter.

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it.

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy.

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before.

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that.

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice.

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you.

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you.

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face.

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life.

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you.

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh.

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping.

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you.

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand.

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them.

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose.

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably.

“What?” You eventually ask.

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.”

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk.

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little.

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him.

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead.

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry.

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm.

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter.

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it.

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift.

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that.

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this.

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it.

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps.

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now.

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap.

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage.

Barely.

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips.

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it.

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face.

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride.

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist.

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other.

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here.

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something.

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son.

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious.

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues.

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault.

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den.

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years.

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal.

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you.

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late.

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend.

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat.

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late.

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table.

Away from you.

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it.

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset.

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there.

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest.

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not.

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him.

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction.

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you.

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed.

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time.

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about.

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all.

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name.

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?”

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair.

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens.

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room.

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather.

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart.

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still.

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you.

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you.

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?”

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered.

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone.

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own.

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused.

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it.

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it.

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?”

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have.

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain.

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin.

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better.

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants.

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day."

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up."

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back.

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth.

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies.

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod.

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it.

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle.

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious.

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed.

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away.

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight.

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath.

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say.

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you.

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes.

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt.

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut.

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier.

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop.

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice.

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.”

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out.

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl.

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills.

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard.

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in.

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release.

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit.

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out.

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back.

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later.

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more.

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other.

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made.

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes.

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown.

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon.

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick.

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa.

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes.

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle.

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it.

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond.

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm.

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red.

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug.

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board.

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know."

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy.

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected.

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had.

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably."

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you.

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

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lovetenya · 4 years ago

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✶ HAPPY BIRTHDAY IIDA TENYA! ✶

a birthday fic dedicated to bb tenya on his birthday. i love him so much.

pairing: tenya iida x fem!reader

warnings: none.

author’s note: thank you for all the love on my head canons from yesterday!

Tenya isn’t one to make a big deal of himself, even on his birthday. He’s not hiding the fact that it’s his birthday, but he’s definitely not broadcasting it to the other students. It’s not like he minds the attention, but he’s also not seeking it. He doesn’t want people to go out of their way in order to get him something because to him, it’s just another day.

He just doesn’t see today as anything special, not understanding why people are rewarded with sweets and gifts just because they survived another year. It’s not like he’s pessimistic; he knows this is a day to enjoy, but he’ll still just be Tenya Iida at the end of the day. A special event is no reason to lose focus, he thinks.

It’s the morning of August 22nd, and it is already disgustingly hot.

You and Tenya walk to class together everyday, eager to share what little time you have together. You’re just so busy, both understanding that your hero training always comes first. Of course, your relationship is important, but neither of you wants to hold back the other.

Every morning, Tenya calls you (obnoxiously early) to let you know he’s waiting patiently outside the girls dorm. On a normal day, you’d walk hand in hand to class, ignoring any teasing words from your friends. Tenya maintains the idea that public displays of affection are strictly forbidden in school (of course) and so you’re forced to drop Tenya’s hand at the threshold of the door. Today though, your hands are occupied with the gift you excitedly wrapped last night.

Your phone goes off, some song playing to alert you that Tenya is calling. You pick up the call and put it on speaker, slinging your backpack onto your back. Your voice still a bit groggy with sleep, you cheerfully start,

“Hi Tenyaaaa!!!”

“Hello Y/N! I’m waiting outside for you!”

You reply “Okay love, I’m on my way down!”

“Before you leave your room, you should probably put on sunscreen. Do you have some? I can quickly get some if you don’t have any on hand.”

“No no I have some! I’ll be down in a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay! I’ll see you soon, bye!”

“Bye!”

You hang up and slip your phone into your pocket, making your way out the door. The present in your hands is expertly wrapped in a midnight blue paper and has a silver ribbon delicately adorning it’s structure. You can barely contain your excitement to give it to Tenya, smiling lightly with anticipation.

————————

When you finally emerge from the girl’s dorm, Tenya smiles at the sight of you. He pretends not to notice the gift in your hands, not wanting to seem too eager.

He steals glances at the box every once in a while, unable to take his eyes off the way the sun glints off the silver ribbon tied tightly around the box. He hopes you didn’t spend too much on him, but he appreciates the sweet display of affection. You clearly took time out of your already busy day to get something for him, and it was so sweet of you to think of him and shoot, he wasn’t listening to what you were saying. He stops mid-stride.

Tenya desperately wants to know what is it, abnormally impatient. He interrupts you.

“Y/N? I’m sorry to interrupt you, but is that.. is that gift you’re holding for me?”

You thought he’d never ask! He’d obviously been looking at it the entire time you were walking, failing miserably to conceal his curiosity. The poor sweetheart didn’t want to seem greedy on his own birthday, in typical Tenya Iida fashion. Does he have to be so noble??? (yes, he does )

“Yes it is, birthday boy” you reply. “Would you like to open it?”

“Can I please? I mean, I can save it for later if you’d prefer that, but I’d really like to see what it is..”

“Open it! Open it! I’ve been waiting to give it to you for weeks!”

You have a seat on a bench shaded by a tree, andTenya blushes a little when he takes the package from your hands. His hands work at untying the ribbon, not wanting to destroy your gentle handiwork, but eager to reveal the contents of the sturdy box.

“What could it be?”, he thinks. His mind is racing and he just can’t seem to untie the silly little ribbon and oh my goodness he feels so stupid fumbling with this piece of thread when finally, it comes undone.

Thankfully, he doesn’t struggle to remove the paper. Tenya removes the lid to the box, pushing the tissue paper to the side, and his eyes widen when at last he sees it. A book?

He holds it in his hands, noticing its thick cover and sturdy binding. The man knows a well-made book when he sees one. His room at home is full of bookshelves, looking more like a library than a bedroom. He feels bad for a moment, lost in his thoughts at how it must’ve cost a fortune. He’s snapped out of it when he hears your voice.

“Soooo.... do you like it? It’s blank, but I thought maybe you could—“

“Oh, Y/N! I love it!” He pulls you into a hug, eyes brimming with tears. His strong arms hold you close, never wanting to let go of you and this moment.

He’s just so overwhelmed by your love. You know him so well, and his heart swells at the fact that you know he appreciates something so thoughtful yet practical. He can’t believe he’s so lucky. He can’t believe that you, the most capable person he knows, someone so admirable, loves him this much.

He pulls away, smiling softly at you. You kiss him sweetly on the cheek, knowing that’s all the class rep will allow even though nobody’s around to see. Even after all this time, it still causes him to blush profusely. You lean your head on his shoulder and he opens the book, reading the note he hadn’t noticed before written in the front cover. It reads:

“Tenya,

Hooray! You made it another year! I am so proud of you and your achievements, and I can’t wait to see where you’ll go and what you’ll do in the next year. I promise to be by your side and I will always be here to cheer you on. You inspire me every day to be the best version of myself and I’m so grateful for you pushing me to leave my comfort zone in order to improve. Thank you for caring for me on my worst days and celebrating with me on my best ones. I can’t wait to experience many more perfect days with you. Happy birthday, Tenya. I love you endlessly.

Love, Y/N.”

Thank you for reading! Love, TJ 🤍

MASTERLIST

#mha x y/n #mha tenya #mha iida #tenya iida #iida x female reader #iida x you #iida fluff #iida x reader #mha #iida tenya #my hero academia tenya #tenya iida x reader #tenya imagine #tenya headcanons #boku no hero academia tenya

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

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No Moving

Kanene’s note: One year ago I threw a surprise party (very small and cozy) in my house and, after some hours, one of mah friends suggested we played some old games from our childhood and I remember my first thought was “Hey, no. We’re not children anymore.” but I said nothing because that sounded a lot like what society would want me to say. We played. And that was one of the best days I’ve ever had. Good enough to give me inspiration for this fanfic. With a lot of chaos and dorky sides and chaos and tickles!!! So I'm giving this to myself as a gift, because, ya know... S e r o t o n i n! Soooo, the lesson? Idk. Be feral, do chaos, play and f**k the society, I guess. Happy day for us all!!! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Ler!Roman and Ler!Virgil with Lee!Logan and Lee!Patton. Around 3.700 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Eu vou traduzir ainda ;w;. Thank you so so so much for being with me through all this crazy and difficult year. It’s been a bless to have all of you in my notes, my askys, and my notifications! Take care of yourself, lollipop, you deserve. <33

[~*~]

It was a sunny day. The heat from the biggest star of our solar system being placated by a relaxing wind incessantly throwing the napkins from the so careful, yet messy – as if this wasn’t a tradition the quartet repeated affectionately every single year – decorated table. The friends positioned themselves around it. The surprise party’s rush being already over after all their screaming, singing, eating and bickering, leaving the four to lazily chat or stare the breeze carrying lonely flowers around Virgil’s – the one who offered his house as a sacrifice to the chaos - yard, making them float in the air for some seconds before forgetting them on the dirt again.

Virgil snored softly from the spot he conquered on the tabletop, taking a peaceful nap. Patton was saying, in the fastest pattern he could muster, all the dad jokes his brain managed to think only to see how much time Logan would continue to give him the silent treatment before finally – and figuratively, the owner of the only brain cell of their group would say if he heard this narrative, - exploded and Roman?

Well, Roman was bored.

“I HAVE AN IDEA!!”

Then he slammed his hands on the top of the wooden object, successfully scaring Virgil out of it and of his sleeping – leading the poor adult to fall. Not before kicking a cup in Roman’s direction, his moves being weakened enough by his fogged brain so he missed it and hit Roman’s carefully manicured hands, instead, – at the same Patton, by reflex, slapped the two poor persons who had the bad luck of sitting next to him. He gathered the perfect timing to interrupt Logan’s scared jump by his confused ‘Why did- why- Why did you hit ME?’ sputtering.

“Ow.” The one in red shirt held protectively his arm and hand next to his chest, protesting with his usual offended noises as analyzed the light red spots on them and purposely ignored the ‘What the FUCK, Princey??’ shouted by the host. “Ow. O-w. Are you guys seriously going to hit me every time I try to make your poor lifes better, your barbarians? You know what? I am offended. Your peasants. I am going to get my dear Amanda the katana and then I am- I am out.”

Logan deadpanned in his direction, lifting one of his eyebrows in his disbelief expression as the other didn’t give a single step to the exit. He did his best to maintain the façade as Patton fuzzed over him, hugging and apologizing and hugging and softly petting his head and offering cake before gasping and turning around to fuzz now over Roman. “… Okay. I am taking Patton with me.”

“Over my dead, haunted body.” Virgil quickly proclaimed before his tune got slurred, very much likely still sleepy. “I saw…” He balanced his hands in front of him, eyes wide and hair spiked, very much reminding of a scared cat. “I saw the angel of death, in all his tall dark, cold aura. In front of me. He was right before me, full of-” He moved his hands more, as if that compensated for his lack of words. “Emo.”

“…Thanatos?” Logan pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. That guy.” Virgil came back to his initial position laying down on the cold surface, yawing. “Totally emo.”

“Actually, when he was created-”

“Excuse me. Focus, focus!” The one who initiated the commotion snapped his fingers until all the eyes were fixated on him, glares traveling from interested to unimpressed. “My brilliant idea? That will light up this party and hearts? Drum the drums!” Silence. He turned to Patton, who was staring at a cute butterfly mindless flying around. “Patton! The drums!” The one wearing black rims seemed to come back to reality, drumming his fingers on the table. “Very well!” Roman spun, extending the suspense. Logan came back to scrolling on his phone, Virgil getting closer to take a look, both hiding a smirk when heard the pout in Roman’s tune. “You’re all jerks and boring. Let’s play S.T.O.P!”

That caught their attention.

“Roman, you are…” Logan talked slowly, as if trying to make his words as clear as possible, “aware that we’re adults now, right?”

“Aw, come on, guys!” Patton jolted upright. “Sounds fun! And I think Virgil’s yard is bigger enough to make it even better than when we played in middle school!”

“Exactly! And it was one of your favorites games when you were younger, remember, Specs? I think it’s a good way to celebrate that special date which is your birthday!” Logan scoffed at that, albeit his mind was somewhere else.

Roman wasn’t wrong, he really used to love this game, especially because he was good at it. His love for sports was often ignored by most of his classmates because of his good grades – Logan never understood why one thing would exclude other – therefore he was constantly forgotten in the team or even underestimated. Two things extremely crucial in a game like this. Roman noticed his contemplating face. “I mean, except you are afraid of losing. Again.”

“I did not lose! Kyle fell on me and he was the only one supposed to be out and not both of us and you. Know. It!”

“No, no, no! Claire said you were the one who tripped on your way and then YOU fell on Kyle-”

“That is nonsense! If Claire had stopped just one second her Dance of Victory, she would be able to see that, by the angle we both were on the ground there was no way I would be able to-”

“Oh, plu-e-ase. You are just a sore los-”

“What is this game?” Virgil questioned Patton, both letting the bickering fall on the background, who smiled widely, his gaze unfocusing a bit, probably watching some old memories of his childhood.

“It is a very simple but fun game!! One person stays next to a wall and, oh! We call him the Looker by the way! Or even some large thing and the others players stay the most away from him as possible. The person next to the wall has to count until a certain number of his choice and while he is counting everyone is free to wander around the place until he turns around, then every player has to freeze on the same spot and position they were. If you move and the Looker catches you, you’re out. You win if you touch the wall where he was. You can do everything you want as long the Looker is not staring at you.

“There was that one kid who managed to win the game by climbing a tree until he was close enough to jump from it and run to the wall before the Looker shouted he was out.” The one wearing two party hats as ‘cat hears’ stopped to breath. “Ah! Ah! Also! If you’re out you can choose to just watch the game or become the Looker’s partner and try to help him. Roman and Logan used to be the worst ever when together.” He giggled, sounding a bit hysteric.

“Hm. I think they used to call this ‘10 Seconds’ in my school, since you could count only further than 10 seconds.” Virgil then frowned. “Wait, why were they the worst?”

“Uhh, so, you see, the Lookers can use some… attics to try to make you move. Logan and Roman usually choose to-”

“I do NOT wish to participate.” Logan stated, crossing his arms stubbornly. Roman sighed.

“Well, you do you.” Roman then traveled his glare to the others two. “Are you guys coming? I’m the Looker.”

“I’m in!!” Patton excitedly got up, joggling his way to the yard, casting a slightly worried look at Logan, who was adjusting his chair in order to have a better view of the game. Virgil shrugged, taking off his hoodie and following them, quickly throwing a ‘You ok?’ as he passed next to the most professional of the group.

“Yes.” He deeply breathed, sounding calmer. “Yes, I am.” And then give him a bite of a smile.

Roman positioned himself before the colorful three foot tall concrete tunnel forgotten there by the last owner, barely catching with the corner of his field view his two friends whispering something to each other, the one wearing two party hats snickering behind his hand, bouncing as also choose a good position far away from him, who tried to not think much about what he just presented. A suspicious feeling crawled the back of his neck.

“Go.” Logan pronounced.

“Oneeeee, twooo, three, fourfivesixseveneight,” Roman turned away from them, counting in a tune just above a whisper. Patton and Virgil exchanged glances.

When he got at twenty, he turned.

Only to find Virgil laid on the grass, his arm extended to point something in the sky, Patton crouched by his side, his face firm in a puzzled expression staring in the same direction, hand above his eyes to block the Sun. Roman frowned in confusion, the curiosity tickling the back of his brain until he succumbed to it, also looking at the sky to - surprise, surprise! – find absolutely nothing!

By the time he stared at them again Patton now was in front of Virgil, both making what seemed like a very horrible parody of The Creation of Adam painting. Roman got closer, managing to clearly see the smug smile on Virgil’s face and Patton wobbly lips, very much likely holding laughter. He crossed his arms, staying stubbornly for some seconds before giving up, seeing that none of them moved a single millimeter.

“You two are so funny.” Roman rolled his eyes, sarcasm dropping from each word. Logan snorted.

This time the Looker counted at only fifteen seconds.

This time Patton was in Virgil’s arms when he turned, one leg suspended dramatically in the air. The third time Roman growled loudly as Virgil was on one knee, pretending to propose to Patton who was frozen in the middle of his faint. In the fourth he didn’t even have the chance to turn before two hands tased his sides, making his knees buckle but being held in the same place when a pair of arms that hugged him from behind, capturing the poor adult in a flow of high-pitched squeaks and surprised laughter at each squeeze and spidering deposited just above his hips.

Some minutes later soft snorts followed him to the ground when he was finally freed, flames running on his face and his arms firmly pressed at his sides, the ghost tickles leading to a sea of giggles dancing in the air.

“Enough.” Logan cut the moment, all the eyes on him when he got up, stretching and loosening his party tie. The Looker recomposed himself in order to sneak pokes and squeezes on the other two, who quickly dashed their way back to the yard. “You both clearly aren’t taking this seriously enough.” A dangerous gleam took over his eyes, staring intently to Roman, who instantly got the same kind of shine in his own glare, nodding in his direction. Both too much preoccupied to notice Virgil and Patton silently high fiving in the distance.

The game started again, now a very different electricity dancing in the air. Logan sensed an old feeling of nostalgia resting on his back as he analyzed the place and his opponents as things went by. Roman turned for at least three times – the perfect number for things to get really interesting, - before he decided to finally move from his place.

Silent steps, he went right to Patton. Logan breathed in relief, taking the opportunity to adjust his strategic position half behind the tree. Patton kept a pattern of switching from moving too fast in a round and then barely taking a step in the other, however, as Roman stopped before him, and for the way he soundless snickered as The Looker changed his target to Virgil, his weakness was still holding his laughter when stared for long periods of time.

Virgil was sitting on the grass. Again. A very good tactic when you tend to fidget or tremble a lot. He would stay in the same position for some rounds until in an explosion of energy dash forward when Roman wasn’t paying attention. The Looker crouched in front of him, his index finger pointing and almost touching his nose.

“You. I don’t trust you.”

And then there was Logan.

“You,” Roman stared in distance – not because of fear pffff of course not - Logan’s form half hidden by the foliage and trunk of the medium tree, his glass making his eyes gleam in a light even more enhanced due the shadow provided by the plant, the rest of his face being partially hidden because of his bangs falling on his features. “are fucking creepy. Stop.”

In the next round Patton gave everyone a heart attack when he screamed since he didn’t heard/saw Logan approaching his spot. Two more rounds. Virgil sneezed and lost his balance in a not very ideal mid-run position. Out.

“Oh, thank gracious, great goodness!! Come here, Knight Mare!! I have an idea!!” Virgil barely had time to stop swearing for losing before being recruited by Roman, who immediately began to whisper in his ear.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Patton asked, both being close enough for the question doesn’t need to be spoken above a murmur.

