#it almost got blown away by the wind. a stranger helped me pick them up
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did i tell you guys that i have the one way trigger poster printed out in a3 and taped to my dorm room wall
#sophaerostxt#the strokes#it's beautiful.#also i went to like an actual shop with my best friend to print it out on good poster paper SKJHGK#it almost got blown away by the wind. a stranger helped me pick them up#it was a good day
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Unlikely Companions (Daryl Dixon x Female reader/ PLATONIC! Carl x Reader)
Summary: Carl was running for his life, being chased by walkers after he went on his own looking for Sophia. When he is corned by the walker a stranger woman saves him. She is looking for her Fiancee for the old world, but offers her help returning him to the farm. They bond over the days in the woods and she learns she might have another reason to find the farm.
Words: 3.1 k
“Carl?” Lori shouted across the farm. She hadn’t seen the boy all day and was starting to get nervous. “Have you seen Carl?” Maggie shook her head. “Not since breakfast” She answered in her southern accent. “Maybe he is with Rick? Or Shane?” Lori just nodded, but didn’t feel any safer. Where was her son?
Carl was running for his life. The two walkers were closing inn. He knew better than to shout and call for help, knowing it would probably attract even more walkers, but right now he didn’t care. “MOM!” He quickened his pace. “DAD!” Two walkers turned into four as two more appeared at his side. Tears was now streaming down his face as he was sure he was going to die here. He looked back again, ready to face death. But the walkers didn’t close inn on him. Instead arrow after arrow filled the air and all the walkers dropped. When Carl turned back around, fully expecting to see Daryl standing there, was surprised to see a stranger. “Are you okay?” The stranger asked him. Carl looked up at the woman. He was inn shock and didn’t know what to say. “You got a group? A family” She continued to ask him. When she tried to approach him, he backed up. “Hey, you don’t need to worry, I won’t do you any harm. Look” She dropped her cross bow and unleased her knife from her holster. When both fell to the ground, she could see him relaxing more. “Can I ask your name?”
“Carl, Carl Grimes”
“Well, Carl Grimes. I’m (Y/N) (L/N). I’m looking for my fiancée. But I can help you return back to you family. Someone as young as you shouldn’t be out here alone”.
Carl was still unsure about her. Remembering her mother’s speech about stranger danger. But those were the rules of the old world. Here in the new world they should accept help form anyone who invites it, right? After thinking it through, he nodded. “Okay, okay. This is a good start. How far away is your camp?” Carl looked down, a bit embarrassed. “I don’t know”
“Do you know the directions?” He shook his head. “Well shit, looks like were in quiet a pickle huh?” She smiled at him, trying to ease him. “I don’t know this area, never been here before. So, I say we head in one direction and hope for the best. What do you think?” He nodded. “Great! Lets go then!”
And so they started to wander. (Y/N) in front, with Carl a meter behind. “Sooo, do you have a favourite movie or something?” He just stared at her. “What! Come on, were going to be stuck with each other for a while, might as well get to know each other”. After a minute of silence, he spoke. “Iron Man”
“That’s a good movie! Mine is probably that or Pride and Prejudice”. Carl scrunched up his nose almost in disgust. “But that’s so girly! All they do is talk about their feelings and kiss!” She looked back at him, offended by his remarks. “And!? It’s a great love story that is still relevant to this day” She played up her offence more hoping it would make him laugh. It did. “Its still so girly” He said between giggles. “Never mind, were is the nearest walker. I’m feeding you to it” (Y/N)’s giggling was now a full on laughter. “Nooo!” Carl was laughing too. (Y/N) was relieved he was laughing, afraid the incident had traumatized him badly.
Back at the farm, panic was settling inn as no one knew were Carl was. “Who was the last to see him?” Rick asked the group. “I saw him after breakfast” Andrea spoke up, she and Carol was comforting Lori, who was having a full blown break down. “He probably went out looking for Sophia alone” All looked to Shane. “I’m mean why else would he suddenly leave”.
“I think your right, but he is still healing from the gun wound, he wouldn’t get far. And if a walker got him, he wouldn’t have much fight in him”.
“My baby!” Lori cried out in agony. “We need to send out search groups, he couldn’t have gone far”. Everyone agreed with Rick. “And with some luck we might find Sophia as well” Daryl nodded at Carol. She smiled back.
The sun had set and the night was creeping closer. (Y/N) had set up an alert system around the small camp they built for the night. Barb wire around them with empty cans tied up. They would rattle if a walker came close and waking them up. It was how (Y/N) had been sleeping every night.
“Go to sleep, I’ll look out for walkers” (Y/N) said leaned back against a tree. She had laid down her sleeping bag that he could use. “I wont fall asleep” Carl complained. “Try”.
“Can you tell me a story” She looked at him weird. “Aren’t you a bit old for fairy tales?”
“Not fairy tales, stories about your life, from before this?” She still looked at him weirdly. “My mom used to tell me stories from her collage days so I could fall asleep when I was younger. Can you please?” When he looked at her with those poppy eyes, (even though it was hard to see with only their small campfire as a light source), who could say no?
“Okay kid, one story than you go to sleep. Deal?” He nodded “What do you want to know?”
“You are engaged right, how was the proposal?” She giggled at the memory but started to tell about the best day of her life:
“Daryl! What are we doing here?” She was a bit frustrated as the redneck pulled her along the streets. It was midday and pretty damn hot. She pulled down her dress skirt as the wind picked up. “Have some patience’ damn woman” She giggled at his bruteness. One of the things she loved about the man, one of many. When they stopped in front of a new bookshop, he could see the hearts in her eyes. “I dint know they opened a new bookshop here!” She exclaimed. “Saw it last night and thought you might like it” Lies. He had known they were opening here for the past month, doing everything in his power to make sure you dint know. They actually had opening night a week ago.
Now it was her turn to drag him along. It surprised her to see the shop empty, seeing as the streets were pretty full. But she didn’t think much of it. Running between shelves after shelves, the one book in hand turning into two, than four and now finally six books. But when she turned around, all the books fell too the floor. Because there before her was her lovely boyfriend, down on one knee with a ring between his fingers. “Oh my god” She whispered into the silent shop. As if on cue, the speakers played her favourite song.
“(Y/N) (L/N), you are the love of my life. And I just want to be your man’ for the rest of your life. And, shit you know I aint’ good with my emotions, but when I’m with ya’ it seems so easy. Shit, I’m messing it all up” He was stumbling over his own words, clearly forgetting a pre-rehearsed speech. “no, please continue” tears were forming in her eyes. “I love ya’ (Y/N), my Sunshine. You book crazy mad woman. I love everything about ya’. So, will ya’ marry me?” He was ready for a rejection, ready to see her walk out of his life forever. But she didn’t.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, a million times yes” Tears were streaming down her face. He stood up and kissed her. His arm wrapping around her waist, bending her down a bit so he could kiss her more passionately. Like in the movies. They only broke off so he could slip the ring on her finger, it fit her perfectly.
“Did he rent out the bookshop?” Carl asked, clearly very invested. “Yeah, cost him way too much, but he didn’t care. That idiot was never good with money” She giggled at the memories. “What about after, what did you guys do?”
“Nah nah nah, the deal was one story than you go to sleep. I can tell you more tomorrow”. Carl huffed in annoyance but turned around in the sleeping bag. “Good night”
“Good night Carl”.
“Rick, it’s been a whole night! Where is he?” Lori was completely lost; she hadn’t slept all night. To worried about where her son was. “What if his trapped, oh god! What if those walkers got him?”
“We can’t think like that! He is fine. He has to be” Rick did everything he could to try and look confident and comfort his wife, but the worry was eating him up as well. The same thoughts were running through his head as well. Those terrible images of his baby boy being ripped apart by the walkers.
“Okay, open your mouth” Carl did as instruct and tried to catch the berry she threw into his mouth. She missed, but only with an inch! “You suck!” Carl teased her. “Hey! I’m not the one with a tiny mouth!” She teased back. “Alright, lets start walking big man”. He nodded and helped her clean up the camp. “Can I ask a question?” The boy asked as they continued to walk. “Sure”
“What happened between you and your fiancée? Why aren’t you together now?”
She took a deep breath. “When the outbreak happened, we weren’t together. He was off god know where with his brother, probably bailing him out or something-” Carl looked at her questioning, “That’s another story. But yeah, we weren’t together. I was at campus and that turned into a mess, I lots a lot of friends there. Mass panic and everybody evacuated. I and a couple of other students bunkered up a dorm room. Living of the instant noodles and beer we found. That lasted maybe 4 days. So, we left and split off, I wanted to go into the woods, where he would be and the rest wanted to go to back to Atlanta. And since than I have been looking for him. Living in the woods like a mad man.” Tears started to form in her eyes when she relived the horrible times at the campus.
“Sorry I asked”. He looked down. “Its alright” She smiled at him. “What were you studying?”
“Heh, literature. Not much help in the apocalypse, I guess”.
“Than how did you learn to use the bow and hunt?”
“He taught me” She smiled at the memory, and thanked him desperately for teaching her:
“Why do I need to learn this? I live in the city, I will never hunt or live in the woods!” Daryl just scuffed at her and placed the bow he bought in her hands. He had brought her out to the woods after her classes to teach her hunting. “ya’ need to be able to fend for yourself and feed yourself” She just looked him with a raise brow, but eventually gave in. “Fine, fine. Teach me”. A smirk played out on his face, happy with his little victory. Truth be told, he needed to know that you could fend for yourself and be independent, in and out of the city. It eased him at night, in a weird way. “Why cant I learn the crossbow like you?”
“First bow, than crossbow. Alright Sunshine’”
Shoooo! The arrow flew through the air and hit the squirl in the head. “Score!” (Y/N) exclaimed. She fastened the squirrel two her belt, joining the five others she had shot. “We eating good tonight!” Carl looked at the squirrels with a lot of scepticisms. “What? Don’t tell me you’re a picky eater”
“No, it just looks so weird like that” They bickered back and front while they walked in the direction, they thought the farm was inn. They had changed their direction a couple of times, hoping to get closer and see sign of life.
They had spent the entire day walking, and as the night came closer they found a spot to camp up. Carl set up the wires while (Y/N) started a fire to cook the squirrels. While they ate, Carl told her about his family and the people they were in the camp with. “What the hell! You got shot?!”
“Yeah!” Carl had a proud grin on his face, finally having something that made him look cool. “Shit, man your tougher than me if you can bounce back like that”. He laughed and continued to brag about the experience. It was a nice conversation. He talked a bunch about his family, mostly about his dad. Clearly his hero. But than he mentioned a familiar name.
“Wait! Daryl? Daryl with a crossbow?” Carl just nodded. “Does he have a west with angel wings? Brother named Merle?” When Carl nodded again. Tears started to from in her eyes. She was going to be reunited with Daryl, her Daryl. He was alive. That night when Carl finally fell asleep, her mind wandered to all the amazing memories with the man.
It was cold in the room. The window was wide open and letting the moonshine lighting up the small bedroom. (Y/N) and Daryl was huddled together for warmth on the bed. It had been an long night. From a failed date after the place Daryl wanted to take her to was closed, she got catcalled which ended up with her having to drag Daryl of the stranger. And when they got home, he showed her his scars. She was the first romantic partner he had ever shown. The night ended with their naked, sweaty bodies pressed together, while both worked to please the other. It was their first night together, her first night with anyone. When they lied down together basking in the aftermath of their climax, it was one of the happiest times in her life. He wrapped his arms around her and puller her on top of him. Her head resting on his chest, with his arms wrapped around her, caressing her back with one hand, the other squeezing her thigh. “I love ya Sunshine”.
“(Y/N)!”
“(Y/N)! Wake up!” Carl shook her awake. “What’s happening” She immediately reached for her bow and charged it ahead of her, ready to attack any enemy that threatened them. “I can see the farm!” The night had made it harder to see a head of them, but now that the sun was lighting up the world, they could see the farm a head of them. (Y/N) realised her bow and the breath she was holding. They packed up the camp at record time, both wanting to reach the farm as quickly as possible. The walk over to the farm was quiet. When they reached the outcast of the woods, a voice stopped them from going any further.
“Well, well, well, look at that. Do you guys see this fine piece of ass” A man walked out from behind a tree with a gun raised at them both. Three other guys came out, all with their weapons raised. “Sure do boss. Haven’t seen a woman this fine in what feels like ages. I’m just aching to be inside of her”.
(Y/N) placed herself protectively in front of Carl. “What do you guys want? Our food, weapons? You can have that, just leave us alone” Her voice trembled a little afraid of what they will do to them. “Oh, we don’t need your left overs or those teeth pickers you call knifes, no baby. We want something different” He grabbed his crotch when he said the last part. “Carl, run”.