“Not a good thing for us both, I am sure.” In that moment The Lookers turned and a cold shiver ran Logan who, for the way Patton trembled, wasn’t the only one. Adrenaline started pulsing on his veins when they approached, although the birthday person had no idea of why. His old memories too much buried under newer ones for him to catch them.

“Nooohoho.” The cat lover whined and the fact Roman clearly saw that but did nothing to point it, his only reaction being to expand his grin, worsened Logan fears, a ray of recognition finally shining on his mind. That should be how karma feels.

“Look at you both, just standing right there, not being allowed to move an only single inch. What a sad fate, don’t you think, Princey?”

“Oh, absolutely, emo. A horrible, wondrous thing, indeed. But you know what that would be perfect for?” Roman now was just a few centimeters away, the infinitesimal distance being cut when he inclined forward, his breath tickling Patton’s – Poor Patton – ear. “Revenge. You know, Pattycake, Hot Topic here told me the previous attack on my amazing person was your idea. And now that I stop to think, what a wonderful idea, don’t you think, Pat-pat?”

Virgil pulled lightly Roman’s shoulder, sensing the other about to crack but yet having too much fun to end this all so early. “But not now. No touching, right?”

“Oh, right, right. Of course, no touching!” He wiggled his fingers, barely away from the poor target’s ribs, his cheeks already beginning to get pink from blush. “No touching, no touching, no touching, but, most important than anything else: no. moving.”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil took the opportunity to walk around, stopping right behind Patton, who firmly closed his eyes, the smile he carried getting bigger. “Because the exact, very moment when you can’t take the teases anymore so you break and move?” He tsked. “Then all your protection will be over and you will be all helpless and vulnerable for us to tickle,” He almost purred the words, in the slowest way possible. “tickle, tickle, tickle for hours and hours. Can you imagine that, Popstar? Our fingers prodding and squeezing and tickling every single ticklish spot they find?”

“Ohoho.” Roman evil laughed. “Tickle spots? My Dear Imbalanced Romance, our pipsqueak here doesn’t have any tickle spots. He IS a tickle spot. Ah! I can almost hear his hysteric high-pitched squeaks and giggles! Such an adorable, beautiful, cute melody to my ears. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop, Virgil. It’s just all too beautiful and intoxicating, you know?”

“Mm hm,” The other seemed to stop to think. Patton felt like he was going to melt at any moment. “Well, we could always just keep going forever.”

“Of course!” Roman again ignored the slight trembling of the cat lover’s chest, probably due all the giggles trapped there. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful and oh, so, so fun, cutiepants? Receiving all the tickles and nuzzles and raspberries and tickle hugs and tickly butterfly kisses forever and ever and ever? ~” He sing-song the last part.

“But,” Logan almost jumped in the same place, not even realizing how much keyed up he was before Virgil’s breath attacked the back of his defenseless neck. Suddenly all his nerves were hype-aware that he couldn’t turn around or run or even rub away the tingles. Goosebumps ran freely across his spine. “Let’s not forget about our so sensitive nerd here too, right?”

“Sure. Sensitive.” If he didn’t know Roman for all these years, Logan would almost swear he was the Cheshire cat, his smirk almost blocking Patton who hugged himself behind him, giggling quietly. “Because the serious, smart, professional Logan would never be ticklish, right? That is such a childish thing and he definitely, definitely outgrow it for now.”

“Yup. I am sure that, if we slowly and thoroughly spider our fingers all the way up from his sides to his armpits, being sure to give each and every rib a special attention since we don’t want to let anyone feeling left out, there will be no reaction.”

“Absolutely! No reaction at all! Not even if we squeeze the hollows of his hips, or scribble on his already quivering tummy, or massage his shoulder blades or lightly, almost not touching, scratch his armpits… It will be all in vain since our birthday boy is not ticklish.”

“Which means: No wheezy, frantic laughter.”

“Or sputtering among his squeals.”

“Or cute snorts. Don’t forget the snorts.”

“And what about when the snorts get mixed with his belly laughter?”

“Ohh, that is some good shit you have there.”

Logan was dying. He was fucking dying and the only thin line keeping him alive was his stubborn nature. He could already feel his barrier cracking and crumbling right before him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find both Lookers walking away back to the tunnels, not taking long before starting to count, this time out loud. The one with the, now freaking out, braincell began to snap his fingers non stop, trying to get away some of the built excited energy, some titters escaping from his lips during his happy stimming.

Roman and Virgil looked at each other and then the adorable scene right in front of them, deciding to have mercy and wait patiently for Logan and Patton – who yet didn’t stop giggling and hugging himself – to calm down.

(…)

One. Move.

And in the next second, they both were tackled on the ground.

“No, no, no!!! No!!” Patton was already giggling, trying to run from Roman’s firm hug, attacking with squeezes and scribbles in every spot he succeeded to research on the Looker as he also tried to escape from his friends’ hands attempting to hold him in the same place. “Wait, wait!” He cried, barely catching a glimpse of Logan’s trashing before an idea popped in his mind. “If we all gang up on Logan, I will tell about his secret tickle spot!!”

“Patton!!” Logan’s protest came out difficulty between his tight grin due his constant effort in trying to buckle Virgil from him, both struggling to immobilize the other and playfully rolling in the grass. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Pffft.” Roman said, a happy cry following his sentence when he finally managed to hold one of Patton’s hands, intertwining their fingers so the cat lover wouldn’t try to pry it away. “Nonsense, I know his tickle spots.”

“Not all of them. ~”

“Patton, I am to going not figuratively end you. Get OFF, Virgil-”

“In your dreams.” He crackled. “Also, Patton, I’m listening.”

“Virgil! Don’t align with the enemy! And, of course I know all of them!”

“Even the one…”

“Patton, no! Stop!” Roman even if concentrated in tickling Patton’s knee so he could sit on his legs, got the slight tremble in Logan's voice, his curiosity one more time starting to take over his brain.

“Sorrey, sorrey, Lo! You know I love you but-”

“Patton, please.” Logan almost smiled as he fought his way to hug and trap Virgil from behind, but losing his balance as the other quickly turned and delivered a raspberry on his neck and quick squeezes on his left thigh. “dON’T!! I-I am going to bakeEEK - Fuck! - you a whole batch of cookies if you don’t tell them!”

Roman caught in the offer, his curiosity immediately perking up, answering in a bat:

“I’m going to tickle you both to pieces if you don’t tell us now.”

“Sorrey, Logan,” Patton tried to sound apologetic, but his excited smile made this task more difficult. “it’s you or me.”

“I’m going to tell them about your calves!” Logan threatened at the same time Patton said “It’s his lower back!”

“TRAITOR!” Both also shouted in synchrony. In a blink of eye Roman let Patton go and helped Virgil to make the most serious one of the group lay down on his stomach.

“I despise you all.” The aforementioned pronounced.

“Aww. Come on.” Virgil lowered, searching the other’s eyes, grinning. “Aren’t you enjoying the view?”

“400.000 years of evolution for humanity to become this. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You know, talking like this makes me think you don’t want us to give you your so dearly craved birthday tickles, Pocket Protector!”

The three of them stared at the other, looking carefully for any slight indication that Logan was truly uncomfortable with the situation, receiving as response only a scoff, the blush painting his face as a whispered mumble flew from his mouth.

“You’re so cute!” Patton squealed, giving a light tickly kiss on the back of his neck, leading the attacked to suppress a small giggle which progressively got louder as the cat lover tickled his armpits, Roman and Virgil seeing unfazed by Logan’s squirming. “Okay, okay. You have to tickle his lower back but starting with reeeeeally slow scratches at his sides before speeding it to the fastest scribbling you can muster as you move to his spine!”

Logan hid his hot face behind his hands, the yelps and snorts already escaping between his fingers. He was, objectively, going to love every single second of this.

#Ler!Roman #Ler!Virgil #Lee!Logan #Lee!Patton #brief Lee!Roman & Ler!Virgil/Patton #Teases #Teasy cute nicknames #playful tickles #Sanders Sides tickles #Happy stimming #Sanders Sides tickling #tickle fic #Logan playing is inspirated in one friend of mine who is adorable until he starts to play then he becomes a fucking thing #out of a fucking horror movie #If he got too much close of me I would scream and I'm not kidding. He was terrifying and he loved this xD #Ohhh so that is how writing a self indulgent fic feels like-#My first plan was to make a LAMP series with all their birthdays but life said 'no' and then I just worked with what I had and #being pretty honest??? I am so so so much proud of it.#Especially looking at my first tickle fic ever which I wrote around this same time last year #Btw when I used to play this at school light tickles and teases were allowed xDDD #EXTREMELY RARE but allowed xDD #Self care is writing ur self idulgent fic while listenning your fav nostalgic playlist

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

Stress Reliever - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 3.9k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello! As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ll be publishing longer scenarios which could actually be considered small one-shots. The first theme will be stress-relieving/angry sex (’cause let’s admit it, that’s one great way to blow off some steam and ease some tension)

I’ll be following the official order, so I’ll start with Namu uwu.

I don’t really think I need to say this is smut, and filth and an unedited mess. Let’s just move on to trigger warnings.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing; unprotected sex within an established relationship (wrap it before you tap it, and please get checked for STIs regularly) lingerie kink, DADDY kink (like, how could I not) plus Joon is fucking packed and we all fucking know it, dirty language, allusions to cheating (but like, not really, how could one possibly cheat on daddy big dick Joon? Ha, not me), spanking, ddlg/bdsm dynamics, brat!reader, oral (female receiving, mentions of male receiving), peaches and cream (don’t look at me like that, how could I NOT do this) marking, biting, overstimulation and ruined orgasm (listen, daddy makes the rules, it’s not my fault, next time be less of a brat), cumplay, mild angst (lack of attention, abandonement issues). RIP to y/n’s deceased La Perla set. I suppose this is all? This is quite pwp, but not really. About 3900 words.

Also, here you can find my masterlist. Enjoy!

Your day had been phenomenal, your boss had complimented you and assigned you a new office as you joined your new team. You had celebrated going out for lunch with your new colleagues, getting to understand the dynamics and roles within the groups. Since you were given a free afternoon to receive a general briefing and celebrate your promotion you went off work earlier than usual, deciding to get yourself a nice new dress and some celebratory lingerie, all Italian lace and silken bows.

But your mood was sour. Namjoon didn't even bother reading your text, ignoring you all day, which normally would not bother you, but considering how hard you had been working for that promotion and how tired you were, but most importantly considering he knew how much it mattered to you, it really upset you. And you were meaning to make him pay for it.

As you arrived at home you started getting ready, you bathed and did a face mask, hair all pretty and soft, fixed your nails. You felt gorgeous. Gorgeous and furious. Which was normally a very entertaining combination when you added Namjoon, who was currently absent without justification. He should have arrived home twenty minutes ago.

When he finally came through the front door, you were lounging annoyed on the sofa.

"Hi."

You did not answer. And he didn't even notice, nor look at you.

He went straight to the bedroom, got rid of his clothes and wore something comfy, going straight to the kitchen.

"No dinner?" He asked.

"I'm going out." He looked up to where you were sitting, a little baffled.

"And no dinner?"

"I called at the Garden, booked a table for two at nine. You could get ready in fifteen. It's on me."

His forehead creased. "I'm a bit tired."

You raised a brow. "I'm going out anyway."

He huffed out. "Okay. Let me wear something decent."

Five minutes later he headed out, in jeans and a white shirt. He looked completely insane, the sleeves slightly rolled up, his hair pushed back. "Am I okay?"

"You look divine." You were too turned on to deny him a compliment. "I'm sorry I made you dress up. I really wanna destress."

His half tired look in his eyes had disappeared, probably thank to the brief shower he had taken. "It's good, baby."

You headed to the restaurant, his hand perched on your knee during the drive, his head heavy on your shoulder. He still hadn't mentioned your promotion.

A nice waiter welcomed the two of you, he must have been new, considering you had never seen him before and you and Joon were pretty much two regulars there.

He accompanied the two of you to the table, your hand reaching for your man, while he looked absolutely lost, completely disconnected from you. Even at the table you tried to spark a conversation but he was entirely unresponsive, only mentioning that he had been working on his new collaboration and he had been late because he had to meet the singer. The fact that it was a woman low-key triggered you. It's not like you were jealous, or maybe you were, but jealousy was a feeling you had felt before and you had always had the self control not to act upon it. However, mixing that mild jealousy with the disappointment of him not acknowledging your promotion and your special effort for your looks, together with his detached demeanour had you starting something you never thought you would have the guts to do.

You started being excessively polite -- borderline saccharine -- to the cute waiter, asking for his name and behaving in an almost too friendly way, offering him nice smiles and sugary 'thank you's.

Not that Namjoon seemed to notice.

You were getting half an idea to gently grab the waiter's wrist and write your phone number on his forearm just to see what your boyfriend would do.

By the time you finished your main course and got ready to close your meal with dessert, you were so upset you gave up on your usual tiramisu, telling Geonwu -- the waiter -- to hand you the bill. Namjoon seemed to get out of his bubble for a second, as you turned down the dessert, suddenly triggered by your strange change of habit. He must have really upset you, he thought as you gave the waiter your card and waited for the payment to be processed.

A few minutes later you entered your apartment, kicking your shoes and heading for the bedroom. You hoped he would trip over your discarded shoes. Damn him.

In front of the mirror in your ensuite, you started taking off your makeup, slowly undoing your hair. You hated him.

He reached the bedroom too, standing in the door between your room and the bathroom, looking at you through the mirror.

"I know what you were trying to do at dinner." He crossed his arms. "I don't like it at all."

"I wouldn't have done it if you had payed attention to me." You took off your earrings and your watch. The necklace he had given you for your first anniversary. "But you were… Busy."

"So you wanted me to pay attention." He came up behind you, pressing himself against your backside. "Sorry thing I already knew you would land that promotion." He kissed your neck, slowly starting to unbutton the mother pearl buttons on your silk camisole. "So I thought I could keep you on edge and make you snap at me, make you so angry you would finally take all that tension off on me."

You held your breath as he nibbled at your neck. "And I know you were trying to rile me up and make me jealous just to get me to fuck you like crazy, uh?"

He finished with the buttons and untucked your shirt, discovering the black lace corset underneath.

"Was this part of the plan, little vixen?" He toyed with the strings of the undergarment, his sex now hard against your back.

You nodded eagerly.

"Then bend the fuck over cause Imma teach you a lesson." He lifted up your pencil skirt. "These are new, aren't they?" He said teasing the fabric.

"Yes, daddy. I bought them for you." You just wanted him to snap, hoping that your submission would spark up his dominance.

You saw a shiver ran down his spine. "So kind, but you didn't bend over yet. And this won't save you from your punishment." He said, pressing a heavy hand between your wing blades and pushing you down. "You know daddy likes giving you attention, so why didn't you ask?"

"I didn't want to bother you, daddy." You already felt a whine in your voice, a petulant, bratty tone emerging.

“I still don't get whether I should treat you like the brat you are or like the good girl you’re desperately trying to be.” Suddenly you felt the heavy smack of him delivering the first hit. You moaned out in relief and arousal. “You better keep quiet. You kept quiet while you should have told me you wanted me, so now that you wanna talk you’d better keep it down, brat.” he delivered another spank, making his point clear. “Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.” You lifted your head, your eyes rolling up from under your lashes.

He licked his lips and used his spare hand to hold your chin up high, so to maintain eye-contact. “Good girl.” He caressed your bum delicately. “Shall we say that you received your promotion at nine a.m., and now it's almost midnight. That makes it fifteen hours of you keeping it from me. Considering that you’re always so eager when I spank you I won’t include the first two blows I already gave you. Now hold tight because dirty girls like you don’t learn their lessons from soft punishments.”

By the thirteenth blow you were gripping the sink, knuckles white, face blushed with effort, a coat of arousal and sweat slickening your thighs. Namjoon’s tempo had slightly slowed down in order to softly brush your sensitive skin between a spank and another. “Come on, two more, ____. Enjoy them.”

He hit you with full force. Considering that you’d got used to the pain, your tolerance adjusting to his attack, he must have really put some fury in the last two.

Now finally done with your punishment, he moved you slightly to the side, so to use the sink to cool down his palms. “Next time I should use a paddle. No use hurting my hands for punishing a spoiled brat.” Some part of you already felt a dark craving, moaning at the thought. He snickered at how hungry you always were for him.

He passed the cool skin of his hands on your glutes, offering you a small reprieve, taking care of you without giving any explicit sign of your punishment being over. You knew it wasn’t, and it didn’t surprise you when he hooked his fingers in your panties and dragged them down your legs, kneeling to unhook them from your feet. “Those don’t deserve to be ripped.” Now at perfect eye level with your slit, he couldn’t help but give in to the smell and taste of you, licking up your soaked thighs, nuzzling his lips against your sex, delivering one sweet kiss. “Can you take it like a girl good and make daddy happy or do you wanna slow down?”

He probably knew how exhausted your muscles must have been from the position you were into. However, you wanted it your way. “Make daddy happy.” You murmured.

He smiled like a madman, still between your thighs, biting one of the few spots that weren’t bright red on your behind. He raised to his feet, towering over your bent shape, his nimble finger undoing his belt and jeans, gripping his hard on and using the tip to tease your entrance. “Baby, you got me so hard, watching you take your spanks so well, your ass so soft, quivering like jelly. You should see yourself right now, baby. Looking like a wet dream.”

He caressed down your shoulders, using his free hand to hold your waist. You knew he wouldn’t bend down to kiss you, that would be so out of character. And considering he hadn’t stretched you out, you also knew it would hurt.

“Ready?”

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.” He offered you his hand in your own and you gripped it hard as he slowly sinked in. It took him half a minute to bottom out. A deep groan followed. “So good, babe.”

You released a heavy breath, squeezing you inner muscles lightly. “Woah baby, fuck.” He swore viciously, carefully beginning to roll his hips, both his hands on your waist, one of yours joining there, reaching for his fingers, craving for a small sign of affection while he was being careful not to hurt the bruises already forming on you ass. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, looking for the smallest sign of discomfort on your face and posture. Once adjusted, you arched further, allowing him a shift in angle that had him hissing and throwing his head back. His beautiful, dark hair followed, catching your attention in the mirror. His chest, still covered in the shirt, inflated, straining the buttons on his sternum. You would have done anything in that moment to kiss the small triangle of skin appearing at the base of his neck.

Now newly focused, his eyes opened and fixed on you, while one of his hands moved to your breast, still covered in the corset, toying with your nipple, then gripping the flesh with his big palm.

“Joonie,” you dared murmur as his pace intensified.

“You good baby?” He slowed down again, in fear he was hurting you.

“So good, Joonie, I just—” You shut up a second, needing to focus before you continued your sentence. “I wanna cum, daddy.”

“It’s okay baby, let me take you there.” He made you turn your face and caressed your cheek tenderly, using his other hand to reach between your thighs, drawing taunting, tight circles on your clit, with just the right pace and pressure. God only knew how he did that.