“What? I cant leave-” “Carl! Run!” One of the guys tackled her down. Holding her down on the ground. “Get the kid” The boss said to the guy closest to Carl. “RUN!” She shouted before her mouth was covered. Carl finally ran away, when the guy ordered to catch him started to run after him.
When he made it out of the forest and ran across the fields to the farm, he started to shout out for help. “MOM! DAD!”.
“Do you guys hear that?” Glenn asked the group as they sat around planning the move for the day. “That’s Carl” Lori ran towards the field and saw her son running across it being chased by a stranger.
“Carl!” All the guys saw it too and started to run to Carl. The guy chasing him, saw the men running towards him and turned around to warn the others. “Carl!” Rick finally got to hug his son after being missing for 3 days. But the hug was cut short when Carl pushed free. “We need to head back, (Y/N), the girl that helped me is back there and the guys are attacking her!” He pulled his fathers hand and started to move back to the woods, but Daryl stopped him.
“(Y/N), as in (Y/N) (L/N)?” When Carl nodded Daryl took off and ran towards the forest. The others followed, but this time Carl was pushed back behind them. When they got closer they could hear her voice yelling for them to get off. They reached the area Daryl did not hesitate to shoot the guys around her, holding her down while the main guy was cutting up her clothes. When she got her hands free, she leaped on the last guy and grabbed her knife they had forgotten to remove from her belt. When he was pushed to the ground she didn’t hesitate to stab him in the chest. She didn’t stop after one, two three or four. Blood splashed on her face and torned shirt. Her hands were covered in blood.
Rick took a step forward, but stepped on a twig that snaped in two. She leaped up and raised the knife up, ready to protect herself against another attacker. But when she saw Daryl standing there, she dropped the knife. Sobs wracked through her body and she took a stumbling step forward. Daryl closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. He didn’t care that she was covered in blood, just happy that she was safe. She was alive.
Her knees buckled and she fell down, taking him with her. They were both on their knees holding each other and crying into each other’s necks. Right now, nobody else mattered. Not Rick, Glenn or Shane who was staring at the scene in front of them. Not the bodies of her attackers lying around them. No one. Only them as they held each other for the first time. It seemed as Carl had led her back to her family just as much as she had helped him back to his.
A/N: Part 2 is out! You can read it here : Part 2
Please ignore any spelling mistakes as English is not my first language :)
#the walking dead daryl#daryl x y/n#daryl x you#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon#daryl x reader#the walking dead#twd#carl grimes
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Streets (Shalnark x Reader)
This is a commission piece from @pastelbear12. It is a part 2 to Pretty Little Psycho. If you would like to commission me, here's a link to my commission page. I hope this kills you Sophie.
Pairing: Teasing!Shalnark x female reader
Warning: Teasing Shalnark, bondage, public sex, choking, daddy calling, very dom Shalnark, this is pure smut.
Word Count: 2610
You let your head duck under the red rope as you held tightly to the blonde in front of you. His face lit up with a wild, untamed excitement. You felt a tight squeeze on your wrist which matched the same tight lipped grin. Shivers ran down your body at the choice you made.
“Hey Shal,” called one of the men still stuck in line. The taunt left his face as Shanark faced his peer. The taller and muscular blonde who’s name was Phink motioned towards the entrance of the club. “You know the boss’s mission.”
Shanark waved away the notion. “You have enough people. Tell the boss I’ll be back later.” His gaze flickers to your own. “I have a more important mission to attend to.”
The music bumped through the speakers as Shalnark dragged you across the floor towards the bar. Not much was different between the two places beyond the line to enter was much shorter and there was a lack of a friend by your side. If you’d not been caught up in his hazel eyes, the terror may have set in by now.
Heavy bass swam between dancing bodies, flirty conversations, and frat boys chugging beers. You could almost hear it over the steady beat of your own heart. Your breath was shaky from the walk over and getting caught looking too long at the blonde man.
“What do you want? He asks while leaning his back against the bar. His arms planted across the empty space of the bar. “Or would you rather I pick for you?”
“I would-” You didn't have a chance to respond as Shal caught you off guard. Although you were going to respond, you didn’t know what you were going to say. Would you allow him to choose for you or would you rather choose something for yourself.
“Or are you worried I’ll spike your drink?” His eyes flicked up and down your body as if he was taking in a beautiful view. “Don’t worry. I’d like you to remember who will leave bruises all over your body tomorrow.”
An involuntary whimper forced from deep within your core. His words made your choice for you. “You can choose.” You almost couldn’t recognize your own voice. It was hoarse as if your throat was starving for water and squeasy as if you needed to gasp for air.
Shalnark reaches over to bush his thumb over your burning cheek before lightly gripping your chin to look up at him. “Seems like you may need water more than anything else. Wouldn’t want you to be too dehydrated for me.” You squirm away from his touch only to have him hold your jaw tighter. “I didn’t say you can look away, did I?”
“No,” you whisper. Shal’s thumb moved to your lips. They part when his finger presses lightly on the bottom lip to wetten them with your own saliva.
He chuckles: “Good girl.”
The blonde stranger’s words catch the breath in your chest which causes you to inadvertently cough and squirm away. “I’m sorry,” you mumble as you try to find a safe hiding place for your eyes that’s not the burrowing gaze of the man in front of you.
“No need to be sorry, princess,” he says while motioning to the bartender. He orders two waters. Shalnark ignored the rolling eyes of the worker,
“You didn’t order anything for yourself?” you question.
“No. I want to be coherent too. Any drinks and you may squirm away from me too much.” Your weight shifted between your feet. Before the bartender could return, Shalnark leaned in right next to your ear and mumbled “not that you aren’t already squirming for me.”
Your lips part to respond as the bartender sets down two bottles of water. Shalnark picks up both and hands you the other one.
“Anything else for you two?”
“Not now. But keep an open tab. I’ll be back for more.” The bartender takes this as his cue to find other patrons who will pay more. Your partner uncapped the lid and drank the full bottle down with almost no stops.
“Trying to impress me?” you tease while upcapping your own bottle. You take a few sips to try and cool your heat-filled cheeks.
“No,” he says while looking disinterestedly at the plastic in his hand. “I’ll need an excuse to use the restroom later. It’ll look suspicious if I take you to the bathroom the moment we walk in.”
Your nose scrunches while putting the bottle back onto the counter. “Why would you..?”
“Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious, princess,” Shalnark says. His tongue reaches out to wet his lips. The blonde’s pupils were blown as he leaned over the bar and into your space; making sure there are no gaps between you. Fear sends a chill down your spine. “I’ll want to take that pretty dress off and do unspeakable things to you.” Your grip tightens on the plastic as some of the water splashes onto your dress. “Ah now you have to come with me. We have to dry off.”
Shanark’s hand rested once again in your trembling hand as the bottle was left on the bar. Part of you hoped you’d never see that bottle again.
The swinging door finally closing was the last barrier between the two of you. Shalnark roughly gripped the clothing that guarded your hips and pulled you into a rough kiss. His force knocked the wind out of your chest. His body cages you against the door; although, that’s not what you would call it. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck
For his stature, you weren’t expecting his hands to be forceful enough to pull you against his own. You could have sworn you heard a tear of fabric as Shalnark looked for the skin of your back or hips. You wouldn’t be one to look at it until much later. Instead, you focused on the warmth pressing on his lips and warm breath against your own.
“Shal,” you groan while hiking your legs higher. He took the cue and pushed his full weight into your to lift your body so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. Your dress shifts up to around your waist.
You whimper while feeling his cock pressing into your thigh. Thick enough to feel it was semi hard. Your hips inadvertently grinded against the man. Shalnark pulled away from your lips with only a string of saliva and a whine to replace the once filthy noises.
“Did I tell you to grind against my dick?” he asks. His grip tightens against the small of your back.
“No?” you question. Your mind is a little hazy and lustful.
“No…” Shalnark’s voice trails off with a commanding expectation.
“No, master?”
“Better. But I’m looking for a word that starts with d.”
You could feel yourself absentmindedly closing your legs to gain any friction on your already wet pussy. “No daddy. You didn’t say I can grind against you.”
“Good girl,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. He peppers soft kisses against your lobe before ripping the little piece of fabric against your cunt. You squirm to try and close as the cold air hits your unclothed pussy. “Now. Hands up.”
You cock your head but comply. Shalnark shifts to hold you up by pressing your weight into the door. Your hands dangle above only for him to use your ripped underwear to tie your hands together. He ties them tightly while crossed. “Better,” he grunts before letting you down from his waist.
Shalnark strips the thin shirt and places it on the door knob. Your body trembles from the cool of the room mixed with fear of what could happen. He places a chaste kiss on your lips which leaves your head spinning and wanting more.“Knees, kitten,” the blonde commands and you follow.
When your knees hit the floor, you felt the force of the inability to use your hands. No matter how hard you tug, you cannot get released. You realized how under control you were of this strange man. The realization made your thighs slicker with your own wetness.
“Good little slut. I’ll treat you so nice if you suck my cock well.” Shalnark reaches a hand into your hair and tug it enough to look up at him. He chuckles at your open lips and doe-eyed look. The spider uses his other hand to pull out his throbbing cock. His tip was angry, red and leaking.
You wet your lips before kitten licking his tip. Shalnark hissed at the sudden touch. Curses escaped his lips and the grip on your hair tightened. You take this as a cue to keep doing a few test licks.
The salty taste edged you on to do broad stokes at the underside of his head. Without warning, the man shoves his cock into your mouth. “I’m done with your teasing kitten,” he grunts. “Treat me right.”
Your cheeks hollow as he pulls out of your warm mouth. Your tongue keeps flat against your jaw as Shal sets the pace. At first he’s kind by not shoving his full length in your mouth; however, this kindness doesn’t last.
One push is a little too far and causes you to gag around his length. This pushes the spider to go a little deeper. Your gag reflex would be your betrayal. Shalnark grips the back of your head to guide you at the pace he wants while your hands dig into his thighs. You could feel the trembling of his cock before he pulled away from your lips. Saliva runs down your chin and neck. Soon enough you kept your mouth open and let him use you.
“Fuck you got me too close princess,” Shalnark grunts while helping you to your feet. “Let me treat you to the same.”
At first, you were excited. Then you realized he didn’t cum. You got him close but not enough. Your eyes widen as he kisses your burning lips. “No daddy. I want to cum.”
“Good use of your word kitten,” he mumbles while dragging you to the sink. “I’ll let you cum if you do good. I promise.” His eyes twinkle with some miscivious thoughts.
He uses the sink as a way to prop up your body. You pray that it will continue holding your weight as Shalnark lifts your right leg over his sanding shoulder. This position creates a throbbing pull on your muscles.
A single finger dips into your dripping cunt. He’s teasing the outside as you quake against his touch. You pull at your restraints in hopes of helping him give you something to clench your walls around. “P-please,” you whine.
“Please what, princess?” Shalnark questions.
“Please touch me, daddy,” you cry. Your hips buckle against his touch. Shal hums but compiles. He moves a finger inside your warm cunt which causes you to gasp. Your back arches before hitting the glass of the mirror behind you with your exposed back.
Shalnark curls his finger and touches the spot that sends stars around your eyes. His finger picks up speed while moving in and out of your pussy. Whimpers and whines fall from your lips with little regard for who could hear.
Another finger is added to the one. His pace picks up. “Princess, you’re not ready for me yet. You have to take three of my fingers before being able to handle my cock.”
You whine again. Two felt like enough. You were spread and drowning in your own pleasure; yet, he refused to touch the bundle of nerves. You clenched down on his fingers. “You do that princess and I’ll make it four,” Shalnark whispers. Your pussy made slapping noises with each thrust of his hand.
For all you new, you could be covering his hand with your juices. You wanted to complain but Shal spread you more with a third finger. You clench at the small pain even though he slowed down.
“Doing so well, kitten.” Tears pricked your eyes. Soon Shal could move his fingers without you tightening around them. He took this opportunity to pull out his fingers and lick off any of the remaining juice.
He tears the underwear that holds your wrists. You had no objections as the binding was starting to hurt your arms and wrists. An acceptable pain that would leave bruises for days to come.
Before you could gain composure, Shalnark flips you over to look at yourself in the mirror. Mascara ran down your face from the tears of pleasure and slight pain. Your pupils were blown and lips plump from the barrage of his thick cock. The once beautiful dress was pushed away so that your tits were hanging out. You looked like a sweaty whore; however, your partner only looked hotter. Sweat dripped down his face and wetted his hair. He was filled with determination.
Your once bound wrists were tied by one of his hands behind your back. He uses the other one to line up his cock at your entrance. He traces your lips with the tip of his cock before pushing in. “Fuck,” you grunt while pushing your face more into the mirror. Shalnark uses the momentum of pulling your wrists to bounce you further on his dick.
“Oh princess, you feel better than I imagined,” your partner grunted as he slid out only to push back in. The hand not bound to your wrist slaps your ass at the same time his cock slammed into you.
He did this a few more times until the stinging pain was replaced by Shalnark fucking into you faster. Your whimpers turn into soft screams. Lewd slapping of skin and a few of the spider’s grunts echoed in the small bathroom.
Shal reached up to twist your head to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look at you princess.” He sticks a finger into your open mouth. Drool pools on the end of the sink. “Look at how much of a whore my pretty princess is. Drooling for my cock.”
His hand slid from your mouth to your neck. Lifting you up so that your back is flush against his chest. The hand that was on your wrists was repositioned to your clit. He rubbed rough circles in hopes that the growing tension in your stomach would break.
“Fuck ‘m close,” Shalnark grunts. His hand at your neck tightens around your airway while making it hard to breathe. It was all too much. Your clit, Shalnark’s hand, his thick cock fucking into you.
For the moment after you came, you swore you saw stars. Shalnark pumped a few more times into your cunt until he squirts his cum inside. He bites down on your neck to keep him from moaning. It wasn’t until he was coming down that he finally allowed you to take in the precious oxygen you desperately needed.
Shalnark’s teeth were replaced with soft kisses to your sweat covered skin. He pulled out of you once he and you had come down from your collective highs. Your shaking legs were covered in a mixture of your own cum and his. You shiver from the loss of him filling you up.
“Can you walk, darling?” the blonde questions.
“Yes?”
“Good because we’re going to a hotel. I’m not letting you go.”
“What about our bar tab?” Your question felt hoarse and tired. You had no more fight in you.
“Fuck the bar tab,” Shalnark says while handing you his shirt. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”
Masterlist
#shalnark#phantom troupe#shalnark x reader#shalnark x you#hxh#hunter x hunter#shalnark smut#a writes#hxh smut#hunter x hunter smut
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Rhythm of the Night (Felix Volturi x Fem!Reader)
Summary: You weren't much of a nightclub girl. After some prodding by your friends, you gave in and decided to give it a shot. At the same time, a vampire had chosen the club you're at as his hunting grounds for the night...
Word count: 2.4k words.
Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes, harrassment, Felix is a h0rny bastard, y'all beware
Author note: I guess I’m back? And with shameless sorta smutty Felix content to boot? Can’t say I’m surprised at myself - the thirst for this man is endless. Anyway, enjoy! I’m back to supply with more hot Volturi guard content.
Loud, blaring music? Check.
Standing awkwardly with a drink in your hand? Check.
Two out of three of your friends ditching you in this too-big-for-it's-own-good club? Double check.
You'd had a long week. Your job was driving you nuts, and things were getting on top of you in a bad way. After visiting you and seeing you curled up on the couch with a distant look in your eyes, your friends had dragged you into your bedroom, gotten you looking like a full snack and dragged your ass to a nightclub.
A nightclub, you mentally sighed, the lights flashing distracting you. It HAD to be a nightclub. I better not regret this.
"Come on, Y/N, loosen up!" Your friend next to you whined, a playful grin on their face.
"I've never been to one of these places before," you admitted loudly, your voice barely audible even with shouting.
Shaking their head, your remaining friend laughed. "Come, trust me."
Taking the drink from your clammy hand and setting it aside on a random surface, they pulled you into the fray of people dancing. A new song had begun and the excited cheers of the crowd were almost as loud as the song itself.
Leaning in, you heard your friend say, "Just follow my lead and have fun your way!"
Taking a deep breath, you nodded, and began swaying to the music along with your friend.
Entering the human infested club, Felix groaned internally. Demetri, because of course he would, suggested that he try and find a meal at the nearest nightclub in their vicinity.
"Lots of humans, especially ones who expect to have a fun night out!" Demetri had said casually, "just use your charm and lure one out."
Some days, I really do hate that man, Felix grumbled internally as the humid air and the scent of drunk people hit his face as he neared the sea of dancers. Scanning the faces and the scents of the crowd, he searched for his meal.
Demetri wasn't wrong; one of the best places to hunt were in fact nightclubs, along with dingy alleys in busy cities, hiking trails... and if you were desperate enough even regular old bars in cozy towns.
He wasn't desperate enough to risk his neck picking off a local from a bar. Too many people who know each other personally in bars. Nightclubs will do for the night.
Felix zeroed in on a potential victim; a random young man dancing with a girl and another man suggestively in the fray. He had no issue turning on his charm for the same sex - at the end of the day, they're all the same. All food.
A focused look on his face, he began to approach the man.
Midway through navigating the dancing humans, his hunt was interrupted by a body being shoved into him and a loud yell of "I said don't fucking touch me!"
Blinking, Felix's dark eyes darted from the person who was shoved into him and the one who shoved said person. A woman stood in front of him, glaring at their assailant with a mix of fury and fear rolled into one unfocused stare.
"... Just a friendly touch bitch, geez." the assailant grumbled, inaudible to human ears, but Felix just managed to catch it.
The woman's eyes shifted up to him. The wind felt like it'd been knocked out of him both by her scent as he paid more attention to her, and her mere presence itself. It was captivating, alluring even. Like a lasso had been thrown over him and was tugging him forward towards her.
She was captivating.
~~
You found yourself staring at the absurdly tall man in front of you like an idiot. Out of all the times you had to find yourself stunned speechless by how handsome someone was, your subconscious picked a brilliant time to do so.
Handsome was an understatement, you thought hazily.
Almost forgetting the man who had put his hands on you without your consent, you shook your head and backed away quickly. Don't be creepy, don't be creepy, don't be creepy by staring at the hot guy, you chanted internally.
Pushing through the crowd again, you searched for any of your friend's faces. Tonight was taking a weird turn and you just wanted to forget the weird shit.
After what felt like a millennia, your anxiety fueled by the bone rattling bass of the music that vibrated through your body and the club itself, you found the friend that stood with you when the others had ditched.
They took one look at your expression and a look of concern lit their eyes. "You okay?" they mouthed, gently reaching out and rubbing your shoulder reassuringly.
Nodding shakily, you gave a weak smile. "Got lost," you mouthed back.
Half an hour later and with a bit of booze in your system, you finally let loose. You were still upset about the guy touching you but you pushed it to the back of your mind for now; this would be the first and last time you go clubbing, you thought.
Dancing with your friend, you closed your eyes and lost yourself in the rhythm of the song that was playing, giggling all the way.
"Hey, Y/N!" You heard your friend call. Opening your eyes, they motioned off to the side with a devilish grin. "You've got an admirer!"
Following her gaze, you searched until you spotted who they were talking about, and promptly felt the blood in your cheeks boil from more than just being tipsy.
It was the insanely tall hot guy from earlier.
And he was looking directly at you.
"Aw man, what do I doooooo?" You whined loudly, desperately looking at your friend for help.
"What do you mean?" they replied, laughing.
You leaned in closer so they could hear you better. "He's too pretty for me," you hissed. You quickly sneaked another glance at him and... he was laughing?
Oh god is my mere appearance that funny? You thought to yourself.
"Why don't you go find out?" Your friend whispered back, giggling. “Or better yet, let’s tease him!”
Go find out? Are they mad? What if he rejects me and I have to live with being rejected by a ethereal-looking hot person? What if they don't?
Wait, tease how-?
Your friend suddenly grabbed your hips and the dance turned very sexual in nature. Catching along to their plan, you grinned, albeit a little manically due to pure anxiety, and matched your friend’s suggestiveness.
“Oh yeah, it’s working,” they whispered in your ear. “Look.”
Turning your body away from your friend to allow them to grind behind you as your hips swayed in sync to the rhythm of the song playing, you felt very satisfied when you saw the handsome man staring straight at you like a rabbit in headlights.
Damn, it worked!
At your smug grin, the man straightened up out of his daze with a dark look in his eyes.
“I think he wants youuuuu,” your friend cooed in your ear.
To hit the final nail in your coffin, he lifted one of his hands palm up, curling four fingers with a smirk on his face. He was calling you over.
Your heart leaped out of your chest. This is fine.
Taking a deep breath and deciding "Fuck it", you made your way over to the ridiculously tall hot man, not before finishing a shot your friend had placed in your hand from who-knows-where. You silently thanked them for the extra liquid courage. Weaving through the crowd, you tried to steady your ever-growing nerves as you got closer to the mysterious stranger.
~~
“What do I dooooo?” the pretty young lady whined to her friend, prompting her friend to ask her why. “He’s too pretty for me,” she hissed, barely audible over the bass of the music.
Felix laughed obnoxiously at her distress. The sight of her pretty eyes going wide when he beckoned her to him was one thing, but “He’s too pretty for me” sent him off the edge into a fit of amused almost-hysterical laughter.
Get a handle on yourself, he chided himself. Quickly as he lost his composure he regained it, waiting for the human’s decision, a little smidge of anxiety rising in his chest. What if she decides not to come over? Then my chances with the little human are blown.
The thought made his mind short-circuit. I referred to her as if she was mine...
There wasn’t time to ponder it further thought; as his train of thought refocused on his surroundings as she did something very unexpected.
Her friend whispered something into her ear and before he knew it he was watching her dance very suggestively in front of him. They teamed up to taunt him.
And it was working. Felix almost completely forgot about his thirst for blood as pure lust took over his senses. Oh she’s going to be the death of me, he groaned internally, his eyes trained on every motion her body made. Felix’s thoughts quickly and shameless went into the gutter as he began picturing how’d she feel dancing like that against him... and on his lap... and also what he’d do in retaliation to the teasing.
Her friend whispered something else into her ear, the snake to his sweet Eve in the garden, and they both turned to look at him. Backing away from her friend, the woman took a deep breath and he could hear her growl the words “Fuck it,” downing a shot handed to her by her friend before beginning to stride over toward him.
Standing up a little straighter, he tried to turn off the very dirty thoughts running laps in his mind as she came closer. He wanted this to succeed, after all. A small polite smile crept onto his face as the pretty lady appeared before him.
“Hi,” she greeted him wearing a nervous smile, a different persona standing before him from the seductress that taunted him on the dancefloor.
Felix grinned, turning on the full power of his charm on the helpless girl. “I uh, couldn’t help but recognize you from earlier, how are you feeling after that earlier incident?”
She froze at the pet name, then her pretty eyes narrowed as she was trying to recall the events in her drunken state. When it clicked they widened. “Right! Yeah... that wasn’t very fun.” Pausing a moment, she stared at Felix’s chest, shyly refusing to meet his gaze. “Thank you for stepping in. Really, I appreciate it.”
This poor sweet thing, Felix thought to himself, completely enamored. She goes from being loud and unaware of how loud she’s being with her friend to shy and bashful trying to talk to me.
“Make a move, idiota,” Demetri’s voice chimed in, putting extra emphasis on the last mocking word; where exactly he was Felix had no idea, but, with his old friend taunting him from the shadows, he decided it was now or never.
Felix ducked down and leaned in closer to Y/N’s face, speaking clearly in her ear. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
Y/N’s heart hammered away frantically even before he finished asking; most likely due to how close he now was to her, Felix concluded, but he’d like to think it was also due to some level of mutual attraction.
He hoped, anyway.
“It’s Y/N,” she answered, subconsciously turning her head a little toward Felix’s face.
“Well Y/N, it was my pleasure to keep creepy assholes off you.”
Oh dear lord why did I say it like that? He chided himself internally, cringing after the sentence left his mouth. I might as well have said “thanks for being harassed, sexy.”
Over the heavy bass of the club’s music, Demetri’s cackling laughter further teased Felix.
To his surprise - and safe to say Demetri’s, from wherever he was lurking and watching this unfold - Y/N giggled, the melodic sound growing in volume till it became an obnoxious booming laugh of her own. Pulling back to stand at his full height again, Felix looked at Y/N like she’d grown two heads.
“Well, please feel free to keep more creeps away from me in the future,” she said casually, like Felix hadn’t said something awkward. “Mind telling me your name?”
Blinking a couple times just to compose himself - and keep up the “human” appearance - he grinned back at her. “Felix.”
Y/N matched Felix’s grin with one of her own, and from that moment Felix knew he was hooked on her. He was so absorbed by her smile that he didn’t notice her pulling out her phone.
“Gimme your phone,” she commanded, a playful glint in her eyes. “and make sure it’s unlocked.”