“Keep squeezing me baby, so close.” He gripped the back of your neck for leverage and his thrusts got stronger and faster, you completely losing it over the way his hips stayed closer to yours and pushed harder, pulling out just an inch before plunging in again.

Your orgasm washed over you with sweet relief and you were sure it would have gone on for a bit less than a minute hadn’t Joon pulled out of you, his hand still toying with your clit, his vicious fingers way too skilled not to know how much he was affecting you -- and how wrong it all felt. “Joon, inside!” You cried out, barely coherent, only now noticing in the reflection that his arm was moving aggressively, his lower lip caught between his teeth before it slipped out, his jaw angrily clenching in a way that made you want to turn around and suck him into oblivion.

“This ass still needs something.” He spat out through gritted teeth.

Your mouth opened in wonder as you felt him press his tip to your skin, his hot flesh turning even hotter when he groaned out almost desperately, one hand still on his shaft, milking out his cum.

“Do you like that, daddy?” You teased, wanting nothing but his fucked out babbling to praise you.

“Love it, vixen, you nasty little fucker. I’ll put a damn ring on your dirty finger someday.” He muttered, his high almost over, the hand on your mound parting your labia before he slipped in sloppily, some drops of his orgasm ending inside you, while the rest made a sticky mess between the two of you.

He crumbled forward, mouth at your neck, his spine arching up away from you as he kept pushing his hips against yours, chest deflating with heavy breaths. One of your hands removed the fingers still massaging your sex into overstimulation. You were both a sweaty bundle of limbs, exhausted and brainless.

“I’m so in love with you, ____.” He whispered in your ear. “My perfect baby.” The hand under you slipped to your chest, helping you handle the weight of your upper body. “Can you wait like this a couple seconds? I need to clean you up before we make a mess.”

You nodded sleepily while he stretched towards the closest towel, wetting the cloth under the tap and placing it against your skin as he slipped out. The arm under you helped you rise up, his mouth immediately kissing your cheek.

“Did I go too hard?” He asked, his free hand touching you in tenderness and devotion, stroking your heated skin. He used a clean corner of the towel to swipe the dirty spots on your behind, then cleaning himself roughly.

“It was amazing.” Your head propped on his shoulder, your neck stressed because of your previous position.

“Let me take you to the bathtub and ease out the knots on your muscles, yes?” He discarded the cloth and turned you around, kissing you softly and fondly. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you again. “You’re amazing.” He pressed his mouth to your forehead, “and now I wanna take care of you.”

He took off your corset with care, knowing how sensitive you were, but also how tired your body was, incapable of handling any violent push and pull to undo the garment.

“Tell me you didn’t ruin it.” You said, voice imploring.

“No. I was careful. I still regret ruining that La Perla I got you for your birthday. The colour looked so good on you.” He blushed, completely oblivious that two minutes ago he had been an unbelievably sexy, self-confident man spanking you and ruining your orgasm without the smallest hesitation.

“I feel so spoiled, I took a bath this afternoon.” You murmured, thinking of all the wasted water.

“Would you prefer a shower?” He asked, already closing the tap.

You nodded. Your muscles were sore but your conscience was still awake.

Opening the enormous shower he loved so much, he helped you sit down on the wide seat on the wall, flinching as the cold marble made contact with your bruising skin.

Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes, feeling sorry for the pain you were feeling because of his selfishness.

“Can I make it better?” He asked, caressing your face gently before pushing your hair back. His concerned tone made your insides melt.

“I think that having a proper orgasm with your tongue between my legs would help.”

“You’re a spoiled brat. Never gonna learn.” He tried sounding angry, but the smile on his face told you otherwise. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You opened your legs wide as he kneeled before you. “You mentioned putting a ring on it, Joonie.” You teased, the inside joke between the two of you now sounding way too serious after he said it in that context, with that voice just an orgasm ago.

“Careful or I’ll wife you.” He kissed your inner thigh, biting playfully. “Fill you up with babies.” He bit the other side. “Have you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

“Please do, kind sir.” You begged, laughter spilling from your mouth.

He positively laughed at that, his fit of giggles tickling your skin. You were overflowing with love for him.

“Sounds shady coming from a lady who was flirting with the waiter at dinner just tonight.” He started sucking at your skin, the tissue bruising easily after his harsh treatment. “Do you think I forgot?”

Here he was again: gone Joonie, welcome daddy. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed sarcastically against your other thigh, now just a couple centimetres away from your heat. “Do you think he could have done you like that?” His hand grasped your breast, squeezing it viciously. “Like I did tonight?”

“No, daddy.” Your mouth opened as he started rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you think he could discipline you?” He asked, his voice matching the love bite on the soft skin of your crotch where your thigh met your pelvis.

“Of course no, daddy.” You repeated, shifting delicately in your seat to accommodate his mouth.

“Good.” He perched your legs on his shoulders, then his tongue licked your labia forcefully, your flesh and his adhering perfectly, the bridge of his nose rubbing your clit deliciously.

The angle was difficult, and if it hadn’t been for the whole sink ordeal, you would have probably balanced yourself on your arms and used your hips to fuck his face midair, but from the way he was looking at you, you could tell Namjoon knew he couldn’t trust your body like that tonight, the risk of you slipping because of a lousy grip or tired muscles too high.

Much to your dismay, he parted his mouth from your cunt, meeting your gaze. You loved seeing how blissful he got when he was using his mouth between your legs, his brain too focused to think of anything else. It was his go-to stress reliever.

“Hold tight. Be careful.” He said with intention, as he moved an arm behind your back and brought you closer to his face, making you plant your feet on the ground as he laid down on the empty floor. With some attentive adjustments, following his lead, you ended up straddling his face, his head luckily away from the stream of water falling from the shower head.

“I need you to ride daddy’s face, little vixen. Show me how much you wanna belong to me.” He teased with a dark growl.

“That sounds so good daddy!” You squealed enthusiastically. “I’m going to make you so proud.” You promised, smiling at him before his mouth latched on you, his arms snaking around your waist and dragging you down.

“I’m so happy when you lick me, daddy.” You said, voice mischievous, while he enthusiastically picked up his pace.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” His tongue lashed on your clit mercilessly as he kept pumping your most sensitive part with the muscles of his cheeks, hollowing them with the force of his movement.

“I’ll learn...” Your breath caught in your lungs. “I’ll be so good to you.”

His hands helped you balance yourself attentively, chasing your high, until you felt your eyes closing, the room spinning around you and your hips moving on their own command, your climax already possessing you.

“Daddy, please, that’s...” The breathiest moan exited your mouth, your arms collapsing, Namjoon’s hands on your hips the only thing keeping you from smashing face first against the tiles. He moved his head with wide sweeps upwards, accompanying you through your high. In the meantime you managed to readjust, your weight now again in control, you eased Namjoon’s arms, thinking of how tired he must be.

You lifted yourself up, sliding away from his face, down to his lap.

He was incredibly hard, once more, quite unusually. “Please, let me ride you, daddy.” You tried to persuade him. “I’ll do all the work.” You were literally batting your eyelashes at him.

He laughed breathlessly. “How can I tell you no, baby, when you sound so nice?”

“Can I?” You pouted.

“Yes, baby.” He groaned.

You were on him in two seconds, grabbing him, squeezing him gently in your palm -- at which he shut his eyes tight -- and holding his tip towards your entrance, sliding on it flawlessly.

“You feel amazing, ____.” He breathed from his spot on the floor, still in the same position as you’d left him after your mind-blowing climax.

You moaned out at the sound of your name, going already pretty fast to make sure that you both came as soon as possible. Namjoon’s hands led your vicious pace while your hand, already toying with your core, made sure that you could come to the edge of your third high within a few minutes. “Joonie, tell me you’re close.”

“Keep going, baby, almost there. Use your-- oh that!” His mouth opened, eyes scrunched. “There!”

You smirked naughtily as you worked him with your kegels, hips gyrating on him.

“Joonie, help.” You called out, noticing that his arms were going slack.

Exhaustion was getting to the both of you, but as he pushed up, chasing his sensations, you felt the change of angle and in a couple seconds you felt his hot cum fill your every crevice, your own orgasm mixing with his as your upper body collapsed, mouth searching for his neck. “Joonie.”

“Here.” His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your legs started shaking and giving out. “I’ve got you, ____ baby.”

Your nose brushing against the side of his jaw, teeth scraping gently against the vein on his neck, you let your body be lulled by his breathing.

“Love, let’s finish this shower and head to bed, yes?” He caressed your hair back, lovingly.

You have little memory of what happened afterwards, except his weight beside you on the mattress, the lights switching off his heartbeat calling you to sleep.

#bangtan sonyeondan #kim namjoon #kim namjoon scenarios #kim namjoon one shot #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #rm x reader #rm scenario #rm smut

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megalony · 5 years ago

Text

Fatal attraction- Part 2

This is my new royal! Ben Hardy series I am working on which I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in an arranged marriage to form an alliance and they both want to make this marriage work. But when they have to get to know each other and there is a power play in their marriage, things aren’t going to be easy.

Enjoy.

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

"Oh no, you don't have to do that, I'll do that." The words came out slightly rushed like (Y/n) was trying to win a race or put her order in first before anyone else. The way her cheeks flushed when she spoke and how she was quick to step away from the window and try to hurry but still look composed made Ben bite the inside of his cheek as he watched her, wondering what she was doing.

(Y/n) punctured her teeth into her lower lip in a feeble attempt to stop her eyes from wandering over to the left to catch sight of Ben, but the more she tried not to look, the more desperate her eyes became to drift over his way. When her wide orbs fell on his frame, an uproar of butterflies started to flutter through her stomach and chest.

How did he have the boldness and the brass nerve to stand there and get changed whilst there was someone other than (Y/n) in the room? How could he carry on dragging his rather tight fitting trousers up his legs and begin doing up his belt whilst a maid had entered the room? If it had been (Y/n) stood in her underwear when someone else entered the room she would have been running to hide away but he didn't even blink or look like it bothered him at all.

What bothered (Y/n) more than her husband's bold nature was the fact that three servants had already been in and out of their shared quarters and it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning yet. (Y/n) may have been brought up in a royal household such as this but her anxiety never died down through the years. People wandering in and out never settled well with her despite them simply doing their jobs and now she was married it made her beyond paranoid.

What if she and Ben grew to become closer than married strangers? What if they joked around or messed around or were childish or got frisky and someone were to hear or walk in? (Y/n) would hate for anyone to wander in and catch her and Ben in a compromising position, she would never be able to look them in the eye again.

Reaching the rather large bed a few feet from the window, (Y/n) leaned over the bed and pulled the covers from the maid's hands as nicely as she could manage.

Needless to say, the maid was quite taken aback that (Y/n) was telling her not to make the bed, which was part of her job. (Y/n) could make a bed herself, she could set the pillows straight and pull the covers up just fine, she could tuck in the ends of the sheets if they were loose and make it look presentable. (Y/n) could iron her own clothes and hang them away, she could dress herself and make her own chambers look presentable without someone needing to waltz in and do that for her. She was privileged but she was not incompetent or ignorant.

"It's not a problem ma'am, I can do it." The maid whose name (Y/n) didn't know yet had a gentle smile that looked motherly and endearing and the look in her eyes suggested she understood, or at least she thought she understood something.

"I- I appreciate it, but I can make my own bed, there's no need for you to do that. I'm sure you have other things to do around here." (Y/n) tried her best not to sound rude or patronising because she wasn't trying to be mean, she was just trying to maintain some control and order. She didn't want everything done for her, (Y/n) didn't know how things had been for Ben but for herself, she did a lot of things herself.

"If you're sure, ma'am." Taking a step back, the maid clasped her hands together in front of her and nodded her head as if trusting (Y/n) to make the bed which wasn't an important task in anyone's eyes.

"Thank you... um, could you see to it that no one comes in every morning to make the bed, or draw the curtains? No one has to tidy up in here or try to put the clothes away, I can do all of that myself." (Y/n) looked down at the cover as she started to pull it up and drape it over the pillows once she straightened them out in their place. (Y/n) noticed over the past three days that Ben ended up scattering the pillows everywhere, he seemed to drag them with him whenever he moved or turned over.

She also realised that Ben had quite taken to wrapping himself around her like a vine and smothering her at night, not that she was really complaining at all. (Y/n) had never shared a bed with someone before and as much as she hadn't imagined it going like this, she was finding that she quite liked the closeness.

"Certainly ma'am." With that the maid left the room, a slightly confused expression on her face because she wasn't expecting that. She would have to tell all the staff so no one ended up going in their room in the morning by mistake. This wasn't how anyone else in the royal family did things.

"You're blushing."

Ben's comment snapped (Y/n) out of her thoughts and it only caused the redness to deepen on her features and her head to tilt down so she wasn't looking at him. Her hands froze in place on the cover when Ben's hands grazed over her own to help straighten the cover.

"Doesn't it bother you, having people wandering in and out every morning?" (Y/n) slowly tilted her head up until her eyes could see Ben through her lashes that were acting as a veil to protect her. There was a look of vulnerability and curiousness in her eyes and on her face that seemed to reel Ben in like a fish on a hook.

"It used to, but it looks like that won't be happening anymore." The slight curve of his lips showed he wasn't mad, he didn't seem displeased or pleased, he looked rather neutral about the subject as if it didn't affect him at all that (Y/n) had just dismissed the staff from entering their room in the mornings.

"I just... why do we need someone to open the curtains in the morning? I can make the bed, I think we are both capable of pulling a curtain back and tidying things away or hanging up clothes. What if we were ill or just wanted a lie in for once?" Why was it necessary for them to do hardly anything at all? They weren't special, they were just people and (Y/n) couldn't stand people doing everything for her, it made her feel like she was incapable or not in control.

(Y/n) lifted her head when the bed was made and Ben started to move, her eyes followed him as he walked around the bed until he was standing next to her but continued to stay silent. For a moment, she thought he was just going to walk away and not even comment on what she was saying. But then he leaned closer to her until his lips were brushing against the shell of her ear.

"Now I think you're just trying to keep me in bed all to yourself."

The moment those words were whispered against the shell of her ear, shivers ran down (Y/n)'s spine and a smile she could only describe as cheeky fell onto Ben's features before he started to walk away.

(Y/n) was trying to piece together who Ben was and work out what he was like but the only thing she had deduced over these past three days was that he was very, very cocky.

Turning around, (Y/n) tried to settle her heart that was beginning to beat a lot quicker behind its confinement of her ribs. She didn't need to read anything into what he had just said, he was teasing her because it was part of who he was. But nevertheless, his words made her chest feel like it was pumped with air and it made her blood rush to her skin. Trying to steady herself and walk slowly instead of hurrying to keep up with Ben, she followed him out of their bedroom and into the smaller adjoining room in front that was more of an office than anything else.

Staying quiet, (Y/n) slowly walked over to the desk that was placed just a few feet from the large window that gave a view of the gardens that (Y/n) was desperate to explore. The sight the palace gave was certainly a very eye catching one, it was far better than any of the views (Y/n) had seen from the palace she lived in when she was growing up.

Leaning her weight back, (Y/n) sat on the desk and held onto the edge but she kept her gaze focused on the view she knew she would never quite get used to seeing every day.

"I think I'm going to take a walk today." (Y/n) knew she didn't have to tell Ben where she was going or where she would be every second of the day, but she still thought she would tell him what she was planning to do today. It would strike up a conversation in the least and she knew Ben must know some places around here he could recommend for her to go and visit.

"Okay, there will be someone about downstairs who can escort you." Ben let his eyes lower from looking at (Y/n) to looking at the clasp of the watch he was trying to strap to his wrist. His eyes switched between the watch and the papers on the desk he was also trying to read quickly so he knew what kind of meeting he would be walking into soon.

"Hmm? Oh, I don't need anyone to show me around, I'll be fine I shouldn't be going too far." (Y/n) didn't bother to look over at Ben and she wasn't being rude, she was forming a map of the grounds in her head and the perimeters she was going to go beyond. There was so much she wanted to see, there were so many gardens of the palace that (Y/n) wanted to explore but today she wanted to explore the outskirts of the palace.

She wanted to see what it was like outside of the palace perimeters and observe the people and the streets and houses and businesses. She had seen very little when travelling here and most of her time was either spent in the palace or at the church to get married. She had been here for a week now and she felt it was time to do some exploring. (Y/n) would rather explore on her own than have someone show her around.

"No, I meant a guard, you can't go out on your own. Just find two of them downstairs and they'll head out with you. Go wherever you want and they'll follow silently." Ben held his wrist up so he could push the clasp of the watch in place before he lowered his arm and reached out for one of the papers. His tone wasn't dismissive but he was talking like there was just a small miscommunication between them.

Ben knew there would be a few guards without anything to do, (Y/n) could just find anyone she liked and ask them to go with her and they wouldn't object. She needn't know they were even with her, it would be like two shadows following behind her.

Turning her head to look at Ben, (Y/n) felt her brows furrowing and her lips pursing as she pushed herself off of the desk she was sitting on. She didn't want a guard, she wasn't in danger. No one was making threats towards her and no one was going to suddenly attack her, she wasn't going to stray too far or get too close to anyone, she was only going to explore her new homeland.

Biting her cheek to stop herself from arguing with him, (Y/n) curtly nodded her head, resting her hand on his shoulder for a few seconds before she started to walk away. He wouldn't know straight away if she went out alone and (Y/n) certainly wasn't going to tell him that it was her intention to do so.

She didn't need to be supervised everywhere she went.

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

"Where have you been?"

Turning her head to look back over her shoulder, (Y/n) rose her brow at the rather crude tone of his voice. She didn't have to inform him of every movement she made during the day and he had no need to sound so rude towards her. She had gone out like she was permitted to do, she hadn't broken any rules by leaving.

"I told you this morning, I was going out for a walk to explore." Turning her head back so she was looking at the bookcase in front of her, (Y/n) scanned through the various novels to try and find something worth reading.

"And I told you that you can't go out on your own. That's not me deciding that rule for you, that's a rule I have to go along with as well you can't just ignore it." It was clear by the way Ben was suppressing the aggression in his tone that he was trying very hard not to get angry but he couldn't help it. He hadn't said that just to try and spite (Y/n) or to gain control over her, no one in the Royal family could go out on their own because it was dangerous.

"Ben, I don't need to be followed everywhere, I was perfectly fine on my own today." (Y/n) spoke calmly because this was not an argument she wanted to have or one she saw worth having. But the look on her husband's face told her that it was too late. Ben's expression was really making (Y/n) feel like she had done something wrong, he was looking at her like she had just told him she was walking to the moon.

"You're not being serious, are you?"

"Why not? I'm not the Queen and no one knows me here, they've barely seen my face in any wedding photos. I understand you're trying to be cautious but I don't need-" The people barely knew what (Y/n) looked like and she had guessed this morning that they weren't going to recognise her. All (Y/n) had done was walk out of the palace grounds and head down near to the town, she didn't get close to anyone and when she did she had turned around and made her way back again.