Curious at what this strange woman would do next, Felix reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it as she commanded. He held out his phone and she took it from his hand, a small shocked gasp leaving her lips as her warm skin made contact with his icy skin.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” he asked, cocking his head a little to the side as he watched her fingers tap away on the phone screen.
“Going through your nudes,” she commented in a monotone voice, her full drunken concentration solely on his phone.
“Is that so?” he chuckled dryly, raising his eyebrows at the crassness.
She looked up once, with a small smirk, and then with a final tap to the phone screen, handed his phone back to him. “Normally I don’t do this but I like you, and I just put my number in your phone.”
She said it so casually, but her heart steadily hammering away in the same, frantic pace it was when he leaned in earlier was a giveaway to Felix that Y/N was nervous.
She’s... giving me her number. Wow.
Amazed and elated, Felix’s grin could have cracked his face with how wide he was smiling. “I’ll be in touch for sure, Y/N,” he replied, enjoying his her name felt leaving his mouth.
With a playful smile and a blush growing steadily on her cheeks, Y/N backed away from Felix in the direction of her friend. “I’ll see you around then!” she called out over the music, biting her lip in an attempt to keep from smiling so hard.
In that moment, Felix could care less about how much of a dumb ass he felt like earlier for his blunder of a pick up line, his still budding thirst or his friend’s smug comment of “Well played,” faintly reaching his ears. He’d endure the torment from Demetri’s teasing later.
Right now, he was staring at a drunken angel that would be his entire future, and she was none the wiser tot he fact that with by some liquid courage she had stolen this centuries-old man���s heart in it’s entirety.
#**barrel rolls away**#felix volturi x reader#felix volturi#twilight saga#the twilight saga#volturi#volturi x reader#volturi imagines#we back at it again#twilight renaissance
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Saint and Sinner | Arvin Russell x Male!Reader
Summary: This continues where the movie ends. You pick up Arvin as you are on your way to Cincinnati. But he’s awfully quiet, haunted by his past. Not the ideal companion for a long journey, but you make most of it.
Warnings: Smoking, drinking and smut
Words: 7814
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The orange glow of his cigarette illuminated the features underneath the cap for a brief moment. The cindering bud scattered across the tarmac as it parted with an almost spent cigarette. A puff of smoke blew from his lips. Carried away by the wind, into the forest beside him. Another car drove past him. A visible sigh racked his frame as he dragged his feet back into action. You spot the man from miles away. His appearance became more apparent the closer you got.
His intentions didn't change; you see his hand signal coming into view again. With his cigarette almost burned up, you leave your foot off the gas, and you let the car roll to a standstill a few yards after him. His jeans were dirty, torn, and worn long last past its intended lifetime. Just like the loose shirt hanging around his frame, the collar broad and wide. Blown by the wind. Spots of grime, sweat, and soil soaked in. A few locks of brown hair protruded from beneath his cap. Worn and colors fading. His expression was tired, and features that were gaunt like. Roadworkers were common in the area. And he sure looked the part.
"Hey there, where you be headin'?" You ask as he walks up to your window.
"I… haven't figured that out yet." He said in a beaten-down tone. "I was thinking somewhere north."
"I'm heading towards Cincinnati. You can travel along that way."
You could see him pondering, looking back down the road the way you came. If something was keeping him here. Reminding him of something. Before looking back at you. "I've been meaning to get up there."
"Well, hop on in." Leaning over to unlock the door. "I'm (Y/N)."
"Thank you...." Taking the last pull of his cigarette before tossing the smoldering remains on the floor. Closing the door behind him. "I didn't think anybody was gonna pick me up." Cradling the knapsack in his lap. And sharing a glance at you, forcing a small smile. Tightening his arms around his bag. His voice is dark and heavy. Carrying a sense of grim. "I'm Arvin."
"Rough day?"
"Hmmhm." He confirmed, avoiding any further eye contact. "Yeah…" Mumbling under his voice. Locked in a cold stare, reserved and absent.
There wasn't much to talk about. He sat there beside you, staring into the distance. You put the car into gear and steer back onto the road—a two-way road dissecting the large looming forest. Tall pine trees scattered up and beyond the horizon. As far as the eye can see. In the distance, a single-car drove ahead of you. A loaded truck passed by, and that was it. And as you pick up speed, a cool breeze of air began circulating through the open rolled windows. Following into the bending road, you spot the lay of the land ahead of you. A long stretch of road, rolling over the hills and valleys of the countryside. The branched off dirt roads dotted here and there all connected to a long stretch of road—a single lane connecting the smaller settlements to the cities. The road was uneven like most of them. The journey was going to be long. With the nob on the radio, you turn the volume down, the local radio broadcasting nothing noteworthy other then news and music replayed over and over again. Trying your best to keep your eyes on the road, you can't help but notice the boy's head bobbing. He must be the same age as you. Maybe a bit younger. His features were young, yet his expression was grave. He'd been through something. The way his eye pierced through the windshield. Roughed up by the countryside.
"You can sleep if you want, I'll wake you up once we hit town."
He just shook his head, fighting to stay awake. Arvin didn't want to fall asleep beside a stranger. Things were keeping him awake. His head heavy with sleep, burdened by his thoughts and deeds, bobbing on his neck. Swaying to the bounces and rockings of the car. His mind occupied elsewhere. Taking him back to times that were.
You weren't entirely sure if he was awake or not. He breathed somewhat heavily, and his head jerked back once in a while. "You… joining me?" You ask, motioning to the diner opposite the car. You hear a few grumbles, the sleepyhead still fighting to stay awake. His eyes small and narrow. With your coat hanging on your lap, ready to go, you give him some more time. He had been dozing off for little moments during the ride. But something was keeping him away, he'd jerk back into life, awake again and again. As if his nightmares were pushing him from his sleep. You slip open the pack of cigarettes and offer him one before taking one yourself. Something he didn't decline.
"I'll wait." He grumbled, voice hoarse and dry. "I'm not hungry."
"Hmm…" You watch him with interest, slowly awakening himself from the small naps. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, you notice the long brown locks of hair as he readjusted his cap, racking his fingers through as he coughed a little. Both still seated in the car, you quietly offer him a light. He leans over to you, catching the flame with his cigarette. "Something troubling you?" The question got out before you knew it.
The small flame of the lighter gave his appearance a somber look. He looked at you briefly through his lashes before seating back up. "It's nothin', just a… busy day." Pulling a big one from his cigarette. You remain seated like that for a while. Smoking a cigarette in peace and quiet. The parking lot at the dinner was almost empty, two cars and a lorry. From the car, you both watch the few customers dine and the young server walking up and down the diner. The sun was setting on the horizon, darkness slowly creeping into the surrounding woods.
"Here." Tossing the pack of cigarettes his way. "Just make sure no one gets into the car." You say and step outside, putting on your coat as the cold breeze crept upon you. "I'll be back in a bit."
"Don't worry about me." Sinking back into the chair. Taking another cigarette between his lips as he watches you enter the diner. Drawing a long pull and releasing a plume of smoke together with a long sorrowful sigh. Arvin was all alone in this world. Sitting in a strangers car, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't help but feel pity for himself. More and more questions began flooding his mind. Where should he go? What should he do? Would they be looking for him? And most importantly, did he do right? He rolled up the windows more to block out the cold wind blowing in. Arvin was alone once again. He wanted to. It's what he choose. Trust was hard to come by. Especially after all that had happened. He couldn't trust anyone. He sank deeper into his seat. His gaze stuck in nothing but mindless thoughts.
"Shit!" Arvin cursed, jumping in his seat. His instinct kicked in, holding a charged fist at whoever tried to get to him. But as he looked better, he could see a familiar face beside the car.
"Sorry, didn't mean to." You apologize while opening his door. "But I was wondering if you brought your jacket? Didn't see it on you, and you know, since you won't join me, you better get dressed. Gets pretty cold outside."
"Have my denim jacket with me." He said. Looking a bit puzzled by your concerns. "I'll be fine."
"Here." Slipping off your coat and handing it to him. "That denim jacket won't keep you warm. You sure you're not coming with me?"
He shrugged it off without even looking at you. You also let if go, and continue inwards. Like a typical diner, seating benches row after row. There was space for no more than fifteen to twenty people. At the end of the path cutting across the diner sat a jukebox. A nifty apparatus that was popping up everywhere. Even in small places like this. Behind the small bar with stools in flashy red and white accents all over stood the young server. She gave you a kind smile. Through a small gap in the wall, you could see the kitchen. The smell of bacon and fries welcome you—a sure pleasant one since you were in need of a good meal after such a long drive. A few seating away from the door sat an older couple, behind them, the lorry driver—just a quiet evening in the diner. You take a seat further up, close to the window to keep an eye on your car. And most importantly, your passenger. At first, he sat in the car, smoking one after the other, before finally dressing himself in your coat. Cold must be creeping into the metal.
In your mind, you couldn't understand nor figure out why he'd stay outside. He stretched his legs outside the car several times but regretted it moments later. The weather is getting a grip on him soon enough. Surprisingly enough, sleep didn't bother him anymore. Dinner alone didn't take long. The meal was good, a nice piece of tender meat with fries and a coke—a real classic. When you dine alone, you tend to finish quickly. Some small talk with the server might drag it out. But not tonight.
During your meal, you browse through the local paper. Read in upon the local and national news. Check the adverts and job offers. Ponder about work, family, and other matters. But somehow, your thoughts keep getting pulled away—more than once. And when you look up from your meal, your eyes automatically divert to your car. Catching his eye. The distance wasn't that far. But the contact was there. And feel caught nonetheless. He wasn't staring at you. But you keep catching each other's gaze—more than once. Your meal was interesting, but outside was something more worth your attention.
The red neon lights illuminated the entranceway and part of the parking lot. You were flooded by it once you stepped outside. In the small cluster of buildings on this side of the road, this one stood out the most. A local watering hole further up was the only other noteworthy building. The rest was wrapped in darkness. Two lamp posts illuminated the main street. Furthermore, no light. Just quiet and darkness. All in all, the small place was a sad display; most buildings were dilapidated, poorly maintained, and without much charm. Life went one elsewhere, but here, somehow, time seemed to stand still. A chill ran up your spine to tell you it was time for another stretch on the road.
The windows were rolled up all the way, except the one on his side—a small opening near the top, big enough to rid excess ash from his cigarette. You take a seat behind the wheel again, placing the paper bag beside him. A look of surprise shoots across his face; the smell must have caught on. "It's for you." You say while starting the car. The headlights illuminate the parking, and it's silent metal habitants.
"You didn't have to." Coughing his smoker's breath away, peaking into the bag. "But 't smells good."
"Dig in, my friend." Pushing the bag further towards him. "Can't imagine you're not hungry." A thin, forced smile softened his otherwise tired and lackluster expression. "It'll do you good."
"Thank you." He says while looking up at you. You feel the words carry their message across. The way he looks at you, straight into your eyes. "That's... real kind of you." Taking the contents from the bag. He carefully begins to unfold the wrap from the steaming hot burger on his lap. A sip from the cold milkshake seems to make him whole again. So did the first bite into the burger, leaning back as he slowly lets the flavors overwhelm him. "That's real good." He nods. "Yeah..."
"Good to hear…" Giving him a smile as you bring the car into action. The road ahead was dark and still so many miles to make. "Still got plenty of miles to go."
With the headlights of your car being the only source of light in the vicinity, driving became a tiresome experience. Staring ahead of you. No proper focal point. Just the road, two beams of light, and a pitch-black horizon. The sound coming from the radio was nothing special, pretty much the same as the jukebox from earlier. Your back began to feel sore and worn, annoying you. Small talk had been minimal. Arvin wasn't much of a talker. Not a storyteller. He kept his answers short. Therefore the whole chatter didn't have any deep subjects. Just plain chit chat about work and life. The work he did. The news. Yet, not mentioning his family. He avoided it. For a reason, you guess.
"What's there for you in Cincinnati?" He asked. For once, you were taken aback by his interest. Managing to speak a whole sentence. You chuckle to yourself lightly. Arvin noticed but didn't react.
"Home." You said, giving him a smile as he looks at you. "Been on a family visit for a couple of days."
"Hmmm…" He shifts his gaze from you back to the road. "Parents?"
"Yeah, I... used to live there. Farm life wasn't for me." You said. "Have you figured out where you're going?"
"Not yet." He sighed, sinking back further down in his seat. "Thank you for the coat. Glad the heater is back on again." Warming his hands in front of the vent. "It's cold."
"The least I can do."