(Y/n) didn't want constant eyes on her because it made her unsettled, she knew Ben was cautious and it was for protection but she didn't need it. When she was growing up she had made sure she had some time alone and that she could go on walks without any guards having to follow her, (Y/n) wanted things to be the same here too.

"Why not? You're married to the King, that's a pretty big reason not to go out alone (Y/n). Whether you like it or not you're a royal and you're high priority, walking around this place alone isn't an option and people know you left, they saw you. Surely back home you never went out alone, you're the princess for God's sake." Ben didn't know how things worked back home before (Y/n) came here but he knew how things happened in his country. She couldn't go anywhere alone, not even in the palace that was now her home.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) grated her teeth together before she tried to walk out of the room. But she didn't get very far before Ben's hand reached out and gripped her upper arm to stop her from walking past him. His head turned to the side so their gazes locked and when (Y/n) tried to pull away, he held her tighter.

"I know this is hard and it's not what you want, but you can't go around acting like you're nobody when you're somebody. People will recognise you wherever you go, protection is a necessity."

"It's only a necessity when you give the people cause to pose harm to you." (Y/n) hadn't done anything, she hadn't been here long enough to give the people anything to make the mad at her except marrying Ben. People started to attack when they felt they weren't being treated equally or when someone of the Royal family did something stupid or rash or wrong. (Y/n) had done nothing of the sort.

Pulling her arm away, (Y/n) tried again to walk away from Ben but he simply moved so he was stood in front of her. He didn't like leaving arguments unfinished, he wanted to sort this out now rather than pick up the pieces later.

(Y/n) felt like part of her was being childish because she knew why she had to be protected. Protection had been a part of her whole life, but for once, (Y/n) wished she didn't need it. She wished she could be normal, that she could be a nobody and have a decision in what she did and how her life went.

"I know privacy and normality matter to you, but your protection matters to me. Next time you decide to wander off without a guard, come and find me. At least that way I can go with you."

When Ben finished speaking he moved out of the way to let (Y/n) walk past but she found herself rooted to the spot, her eyes unable to look away from him as she tried to decipher if he was being serious or not. He was willing to let her go out without a guard if she would let him go with her instead. Ben would rather go along with (Y/n) than have her go somewhere alone.

But that wasn't what he said that was catching on (Y/n)'s thoughts. He said that her protection matters to him, he wants to keep her safe.

Did that mean that he cares about her?

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #royalty #fatal attraction

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swan--writes · 5 years ago

Note

For your Dewey song request: Miss Americana and the heartbreak prince! Please!💗

Back to the high school AU we go! This isn’t connected to Where I’m At though. Totally different reader. I did also do a female reader - typically when people don’t specify I go with gender neutral, but I couldn’t resist this one. If you would like a gender neutral reader insert, feel free to drop me another request!

Words: ~1,730 (…listen, I am soft and so are you, so let’s all be soft Dewey lovers together)

You were not looking forward to this.

You felt guilty, honestly. Your mom was so excited to send you off to your dance. The dress you picked out was a ballgown cut, pink, sparkly, thrifted. She didn’t know that you’d taken her money and bought a twenty-dollar dress from the shop just off of Main Street. The rest of the money had gone to burgers and milkshakes for two, and half a cab ride home.

But your mom had no idea. She had simply requested you twirl for her in your new (old) glittery dress, dolled you up with golden eyeshadow and nude lips, and sent you on your way with your date. He was tall and he was handsome and he guided you through the doors of the community center with a Prince Charming smile. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and if you were being honest, you were fine with that.

Guilty indeed.

He sat you down at a table and asked you to wait for him. With doe-like eyes, you nodded and watched him walk away. Not for the first time since you bought your dress, you found your thoughts drifting to two weeks ago, two burgers, two milkshakes, and a basket of fries. The diner had been chilly, and you hadn’t had a jacket. It wasn’t a particularly good diner – the food was average at best – but they committed to their theme. 60s music, waitstaff on rollerblades, pink and black and white everywhere, coin-operated jukebox. That afternoon, you lost count of the Pink Floyd tunes you had ordered on that jukebox. You were offered practically unlimited coins, and you made use of them. If you hadn’t paid the bill, you would have felt guilty about that too. As it was, you felt guilty enough for being there.

The sound of a familiar laugh brought you back to the community center. Valentine’s Day decorations, Valentine royalty ballots, and across the room…

You know I adore you.

Dewey Finn. At the dance. Wearing a suit.

It was a shabby suit, faded and worn in places and most likely borrowed from his dad. But still.

I’m crazier for you…

You knew that the evening would most likely find him smoking under a tree at the edge of the parking lot an hour from now, but the fact that he showed up at all was shocking.

Than I was at sixteen.

Dewey Finn had been voted Most Likely to Live in the Basement Forever on the unofficial superlatives. He was the most proudly anti-establishment human you had ever met.

Lost in a film scene.

What was he doing at a dance? And, for that matter, what were you doing there? With a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend, in an itchy twenty-dollar dress and heels that pinched you everywhere?

Dewey met your eyes. Your breath involuntarily caught. For a moment, he only stared at you with wide eyes. Almost as suddenly as he caught your eye, however, he frowned. Why–? “Hey, sorry about that,” came your date’s voice from above you. Oh.

Your date stepped in front of you, blocking your view of Dewey. With no other choice, you smiled up at the guy before you. One at a time. “Hey,” you replied. “Did you vote for Valentine’s court?”

“I did, and I heard a rumor that you did too.” He sat beside you and bumped your shoulder with his.

No cameras catch my pageant smile.

“Oh yeah? And whom, may I ask, did I vote for?”

I counted days, I counted miles…

“Yourself, I’d think.” Oh God. He really was a nice guy, but this was the last thing you needed. Class president, Honor’s Society, martyr of the cheerleading team, Valen-Queen? Any way you could opt out of one of those?

To see you there.

You forced yourself to maintain your playfulness. “Smart choice.” Your date laughed. You snuck a glance up to where you had been looking before. Dewey was gone.

To see you there.

What followed for the next hour was exactly what you had been expecting. Snacks, punch, dancing, more punch, ‘extra special’ decorations. Chaperones would interrupt every so often for unnecessary announcements, your friends interrupted you and your date every so often. You danced with everyone who asked you. You lost track of your date.

American stories burning before me.

You were pressed against so many people and you knew all of them. All of them wanted so badly to know you, it was dizzying.

I’m feeling helpless.

The chaperones kept winking at you when they saw you with your date. Why did they do that?

The damsels are depressed.

You were more relieved to lose track of him than you were to have his friendly face. His well-meaning face.

It fell fantastically flat. Much as you hated it, you knew who you wanted to see, and you had lost track of him too. You weren’t even sure he was still in the building. Although, you had somewhat expected that, and you had an idea of where he might be.

I counted days, I counted miles…

It was chilly outside, but you didn’t want to return for your jacket. There was a small pond at the end of the parking lot, below a grassy slope. Someone was standing by it. as you drew closer, you could see more and more clearly who it was.

To see you there.

At this point, you didn’t have it in you to be disappointed when you saw the cigarette. With him, you found you didn’t mind.

To see you there.

“I was surprised to see you here,” you said.

“I told you was coming.”

“That was two weeks ago, you could’ve changed your mind.”

“Well, I didn’t. Why didn’t you come say ‘hi’ earlier?” Dewey asked. The darkness surrounding you softened his voice. “Afraid your boyfriend, Jock McSmirkle would see you?” He started to raise the cigarette to his lips again, but seeing you scrunch your nose in disgust, he dropped it and stamped it out.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and he’s a nice guy.”

A barely noticeable crease formed in Dewey’s brow. “Good.” His voice sounded genuine, but his expression looked subtly pained.

You frowned at him like he was a calculus problem on a geometry test. Then, with no warning, you shivered hard. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to shake it off.

Dewey rolled his eyes. “Why do you never have a jacket, Princess?” he muttered. He shook his head and shrugged out of his suit jacket. You tried to protest, but he ignored you and draped it around your shoulders. It was all too familiar – his movements, his smell, the way the jacket hung from your shoulders before you pulled it closer. Cool air, pencils, a tinge of steel, and just a little smoke. It was just like it had been at the diner. You fought to keep your eyes open as you inhaled and mumbled your thanks.

And I don’t want you to (Go!)

It would have been impossible for you not to notice that Dewey hadn’t asked whether you really liked your date or not.

I don’t really wanna (Fight!)

“Why did you come, anyway?” you asked before you could stop yourself. He looked startled by the question.

‘Cause nobody’s gonna (Win!)

“Oh, I um…I wanted…” You tilted your head to get a better look at his face when he looked away from you. It took a few long moments, but he finally muttered his answer to the ground. “…wanted to dance with you.”

I just thought you should know…

“You’re not gonna make me go back in there, are you?”

When he laughed, there was a hard edge to it. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t wanna be seen–”

“Oh good, I’m trying not to–wait, what?”

“What?”

You stared at Dewey. The cold February air stung your eyes. The light pollution illuminated his face, but you couldn’t read his usually open expression. Did he think you were embarrassed? After two burgers, two milkshakes, a basket of fries, and half a cab ride home, did he really think that?

And I’ll never let you (Go!)

“Well, I just…” he sighed, hands on his hips because where else would he put them? “I know people started talking about you after last year–”

‘Cause I know this is a (Fight!)

“You mean, when you were the only person who visited me in the hospital after my surgery? Dewey, I don’t care what people think about us.”

That someday we’re gonna (Win!)

His eyes went wide. “There’s an ‘us?’”

You hesitated. “Isn’t there?”

Slowly, like he was scared to frighten you away, Dewey drifted forward. You didn’t miss the way his hands trembled when he took your waist, but you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He kept moving forward. The air between you was deriding physics, shrinking as it heated, only to expand and encircle you both, then shrink again as you drew closer. Dewey’s hands slid farther and farther until they landed at the small of your back. You clasped a hand on one of your arms at his back. The ugly yellow lighting turned stunning in his soft eyes, you felt his soft stomach press against yours. He leaned forward and you reminded yourself to lower your eyelids. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to miss this. You didn’t want to miss him.

He was close – he was so close – when all of a sudden, he stopped.

You and me, that’s my whole world.

You felt cigarette-scented breath ghosting over your lips, hurtling across the two-inch distance to reach you. “Let’s get out of here, Princess,” he whispered. Trying not to knock your forehead against his, you nodded.

They whisper in the hallway, “She’s a bad, bad girl.”

You would later find out that you had been voted Valen-Queen. That your date had been Valen-King, had searched for you, had taken your jacket home with him because he didn’t want to rat you out to your mom just in case you had done…well, what you did. You would feel guilty. You would feel so, so guilty. But that night, running away from the dance with Dewey, you already knew that you wouldn’t feel guilty enough to regret it.

“She’s a bad, bad girl.”

Buy Me a Coffee?

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bellarkefanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

#NoClickbait

written by: Josefine / @selflessbellamy

prompt: This is typical but maybe distracting kiss while playing a video game? Person A is competitive, 100% focused on winning and person B starts to plant kisses, all because of the competition, no one is in love here, it's a cold, calculating strategy. for anonymous

word count: 2204

Sharing an apartment with a Youtuber has its pros and cons. For instance, her roommate has — on numerous occasions — demanded to film alone in the living room for hours, because “it has much better lighting.” At night, she often hears him groan loud in frustration while editing, which would be funny if she didn’t have to wake up early for class most mornings.

However, the pros outweigh the cons, at least as it is right now. They’ve been living together for almost a year now, and since she told him that she didn’t mind being a part of his videos every once in a while, he has involved her in his creative process. Unlike a lot of YouTube channels, Bellamy Blake’s offers a wide range of different content, such as:

cook with me: grilled chicken breast (with a twist)

vlog: a day at the bookstore + haul

history has left us: queer!Achilles (Pride Month special)

If his subscriber count of 3.2 million is anything to go by, this kind of content is great entertainment for everyone watching. Hell, Clarke even watches his videos despite the fact that she lives with him and could easily just sneak into the living room to watch him film. Still, she attempts to stay away, because Bellamy doesn’t tend to stare over her shoulder as she draws one of her pictures.

Sometimes, though, her thriving curiosity gets the better of her. When he first noticed her piqued interest, his dark eyes crinkled at the corners and he told her, “Princess, if you wanna know what I’m doing then you have to be a part of it.”

At first, Clarke had wondered whether having her show up in his videos was just gonna be a cheap clickbait trick, so that he could include her in the thumbnail and write a title called ‘vlog: Santa Monica with my girlfriend’, but he didn’t.

Instead, he turned the camera on her face as they were walking down the peer and said, “Oh, by the way guys. This is my roommate Clarke. She’s tagging along.”

He had probably expected her to not say anything, maybe give a shy little wave in response, because that’s what usually happens when people are camera shy. Clarke’s actual reaction was so far from that. In teasing, she stuck her tongue out at him and retorted, “Oh please, you’re the one who’s tagging along. I need someone to help me decide which Bath Bomb to get.”

That is the start of Clarke’s appearance in Bellamy’s videos, and since then she has only showed up more, for longer periods of time. A couple weeks ago she assisted him while he did the ‘Blindfolded Book Challenge’ by picking various classics and non-fiction works from his bookshelf.

After that video was posted, he told her not to look at the comments, which only made her suspicious, because he’d never advised her to stay away from the comment section of his videos before, and for a moment she thought that his viewers were perhaps making fun of her or something. Despite that the possibilities made her somewhat nervous, she couldn’t hold herself back.

The most popular comment jumped out at her:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Dani Larsson: y’all can’t tell us you’re not dating after this.

781+

Gulping, Clarke clicked on the replies and found the first couple ones to be:

Lydia Marcello: yea, just look at 13:52. That shoulder-lean is the least platonic thing I have seen in the modern era.

123+

Furrowing her brow, Clarke went to the timestamp to see what the girl was referring to — and there right before the end of the video as Bellamy said, “I guess that’s it for the Blindfolded Book Challenge. Thanks for watching!” — he pulled Clarke against his side, making her lean her head against his shoulder for a second, smiling.

After forcing her eyes off the frozen frame, Clarke looked at the comment below Lydia Marcello’s only to find:

TJ Byrne: Well, if he’s not dating her, I would love to tap that.

While the comment didn’t bother her much, it sure as hell seemed to have bothered Bellamy (and a lot of his loyal viewers), because he had actually responded:

Bellamy Blake: @TJ Byrne: Too bad. Sexist white Internet creeps aren’t her type.

201+

Clarke had to bite back the urge to laugh. Also, it was difficult to ignore the clear voice at the back of her head who kept telling her that men with bronze, freckled skin and lots of sharp edges is her type. Still, she has only ever seen one person who looks like that.

A person, whose laughter could light up the entire world, who places pencils behind his ear and hums while he cooks.

***

One late afternoon she returns, violet and vermillion paint caked beneath her fingernails, to the sight of Bellamy sitting cross-legged on the couch, his trusted laptop in front of him and square glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. As always, he looks up when she enters the living room.

“I’m gonna cook dinner. Chicken Alfredo pasta, does that sound good?”

He beams, most likely with as much surprise as amusement, because she’s rarely the one who prepares meals. Still, she wants to prove to him that she’s learned quite a lot from watching his culinary-themed videos.

“Very,” is his simple comment, though the lone word manages to convey his enthusiasm. When she turns to walk into the kitchen, he suddenly adds, “Hey, Clarke, would you mind being in a video later?”

The curiosity in her mind sparks like colorful fireworks. “What kind of video?” Given the complexity of Bellamy’s content, it’s impossible for her to have the faintest idea… Maybe it’s another challenge video? A casual vlog? One of his informative history sessions?

Then he explains that his viewers would love his nostalgia series to feature a gaming video. “I have Mario Kart for my old PlayStation, so… I thought it’d be more fun if we played it together. You know I love how competitive you are.”

That last bit seems to be coated in fondness, the words soft — a stark contrast to his usual teasing tone, and it has color rising to her cheeks, undoubtedly. In order to hide the blush, Clarke turns away, but not without saying, “Of course. That sounds fun,” over her shoulder.

To her joy, Bellamy eats two large portions of the Chicken Alfredo pasta and praises her for using vegetables and spices that complement the creamy sauce. Hearing him say this makes her heart feel warm.

Together, they do the dishes while listening to ‘Cigarette Daydreams’ from one of Bellamy’s vinyl records. Most of his collection he inherited from his dad, but he adds a newer record once in a while. Afterwards the struggle with setting up the lights in preparation for filming — since the sky has now darkened, they need to improve the lighting in the living room.

Before they can turn on the camera, they have to plan a quick intro. Of course, Bellamy will do the most of the talking, since it’s his channel, but he tells her that he doesn’t want her to hold anything back, especially not during the gameplay itself.

It feels like an eternity has passed. At last, Bellamy clicks record, takes a seat next to Clarke and says, “Welcome back guys! I looked at your requests and quickly had to realize that you all want to see me play a video game,” he runs his fingers through the back of his hair, “As you will probably find out, I suck at gaming. I’ve killed a Sim once, and it was not on purpose.”

Clarke mouths, “He has,” hoping that the teasing it will amuse some of his viewers.

“Anyway, I dragged the Princess along for this one. She’s gonna crush me as Peach.”

Chuckling, she replies, “Oh, I sure am. No more of that ‘damsel in distress’ Peach. Those days are over, and you’re gonna go down.”

Even though they didn’t plan it for the intro, they look at each other, faces inches from one another to signify the “stand-off” that’s about to happen. However, within a couple seconds, they both crack up.

As it turns out, Bellamy is not actually bad at Mario Kart, which seems to surprise him way more than it does her. Within ten of playing minutes, he’s in 3rd place, but he makes the mistake of gloating, “Now, who’s gonna go down, Princess?”

Maybe they should stop using that expression…

Oh, well. “You still are,” Clarke laughs just as she uses the Starman that she’s had up her sleeve for a couple minutes, and while it does help her overtake a lot of players, she’s only gets to the fourth position, right behind him.

Bellamy does what he can to maintain his lead. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke sees him lick his lips in concentration, and the sight damn near distracts her. Quickly, she collects herself, and while it’s difficult to keep up with him when she has to stay on the course, she’s tailing him.

When he bumps his shoulder against hers in teasing, moving his controller just to annoy her, an unfamiliar sensation sparks in her ribcage, causing her to lean closer and press her lips to his neck, right below his sharp jawline. At first she feels him freeze. Scared that she has overstepped an invisible boundary, she draws back, but he…

He is smiling. “You think you can distract me?”

“I can’t?” Turning her attention back to the television, Clarke smirks as her heart flips itself over and over.

Now she thinks she notices the faint pink tint in his freckled cheeks, but it might be her eyes playing a trick on her. With much confidence, Bellamy says, “You gotta keep trying…”

Right now, they’re doing the final lap around the course, still tailing each other, brushing each other like they are in real life. It seems as though he just gave her another challenge — one, which she is even more determined to win. Therefore, she giggles slightly, kisses his throat again, a little lower this time, then his shoulder and the back of his ear.

He releases a strange sound that must be somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. Unsuccessful, he tries to brush her off, but she can feel the heat that’s rising to his skin by the second.

Just when she leans in for the sixth kiss, he groans, tossing his controller to the side. She doesn’t recognize the emotion flashing in his earthy eyes, but she is not afraid of it. Bellamy murmurs intelligibly before giving her a gentle push to the floor — out of the camera frame — on her back, she watches his face move closer to hers than it ever has until she can almost sense the amazing warmth that pours from his features. Taking a slow breath, he nuzzles her, which has her entire chest feeling like jelly.

When their lips meet, it’s as if the living room is filled with light, though it must be nearing midnight. The happiness bubbles in her stomach, runs through her veins to mix with her bloodstream. Burying her fingers in the dark, soft curls of his hair, Clarke deepens the kiss a little, causing him to smile against her lips.

“I’m gonna have to edit this out.”

She laughs at that statement. “The video is useless now, Bellamy. We’ve both fallen off the course before the finish line.”

“Well, it was worth it.”

As opposed to sleeping that night, they sit on the bed in his room eating dry Coco Puffs while talking about where to go from there.

What they end up doing is reshooting the Mario Kart video the next day (Bellamy wins, much to her dismay), then spend the next eight months trying to hide their relationship from his online following, which is easy when she can simply not be present in his videos.

His viewers, however, are far from stupid. The first video that she appears in after the Mario Kart one is a casual writing vlog, where she brings him a cup of black coffee after his all-nighter. And it’s one tiny detail that Bellamy missed in editing that effectively exposes them:

[Top Comments - click to show]

Christine Hollinger: oh my god, he murmurs ‘thanks, babe’ at 8:46 asdjffikoxxkak… Y’ALL

863+

theo lewis: *platonically calls my roommate ‘babe’*

219+

After that, they have to come to terms with the fact that their secret is out, and because Bellamy doesn’t want to trick his followers, he decides to make the announcement (albeit casually) in his next video, which is a brief daily vlog. Bellamy turns the camera towards the balcony, on which she is standing, looking at the sinking sun.

“Isn’t she beautiful? I’m so lucky.”

No forced, half-assed video of them explaining how they got together, no cheesy girlfriend tag — just a simple yet revealing comment. Their relationship is not clickbait; it’s not something that he’s going to use to gain more followers. It’s too important for that.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bffnet #a: selflessbellamy #wt: josefine #bffwritingteam #prompts #oneshots #title: noclickbait #modern au #roommates #friends to lovers #social media au #youtuber!bellamy #fluff #youtube au

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tenroseforeverandever · 5 years ago

Text

The Perfect Blend Chapter 3

Characters: Tenth Doctor (aka James Noble); Rose Tyler; Clara Oswald; Amy Pond; Jeanne Poisson; Donna Noble; Sylvia Noble; Wilfred Mott; Mickey Smith; Martha Jones; Clyde Langer

Tags: Human AU; fake relationship AU; coffee shop AU; stalkerish!Reinette; hurt/comfort; angst; romance; fluff; Christmas; New Year; New Year’s kiss

Story Summary:

Trying to escape from an predatory ex-girlfriend who will not accept their break-up, James Noble (aka The Doctor) finds himself in a coffee shop where he meets a barista (aka Rose Tyler) who makes him the perfect cup of tea and lends a sympathetic ear to his tale of woe.

Chapter Summary: James and Gramps discuss James’ Christmas announcement; and on New Year’s Eve, Clara and Mickey are concerned that Rose is mooning.

Chapter Notes: Sorry for the wait. Real life is messing with me, right now. I hope the next chapter won’t take quite as long.

As always, a big hug of thanks to @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci, for taking precious time out of their lives to beta my work. As always, all mistakes are mine.

Read also at: AO3; Tsp; FF

THE PERFECT BLEND - CHAPTER 3

CHRISTMAS DAY

James trudged up the darkened hillside at the back of the house, carrying a large flask full of tea in one hand and an old car blanket under the opposite arm. He took a long, clean breath of fresh air, relieved to have been able to slip away and leave the hubbub and bickering behind him. Despite the (rather deceptive, he thought) sense of freedom, he was feeling self-conscious, and he hesitated as he approached the old lean-to at the top of the hill.

“You don’t really have a date for the gala, do you son?” Gramps’ voice emanated from the rickety little shelter. “C’mon out from behind there, James. I know it’s you. I’d know those footsteps anywhere. Yours and Donna’s both.”

James couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face. “I brought some hot tea,” he came around the corner of the lean-to to the familiar sight of Gramps sitting on his tattered, old lawn chair, the box for the new telescope opened before him, “and I thought you might like some help putting your new toy together."

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact both would be very much appreciated.”

James spread the blanket on the ground and knelt on it. He handed the flask to Gramps, pulled the telescope box toward him, and unpacked all the bits in front of him, organizing them and piecing them together.

“I don’t think I’d get through that lot without your help. Thank-you, son.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. You know how I love tinkering with things. And it’s a brilliant evening for stargazing, even if it’s a bit cold. I should have this in working order in no time.” James turned his eyes to the stars and sighed. “It’s always so peaceful up here.”

“Tonight, especially so, I’ll wager.” Gramps took a long sip of tea. “After that bombshell you dropped on that lot.”

James snorted. “Dropped it on myself, if I’m being honest. You were right, I don’t really have a date for the gala. I never planned on taking a date at all. I was just looking forward to meeting with some of my colleagues out of the office and… they’ve asked me to put together a little firework display to bring in the New Year, so I can’t just back out. The Uni wants something spectacular, something special this year. This gala is all about fundraising for the new Medical Sciences wing, after all.”

“Blimey! Pyrotechnics?” Gramps gawped at him. “You’re not creating that yourself, are you? Surely there are all sorts of regulations about that sort of thing.”

“Weeell…” James ran a hand through his hair, “actually, its digital pyrotechnics. I’ve developed a holographic interface to create some 3D fireworks indoors.”

“I have to admit, I’m a bit relieved to hear that.”

“Oh, there are still plenty of ways for it to go wrong, and if I have to spend the evening fending off her… But don’t worry, it won’t be like the blender… I swear,” he added at the sight of his grandad’s dubious expression. “Besides, I’m collaborating with a bunch of people from Computer Sciences and we’ve already had a few test runs, but I’d like to give it a bit more pizazz. A few tweaks to make it ultra-realistic.

Gramps sighed. “You know the old saying? If it ain’t broke...”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

“Well, I would never have guessed you knew much about that sort of thing. You’ve never actually studied computer graphics, have you? Never mind something so grand as all that holographic stuff.”

“Nah,” he sniffed a bit boastfully, “but it isn’t really a big leap from the programming I’m doing for my bionics research… Weeell, not that big. Weeell… I’m a quick study.”

“My clever boy! But the question is, if you can’t back out of the gala altogether, what are you going to do about the fireworks currently going off back down there?” He waved an arm in the direction of the house.

James groaned in response. “All the studying in the world won’t help me with that... Oh, here, Gramps, have a look! Your telescope’s ready to go.”

“Oh, blimey, will you take a look at that beauty.” Gramps marvelled at the telescope, rubbing his hands together. “You shouldn’t have spent all that money, though…”

“C’mon… have a look. There’s Saturn.” James pointed to the sky. “Something easy, first, to get the hang of it. Then the universe is yours to explore.”

They took turns, well into the night, peering through the telescope, sipping hot tea and discussing possible solutions for James’ “French dilemma”, as they’d come to refer to Jeanne.

James reminded himself he had nearly a week before the gala. He was clever and not too bad looking, if he did say so himself, even if he was a “skinny beanpole” by Donna’s assertions. Surely, he wouldn’t have any problem finding a suitable date by New Year’s Eve, someone who would convince Jeanne, once and for all, that he had moved on.

NEW YEAR’S EVE

The bell jingled above the door, and Rose looked up from where she was clearing a table to greet the latest customer. It was New Year’s Eve and the shop had been busy over the lunch hour as people dropped in to grab a coffee and a bite to eat before heading home to prepare for the evening’s festivities. No matter how busy, she always made a point of trying to welcome everyone with a bright smile whenever she could. It was just good customer service, building loyalty, welcoming her guests. Goodness knew her little shop needed all the help it could get to stave off the competition of the big chain coffeehouses.

But perhaps she’d been trying a little harder than usual over the last week or so, her chest filling with a faint, fluttering hope that, when she looked up at the sound of the bell, it would be to the sight of tousled brown hair and sad, earnest eyes and a request for the best cuppa in London.

But it never was.

And that wisp of hope would fade, drifting away on Rose’s soft sigh, her heart emptying a little more every time.

A wistful smile playing over her lips, she brought the used dishes to the counter. As she passed Clara, who was serving the latest customer, her friend arched her brow at her. Rose ignored the shrewd look and handed the dishes through the passthrough to the young dishwasher who took them from her with an overblown sigh.

“You can go home soon, Clyde. Just do this last load for me, yeah? Then a quick mop of the floor and wipe down those counters, and it’ll be all spic and span, ready for the New Year.”

“You sure, Miss Tyler?”

“Yeah, course. The lunch rush is over. Everyone’s heading home now. I can take care of anything else that comes up.”

“Thanks, Miss Tyler!”

Rose turned back to the service counter where Clara was completing an order of a Peppermint Hot Chocolate with a flourish of whipped cream and candy cane crumbs. She called out the customer’s name, handed them their chocolate, then spun to face Rose. “You’re mooning.”

Rose fixed her with narrowed eyes, shaking her head in a teasing warning. “I am not!” Then, latching on to a perfect way to change the subject, her eyes shot to the clock. “Hey, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?”

“Don’t worry. I’m just about to go. The baking’s all set to go for tomorrow.” She grinned. “Besides, I’m not meeting Jenny at the salon for another hour. We’re both going to get our hair and nails done, then we’re going out to bring in the New Year in style.” She winked at Rose.

Rose couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy. As much as she loved her shop, she sometimes wished she was going out to celebrate, too. But she tried to sound upbeat, for Clara’s sake. “Ooooh, sounds like fun!”

“See, Rose,” Clara offered her perkiest know-it-all smile, “this is one advantage of same-sex relationships. There’s so much extra stuff you can do together. You should seriously consider it. You’re a catch! Better that than mooning after boys.”

(So much for the change of subject…)

“I am not mooning! It’s just a quiet afternoon, yeah. It’s just the letdown after the lunch rush. And, though I know we’ve had this discussion before, I’ll remind you again: I’m not like you. My options remain limited to…” she blew her breath past her lips, and rolled her eyes, “…boys. Such as they are.”

“I suppose… but you have been mooning… for nearly two bloody weeks, ever since that Doctor bloke dropped in.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Shut up!” Rose’s cheeks burned and she forced herself to maintain eye contact with Clara. “I have not.”

“Pu-lease!” Clara chirped over her shoulder as she disappeared into the little staff room. She reappeared a few minutes later, tying the belt of her coat around her waist.

“I’m not mooning,” Rose insisted, failing to hide the slightly petulant tone from her voice.

“Oh, relax,” Clara scoffed gently, as the bell above the door rang again, “I’m just taking the mick.”

“Hey, did someone mention my name?” the familiar voice sounded from the doorway and both girls turned to greet Mickey Smith with wide smiles.

“Only in jest,” Clara quipped.

Mickey stuck out his tongue at her. “See if I ever cover a shift for you again!”

Everyone laughed and Rose piped up, “Oh, you can’t stay away. Not when you get to spend New Year’s Eve with me.”

“You’re right, there, babe.” Mickey gave Rose a soft, friendly peck on the cheek as he walked past her to the staff room. “Although,” he called out through the door, “Martha might have something to say about that.”

Mickey was Rose’s oldest and closest friend. She had known him literally all her life. He was a few years older than her, and they had grown up on Powell Estate together. They’d even dated a few years back but had quickly realized they were destined only to be the best of friends. Being lovers hadn’t worked for them, much to Rose’s mum’s chagrin. Jackie Tyler had chided Rose about getting airs and graces, thinking herself above dating a mechanic. It had taken a firm word from Mickey to get her to listen to reason, although she still lamented from time to time that Rose would end up an old maid.

That had been years ago, and now Mickey was dating a young surgeon, Martha Jones, who worked at the local hospital. They had met when she had brought her car to him to be repaired and had hit it off right away. A year later, he’d asked her to marry him. Rose, who had rapidly befriended Martha, was thrilled for them both.

Mickey often came to Pete’s Coffee Dimension, after work at the garage, to help out and to make sure Rose, Clara, and the other employees had time for a dinner break. He often stayed the evening, chatting, when Martha was working a night shift. Tonight, he was covering Clara’s shift, so she could have the evening off with Jenny. Martha was on call at the hospital and would be dropping by later, if she was free, to ring in the New Year with her fiancé and Rose.

“Right then, I’m off,” Clara announced, “now that you’re here to help hold down the fort, Micks. But I should warn you,” she grinned, gesturing toward Rose with a jab of her thumb, “this one is mooning…”

“Oh, what’s this then? Mooning? You’re going to be a right misery all night, ain’t ya?”

Rose snapped her arms over her chest. “You,” she fixed Clara with a fierce glare, “are going to be late. And for the record,” she turned her glare on Mickey, “I am not mooning! End of story.”

“All right, all right!” he held his hands up defensively. “You’re not mooning. Blimey! Don’t kill me. Not a great way to start the New Year, yeah?”

“’M not gonna kill ya.” Rose drew Mickey in for a hug, then turned to Clara, pulling her in for a hug too. “Happy New Year, you. Thanks for looking out for me, both of you. Now off you go, Clara. Wish Jenny a happy New Year for us, yeah?”

“Definitely! Happy New Year!” Clara cheered, giving Rose and Mickey a last big squeeze and calling through the passthrough to Clyde before heading toward the door. “Give my love to Martha.” She gave a parting wave and backed out onto the street, the bell tinkling behind her.

The shop remained quiet, a few customers straggling in through the afternoon. Clyde had long since left and Martha had texted to say she would be by shortly. Rose glanced up at the clock: just gone three.

“So, babe,” Mickey fixed Rose with narrowed eyes, “I have to agree with Clara: you’re not quite yourself. Deny it all you like, you are mooning. Not after some bloke, is it?”

Rose groaned.

“It is!”

“Look, I’m just feeling a little, I dunno…” she shrugged, “…not exactly sad, but jus’…”

“Mooning.”

She smiled. “It would just be nice to have someone special to share the holidays with, ya know? To dress up and go out somewhere nice. I love the shop, I mean… it’s my life, my dream. But it would be good to get out once in a while.” She leaned back against the counter and laid her head on Mickey’s shoulder, as he wrapped a comforting arm around her.

“You’ll find someone.”

“Yeah, maybe. No one as good as you, though.”

“You kidding me? I was a rubbish boyfriend… at least to you. I hope I’m doin’ okay with Mar.”

“She thinks you’re bloody wonderful. But us,” she nudged him with an elbow, “we were just never good together like that. To me, you’ve always been a lovely friend, a big brother, yeah. Always there when I need you. But sometimes, I just feel like I want someone to be a bit more than a friend. I’m just afraid…”

“That you’ll end up with another–”

“Yeah, Jimmy Stone…”

Mickey growled, “If I ever get my hands on that tosser… how he treated you…”

“Enough,” she shoved him a little, knocking him off balance, “you’ll scare away all the customers, looking all aggressive-like.”

“Like there are so many of those…”

She frowned at him, unimpressed.

“Fine…” He grudgingly relaxed, and Rose snuggled against him again. After a few quiet moments, he spoke again, “So tell me about this bloke?”

“What bloke?”

“The one that you’re mooning over. You can’t lie to me, babe, I know there’s someone…”

“Not really…”

“C’mon! Give.”

“There’s nothing to tell you. I hardly know him. It was just… a feeling… he seemed sweet. That’s all. But I’ve only ever seen him the once.”

“And…”

Rose shrugged. “He was nice, but waaaay out of my league. Working on his third Ph.D.”

“An older man! Shit, Rose!”

“No, no! He looks like he’s only a couple of years older than me,” Rose giggled. “I don’t think he’s even thirty. He’s just really clever. Says he’s a genius. Like I said, out of my league. Not that it matters. He’s only come in the once.”

“Wait a minute! This isn’t that… erm… what was it… Doctor-bloke who went gaga over your cup of tea, was it?”

Rose flushed, biting her thumb.

“It him, isn’t it? Clara told me about him. Said you thought he was a bit fit.”

“It was none of Clara’s business! Nothing happened. I don’t even know his proper name and he doesn’t know mine. So, it don’t matter, yeah.”

“Well, he’s an idiot if he didn’t bother to come back and get it, that’s all I can say. Not worth all the mooning.”

Rose opened her mouth to say something more, but at that moment the bell jingling heralded another customer entering the shop.

About an hour later, Mickey huffed to himself as he wiped down the tables. Martha had arrived a little while ago, given him a quick peck on the cheek, and then she and Rose had disappeared into the kitchen ostensibly to get a start on a thorough New Year’s cleaning… but Mickey knew what really was going on was a good old gossip. Either way, it left him as the front man, taking care of the customers who occasionally wandered into the shop.

The bell chimed above the door. Mickey gave the table he was tending to one last wipe and looked up to greet the man who burst into the shop on a cold blast of wintery air from the street. “’Lo,” Mickey said, “Happy New Year, mate! What can I get you? Something to go?”

The man looked frantic. Even his hair looked frantic. He dragged a hand through it, making it stand up even more on end. “No… erm… no thanks. For here, please. I think I’d like to stay here for a bit.” He loosened the black bow tie at his neck, leaving the ends to dangle, and unfastened the top button of his shirt. “Blimey, that’s a bit better. Always feel trapped in a tux… unluckiest suit in the world. Never liked ‘em… Nothing good ever came from wearing a tux.” This time, he ran both hands through his hair.

“Yeah, mate, I get it. I don’t like a monkey suit much either. Look, take a seat and I’ll bring you a menu, but to be honest, you look like you need something a bit stronger than a posh coffee.”

Mickey left to grab a menu from the stand at the front of the service counter and returned to the man, who had seated himself at a table by the window. His legs were jittering with nervous energy. He took the menu from Mickey and glanced over it with glazed eyes.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he looked up from the menu. “Just putting off the inevitable. My life is over after tonight.”

“Mate, you have a brand-new year coming up! New opportunities. How bad can it be, yeah?”

“You don’t understand. If I don’t show up with a date to the Uni Gala… she’ll…” he spat out the word, “she’ll… Fuck! I’m doomed.” He slumped over the table.