The drive from the diner to the motel was a mere four-hour drive. Again in full darkness, only with a few more cars here and there. You knew the route for a certain bit. Arvin didn't pay attention to the road numbers when you tried to recall the last one. Arvin just raised his shoulder questionably. He didn't know. And it wasn't his fault, but you were trying to involve him in the process nonetheless. At least try to make the best of your company. When you stopped, he did join you looking on the map. Decked out onto the hood of the car, finding your way across the spiderweb of roads. He did look. But didn't say much. Smoking a cigarette, nothing more. In the last miles fifty or so miles, you made a stop to refuel, bought another pack of cigarettes, some small snacks, and went on for the final stretch. Arvin was said very little. Like before.
"Alright... so." You said, waiting for Arvin to catch up. "I've booked a room for the night here, perh-"
"I better go." He nodded, with a notion of defeat in posture. Adjusting his cap over his long curls again. With his gaze to the floor, he throws the knapsack over his shoulder.
"That's not what I meant." You chuckle out laughter, scratching yourself behind your ear. His eyes widen as he looks up, you see the grip on the strap tighten. "It's not that late." You say. "How about a beer? I know a bar further up. On me."
His pursed lips and a downcast glance told you enough. One hand on the strap of his bag, he tucked the other away in his pocket. A sigh followed that was louder than even he expected. The shadow created underneath his cap by the lamppost was enough to be unable to read in expression. Or see his eyes.
From what you have seen from this man, this Arvin. The words he spoke were few. Very few. But the eyes didn't. Once you looked into those eyes, they didn't deceive. They tell you more than his words could make out. He removed the last cigarette from the package you gave him. "Got a light?" He asked with a heavy voice. From your pocket, you flip open your lighter. Before giving you one more look. "Thank you (Y/N)." And with that, he starts walking away from you.
"Arvin." His steps slowed down before glancing back in your direction. Not at you. "Take good care of yourself."
He simply nodded, blew the smoke from his lips, and walked away. You try to shake it off and continue to check-in. The small room was furnished like any other. A small room centered around the bed, a tiny bathroom in the back, a wardrobe to one side, a chair to the other. Colors were near the same throughout the rooms. This was simple, dark, and drab greens. An old model of a television stood on a wooden counter near the wall. You seat yourself into the chair and tune into the first channel of only six. There wasn't much time that went by as sleep began to creep in. Eyelids heavy with sleep. Thoughts turned to none. Gazing mindlessly at the black and white images dancing on the screen.
You veer up in your seat, completely awake—two knocks on your door, loud and powerful, resonated through the room. You didn't have a bad conscience, as some would suggest. But this was far from expected. With your eyes wide open, heart beating in your chest, you approach the little spyhole in the door. Focusing one eye on…
"Arvin?" You pull open the door with a more than a surprised look. "How' d-... W-...?"
He'd clearly been beaten up by the weather. His breath fanned out before him like a small cloud, the cold from outside, riding up against you. Bringing your senses back to life again. It must have been more than an hour since you last saw him. Outside was cold, like before, windy and above all dark as the night could be. He reeled from the cold. Shaking to his very core. "Can I come back on that offer?"
"Of course." Taking a step back and holding the door open to him. "C'mon in."
"Thank you." He said, rubbing his hands together feverishly. "Tis damn cold outside." Standing uncomfortably in the room. Rocking on his heels, trying to warm himself up.
"It is…" Closing the door behind him, you don't know what to expect. But a sense of relief did surface for a brief moment. Something about him made your heart flutter. "So... what happened?"
Arvin didn't look pleased with himself. Sighing deeply, forcing his gaze to the floor if he was about to confess something. "Nothin' happened. That's the problem. I..." He shook his head, as if conflicted by his train of thought. Embarrassed to admit something.
"I'm just curious, Arvin. No more."
"I... didn't know where else to go..." He confessed, shoulders sinking, head hanging low.
"It's ok." Feeling pity for the man. What you didn't know was that Arvin had been standing there, in the darkness, for a long time. He'd walked the streets alone. Trains weren't there. Money he didn't have. Nor any family. Lost in his thoughts. Alone and cold. Without anything but a knapsack filled with old belongings. What was he going to do? He was a lost cause either way.
What he needed was hope. A light at the end of the tunnel. So he returned, standing in the distance, shivering from the cold in some alleyway. Catching the last glimpse of you as you unloaded your suitcase. Arvin had wondered for how long he should stay there. Was ten minutes long enough? Half an hour, maybe? He troubled himself with all sorts of thoughts, as he observed the small window which a little bit of light shone through.
"You mind if I...?" Pointing at the glass and bottle of liquor beside the chair—another reason for you why sleep began to set in earlier than usual.
"No, not at all." He handed you the glass with your remaining bit, downing it in one go. "It helps me sleep from time to time." Releasing a small hiss as is burned down your throat. Watching Arvin putting his lips to the bottle. Downing a few good swigs. "Might help you as well."
"Hmmm... I sure could use it." He looked at you with dreary eyes. "Sure could use it..." Wiping the drool from his lips with the back of his hand. His whole body was still shaking and shuddering on his legs. The glass trembling in his hand. You could see the pale white skin of his fingers gripping the glass. They were whiter than his grime stained shirt.
"So, what's your plan?" You ask, taking a comfortable position leaning against the wall.
Arvin had thought about the question beforehand. If he was going to escape the former life, he needed to go far away. Somewhere where he couldn't be found easily. The city was a good start. "Could I… travel with you… to Cincinnati?" He asked with a slight hint of hesitation in his voice. "If you don't I…"
"No problem." You said, cutting him off. He might not have been the perfect companion from the start. But you have to start somewhere. Not everyone earns their trust as quickly. "If all goes well, we'll hit Cincinnati tomorrow around noon. You can figure out what to do next on our way down there."
"I appreciate that." He smiled thinly. "Thank you, mister."
"Alright, alright." You nod and head for your suitcase. "And it's (Y/N). No more mister." You warn him with a raised finger and a smile. "I think we might be of the same age."
"Twenty-two."
"See." Confirming your suspicions. From there, you sort some clothing out. A clean white shirt, pair of jeans, and a sweater. You walk over to the door and take your coat from the hanger. "Go take a bath, freshen up. And those are yours." Pointing to the fresh pair of clothes on the foot end of the bed. You slip on your coat and pull a cigarette from the pack in your pocket. "I know what you're thinking. I'll wait outside."
Arvin looked at you with suspicious eyes, as if you had a whole different intention. He stared at you while you unlocked the door and took the keys. "Are you gonna call the cops?" His entire body stiffened as he asked the question. Terrified of the answer.
"What?" You chuckle into laughter. "No. What makes you think that?"
"Then why are you doing this?!" He shot back. "Why do all of this?! Why give me clothes?"
"You came back for a reason, Arvin." You didn't need to think about it long. One of two things was possible. Either good or bad. And soon you would find out which. “I'm just trying to help. But feel free to leave..." Taking a step aside, holding the door open for him. Letting the cold wind wash in. "You may have trust issues. But I don't." Revealing your wallet from your back pocket. "I know exactly what's in here." Tossing it on the bedsheets. "If you change your mind, or have a suspicion..." Nudging towards the wallet. "Have a go, might survive a couple days on it. Figure things out."
"I won't." He said resolutely. Taking a stance.
"I know." You nodded. "But I'm trying to make a point here. I'm not bad, either. And I know you're a good lad."
He stared at you with troubled eyes. "You don't know that." Shaking his head, his jaw locked, and lips pursed thin. "I have done things." His voice was dark, and spoke with a sense of guilt. "I have sinned." He spoke it like some warning.
"We all have." You preached wisely. "And you don't need faith to do it."
"What did you just say?!"
"You have no faith, Arvin. At least, not anymore. You either lost it or… something happened." The tension was thick. The way he looked at you. A sight that made you shudder. If he might turn hostile at any moment. Yet the more you look into his eyes. The more lost you feel yourself. Something was amiss with him. "You don't thank the Lord for your food. Nor mention him in every third sentence like those folk down in the countryside." Arvin's nostrils flared as he listened and let the words sink in. "I've seen it without my own family. Everyone there puts their trust in faith. But it only gives false hope."
"You don't know." Averting his gaze. "I'm not like one of them."
"That's my point."
"What about all this?" Throwing hands at the clothes. "Won't they miss these at home?"
"My wallet would be worse." You shake your head while suppressing laughter. "There's also a lock on the door in the bathroom. If you don't trust me, that is." Taking the cigarette in between your lips. "Which is up to you." And step outside. The howling wind welcoming you as you struggle to catch the flame. Turning your back to the wind, facing Arvin again. "Also, I live alone. They… don't give a damn for giving away a pair of clothes." Shooting him a smile. "I'll be back in thirty." Closing the door behind you.
Forty minutes had passed when you returned. With caution, you unlocked the door, careful not to scare or walk into him. Not to your surprise, Arvin appeared in a better-suited attire than earlier. Standing beside the bed with his denim jacket on. His hair freshly combed, and the dirt and stains removed from his face and neck. In his hand, he held a cigarette, the other tucked into this pocket. He looked so much better. Cleaner, fresher and more man than before. You both locked eyes on each other. Still not sure whether the tension had cleared from earlier.
But the cold had done enough on you, your nose was running, and the wind had found every little inch of exposed skin. Freezing you to your very bone. "Good God…." Cursing something more while sniffing your nose. "I'm freezing." And close the door behind you. Warming your hands together while looking at Arvin. "You look much better." Reaching for the bottle for a swig. "Hope it did you good." Sneezing your nose after in your handkerchief.
An adorable smile cracked his features as he flipped away the half-smoked cigarette onto the street. Chuckling to himself as he closed the door, stepping into the room. His smile brightened the room. "It did." He said with a terribly precious smile. "Thank you (Y/N)."
"You're welcome." Planting yourself on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleepers from your eyes. The room had warmed up adequately since you turned up the radiators before you left for a cigarette outside. The warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Feeling your ears glow like never before.
"I was about to come look for ya."
"Oh..." Releasing a long stretched yawn. "Well, I'm here." You rub your face wrecked with sleep.
"This is yours." Handing back your wallet.
"Thank you. What'd you do with it?"
"Nothing. Like you said."
"I knew you would." Flashing him a smile. In that short moment of eye contact, you notice a small shimmer in his eyes. It was brief. Something had happened.
"Thank you (Y/N). And my apologies."
"I'm just glad you're still here."
"I owe you that beer." He said, nudging towards the door. "Should we?"
"We'll figure that out later. I'm feeling tired." You knew full well Arvin had changed for the occasion. You detected a hint of disappointment in his reaction—the snort of air through his nose. But sleep had set in. With the cold crept into your bones, you longed for the warm sheets of a bed. Not a cold, stale beer in some backwater bar. "I've been to the reception… and uh... there's another room available. But…-"
"I don't want you to go through that much trouble for me." He raised his voice.
"I only wanted to say, I just... don't have that kind of money to spare right now. And-"
"I don't expect you to. You've already done enough." He smiled thankfully, but unexpected. "It's my own fault. I'll sleep in the car, or on the flo-..."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous." You cut him short. "Is that the alcohol talkin'?"
"There's only one bed for the two of us." He said, his thin smile more of a joking kind than anything else. "It has the space, but…"
"As long as you don't elbow me. I'm fine with it." You yawn out loud, stretching your limbs. "I just need some rest. I'll take this side-" Patting the cushion beside you. "-you the other."
"Fine." He snorted and sat on the other side. "Fine…" With the switch on your side of the bed, you dim most of the lights. Turning up the heat slightly on the thermostat, you make sure neither one gets cold in case someone pulls the cover from one another. The sheets were big enough, but just in case. You thought about sleeping in the chair, or the car. But neither of those were good options. As far as you know, a cheaper motel was miles ahead. Not that you had the money to spend on another room. But…
"G'night." Arvin mumbled while pulling his socks off. You glance back as his comment pulled you from your thoughts. A shudder of some sort short up through your spine. Followed by a growing glow of warmth. Boiling your insides slowly. Churning your stomach. In that instance, that moment you glanced back, Arvin sat at the edge of the bed. Just like you, but without a shirt. His broad shoulder and masculine back did something to you, you couldn't describe. The air stocked in your throat. Your eyes meet, sudden and short, as he turned his head slightly, his gaze locking into yours momentarily as he glanced back over his shoulder. The brown locks of hair dangling in front of him.
"Goodnight." Stripping yourself of the remaining pieces of clothing. Feeling the motion of Arvin shifting on the mattress, slipping himself under the covers. You turn the lights off with the switch beside your bed. Letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, and slide under the covers on the opposite side. Arvin lay on his back, gaze to the ceiling. And join him in doing so. Leaving a small space in-between. Like a neutral zone. It was mutually agreed without exchanging a single word about it. One arm propped under your cushion, the other resting on your stomach. Yet your heart hammered in your chest. You were glowing, cheeks burning. Not from the alcohol. Not from the cold. You were far more awake than you ever have been that day. Eyes wide open. Swallowing the lump down your throat. You just keep your gaze to the ceiling, but you wanted to… to look beside you.