“I’m sorry, man. Wish I could help.”

“No,” the man straightened up, “I’m sorry.” He looked down at the menu again. “I’ll have… hmmm… I’ll have… You know what I need… I need a cup of tea. It did wonders the last time I was here.”

“I can do that! Nothing like a good cuppa, yeah? Oh, blimey, my best friend, Rose (she own’s this place!); well, her mum is known for making the best cuppa, and taught Rose everything she knows. But,” Mickey added conspiratorially, “I honestly think Rose makes it even better. But don’t tell her mum I said so… she’d flay me alive.”

“Rose?” The man’s expression relaxed as he muttered the name, a small smile toying with his lips. “Her name is Rose…”

This man was a bit odd, Mickey thought. Not a bad sort, just a bit odd. “Can I get your name for the order then?”

“Oh, right!” He broke out of his daze. “My name, of course. The Doctor.”

“The Doctor…” Mickey repeated slowly. The name was so familiar, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Yup! That’s me! Just ‘The Doctor’. It’s easier that way. My real name’s quite common.”

“The Doctor…” Mickey mulled the name around in his mind again, and suddenly all the pieces fell into place. “Wait! You’re the Doctor! The Doctor who was in here a few days before Christmas. You ordered a cup of tea, yeah?”

The Doctor quirked a suspicious left eyebrow at Mickey. “Yeeess… a brilliant cup of tea. What about it?”

“Oh, mate! You said need a date for tonight?” Mickey had never considered himself to be much of a matchmaker. If he was being honest, it would never normally have crossed his mind. He was much more of a live-and-let-live sort of bloke. But this time, it was Rose’s happiness at stake, and when it came to ensuring Rose’s happiness, there were no holds barred.

“Erm… yes… yeah… but, it’s too late. I’m never going to find a date at this time. I told you, I’m doomed.”

“Nah, not tonight, you’re not. Mate, I think I may just have the answer to all of your problems!”

#ten x rose #ficandchips #human au #fake dating #coffee shop #stalkerish ex #romance #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #christmas #new year #new year's kiss #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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random-princess-drabbles · 6 years ago

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Lucky to Have You (Fred x Reader) - Hogwart’s Trickster Series

Summary: Fred wants to see you before you go study for your exams, but one thing leads to another... and you almost get caught. “I’m a strong man, you’re lucky to have me.” This made you chuckle slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck, making him pull you closer, “show me how lucky.”

Warnings: Implied NSFW

A/N: Part of my Hogwarts Trickster series - Snape’s Daughter series; please read the other parts too!

As per usual, you would spend Saturday in your father’s living quarters as you enjoyed his presence and wanted to spend more time with him apart from class. Even if he didn’t admit it, you knew that he enjoyed it too. Perks of being daughter to the Slytherin Head of House, you got access to your own personal house elf and could request anything at any time, which you heavily abused. Often asking for special foods and desserts that you knew were not usually made for the Hogwart’s feast.

But this weekend was different, you had promised your dorm mates that you would stay up studying for final exmas, to which you father simply dismissed with a flick of his hand when you told him. Secretly, again, you knew he was a bit disappointed that you would be missing your weekly dinner together. “I promise I’ll sleepover next Friday and Saturday!” You kissed your father’s cheek, ignoring his groan, and skipped towards your dorm.

Before you could make it to the common room, you felt a pair of hands pull you into a dip into the wall. Before you were able to pull out your wand or give any indication of protest, your mouth was covered by someone’s hand. Your eyes widen and you were ready to elbow whoever it was in the stomach. The boy who was holding onto you could clearly tell that you were ready to use physical force, as he quickly turned you to face him. “Y/N, it’s just me!”

Your eyes soften quickly when you saw your boyfriend smiling at you. “Fred!” you pushed him away, making him grunt as he hit the wall. “Don’t scare me like that again!” He laughed at your anger, “sorry, I just wanted to see you before you crawled into your dorm to study.” That last word was said with disgust, making you roll your eyes. How this boy survived in school was beyond you. It was getting closer and closer to final exams, and you did not want to fail.

You crossed your arms in fake anger, leaning against the wall, “I’m surprised you are even in the dungeons, seeing how much you hate us Slytherins.” He took a step towards you, making you notice how spacey it was behind the portrait hole was. He smirked at you and extended his hand for you to take. “I am more than willing to put aside my dislike for certain houses to visit the most beautiful girl in the entire school.”

You rolled your eyes and gave in to his flattery; you give him your hand and he pulled you flush against him. He lowered his face close to yours, looking for your lips, but wanting to torture him a little more, you sighed instead. Before his lips reached yours, you pulled away, “oh, so you only like me for my looks? I knew it….” You tried to contain you laughter as you looked away from your boyfriend. “No! Of course not!” He said pulling you closer to him, forcing you to look into his eyes, “you are my partner in crime, I can count on you for anything!”

You sighed again, “oh so you only like me because I let you get away with pranks. I see…” Pulling away from him, you almost made it out of the portrait hole before getting pulled back. “I love your laugh and your stubbornness, and your cunningness, I love you.” You looked him in the eyes and smiled, before giving him a kiss that made Fred stay planted to the floor. “I know.” You smirked cheekily and walked out of the portrait hole.

“Why you – “ Fred began as he exited right behind you, but was interrupted by you jumping on him causing him to hit the wall behind him. Your lips were on his as he cradled you, making sure you didn’t fall. You both moaned slightly into the kiss, Fred clearly surprised by your bold actions. After a few moments you stopped the kiss before it could get more heated. Even though it was almost curfew, you were still scared that some Slytherin students would be lurking around the halls.

You got off Fred and fixed the skirt you were wearing. As it was the weekend you were wearing your normal clothes. A black silk blouse tucked inside a knee length ruffled skirt, paired with some heels. Fred used to make fun of your “funeral” clothing, but slowly became to love seeing you wearing all black. Your father had always dressed you in proper clothing, but never any color, you had just gotten used to it. “Was that a reasonable goodnight kiss before going abandoning you to my studies?”

Fred was still reeling in the moment, he did not want to let you go. As you fixed your hair, that Fred had passionately ran his hands through, you felt a pair of strong hands pull at your waist. “Don’t leave,” he whispered in your ear, “come to my dorm.” You shivered in excitement, you had only slept over his dorm a hand full of times and they were memories that would last forever, but you really had to study. Additionally, it was past curfew, Filch would definitely catch them, and you did not want to explain to your father why you were heading to the Gryffindor Tower.

You kissed his neck and stepped back, “sorry love, I really can’t. These exams are going to kill me.” He pouted, giving you the cutest face you had ever seen. You groaned and pulled his hand towards your father’s quarters. “Uh, love, what are you doing?” Fred questioned, following you with curiousity. “Well we can’t go to your dorm, we’ll be caught by Filch,” you explained quickly getting closer to the door, “can’t go to mine as the girl’s will be wide awake, and I’m not a fan of exhibitionism. Unless you are darling?” Fred blushed and shook his head, imagining the awkwardness that situation would create. “So, you are taking me…?” He pushed those thoughts away to ask his girlfriend about where they were going.

“To my father’s quarters, I have a room there. A small muffling charm and he won’t even notice.” Fred stopped in his tracks. Thinking about Snape completely put him off doing anything with anyone. This made you stop too, turning to him you pulled him closer by his belt hoops, “come on Fred, where is that Gryffindor bravery.” He put away the thought of Snape and focused on the beauty in front of him. He snickered as you pulled him for a kiss, “can’t get enough of me, huh Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes after what felt like the 10th time that night, you opened the door to your father’s quarters. You both held your breaths as you guided Fred to your room. You pushed him in first, but apparently your father had a charm on the door since he called your name. Fred and your eyes widen and you pushed Fred further into your room, both failing around looking for a place to hide. “Y/N,” your father’s deep voice was around the corner of your room.

Fred dove under your bed as your father walked through the open door. “Daddy!” you yelled a little too loud, cringing at your response to the situation. You hadn’t called him that since you were a child and quickly regretted doing so. The professor’s eyebrows rose when he heard the name, and began to walk closer to you. Maintaining the smile that was on your face was becoming more and more difficult the closer he got to you. He stopped about a foot away from you, causing you to look up to him, smile still intact.

“I thought you were going to study.” He said calmly staring at you with narrow eyes. Your smile almost faltered in fear that he would see through your lies, but you were a Slytherin, lying was your forte. Except maybe to the Head of House, who happened to be your father. “Oh, yes. I went to the dorm but the girls were being too rowdy,” you lied easily, “they were not concentrating enough for me, so I decided to come back here instead.”

Your father’s eyes scanned the room, as if your lies left any evidence. He looked back at you, your smile still there. Suddenly you felt a push in your mind, causing you to drop your smile. Let me in. Your father’s words in your mind, causing you scowl slightly. “You don’t trust your daughter to tell you the truth, father.” It was Snape’s turn to scowl, “if you are telling the truth, why won’t you let me in?”

“A good occlumens knows how to shield their mind at all times,” you answered staring at your father, “so this is in fact your fault, father, for teaching me well.” Snape scoffed, hearing the underlying flattery in your tone, and he began to leave the room. But not without trying to enter your mind once more, causing you to push him even further out of your memories. When he reached your door, he turned and nodded to you, ordering you to sleep.

“Good night! I love you!” you yelled, always needing the last word, as he closed your door. When you turned around, Fred was already getting out from under your bed. He was pale white, clearly still feeling the after effects of almost getting caught. Before he could say anything, you began to laugh. Fred stared at you, and for the first time did not laugh along.

He instead stared at you with a confused expression, as you doubled down and laughed harder. “Oh Merlin, that was – “ you interrupted yourself with more laughing, “that was terrifying!” He looked at you even more confused, “funny way you react to fear Y/N, is that a Slytherin thing?” This made you laugh even louder, to which Fred ran to cover your mouth, not really wanting Snape to come back to investigate the source of your laughter.

You pushed his hand off and giggled softly, “oh calm down, I have a muffling charm in my room. Father hates when I make any noise.” Fred nodded and relaxed, but still a little shaken. “I have never seen you so terrified in my life,” you admitted to your boyfriend, “you the Hogwart’s Trickster was scared! A bloody Gryffindor scared by my father!” You laughed again, holding onto his shoulder as you shook.

This caused Fred to roll his eyes, “I was not scared.” He puffed out his chest and pushed you off. You smiled at this and kissed his cheek, “sure, darling.” He shook his head, “promise. I’m a strong man, you’re lucky to have me.” This made you chuckle slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck, making him pull you closer, “show me how lucky,” you said closing the gap between each other.

Let’s just say, not even Snape could stop the lovebirds from having their way.

A/N: Follow the rest of this series using the hashtag #fxr-trickster !

#fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #slytherin #gryffindor #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #slytherin!reader #severus snape #snape #snapedaughter #fxr-trickster

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maximows · 5 years ago

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Against the Odds - Chapter IX

Nobu,

MASTERLIST (mobile) AO3

Warnings: smutty SMUT, fluff, so much love, chaos, smoking, drinking (but not in a negative way) and swearing

“You ready?” Chris asked, opening the car door. As always, he wanted to open mine to maintain his Prince Charming reputation.

“Yeah, let’s let the world know.” I said as he left and walked around the car to let me out.

We had managed to keep out engagement quiet for months and decided to officially announce it during tonight’s Oscars. I had been nominated again and since we had decided to attend major events together, we thought it was a perfect occasion.

We were a month away from sending out invitations and we took the Oscars as an opportunity to go through our friends and colleagues again and decide who to invite. Although we did have a list and most of the invitations had already been filled out, be had some spare ones for people we might have forgotten about.

“I love this dress, by the way.” Chris said as he offered me his arm. “In a different way than last year, but still does things to me.”

I was wearing a strapless, golden Elie Saab dress with a long cut along my leg. Even though it was floor length, it wasn’t heavy at all. It had some golden pieces attached to it at the top through my waist to my thighs which disappeared around there to reveal a light pink tulle material which was semi-transparent.

“Wait till you see my wedding dress...” I gave him a wink. “I’ve finally chosen the cut.”

Chris smirked. “Don’t worry, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you in a wedding dress since last year.”

We walked up to our spot and Chris put his hand on the small of my back. I know he hated the cameras flashing in front of him and I loved him even more, because he only came here today to support me. I was trying to cut the photo call short, but they wouldn't let us. All I could do is serve them looks and glance at Chris sometimes. The word I would us to describe him was “gorgeous”. His beautifully styled hair and beard, which by the way, he doesn’t have to do anything to maintain... He looked back at me with his light blue eyes and smiled. And I smiled back. “Whatcha lookin’ at, doll?” he whispered.

“My fiancé.” I said, right before we were asked to move. We separated to do solo shots.

Be did actually cut those short, because we had arrived late, so the production team rushed us to move to the theatre. We sat in the front row. “Is this the right time to tell you that I’ve had a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio since I saw him in Romeo and Juliet?” I asked, after Leo came up to me to congratulate on the nomination. “And that he asked me out on numerous occasions?” We had met a few times during some occasions and he did hit on me hard, but the real Leo was a different person to the actor I fell in love with years ago. Also, I was nineteen when he first did and he's 16 years older. And he vapes.

“It’s the worst possible time and I hope he saw the huge diamond on your finger.” Chris mumbled and glared at Leo who sat down with his mom. “Because there aren’t many men I feel threatened by.”

“Is this why you got such a big one?” I raised my eyebrow, toying with the ring. “You jealous idiot.”

Chris smirked. “How dare you call your future husband an idiot?” he faked outrage.

I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I love my jealous idiot aka my future husband.”

The show soon started and we watched it in silence, making comments sometimes. Chris loved the musical format at the beginning, mainly because there was a short clip from The Avengers and he was included.

We kept making casual small talk, mostly on ideas for the wedding.

“Do you want to film it? Like, hire someone to do a video?” Chris asked when another break was coming to an end.

“Sure, but I want it to be someone who doesn’t normally do wedding videos. I want it to be more original.” I said, looking around the theatre. “I’m hungry. They had snacks last year. I want snacks.”

Chris reached into his pocket and pulled out on the these small Oreo packs. “Hannah mentioned that you might get snacky, so I came prepared.”

“Perfect human being.” I sighed, looking him in the eyes.

For the rest of the show, I was holding on to Chris' hand. My movie didn't win any awards, before my category came up. I was very displeased, because I was really sure of the “Original score” award. It was putting more pressure on me and I could feel it. I had to readjust myself in the seat a lot, because my back was tense.

Chris noticed me squirming in my seat and started to rub his thumb against my hand. “Calm down, baby,” he whispered as the presenters came out. “You’re going to win and you’re going to do great.”

“I’m not, Chris.”

“You are. And I’m right here, I’ll help you up the stairs if you need that. I’m here with you.”

I saw the footage from my movie, Sweetest Heavens, appear on the screen and waited for the camera to focus on my face. I smiled and thanked God that my hand clutching Chris' was out of the shot.

“And the Oscar goes to...” Eddie Redmayne said as he opened the envelope and slid out the card. “... Emilia Dawson, Sweetest Heavens.”

I went blank for a moment, but realised what had just happened when I saw Chris stand up and clap for me. I still couldn’t believe it was happening, but figured that he stood up for me, so it wasn’t only my imagination. I got off my seat and gave my fiancé a quick kiss on the cheek before heading up the stairs. “I knew it.” He whispered as I pulled back. I just grinned widely, mouthing “I love you" as I headed up the stairs.

“Congratulations,” Eddie said, handing me the surprisingly heavy award. “it is very well deserved, Emilia.”

“Thank you so much.” I had to hold back tears already.

I walked up to the microphone, clutching the statue firmly. People were still clapping (Chris was one of the few who were standing up, dork), so I was guessing that the route from my seat to the microphone took less than 10 minutes (but it felt like forever).

“This is surreal... First of all, I’d like to thank the Academy, because you make these,” I held up the Oscar for a second. “Uh, this will be the only rehearsed part of my speech, because the win was so unexpected. I’d like to thank everyone who was involved in the production of this beautiful movie, especially Taylor, Stuart, Marie, Alexa, Helen, Jerry, Steven, Elle, Lisa, Pilar, Sara, Hector and Michael. It was an incredible journey making this masterpiece with you and I hope we find a way to work together again soon.” I said, looking at the crew in the crowd. “Also, Hannah, my agent, who has been a third parent to me for the last few years and has never failed me. Now, I’d like to thank my real parents for supporting me even when they had all the rights to think that acting was “just a phase” for me, for giving me the benefit of the doubt when I moved out at a very young age and for still putting up with me and being the best parents a girl could have. Also, thank you for staying up so late in the UK to watch this, even though you have work tomorrow.” I waved at the camera, knowing they were watching. “And last but not least, I’d like to thank my fiancé... Chris, they won’t give me enough air time to fully express how grateful I am to have you in my life and to be a part of yours. Thank you for everything.” I said, looking down at him. We were both holding back tears. Chris bit his lip as he grinned at me, when I took my last look at him, before going backstage.

Someone from the production team said that they would keep the award for me until the end of the ceremony. I gave it to them and grabbed a tissue from a box on the table. I walked up to the make up lady and asked if she could check out my face and give me a little bit more powder, because I was all shiny already.

“Hi there.” I heard Chris behind me and I immediately shot out of the chair to wrap myself around him. “Congratulations, Dawson.” He mumbled into my shoulder.

“Chris, I can't believe it!” I almost shouted. “How the hell...”

“I fucking told you!” he cheered. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Someone told me to go to the press room for the break in order to give some interviews. Chris waited just a few feet away from me and watched me answer questions. I was still a bit overwhelmed, by this whole situation, but tried to keep a clear head.

After the ceremony, a few tabloids asked me for interviews and they were straight up asking about Chris, who was already waiting in the car for me, completely ignoring the fact that I had just won the most important award in this industry.

“So when did this happen?”

“A few months ago actually.” I answered, fiddling with the ring on my finger.

“Are there any plans for the wedding yet?”

“Oh, we don’t know yet,” I straight up lied. “We’re just enjoying the engaged life for now, we're both a bit too busy to plan a wedding right now.”

I was very proud of myself for lying about the wedding. I do know that paps tend to follow me more around my birthday or other important dates they can figure out, but I never thought they could just stalk me the moment my wedding appeared in the picture. Chris is a very private person, while I’m more casual about it, but neither of us want any leaks around a special day like that.

Chris escaped the car as he saw me walk towards him. He took off his jacket and, God, Chris in a white shirt and bowtie did things to me. He opened the door for me as I said. “If anyone asks about our wedding plans, tell them we don’t have any yet.”

“Sure, they don’t need to know.”

“And they'd be really surprised to know that we had already planned most of it.”

“That’s an overstatement.” He joked.