"At what time do you want to leave tomorrow morning?" He said quietly, feeling his gaze shift towards you. Every bit of movement on the mattress made your heart pump harder. Laying on your back, the bed wasn't small. You made yourself small, close to the edge, a bit of cover draped over you. Yet he felt so close by. The sound of him breathing alone made you…
"I… I... d-don't know�� We'll see…" You clear your throat, keeping your eyes in afront. "We'll see." The everlasting silence returning again. The night turned dark and quiet. No cars driving past. No birds singing. No music from across the street. There was nothing, just silence. You don't know how long you've been laying there, staring at the ceiling. The tension building up. Listening to his breathing. You can't help it; you're too focused on it. Only the howling wind outside, the rustling of branches outside, brought a change of sound—every lick of lips, movement of his tongue in his mouth. You could hear it.
"(Y/N)?" He asked, rolling his head on the cushion, meeting your gaze for a second as you looked over. The cushions touched each other, that wasn't the problem. They were big enough, but the space between the two of you. That wasn't. The touch of arms was enough for you to jump a little.
"Yes… I'm awake." You sighed and continue to spit out a lie blatantly. "It's the weather. I always have trouble falling asleep when it's windy." You glance at him. "And you?"
"I don't know..." He said, bringing the conversation to a dead stop. You swing yourself onto the edge of the bed and lift yourself onto your legs. Making your way to the bathroom and lower yourself on the throne. Relieving yourself of the necessary. Before rounding the corner of the room, you halted for a moment. Standing there, several meters away from the bed. Even in the dark, you could see Arvin lying on his back. The outlines of his body, masculine shapes draped under the covers. You wish he didn't see you standing there. But you could feel his eyes shifting towards your direction. You shuffle back towards the bed and crawl back under. A sigh escaped you, trying to focus your mind on something else. The rustling leaves of the trees outside. The ticking radiator. The rumbling clouds. Time crept by slowly. Your eyelids felt heavy, yet sleep didn't seem to set in. "I can feel the sheets… shaking. You ok?"
"Oh, yeah...I' m-... I'm fine." You said with a sigh. Scratching the back of your head. "It's cold." Tugging the sheets in and around you. "That's all."
Everything beneath you moved and swayed. You expect he must have rolled onto his side, perhaps facing your way. The thought alone made you… warm. His breathing again remaining the only sound you could focus on. Added to that, the increasing warmth radiating from his side of the bed. You could still feel your toes being cold, hands numb, and ears glowing. Yet the heat was creeping into you. As if the radiator had crept under the covers. Was it Arvin…? Was he closer? The thought alone was tantalizing. Sending the hairs rising on your harm. You notice your breath becoming irregular, shuddering even.
"I should-...You tried to say, turning towards him by rolling onto your back. But you let out a small gasp in a semi terrified, panicking state. It all went so fast. You bumped up against him. Body against body. Warm and inviting. Yet in your reflex, you try to roll back on your side.
But his hand… His hand held in your place, resting on your hip. "You're freezing..." He breathed heavily, fanning along the skin of your neck. Shivers rushed across your spine as his hand lowered. Feeling your cold body with his hands. Shaking lightly as he touched upon your frame. Trailing up and down with his fingers. Your senses were in complete overdrive. Every point of contact was intensified by your mind. Slow and careful. You were numbed on the spot. Feeling your shoulder resting against his chest. Strong and masculine, like you glimpsed upon earlier.
"Y-Yes… Ar-... Arvin…" The words came out stuttering. You couldn't help it. Your hands shook, and your body was heating up quicker than ever before. "M-Maybe I… I should g-g-get a b...b-ath."
"You could have..." He said as his breath fanned against your neck. Sending shivers down your spine. The mattress moved again, Arvin began closing the distance between the two of you. If you had a chance to stop him now, it was right here. His hand moved from side to your stomach, his arm wrapping around your waist. Behind you, you feel the heat literally rising. His entire body came in contact with yours. Torso flat against your back, legs cupped by his. "But there's a reason you didn't..." He whispered into your ear. "It's the same why I came back." Before you had a chance to react, let alone sigh of relief. His lips followed, nose trailing along the back of your neck. You could feel the sloppy kiss burning on the skin of your neck. “Isn’t it, (Y/N)”?
It made everything different. All this strange tension that had circulated for the past hours had manifested in this one kiss. It burned barriers, tore down walls, and fulfilled your wildest thoughts. You let out a groaning moan as your body stiffened as he moved closer onto you. Sliding his hand further across your stomach, pulling you in closer. Feeling the warmth and curves of his body, pressed against you.
You try to regain your senses, not resisting his hold on you, but instead, turn towards him. And he let you, his hand that pulled you in, now slid along your frame, fingers roaming from your stomach to your back. Finally coming even with him. Even in the dark, this up close, you see the stunning outlines of his features. The dimples on his cheeks and freckles dotting his skin. Leaning into his lips, the kiss was everything you wanted. Soft and warm, but a particular ferocity to it. A gasp escaped your lips as you parted, cupping the back of his head with your hand. "Say it…(Y/N)" He said with a slightly shaking voice. The very mention of your name, in that harsh tone, made you shudder in excitement. "-tell me I'm right..." Pulling your lips back onto his. Arvin was the moving force in this; he could play you like anything else. And you would let him. "Say it… (Y/N)...You wanted this to happen..."
He still continued to advance on you. "I've been through enough…" His one hand touched on your inner thigh. Moving up every so slowly. "I've seen so much darkness." He said, pressing a kiss to your chest. Looking up at you as you groaned. "I don't want to anymore." Pushing himself further onto you. Shifting his weight towards you. And you let it happen, rolling onto your back. His lips take the skin of your shoulder for granted. Leaving behind hickeys. "I want it to change." He muttered in between the kisses, moving further along with the lines of your body, from the shoulder to your collarbone and chest. Forcing the wind from your lungs as his body followed along, resting on top of you.
"Shit, A...A-Arvin." You freeze on the spot, feeling his member pressed against you. Long rigid and firm, poking wantingly into you. The nerves in your system get the better of you. "I...I...I... can… help…and…a-and... I want to..." Every word took an effort to speak as he grinded against you slowly. Searching for friction, taking every ounce of concentration to utter a word. "But… B-But there a-are... other w-w-ways?!"
"No... The way you look at me." At the same time, his hand found its way to your pelvis. You had felt yourself growing in mere seconds. Blood racing your system. And now, those outlines, throbbing in your shorts, were traced by his fingers. "You make me feel like… like... I've never felt... in years." He groaned.
"Please A-Arvin... Don't mistake my kindness... f-for love. I… I-..." The touch of your cold hands on his warm, nurturing skin was everything you could ask for. His touch rocking your very being. The feeling of his naked body on yours. Your mind is almost blank. Captivated by his motions. Wanting more.
"Say it… (Y/N)..." He growled while kissing you hard. Your lips trembled upon his, shaking from pure ecstasy racing through your system. You can't help but kiss back. You wanted more. But you didn't have the courage. Thank God he did. “Tell me I’m right.”
"Y-Yes…A-Arvin…" You confirmed wholeheartedly, with a full-fledged groan of excitement. “Yes!” But were silenced in the moment again by his lips. Cradling your cheeks in his hands. Your heart fluttered, leaving you absolutely breathless. A smile grew on your face. And you could feel his growing against your lips. "Arvin... P-P-Please..."
"You either stop me if you want me to...." Hooking his finger on the band of your shorts. Adding finger by finger, until his entire hand slid in. He looked at you with small eyes, a flicker of innocence shining through. “Or you help me...” He growled. "But… what I'm about to do... I do because I want to." A smile showed on his otherwise troubled face. A smile you had never seen before. So soft, so kind. So loving. It showed a side of Arvin, you didn't expect to see. "Not because I have to… I… want to." Smacking his lips on yours. His hand palming your boner. Your breath stoked in your throat, feeling unable to respond. His fingers sliding along the pulsating flesh of your cock. Initiating the first strokes as he forced away your shorts. The covers were no longer there, and your eyes had accustomed to the darkness. The little light that the moon shone into the room was more than enough. His body resting against yours, feeling the heaving of his chest and the moving of his body. Every heartbeat, every breath he took. You felt it.
He stroked rough, with an intensity you couldn't match as your shaking hand reached for his. Even in the darkness, it stood out. The stiffness poking into your side, reminding you. His groaned breaths said enough as you brought them together. More than a handful for him. It's thrilling and highly intoxicating, invigorating, flesh against flesh. There was nothing else but his member on yours. His cockhead rubbing against yours. His shaft rock hard and wet. The veins and ridges of his, pulsating and desperate. Craving for more. A sensation you wish would never end.
The position was awkward at first. Arvin laying half on top of you. Cocks brushing in the middle. But as the heat rises, the momentum picks up. It all fell in place. With his one hand, he stroked, long and hard. The other arm, wrapped around your neck. Holding onto you.
His moans were short but charismatic. Your eyes get drawn to his every growl. Massaging your erections together in a lustful vigor. Everything was intensified. The veins on his arm showed. The muscles rippled in motion. The pressure of his worked masculine chest forcing into you. His glances helped you work together to a common goal. A shuddering touch of your fingers along his frame forced out more sounds than you could bear. Droplets of wetness shimmer in the moonlight. Holding them together in perfect pairs.
The shaking intensified, for both of you. Groaning to each other's touches. Senses rising beyond the unthinkable. As Arvin came first. His motions became sloppy, irregular, and twitching. His grip faltered as he came. His body trembled on yours, groaning as he held onto you for dear life. It's quick and messy. As you take over his grip. Struggling with the wetness and hard sensations in your hand. But it's helping you reach your high even faster. The reality of your hand holding them both together is hypnotizing. Even more when you feel him reaching his climax. He held you, with his strong arms, tight against his body. Groaning your name as all looked up at you. Locks of brown hair, tangled and messy, hanging before his eyes. His eyes widened, big and full of emotion. Gasping for air as you stroked harder. You bring your lips onto his, closing his gasping mouth. He moaned and shook through and through. The fierce kiss interrupted by his climax, he parted with a shuddering gasp as you both glanced down in between you. These boys did look at explosions.
And it sure was mesmerizing. His pulsating and jolting climax spilled over the pair. From the slit, a string of cum streamed from his cock. The first shots went airborne, splattering your pelvis and stomach. Each stroke of your hand initiates another wave. It began to cover your hand and both lengths. It's slippery, wet, and extremely satisfying to force out of someone else then yourself. Especially when he took over once again. You didn't need much more. The firm grip of his hand returned once again. He was strong. And his grip was more than satisfying. Heavenly. Regaining his breath on your chest. Focused on one thing. You suck the air into your lungs, almost if you need that to force your load out. The pressure builds up fast enough. And Arvin went for it. Stroking every last drop from you. Turning everything in a panting mess of growled, exhilarated lovemaking and passion. You both heaved for air in silence. Arvin still on top of you. In turn, stealing kisses from each other.
"I… have…" You muttered through your heavy breathing. "so... many questions..." You caught a glimpse of a smile on Arvin's face as he moved off the bed. Returning moments later with a towel. Hunched on his knees beside you, he cleaned every drop from you. With a careful finger, he inspected your areas to see if there was any left. His touch is slow and somewhat sensual. Dragging his finger over your, now, glowing skin. "Arvin?"
"Hmmm." He hummed softly, pulling the covers towards himself and began to cuddle up to you. Arvin completely naked, slowly cradling onto you. You can still feel his member rubbing into your skin. "Your warm again." He said while looking at you. His eyes had more life to it. Slowly putting an arm around your neck. Cuddling himself up on your chest. Pulling the cover along with him. Resting his head on your chest. You can't resist the temptation to twirl your fingers through those brown curls. Long and beautiful.
"What happened to you?"
He sighed and sank deep into your embrace. Folding himself around you. Embracing you. "I have sinned… and lost my faith." He said peacefully. "You were right." Pressing a small kiss to your chest. "Parts of me have died… and more. But here… today... I found a piece of me… I didn't know I lost."
You didn't expect those kinds of words from him. For a man with as few as his, this had emotion. For once you didn't have to read his eyes, or his expression to know what he meant what he said. A slight snore shook you from your thoughts as you trailed your fingers through his hair, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position. Arvin didn't move. He snored softly in your embrace. He looked peaceful. At ease. Curled up to you like that. You didn't track time, but you had a feeling, deep down inside of him, something was healing. He was sleeping, without being awoken by his nightmares. At least not yet.