We arrived at the Vanity Fair After party just as I changed into my another outfit in the car. Chris had a vital role in the process, because my dress was very hard to take off. “I gotta be honest, I’d rather take that dress off you under different circumstances.”

I was now wearing a black jumpsuit with a lace top. It was much more comfortable than dancing in a dress. I left the dress in the car, which was supposed to go to the Elie Saab boutique now. “I didn't bring any other shoes,” I said as Chris took my hand. “I might require a foot rub later.”

“Anything for my winner.” He smiled.

We went through the photo call again, saying hi to a few people on the way. Chris clearly forgot that there’s also photographers behind us, because his hand kept creeping down my spine to grab my butt. I didn’t complain. We’ve been silent about each other for the last two years, so we might as well put on a show tonight.

Jeremy walked up to us and we talked a little bit about the movie we're starting in a few weeks.

“Are you going to bring Ava with you? I'm coming with Emily, I can be your babysitter.” Chris suggested.

“Evans, there’s no way I’m leaving my only child with you,” Renner laughed. “You’re the fun uncle who does the most dangerous stuff with the kids.”

“Oh, come on. Emily, back me up on this.” Chris turned to me.

I just shrugged. “You did hang you nephew from the tree by his leg.”

“He asked me to!”

Later this month Chris, Dodger and I moved to Utah to film Wind River. Dodger loved the constant presence of snow. He would dive in or lay on his back and just play and it was the cutest thing on this planet. We actually got him a few sweaters which made him look adorable and he became the star of my Instagram account.

I had to do some training for the movie, including gun training. Chris and I found a gym nearby and went there together to work out. I mostly did cardio, while he did heavy lifting. I was a bit curious why, since he didn't have a Marvel movie this year, but I never really asked. I watched him lift weights while I ran on the treadmill. God, that was some view. He was laying on the bench, his biceps bulging every time he lifted. Wait, why is my mouth watering?

I looked around the gym. It was pretty late and Utah, so it was empty. I switched off the treadmill and walked up to him, holding my towel against the back of my neck. “Chris, let’s go.” I ordered.

“But I’m not done.”

“Chris,” I winked at him. “Come on.”

He finally realised what I was talking about and stood up. We were really enjoying our lives after engagement.

We spent 6 weeks in Utah. Chris left for a few days to film a video game commercial. Apparently, Chinese companies are not only willing to pay Hollywood actors a lot of money for a 2 minute commercial, but they also move production to the US, so their star don’t have to go to China.

Two days after he left, he sent me a text saying:

I have a photo for you, which I know you will love, but I kind of want to be there to see your reaction. What should I do?

What’s in that photo?

Me, in my clothes for the shoot. Actually, there’s a few photos.

I feel like this is either going to be very hot or very weird. I’m guessing you’d like to be there if it’s hot and could get me bothered.

So, do you want it?

He sent me a few photos in a row, all of him wearing military gear and uniforms. I honestly could feel my blood boil after I looked through them. He was wearing the vests, boots and they put some dirt on his face, but also his hair was perfectly styled apart from that one loose strand on his forehead.

How soon can you come back, my intended? And will they give you these clothes?

During the Civil War press tour we actually got paired for a few interviews together. The studio never consulted this with us, probably hoping that us appearing together would give the movie more publicity (like it didn’t have enough of it already). One of the appearances was Graham Norton after the London premiere. The photos from the event were already out and I couldn’t stop laughing at Chris for looking at my cleavage like he was still breastfeeding.

“We haven’t had sex in like 2 days and you looked so good in that dress, please don’t blame me.” He whispered as we were in the car on our way to the BBC studios.

“There’s people who have sex once a month and you’re complain about a 2-day break, Chris.” I laughed.

“Yeah, but these other people aren’t engaged to you, so…”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Emilia Dawson,” Graham said as it was my cue to come out. I walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He then announced Jeremy and Chris. “So, Chris Evans, this is your first time on the show. How did this happen?”

“I have no idea, they never let me do the UK shows for some reason. I guess I’m just not the best ambassador for the US.” He shrugged.

“Well, that ship has sailed.” Jeremy joked.

“Jeremy has been here a few times, but Emilia has been here over 5 times now. The first time you came here was in 2010, when you were 18.” Graham said. “This is a photo from the first time you visited.” He showed a photo of me. It just screamed 2010. I was promoting one of the first American movies I did.

“Yeah, there it is. I think I still have that skirt.” I smiled, analysing the photo. “That was actually the first time my mum thought that I made it. Because I was invited to one of her favourite shows.”

“Well, your mum has a great taste.” Graham smiled sweetly. “Anyway, this is Chris’ fifth Marvel movie, Jeremy’s third and Emilia’s second, right?” We all nodded. “How does it feel to step off the Marvel set and move on to another, smaller movie?”

“Well, Emily and I have just finished a movie in Utah, which was then completely covered in snow, and I still don’t know if I prefer Atlanta in June or Utah in March.” Jeremy said. “But to be fair, those are the sets where you really feel your surroundings, you know what’s going on, that’s the beauty of indie films. With movies like Civil War, you often don’t know what’s going on around you, because we use a lot of CGI or it’s just a secret, so…”

“Jer, we’re here to PROMOTE Civil War.” I laughed, before he went too far with his rant.

“Oh, right,” he pretended to remember. “I mean, being on the set with these guys is really fun, we spend a few months together, thankfully everyone gets along, so it’s pure joy.”

“Clearly, some of you are closer than the others.” Graham whispered, covering his mouth with his card.

I rested my hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Yeah, Jerry and I are really close.” I said, knowing he meant me and Chris.

Chris cleared his throat. “I thought it was suspicious when you said you were just practising sex scenes with him.” Everyone started to laugh. I was really glad we could talk about us while not really focusing on our relationship that much.

“Emilia, I’m sorry he didn’t start with this, congratulations on the Oscar!” Graham cheered and was followed by the audience. “So how has life changed for you?”

“Umm, it hasn’t really... I actually moved for work soon after the Oscars and haven’t been home for the last two months, so I didn’t really get to enjoy it properly.” I explained.

“And where have you decided to keep it? Because Kate Winslet keeps hers in the bathroom, so is yours on display?”

“I haven’t seen it in quite a long time to be honest and I’m not even sure where it is...” I laughed nervously. “Do you think they can make a replica if you lose one?”

“I put it on the fireplace when we came back.” Chris said.

“Riiight, yes! Yeah, he’s right. It was there when I left.” I nodded.

“Oh, seems like we’re getting an inside look into the Devans household.” Graham joked, making both me and Chris narrow our brows at the ‘Devans’ thing. “In case any of you have been living in a cave for the last few months and don’t know that, Chris and Emilia are an engaged couple, congrats.” He turned to the audience who started to cheer for us.

“Devans? Really?” Jeremy questioned.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard it either.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“It should just be ‘Dodger’s parents’ or ‘Dodger’s roommates’.” Chris said. “Devans sounds like a name some woman gave her child, because she felt Devon was too mainstream.”

I really enjoyed being on a talk show with Chris. After that conversation Graham didn't really mention our relationship. I think he had only done it earlier to use his opportunity as the first host to ever have us both on the show.

Right after the Civil War press tour ended, we came back to reality, which for us meant a lot of wedding planning. We really wanted just a ceremony for our families and friends. Turned out we had much more friends and family than we expected. The initial goal was nothing more than 30, but it was the number of family members we had to invite. In the end, we managed to close the list at 50.

Planning was a nightmare, especially until the end of May when we were both away and couldn’t get anything done. Up to a point, we were trying to organise everything by ourselves, but by January, we had hired a wedding planner. We just told her everything we were expecting and she would send us emails asking for confirmation. The moment we hired her, we decided to go in all the way and thought we could get married somewhere abroad. Chris wanted Italy, but I won with Norway, mainly because there were no free venues in Italy. But also, because I threatened Chris with a blowjob embargo, if we were to get married there.

Because we were trying to keep the wedding under wraps, we tried not to be seen in some places, so we wouldn’t raise suspicions. The cake samples, for example, were brought to our house, along with flowers. Claire, the wedding planner, also brought our guest list and asked us to make a draft of the seating arrangements.

“I like this one,” I said, chewing on the white chocolate covered raspberry cake. “but I think it might be too sweet for some people.”

“I love it and we should take it.” Chris said. I glared at him, narrowing my eyebrows. “What? It’s our wedding! The cake should suit us, not anyone else.” He continued with a full mouth.

“Would it be possible to make it vegan?” I asked the baker. “I never asked, but I’m guessing that a lot of our guests are vegan. We definitely should have asked.”

“Oh, come on. We'll just put ’Might contain gluten’ signs everywhere.” He shrugged.

“It will taste differently, but I can make it vegan.” The baker said, writing something in his notebook. ‘I’ll try to have it done in about three days.”

“Ok, thank you,” I said. “Claire, can we have the catering company prepare vegan and vegetarian options?”

“Yes, I’ll call them right away.” she nodded and left the kitchen to make a call.

“Chris, not everyone is like you,” I raised my eyebrow. “Now everyone will switch back to eating meat, after being vegetarian for a while, because they feel like they’re turning green.”

“Oh, that was low.” He mumbled.

They all left soon, after making final decisions. We chose flowers and napkins for the tables. Chris said that the napkins looked dangerously similar and he didn’t see a difference in colour.

Since tomorrow was Chris' birthday, we had a dinner reservation at Nobu. Chris thought we were going alone, but I actually had invited some of our friends to join. Scott made the reservation, so they could come in earlier and be there when we arrive.

“I’m going to walk Dodger, but I’ll be back in like 30 minutes, so don’t shower without me, alright?” Chris winked, taking Dodger's lead and opening the door.

“30 minutes on the dot, because we don’t have much time.” I smiled and rushed upstairs to our bedroom. I already knew what I was going to wear. It was a tight, off-shoulder black dress that reached around the middle of my thighs. I’ve worn it a few times already and I knew Chris liked it. I paired it with nude suede high heels, which were also among Chris' favourites. I had a whole section of clothes Chris loved.

I undressed to my underwear and laid down on bed. Chris had only been gone about 5 minutes, so I opened Instagram and scrolled through the main page. I’ve had this urge to post something about our relationship for a while, but knowing that talking about us during the Oscars and the recent press tour was already pushing Chris’ buttons, I didn’t want to bring this up. I got rid of my private Instagram a while ago, when people found out about it and started sending new countless requests. I didn’t really feel the urge to share stuff with people all the time, but like everyone else, I wanted to share some moments with other people. Just once in a while.

Chris’ birthday was a perfect opportunity to do that. We'll see.

I checked the time and it was way past the 30 minutes I gave him. I went to the bathroom to wash off my make-up. Chris was still nowhere to be seen, so I went back to the bedroom and found my phone. I connected it with our home sound system and played Beast of Burden. I untied my hair and brushed it, before taking my underwear off and entering the shower cabin. I stood in the hot water, trying to wash off sweat off my body. It was unbearably hot today and I could only wish it gets cooler when we go out.

I poured some shampoo on my hand and wanted to wash my hair. “Lemme help you.” I heard Chris’ voice behind me. He was leaning on the door frame, watching me.

“I think I can handle washing myself, babe.” I teased, spreading shampoo on my top of my head, before I started rubbing it in. In no time I head Chris slide the glass door to the side and join me in the cabin.

“I insist,” he whispered into my ear, before wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my shoulder. I smirked and tilted my head to the side in order to give him access. “That's more like it...”

I took a step back, pushing my butt into his crotch. Chris grunted as he looked down at his dick pressed against my ass. He leaned on the wall behind him and wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me down on to him. “I can’t believe my luck...” he whispered, palming my cheek and kissing and biting on my shoulder. “I’m marrying the most beautiful, the sexiest woman in the world.”

I turned around to look up at his face, wet hair and flushed skin from the hot water. I ran my fingers along his collarbone tattoo and placed my lips on it, while my hand travelled down to his abdomen. “How much time do we have?” I asked.

Chris smiled and lifted me up only to turn us around and push me against a wall. “Not enough.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. We kissed playfully, biting on each other's lips and tongues, Chris moved his lips to my chin and then neck. His fingers let go of my thigh only to sneak up to my pussy and rub his thumb against my clit. “I wish we could just stay here.” he breathed out, his lips on mine.

“You always wish we could stay in, old man.” I ran my fingers through his wet hair.

Chris' two fingers slipped into me and I gasped, throwing my head back. “Mm, you are so ready for me, baby girl.” He whispered against the skin of my neck. I whined as he moved in and out, still rubbing his thumb against my clit. “Tell me what you want.”

I brought him closer to my body, slamming my lips against his. Chris pulled his fingers out of me and reached out to the handle and turned the water off. He opened the shower and carried me through the bathroom and our bedroom to the study. My pussy brushed against his shaft and it made me moan quietly every time. He laid me down on the cold glass desk and sat on the chair. I felt his lips on my thigh. “Chris, please, just fuck me,” I groaned as his beard brushed against my skin. “Please.”

“When have you become such a cock slut, huh?” Chris whispered and licked my clit quickly, making my hips shot up.

“Probably the first time you fucked me, daddy.” I moaned, putting my hands over my breasts and playing with my nipples. Chris saw what I was doing and bent down in front of my pussy again only to spit on it. He slammed two fingers back inside me and started to move them painfully slowly. He put his hand next to my hip and leaned on it, curling his fingers inside me to hit the right spot. “Please, do it faster, let me cum, I’m so close...” I squirmed under his touch.

“In a second, baby girl, just a second.” he whispered. His thumb hit my clit every time he buried his fingers inside me. At one point I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt the built-up tension release on to Chris’ fingers. “Mhm, yeah.”

He took his fingers out and licked my come off them. “You’re so sweet, baby girl,” he said, stroking his length. “I’m gonna give you what you want now.”

Chris grabbed my calves and placed them on his shoulders. I watched his eyebrows narrow as his tip brushed against my entrance. His chest was still covered in water drops and his hair was damp. A lose strand of hair was sticking to his forehead. He finally lined his cock against my pussy and grabbed a hold of my hips to keep me from falling off the slippery wet surface. He pushed into me, his lips slightly opening.

I felt him fill me up completely and gasped as he stretched me out. “Mmm,” I moaned when Chris started to move slowly inside me. I was still so wet from the orgasm he gave me and now Chris was picking up the pace. He closed his eyes and bit on his lip, completely lost in the pleasure. The way he looked was enough to send me over the edge and to add his cock moving inside me, hitting my g-spot... I came for the second time today, but Chris didn’t stop. He grabbed a hold of my both legs, took them off his shoulders and turned me to lay on my side. A lot of objects set on the desk fell off as he pushed me rapidly, but he then continued to pound into me while also rubbing my clit to make me come even faster.

I couldn’t bear the overstimulation. I shut my eyes as we both came. Chris let out a low grunt as he thrusted into me for the last time. We were both panting, not able to catch our breaths. Chris turned me to lay on my back again, without pulling out. He leaned down and gave me a passionate kiss as he lifted me off the desk. “We need another shower,” he whispered against my lips. His cock slipped out of me and it made both of us moan. He looked down at the mess we made around my abdomen. I giggled as he lifted me up and carried back to the bathroom. My whole body felt like it was made of jelly, I couldn’t move my legs and still wasn’t able to stabilize my breathing.

“If sex with you is so good at 35, then I can’t imagine what it was like to fuck you 10 years ago.” I breathed out.

We obviously didn’t make it to the restaurant on time, but we only had a 20-minute delay. I was very surprised, when I noticed photographers as we arrived at the restaurant. Chris grabbed my hand as we escaped the car and smiled, “Do you think we still have our sex looks on?”

“I hope we do.” I said. Chris stepped in front of me to pave the way through the small crowd of paparazzi. I watched the back of his arms, the well-defined muscles that I gripped to keep myself close to him. Those two sizes too small Henleys he wears are really going to be the death of me.

We entered the restaurant and immediately went in the direction of our lounge. “Isn’t a lounge too big for the two of us?” Chris asked right before noticing people at our table. “Oooh, so that’s happening.”

“Yeah, we really would have stayed at home if I hadn’t made plans with them.”

Scott and his boyfriend, Adam and his girlfriend, Sebastian, Anthony with his wife and Chris Hemsworth were all sitting, waiting for us. I said hi to all of them, while they wished Chris a happy birthday. Scott walked up to me and we hugged, “Stella is here.” He whispered. I felt my muscles tense at the sound of her name.

“That explains the paparazzi,” I forced a smile as he let go of me and we sat next to each other. “Is she sitting at a table nearby?”

“I don’t know, I saw her at the bar and we just said hi to each other. We haven’t had any contact with her since last year, when Chris and her went out once.” Scott explained. I tried not to look around the restaurant. It was pointless anyway, the lounge was in a secluded area and you could barely see anything.

Chris and I agreed that I wouldn’t drink, so I could drive us back home tonight. By agreed, I mean Chris begged me, because he hates being driven around by strangers and he really wanted to drink tonight. Which is why everyone was getting shitfaced – apart from me.

My fiancé kept his hand on my thigh the while time we sat at the table. Because all of our companions have been invited to our wedding, it became the main topic of our conversation.

I actually spoke to Shaletta about getting married abroad. Unfortunately, she was on Chris’ side when it came to the location. Anthony and her got married in Dominican Republic, so she preferred Italy.

“I told you it’s a better idea. If you want to make our guests travel to Europe, at least make sure the conditions are bearable.” Chris shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“Chris, do you think I want to get married on the North Pole?” I asked, “You clearly haven’t even gone though the places I’ve sent you, even though we have already booked the venue.” I snapped.

“So, why are you getting married there, if Chris doesn’t want it?” Seb asked.

“I’m a simple man, Seabass.” Chris shrugged. “My dear fiancée threatened me with a blowjob embargo, to put it in her exact words.”

Everyone laughed at his words, which made me a little bit mad, because I didn’t want it to look, like I was forcing him to do something. Chris noticed my lack of enthusiasm and rubbed his palm against my bare thigh. “No, but I gotta be honest, I would marry her anywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that our families would murder us, we would’ve eloped a long time ago.”

“Yeah, Mom would be livid.” Scott agreed. “Lisa is a sweetheart, but she can kick ass when she has to.”

I tried to move the topic to something lightly less stressful and we ended up talking about the upcoming presidential election. Of course, Hemsworth and I were excluded from the conversation, but at least we didn’t have to worry about Donald Trump becoming president of our home countries.

“Em, have you thought about getting an American citizenship?” Adam asked.

I raised my eyebrow. “You’ve just finished talking about how a reality TV star has a real chance of getting elected as president, so here’s your answer.” I laughed. “No, to be honest, I haven’t given it any thought yet. The most important thing for me right now is to get married to this guy here and take at least a month off afterwards.”

Chris grinned and wrapped his arm around me. “True. Everything else is just supposed to provide fun for our guests.”