Only the name remained, muttered softly from his lips.
A girl?
#arvin russell x reader#arvin russell x male reader#arvin russell x male!reader#arvin russel x y/n#arvin russell tom holland#arvin russell#male reader#male!reader#male reader smut#smut#tom holland#tom holland x male reader#tom holland smut#tom holland x male!reader#mlm#one bed trope
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A family of ice and fire
Rowaelin month day 20 - playing with magic.
A day late and finished this in half an hour. Hope you’ll like it. Short and fluffly
Rowan and Aelin were enjoying a rare day of peace and quiet.
Aelin’s meeting had been postponed and at the amazing news, Rowan had finished very quickly his training session with the guards and joined his mate and daughter in the big library.
That room was Aelin’s favourite corner in the whole castle. The place where she would hide after a long day of queenly duties and courtly bullshit. Rowan had placed for her a comfy sofa an armchair and a small coffee table. Building the library had taken time and it had taken more time to get hold of all her books. With so much to do after the war, that had been very low on their priorities’ list, but Rowan had been working on that project in secret when he had time. He wanted to give her a place for herself.
And now on a cold winter day they were just having a family day, the snow falling thick and heavy on the land.
Aelin was tucked against Rowan’s chest while he held her and read a book to her at the same time. Opposite from them, on the thick carpet was their daughter Aisling. She was nine and had started reading basic books and was now on her belly reading the last book Rowan had bought her. Her mate, the stone cold warrior who was renewed for his brutality, loved to spoil his daughter with books. To sit at her side and help her read the difficult word she still struggled with. With stranger and the outside world he still put up the mask of the unyielding warrior, but she and Aisling knew him in a way none ever could.
“I really do love cancelled meetings,” she told him, brushing her hand on the shirt he was wearing “because it means I can stay with the two of you instead and that is so much better.”
“I am not complaining,” a soft kiss on her temple.
All was perfect until a cold breeze started to descend on the room “Ro?” Said Aelin moving closer to her husband “what are you doing?” Ice and wind magic was his after all.
“The room is cold.” And she saw ice spread and a light cold wind pick up as well.
“Aisling.” Muttered Rowan. She had started to discover magic powers only recently and they had found out she had an affinity to wind and ice just like Rowan. But it was something still new that she was still struggling to control and her powers would sometimes, just burst all of a sudden.
Rowan had been trying to teach her and they had daily sessions together where he’d show how to keep her magic from flaring up at the most inopportune moment.
He got off the sofa and kneeled in front of his daughter who was still reading ignoring the fact that she had plunged the castle into the ice age.
“Darling.” He finally got through to her and as she saw the iced library she panicked and the breeze transformed in a full blown wind.
“Aisling, look at me.”
Her wide green eyes settled on him “Dad, what am I doing? I am scared.” Panic clear in her voice.
“Shh… look at me and relax. It’s normal.”
The girl breathed with her father and the ice slowly started to recede “good.”
Once the room was back to normal Aisling relaxed “It just happened. I am sorry.”
Rowan chuckled “it’s fine and let’s just be happy it was ice.” And he winked at Aelin who was still following the exchange from the sofa. In response she sent a flaming hand to Rowan and slapped his backside. He turned to her and sent a fiery gust of wind to his mate and she laughed.
“Wanna do something fun?”
Aisling nodded.
“Then let’s all get dressed and go in the yard. We don’t want to risk ruin mum’s book collection.”
Ten minutes later the three of them were in the massive yard and Rowan was ready to play and show his daughter that magic could be fun.
A snow flurry appeared out of nowhere and playfully enveloped his daughter and mate and the women cackled at the feeling. Rowan released his magic and the two of them ended up with their coats covered in snow and it was his turn to laugh.
Aelin in turn created a small fire vortex and melted the snow around her.
“Come on Aisling, stop mum.”
The girl concentrated and slowly a block of ice started to form around the fire and once she was happy it was big enough she let it melt around it, thus killing her mother’s vortex of flames.
Aisling screamed excited.
“Well done my darling.”
“Now, do you remember when we tried to conjure things?” Asked Rowan who was beaming with pride.
Aisling nodded and created an otter made of ice. The animal started to run around her parents feet.
Aelin patted the ice animal and stood, looking at her daughter “let’s make things interesting.”
She flicked her hands and a dragon made of flames appeared in the air.
Her daughter looked up amazed at the beast. She then looked at her father and he nodded in approval and a sword made of ice appeared in her hands. Although she was only nine Rowan had been teaching her basic defensive skills but only with weapons of ice so far. He didn’t want his daughter to handle a real blade yet. Or never for all he cared.
The dragon circled around them and Aisling moved in position, remembering all her dad had taught her.
“I will slay you.” And she attacked the dragon, but the beast flew away and she missed, groaning in disappointment.
She tried a few more times but kept missing. Then she looked at her father almost begging for help when he winked at her. He was standing and watching the fight with his arms folded at his chest when Aelin squirmed “Rowan,” shouted Aelin while directing the dragon at him “stop tickling me.”
The man laughed “I am not doing anything, your majesty.”
She glared at her mate and went back playing with her daughter.
Eventually Aisling did manage to slay the dragon which disappeared in a puff of smoke. She celebrated by jumping and the ice otter, which hadn’t disappeared, played with her.
“I killed the dragon.”
“Well done, my love. Was that fun?”
Aisling nodded “magic is so fun.”
In that instant Rowan created a snowball in his hand and threw it at his mate.
Aelin gasped outraged, bent over and moulded a ball in her hands and threw it at Rowan.
“Come on Aisling, you and me against dad.”
The girl nodded and walked beside her mother. And where Aelin had to make each ball out of real snow, Aisling attacked her father with her magic until Rowan walked quickly to her, grabbed her and fell on the snow with his daughter in his arms. Then out of revenge he pulled Aelin’s skirt and she joined them on the snow.
Aelin threw a final ball on Rowan’s head and he ended up with his hair even whiter.
“Mum look, dad is like a snow creature from the Staghorns.”
Rowan lay content in the snow with his two women in his arms “tomorrow will slay more dragons. Your mum is rusty and she need to play with magic too.”
Aisling nestled in her father’s arms and thought that magic was not scary after all.
#rowaelin#rowaelinkids#rowaelinmonth#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#domestic fluff
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canis lupus familiaris
pairing: bokuto koutarou x gn!reader
genre: fluff
word count: 3.0k
warnings: meet-cute, dog walker!bokuto, maybe ooc!bokuto + swearing/maybe
note: if this piece seems familiar, it’s because it was the last thing i posted on my old account (@/zumisace) before i deactivated it! i loved it and really wanted it out there hehe. i’m gonna be posting some old works that i really enjoyed mwah. help reading this again the dialogue is so blegh
Labrador Retriever
The first day you notice him, he’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts, black leggings extending past his knee to the middle of his shin as he stretches. There’s a bright orange leash that’s looped around his hand as he crosses an arm over his broad chest, a happily panting yellow labrador on the other end.
He is single handedly the most beautiful man you think you’ve ever seen, and you have to be careful you’re not drooling when you steal glances at him.
You’re lucky you even saw him, because you never go through the park near Main Street. It’s too crowded, and there are too many men that try and assert their dominance over you—overall you avoid walking this direction towards your favorite bookstore every weekend.
You’d only done it this weekend because there was some sort of construction going on West Street, but you have to sit down at a park bench momentarily just to gape at the handsome man jogging around the park with a dog at his side.
His hair spikes up in discolored disarray, but what might seem messy and uncoordinated on a lesser man, seems attractive on this one. He’s got a wide chest, shoulders broad that fills out his dry-fit shirt as he does some more stretching, and watching him while he does so makes you feel almost like a pervert, really.
You’d taken a quick detour in the park just to sit and watch him, book in hands forgotten as he crouched down, hands rubbing underneath the dog’s jaw with a loving touch. The smile on the man’s lips are wide, and you’re almost positive you’ve seen the smile before but you’re not really sure where.
When he looks up, your eyes catch with his and the smile he sends your way is blinding. You have to hold the book in front of your face just to hide the embarrassment clearly written across your face, but when you peek out a moment later, he seems none the wiser to your blunder.
You’re not usually one to base your attraction to other people solely on looks alone, but there’s something about this guy that tugs at your heartstrings. He’s good with dogs, too, and men that are good with animals are always a plus because they’re good judges of character.
“Hey, how are you?”
You look up to see the dog walker smiling brightly at you, a yellow labrador sitting at his side with a smile that almost matches his. Setting the book aside, you match his greeting. “Hi, I’m doing good, how are you?”
“Ah, I’m okay.” His hand rests on the dog’s head, who whines when he removes it to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m Bokuto, I just saw you looking at Rusty here and thought maybe you were too shy to say something.”
Well, at least your cover wasn’t blown just yet. You introduce yourself quickly while you reach a hand out to run along Rusty’s jaw, heart swelling when the dog seems to lean into your touch. “You caught me. I love dogs, is he yours?”
“Naw,” Bokuto crouches down now, just below your eye level as he rubs Rusty’s chest with a heavy hand, “I walk dogs when I’m not busy with practice, because it’s good exercise and I can get some pet time in without having to make the commitment of a dog, yet.”
“Yet? Do you plan on getting one at all?” Looking up at him, you tilt your head to the side as he shrugs.
“I’m not really sure yet.” Bokuto looks off into the distance as Rusty gets closer to you, nudging your legs apart with a wet nose to rest his head on your lap. “I travel a lot for work, so I’m not sure getting a dog would be smart.”
You hum thoughtfully. Bokuto seemed like a different type of person, from farther away. You hate to make assumptions about people without really getting to know them first, but he really seems like he dives into things head first without thinking things through. It’s nice to know that he cares for the potential dog he might get in the future enough, though.
“I’d get a pet, but I’m not really sure what I would want,” you start as you look back up at him, “I’m not even sure I’m a pet person, to be honest.”
“Everyone’s a pet person as long as you love them enough,” Bokuto encourages you with his hands outstretching, orange leash dangling from his hand making Rusty pick up his head briefly, “I hate to cut this short, cause it was really nice meeting you, but Rusty’s owner here is gonna pick him up in a little bit, and I gotta run him back to his house.”
“Oh, totally fine, I’d hate to keep you here.” You wave as he begins to jog off, taking a semi-willing Rusty with him. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah! I’m here every week walking dogs, so maybe I’ll see ya?”
As his figure retreats into the distance, you can practically feel your heartbeat in your chest. Pressing a hand to your chest, you think it might calm the racing beat as you bite your lip, smile shy as you think about the exchange you’d just had.
Bokuto was a weird guy, is the first thing you think of. Normally, people don’t come up to others in a park just because he’d managed to catch you staring. If he caught you staring at him, you appreciate the fact that he saved you the embarrassment and gave you the dog as an excuse. He seems nice enough, and you’re sure that in another world, maybe you’d regret letting the conversation flow as well as it had, but in this one, you liked talking to him like that.
Maybe you would be back next week, construction on West Street be damned.
French Bulldog
You were absolutely pathetic.
Never in your some odd years of living did you ever think that you’d be the type of person to exercise just because you wanted to see a guy again.
A very tall, adorable, muscular guy that handled dogs well and came up to you with a smile brighter than the sun, but a guy, nonetheless.
Dressed in a set of workout clothes that had practically been collecting dust in your drawers, you were stretching very awkwardly at the park, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. You weren’t someone that worked out often, and you prayed to whatever upper being was out there that no one looked at you weird.
You’d been pacing around the front of your apartment for a good twenty minutes before you decided to jog to the park, trying to keep a slower pace than normal because you didn’t want to be huffing and wheezing when you got to the park.
When you got there, you spotted Bokuto almost immediately. He was surrounded by a small crowd of people, looking embarrassed as they seemed to be asking for his autograph. A thinner, royal blue leash was wrapped around his hand as he waved and posed with some people for pictures.
Was he famous or something? You weren’t exactly sure, but he did have a familiar sort of face. You’d thought you’d seen him before the first day you had seen him, so maybe you’d seen him on your explore feed on Instagram or something.
You weren’t going to intrude on the festivities, content to just continue stretching and maybe actually exercise, but when Bokuto caught your eye, he waved at you with a hand over his head, movements large and noticeable.
“Sorry, I have to go, but thanks for supporting me!” was the part of the conversation that you had caught as you watched him jog towards you, a small white and brown French Bulldog happily trailing after him.
“Hey,” you’re tying your shoe now, crouched on the ground and you hold out a hand for the small dog to smell, “Funny running into you again, stranger.”