Thankfully, we didn’t have to leave our lounge to order new food and drinks, because at some point I saw Stella walk quite close to us. That was when Chris noticed her, because apparently, Scott only told me about her. Chris noticed that I got a bit uncomfortable and suggested we moved someplace else.

“She’s just your ex, love,” I smiled and put my hand on his cheek. “I’m fine.”

I actually got used to the fact that has dated a lot (at least for me) of women in the past and I’m bound to see or hear about them at some point, so I might as well just try to ignore it. I never considered myself to be a jealous person, but as it turns out, I just never met anyone I cared about enough to be jealous.

The Chrises, Adam and Sebastian went outside for a smoke, while the rest of us stayed behind. We were all leaving, but no one wanted to stand outside with the photographers, if it wasn’t necessary. I handed Chris his sunglasses, cigarettes and a lighter. When he asked me to keep them in my bag the only reason why I didn’t say no, was because we were celebrating his birthday.

After paying the bill for our table, the rest of us left. As I stepped out, I noticed Chris smoking a cigarette by my car. Without saying a word, he reached out his hand to me and placed it on the small of my back. “Thank you.” He whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “What for?”

“Just generally,” he sighed, breathing out the smoke. “For putting up with a big, old, drunk meatball like me.”

I giggled and nuzzled my face into his neck. Despite the cigarette smoke, he still smelled incredible. “I love you, I don’t have a choice.” I whispered.

Chris chuckled and pulled away from me in order to walk back to a bin and throw away the cigarette. On the way back he put a gum in his mouth. Even though he had drank quite a lot, he didn’t look like it. “Can I kiss you now?” he asked as he approached me.

“I’ll make an exception, because it’s after midnight and your birthday.” I nodded lightly. It didn’t take long for him to come up to me and place his lips on mine. He tasted him alcohol, cigarettes and a little bit of mint. I got used to his smoking habit a long time ago, I just didn’t want his to know that, because it would not be a great motivation to stop smoking once and for all.

Chris placed his palms on my cheeks and deepened the kiss by sneaking his tongue into my mouth. I moaned quietly as our tongues touched and I felt a tingly sensation. His arm wrapped around my waist once again, pushing me against his body. I felt his arousal against my lower stomach and grinned at the fact that he was ready again, despite drinking quite a lot. Chris bit on my lip and then pulled away from me. “We should go, before we fuck against the car with photographers behind us.”

I narrowed my eyebrows. I actually forgot about them and realised that we had just served them with a full PDA session. “Yeah, yeah.” I nodded. Chris opened the driver’s door for me and then walked around the car to get in himself.

Chris sang the whole way back (it’s a thing he does when he’s drunk) and tried to hold my hand, but I wouldn’t let him, because I use a manual gearbox and have to keep my hand free all the time. “’m gonna buy you a car with automatic gear.” He mumbled with his eyes closed.

“I’m contractually obliged to drive this for the next two months, until they offer me another one.” I said.

“But you wouldn’t mind if we got a Tesla, right?” he asked. Chris knew that the only car that could make me switch from Jaguar, was Tesla, because I have a thing for electric cars and he know they only come with automatic gear.

“You’re willing to buy a new car, just so you could fool around with me while driving?” I laughed at him.

When we arrived at home, Chris was already asleep in the car and Dodger greeted us at the door, barking in excitement. He barely opened his eyes to walk back home. I told him I’d come in a few minutes, but had to walk Dodger out now. The dog got a bit excited to see us and I decided I should go out with him just in case.

When I came back, Chris was lying on the sofa in he living room downstairs. He always falls asleep there, because there’s a nice, cool breeze coming from the open terrace doors. He took off everything except for his boxers. “Baby, let’s go upstairs.” I said, sitting down next to him and gently nudging his bare chest with my finger.

He groaned and slightly opened one eye for a second before closing it again. “Let’s sleep here tonight,” He mumbled. “The air is amazing here, it should be our permanent bedroom.”

“Fine.” I sighed.

I went upstairs to change into the slip I wear at night and grabbed Chris’ pyjama bottoms and a blanket.

“Chris, wear these.” I said, handing him the pants. He looked up at me and groaned, but then took the clothing. While he was changing, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and grabbed some water for my fiancé as he will definitely need some in the morning.

“Have I ever told you that you look mesmerising right before bed?” Chris asked as I squeezed myself into the space between him and the back of the sofa. He had some trouble pronouncing “mesmerising”.

“Possibly,” I smiled and placed my hands on his hair as he moved to snuggle his face into my neck and cleavage. “Go to sleep, handsome.”

I woke up around 10am, when Chris was still soundly asleep. He moved down and his head was now on the same height as my stomach, with his arm around my hips. He pulled my slip up, so his beard was scratching my skin. He groaned lightly as I scratched his head, before reaching out for my phone.

Hannah had sent me an email earlier in the morning. I checked it out and saw a few articles with similar titles from Daily Mail, People and TMZ.

“Exes Chris Evans and Stella Smith unintentionally reunited at Nobu last night, where Captain America celebrated his birthday with new fiancée and friends”

“He cheated on me with Emilia Dawson, Stella Smith tells her friends”

“Chris Evans, Emilia Dawson walk into a bar – what now?”

I knew that if she sent me these articles, she thought I should read them, so I took a deep breath and opened the first one.

“... Smith arrived first, accompanied by a bunch of photographers, who were then surprised to see Evans and Dawson arrive about 30 minutes later. It is said that the engaged couple did not interact with Evans' ex, apart from a quick nod between Chris and Stella, when he was out for a smoke and she was leaving. It was visible that Emilia was quite uncomfortable knowing she’s somewhere there, but who wouldn’t be?”

“People from Stella's close surroundings have confirmed, that she’s been claiming Chris cheated on her with Emilia and they were still together when the Captain America actor and Dawson started dating.”

“... with Smith's new claims in the picture, we now look at the whole case in a different way. The cheating part would explain the tension between the exes during yesterday's outing. Apparently, the exes were even living together when the affair started.”

Great. Now I’m a homewrecker.

I came back to the email and checked what Hannah has written:

“Normally, I wouldn’t recommend that, but Chris’ and your movie comes out later this year and we don’t want another Angelina, Brad and Jennifer thing. I would suggest publishing a statement denying these allegations, containing some details, because if she’s actually been saying that, then we might be facing a bigger problem.”

Chris shifted and took a big breath through his nose. He stretched out his arms and looked up at me, with his sleepy, half-closed eyes. “Hi, sexy.” He murmured, before pulling my body close to his and scratching his beard against the soft skin on my stomach.

I smiled at him and found Hannah’s number, then simply texted her: “Do your worst.”

(Sidenote: I changed the name of one of Chris' exes, because I made her into a much bigger bitch than I thought I would)

@daybreak96 @coffeebooksandfandom @smilexcaptainx @betinalunardi @rollinsuh @lily2089@stella2445@hy-pocrite @l0rd-disick @beholdoritou @klaussstilinski@achishisha@givenchymercury @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @henry-cavill-gossip-girl @rock-titties @bombsandsparkles @marvel-fan23 @cap-just-said-language @blackaestheticislife @justsomemarvelspam @nerdchester17 @shyofaspark @cssrogersse@crispyearthquakezombie@ultragalaxy @bit-of-a-timelord @kingofallthingsz@morguleth@calicokitkat @areelphony@gemgemswift @donut-crazs@dontchawishyouknewhowtosalsa@kandomeresbitch @deafeningpsychicpandahands @severely-theoretic@chmedic @patzammit@winterssoliderss @metalarmlover @saturnki @coolkimchijoy16 @sammyjammy92@coolkimchijoy16 @peruvian-bae @avngersx

#chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans blurb #chris evans imagine #fanfic

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Devil’s Temptation pt4

Warnings: Mob Styling warlords, strong language.

Masterlist

---

Chapter 4 – Missing information

The hotel room they were taken too was grand and everything they came to expect from their father and his unwillingness to compromise on anything. For all the time they had spent running away and hiding from the family it was surprising how quickly they felt they could relax back inside the inner circle again. I thought I’d done it right this time. Average housing, low radar life, hell I even took a job doing drone work to get some cash to stay off the family radar.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that they were not likely to be killed as long as there was something wanted from them. They held that card close to their chest like a get out of jail free card in monopoly. If there was one thing you learnt early in cartel life it was leverage was key. I suppose I could try to slip away again but after last time I doubt Father would have been stupid enough not to put guards outside the room.

Just as their brain had worked through that possibility the main door clicked and a tall man entered the room. His short brown hair was greyer than when they last spoke, but there was no doubt who it was.

“Father?”

“You have no idea the trouble you have put me through just to find you, child.” His voice held an edge of sharp annoyance to it but his eyes betrayed him. He was happy to see them safe. Even so, the fact that he had maintained his hunt meant that the marked and loaded deck they ran from was still in play at the table.

---

Azuchi Corp. HQ

– Crash –

The loud sound of a sudden impact rang out through the underground parking lot. Mitsuhide had been on his way to his car and stopped in the doorway from the main building to see the fender bender that had just happened in front of him. Masa got out of his car and made his way to the back of it to look at the damage, all the while rubbing his head. Ieyasu who now resembled a blonde-haired beetroot shot out of his own vehicle and rounded on the Chef.

“What the fuck!?” Ieyasu exclaimed.

“Sorry Yasu, didn’t see you pulling in as I was reversing.” Masa replied apologetically, blinking his one good eye slowly as if trying to focus.

“Did you even look?” Ieyasu bent down to look at his smashed front light. “Great I’m going to have to phone the garage now to get this fixed.”

“I’ll pay for the damage.” Masa fumbled around his jacket looking for his wallet and phone.

“Too right you’ll pay it was your fault. Seriously were you born this stupid or did you have to take special lessons to achieve it?” Ieyasu was still furious but he was also now watching Masa with a frown.

“I said I was sorry. I was going to a meeting about that new location…” Masa explained feebly as he gave up searching his pockets and returned to the front seat where he at least found his cell phone.

“Well, that isn’t happening now.” Ieyasu grabbed Masa by the arm pulling him free of the car and began to tug him towards the access to the main building. “Come on, I’ll get that crash helmet you call a head seen too.”

Mitsuhide chuckled as he made his way to the other side of the parking lot to his own black salon. Looks like our little contrarian is still the same.

“You going out?” Masa called out to him as he reached his space.

“So, it would appear.” Mitsuhide waved his keys towards them before unlocking the car. “Did either of you need something?”

“From you?” Ieyasu quipped. “I’ve just had a car crash, the last thing I need is a random dead body!!”

Mitsuhide smirked slightly at the reply.

“Could you swing past my office and grab some files from my secretary? You can’t miss her, a cute little redhead with the biggest green eyes you’ve ever seen and…” Masa had a smile drift over his face as he described the employee. Well clearly someone has ideas on that one outside of work.

“I swear you are a good example of why the gene pool needs a lifeguard and contraception.” Ieyasu rolled his eyes, looking disgusted.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Masa frowned.

“Exactly what I said.” Ieyasu snapped back.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to play doctor and patient.” Mitsuhide chuckled as he climbed in his car. “Petite redheaded secretary? No random dead bodies? Got it. See you both later.” He pulled his door shut and drove away.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Masa asked watching the car leave the underground space.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Come on I’ll get that skull of yours wrapped before what little brains you have leak out.” Ieyasu said as he gave Masa a shove to get him to move.

---

Nobunaga was still awake. So many things needed to be done and there were never enough hours in the day. All of the emails had been answered, he had a few names listed to remind him that he would have to make personal visits to them in order to make sure they are aware that he is still the main power to stay behind during this new game.

“Sir, I’ve informed all the local media that we would usually use and they will be setting up outside awaiting the company announcement.” Hideyoshi called from the hallway and as the door was already open, he walked right in.

“Good, I knew I could rely on you to make the arrangements.” Nobunaga smiled at his right-hand man. Always so supportive and reliable. Hideyoshi was staring at him. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, Sir. I’m glad that you shall be returning.” Hideyoshi stated honestly a broad smile on his face. He looks like a dog happy to see his master has returned home. All he would be missing was a wagging tail and my slippers in his mouth.

“Given the current circumstances, I could hardly avoid taking such action.” Nobunaga motioned towards the city behind him framed in the glass panels of the windows. “You are a man for peace Hideyoshi, you always were. You have a great ability in maintaining harmony but when…”

“When the shit hits the fan I’m not as good as you are Sir.” Hideyoshi nodded in agreement. His face looked a little crestfallen with the idea that he did not do enough.

“Crude phrasing but accurate.” Nobu stood up and moved towards his friend. Placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Come now Hideyoshi you know I value your abilities but I also didn’t get where I am today by ignoring that sometimes someone’s talents place them as being better service to me in a different position.” None of this was your fault. If anything it was mine. Quick fixes that backfire... well no point in dwelling on it.

“Of course, Sir.” Hideyoshi nodded. The look on his face melted as he looked at his boss. “Speaking of people being of service. Where is Mitsuhide?”

“I would imagine he is exactly where he needs to be even if he says he isn’t.” Nobunaga shrugged and laughed. These two are always so entertaining when working together. I shall never be bored.

---

Uptown

The smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air in the loft space. It was a peaceful moment where he felt like he was caught between a dream and responsibility. The repetitive tick of the wall clock, and the soft chatter of the TV filled the air that was once filled with words of love and appreciation. When was the last time we could be alone like this? The schedule has been so busy lately. Absentmindedly he ran his fingertips over his collar bone to his shoulder and felt the telling sting of a bruise developing. Thank god for shirts with high collars.

He reached up to the cupboards to retrieve a couple of cups only to find himself enveloped from behind by a set of strong arms drawing his back into the warmth of his lover. They covered his hands with theirs caressing his fingers one by one, their breath against his bare skin sent shivers through his body.

“Let me help you with that.” He could feel the smile of the other in the playful tone they used. In the next instant, he found himself spun around facing the naked torso the man who he had left in bed to go in search of refreshments. Trapped between the cold countertop and the radiating heat of the man before him.

“Remind me how this is supposed to be helping?” He asked his blue eyes searching for an answer from the eyes hidden behind the mess of dark hair in front of him. I love you but god do you need to brush your hair right now.

“It’s not, but…” Just as his lover was about to connect his lips back to the mark on his shoulder the TV switched to a local news broadcast, and a familiar voice distracted him. Their dark hair danced across his exposed skin causing him to shudder at the sensation.

The warmth of the other left him standing near the coffee machine and he let out a small sigh. I guess we had to return to reality at some point. He took out two cups from the cupboard and washed them in the sink before using a new hand towel to dry them and placed them both in perfect alignment facing front so he could pour out the coffee for them. His habits were once a great source of teasing but now it was just a quirk that apparently made his partner love him even more.

He found the other man in the Livingroom perched on the edge of the of the cream designer couch staring at the tv with a grin plastered on his face.

“… and so, I would like to formally announce the return of Mr Oda to the Azuchi Corp.” Hideyoshi Toyotomi, who was the current CEO of the corporation smiled for the cameras and then stepped down from the podium.

The man standing behind came forward and he was every bit the intimidating man they had been told he was. His hair was slicked back and his dark suit, which was clearly made to measure all aided in heightening the feeling that he was a force to be reckoned with. I wonder what his hair would be like if we slicked it back like that? Wait, what am I thinking? He looked again at the man sitting glued to the screen.

“Thank you, Mr Toyotomi. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are all busy people and I would like to make this as concise as possible.” Nobunaga Oda played the crowd beautifully. He knew it was the trademark of ‘The Devil King of the upper east side’ but he had never actually seen it for himself. “I intend to take a temporary hiatus from my political career at present and return to my roots. I believe it is all too easy for a man to rise in power and position and forget where they came from. I have no intention of being that man.”

“Mr Oda? Do you have anything else you would like to say by way of introduction back into the business world?” The clear voice of a reporter carried over the huddled media. It was obviously a plugged question. They themselves used it all the time in mass media releases, it helped to lead the written press into the chosen angles you wanted to secure business further down the line. Plugged question or not it had his lover leaning forward even more in his seat. The excitement etched on his face and mirrored in his nearly black eyes was breath-taking.

“Only this. This city and its people are mine. I dedicated my life to achieving what was dubbed the impossible. I did it once and I shall do it again. And nothing is going to prevent me from that goal.” The tv broadcast rolled off into other news after a brief audio cut of the buzz of questions that sprung up as a result of Mr Oda’s declaration.

“You ok?” He asked as he handed the coffee over. Their fingers touched for a moment and the other man smiled back at him full of excitement.

“Of course. After that little display, I can say that this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” The smile turned into an infuriating smirk. One that years ago he wanted to smack right off that porcelain skin, now… now it made him want to smother it with his lips.

“I’m not sure how I feel about that remark.” He gave a small pout as he drank from his own cup sinking into the couch to sit as well. The other man chuckled deeply and after gulping down his coffee so fast it gained a look of worry from the blue-eyed blonde next to him.

“Hush now don’t pout.” He said as he adjusted himself. How can someone do something so small and look so good doing it? “You really do worry too much you know that?”

“One of us has to, and it clearly isn’t going to be you.” His tone was icy but the heat in his eyes as he looked at his love was hardly something he could fake.

“You might be right. But we now have our missing piece so things are going to get easier from here on out.” With a chuckle and a stretch, the other man carried his now empty cup back to the kitchen placing it in the empty sink and returned to the bedroom, no doubt to get dressed.

“I hope you’re right. I thought my years in ‘dispatch’ were long gone.” He called out from the couch as he finished his coffee and straightened the cushions. Before washing up the cups placing them back in their original positions in the cupboard and returning to the Livingroom to wipe down the remote control and table.

---

It was a very long day and after locating that secretary of Masa’s he now had the files he requested as well as some more information on the new company, or more specifically the CEO.

Takahiro Yasui. A bright star in the business world in his former location and credited with becoming one of the youngest successful CEO’s. Naturally, he had a full list of awards and his education was top notch too boot. To the outside world, he looked like the perfect businessman. Mitsuhide smelled a rat. If something is too good to be true, it nearly always is.

The young man seemed to bolt out of nowhere and get somewhere far to quickly to say it was without aid. From what Mitsuhide had found out Yasui was the younger son of a cartel but that in itself was strange. His family supported his older brother not him. It was common enough clearly the older brother was supposed to be the new head of the family, and yet the younger sibling this time was proving to be the better candidate. If he has chosen to relocate perhaps there is a threat from his brother to remove competition.

The idea was plaguing his mind as he drove along heading back to base. If it's not his family supporting him then who the hell is? He stopped at a set of lights rapping his fingers against the leather on his steering wheel and looked around him. There was a large black luxury car pulled up outside a grand hotel. Nothing unusual in that but the thing that caught his attention was the group of men leaving the hotel to get into it. Holsters visible for a fleeting moment, the handles of their concealed weapons visible.

“And who pray tell are you?” He spoke aloud as he made a mental note of the license plate and continued to follow the flow of traffic. I do so hate lack of information.

---

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