“Nice to see you again, you really saved me.” There’s relief in his voice as he holds his hands on his hips, chest heaving gently as he smiles at you. “Y’know, I love my fans, and they’re usually really respectful, but I guess someone caught wind that I started walking dogs and a whole crew of people were here when I got here with Porco today.”
You really hope Porco is the name of the dog.
“Your fans?” You straighten yourself off of the ground and give him a raised eyebrow. “Are you a model or something? I wouldn’t be surprised, you have the looks for one.”
The words leave your mouth before you can really think, and maybe it’s worth not having a filter for that brief moment to see the rosy red blush spread across the bridge of his nose and across the planes of his cheeks. If you look close, you’re pretty sure you can see it start to creep up his neck and on the tips of his ears.
“I’m not–! I’m not a model.” His words are quick as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m a volleyball player, I play for the MSBY Black Jackals!”
“Oh, I’m not really into sports all that much.” You shrug lightly as you feel a weight on your foot, looking down to see Porco resting his butt on your sneaker. “I’m surprised I’m just now finding out you’re, like, famous, though.”
“I thought you knew I was a volleyball player, honestly.” Bokuto looks a little sheepish as he says it. “Usually, people recognize me right away so I just talked about it like you knew.”
“It’s fine! Don’t worry too much, I didn’t even notice.”
Porco makes a strange noise, something between breathing in too hard and sneezing, and it honestly stops your heart for a good minute. Looking at Bokuto, you’re concerned but it soothes off of you when he leans down and just pats the dog’s back lightly. “Sorry, French Bulldogs actually have really bad nasal issues, so Porco tends to do this when his nose gets too dry.”
“Y’know, you sure know a lot about different types of dogs for a guy that doesn’t want one,” you remark as you crouch down with Bokuto to scratch under Porco’s chin lightly.
Bokuto’s laugh is something akin to an angel’s and you want to make him laugh for the rest of his life. “I really wanted a dog when I was a kid, but my mom thought I was too irresponsible, so I did a month long project where I just researched about different dogs.”
“Guess it stuck with you, huh?” He nods, and you’re not sure if he does it on purpose but his shoulder bumps yours gently. “Did your mom end up getting you a dog?”
“No! My sister got a hamster and my mom was worried a big dog, like I wanted, would terrorize it.” his tone isn’t accusatory or spiteful, just reminiscing on the past as he continues to stare at the small dog before him. “It was probably for the better, cause I think I would’ve been heartbroken if the dog died before I was able to make it to the professional leagues.”
Talking to Bokuto is one of the easiest things you think you’ve ever done.
The two of you end up walking around the park when Porco calms down after a while, and the conversation flows as smooth as a river. Whenever there might be a moment of awkward silence, he manages to fill it effortlessly by mentioning something, or even just talking about his experiences as a volleyball player.
Honestly, even the moments of silence aren’t even all that awkward. There’s something soothing about the sounds of both of your feet hitting the pavement and the birds chirping that makes the entire experience one of the better ones you’ve had.
So, when he asks for your number, you give it to him without a second thought.
German Shepherd
Bokuto really likes texting people at odd hours of the day, you’ve learned.
Sometimes you’ll wake up to a text on your phone from the man that he sent at about one in the morning, often asking you something that he had just thought of and can’t bother anyone else with. When you wake up, you typically try and answer his question to the best of your ability, and if you can’t figure it out, the two of you brainstorm the next weekend at the park to see what the answer could possibly be.
The pair of you have slipped into such a routine that seems so domestic it makes your heart clench whenever you have to remind yourself you’re just friends.
Today, at the park, Bokuto has a dog that you’ve seen before. A friendly German Shepherd named Ace that loved to slobber on your hands if you scratched underneath his chin for long enough.
A bright green leash is looped around his hand as he does his triangle stretches, Ace sitting between his feet acting well mannered. Bokuto waves at you as you walk over, tucking your phone away as you greet them both.
“Any clue where in the park we want to go today?”
“You think you’d get bored of the park after a while,” you say off handedly, watching as Ace’s ears perk up at the sight of two squirrels chasing after each other.
When Bokuto doesn’t say anything for a good minute or two, you turn to look at him. “Well, honestly? I was gonna stop coming to this park a few weeks ago.”
“Really?” This is the first you’ve heard of it, and you’re sure your surprise is drawn on your face if the way Bokuto reacts is any indication. “Why’d you end up staying?”
He coughs into his hand, and you’re sure he’s tugging his jacket’s collar up to hide the red dancing across his cheeks right now. “...You.”
You couldn’t have heard that right. You stop walking for a minute, coming to a full stop in the middle of the walking path as you process what he says to you. “You were gonna stop coming to this park… until you met me?”
His hair shakes a little bit when he nods, and he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. I had that Labrador for some guy, and I was gonna go to a different park cause he seemed like, bummed at this one, but I saw you sitting at one of the benches.”
“I started talking to you, and then I just had to see you again, so I came back the next week, too.” He looks up at you with a sense of alarm in his eyes. “That’s not weird, is it?”
“It’s not weird, Bokuto,” you reassure, stepping closer to him and hitting your shoulder against his easily, “I might have done the same thing. I usually go near the park on West Street.”
His smile is radiant, and you think that you’d love to see that smile every day of your life if he’d let you. There’s something about it that makes a small part of your heart swell, the feeling that you’re the one making him smile like that rears its head over the part of you that knows you aren’t with him.
That could always change, though, you think as Bokuto tugs on your arm as Ace rushes ahead of the two of you, eyes set on a squirrel running up a tree somewhere. His laughter is contagious as you’re pulled along by the dog, and you know that Bokuto could stop him from running, but maybe he enjoys the way the wind runs over him like you are.
Bokuto insists that you wait for him to drop off Ace at his owner’s house, telling you that you have to come with him or wait for him at your apartment. You love Ace, but you’re not too keen on meeting his owner at the moment, so you’re sitting on the steps of your apartment, changed out of your athletic wear in something more fitting for your day to day.
He comes back to you, jogging lightly as he waves at you from down the street. His outfit is the same as earlier, just a pair of black shorts with a navy blue hoodie, and yet you’re sure he’s even handsomer than you’d just seen him before.
“Ready?”
You make a noise of agreement as the two of you set off, yet you’re still not sure where you’re going, instead just following after him without questioning anything. If you were more paranoid, you’d think this would be the perfect time for him to just kill you.
“So, no questions on where we’re going?” God, he always knows when to get you out of your thoughts.
“I just thought you were taking me to a dark alleyway to kill me,” you give him a smile as he makes an incredulous face, surely offended that you even thought that of him.
“No, I was just, uh,” he coughs into his hand, and you’re sure his cheeks are red again without even having to look, “hoping to take you on our first date.”
Smiling at the floor with a grin that doesn’t seem to fade, you clear your throat, “Walking the dogs doesn’t count as a date?”
“Ah, you’re right,” he concedes, dipping his head in a fleet apology, “our first date without any dogs.”
“Unfortunately,” you start, hand outstretching and seeking his, “I was only talking to you for the dogs.”
He laughs, hand intertwining with yours and tugging you closer. “Of course, the dogs were the only selling point I had, right?”
“Absolutely,” you nod in agreement, “I definitely didn’t want to go out with you, just wanted to see the dogs.”
The two of you are laughing and joking like you always do when you go into the small little diner, where you end up having your first date, without any dogs.
#hanimehub#hqcorenet#bokuto x reader#bokuto x you#bokuto x y/n#bokuto koutarou x reader#bokuto koutarou x you#bokuto koutarou x y/n#hq!! bokuto#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu!! bokuto#haikyuu bokuto#bokuto fluff#grind for the wealth
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We all Cope Somehow
Javier Peña x Reader
Word Count: 2,017
Warnings: Javier gets sad, Steve gets drunk, Javier is creepy for all of two seconds, Javier has a breakdown, talking about scars and injuries.
Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell
The fight is hard, and at the end of the day, everyone has their coping mechanism. Steve drinks until he can’t remember why he opened a bottle. Javier gets lost with some corner girl who won’t remember his name or face. You cook and nurture your boys because no one else will. That’s just how life is, until Javier comes home late, unable to find his forgetfulness.
“Javi?”
“What?”
You shuffled slightly, the ache in your back ever persistent. “I made dinner. Are you staying?”
Javier nodded, putting out his cigarette and coming in from the balcony, seeing Steve with his third drink at the table already. “What’s for dinner?”
“Figured we could use a taste of home,” you said, putting a plate with a steak on it in front of Javier. “Texas, right?”
Another nod from Javier, who wordlessly began to eat. Steve gulped down his drink and shakily picked up his knife. You immediately stepped in, taking the steak knife and cutting Steve’s food for him.
“Thank you,” he slurred, and you smiled.
“Any time.”
After dinner, you cut Steve off, giving him some water and bread and sitting him down on your couch. Javier scooped his jacket up and made to leave, turning back to look at you one last time before silently slipping out.
You noticed Javier leaving, not bothering to say anything. Turning to face him walking out your door would be painful, seeing him and knowing he was going to bury himself in some stranger on the street, not looking for comfort but escape. Knowing those kind eyes would go dark with a feral, primal lust that couldn’t be stopped. You tucked a blanket around Steve, left him two painkillers, and went to go sleep yourself.
Harsh knocking at your door hours later woke you. Steve groaned, and you immediately tugged a robe around yourself and ran to the door.
“Go back to sleep Stevie,” you said softly, peering through the door’s peephole and seeing the back of Javier’s head. “It’s just Javi.”
Steve fell back into the couch, disappearing into sleep once more. You tugged the door open quietly, shushing Javier as he went to talk. “Shh. Steve’s asleep.”
Javier nodded, gesturing to your bedroom. You silently agreed, bare feet making almost no noise as you two headed towards the room.
“What are you doing back here?” You asked, shutting your bedroom door and turning to Javier. “You never come back after you leave for the night and, Javi!”
You shouted his name, shoving his hands off your body. In the dim bedroom lights, you could see his pupils blown wide with that lust he reserved for women who could handle it. But now, with no outlet and no other options, Javier was turning to the next available thing.
“C’mon,” he crooned softly, reaching out for you again. “You know you want me.”
“Not like this!” You shouted, jumping away from his wandering hands. “Javi! Christ, get away from me! Javier!”
That seemed to break Javier, his body crumpling as you shied away. You knew that no matter what state he was in, he would never hurt you. But this still wasn’t comforting.
“Javi?” You asked softly, seeing him still. “Javi, honey, you okay? Are you in there?”
Javier shook his head. Tiny, minuscule movements that made you scared.
“Hey,” you said, reaching out but not touching. “Let’s go for a drive.”
He followed you out, numbly climbing into the car and waiting for you to start it. Taking a midnight drive probably wasn’t advised, but it calmed Javier down and to see him smile again, you’d personally fight Escobar, no matter the odds.
Taking a turn out of the neighborhood and finding your favorite winding road, you drove in relative silence, Javier gazing out the window as the lights grew smaller and smaller until they looked like bright stars in the sky, making messy bunches of constellations. The hum of the car and the rock of the road beneath you calmed him, easing his troubled mind until he finally began to cry.
“Oh Javi, honey, it’s okay,” you mumbled, stopping the car in an abandoned parking lot and leaning over the console to hug Javier. “Hey, it’s okay honey. You weren’t right, and that’s just fine. It’s okay to not be okay, you hear me?”
Javier nodded, burying himself in your arms and mumbling out soft, broken, apologies.
You hummed, smoothing a hand over his heaving back. “Javi, I forgive you. I will always forgive you.”
Another agonizing ten minutes passed, during which you held Javier as he shook and cried and let everything out. You simply rubbed his back and held him close, promising you would always be there.
Finally, finally, Javier pulled away, still trembling. You held his hands, smoothing your thumbs over the scarred skin on the backs of his hands. “You never told me about this,” you realized, peering deeper at the pebbled scar that spanned the entire back of Javier’s left hand.
Javier pulled in a breath. You couldn’t tell if he knew you were trying to distract him, but you needed to get his mind off his current pain. “My brother,” he said slowly, a horrible rasp to his voice. “we had a treadmill, and my hand got caught in it. My brother was running on top of it. It wasn’t his fault.”
You smiled, examining his face. Pushing sweaty hair off his forehead, you traced another scar, barely an inch long, in the dead center of Javier’s forehead. “This one?”
“I was six,” Javier remembered. “My sister threw a ball under a table, and I ran too fast to duck in time. Hit the stupid thing head on. Thirteen stitches.”
Another kind smile, and this time you moved forward to press a warm kiss to the scar. “And that one on your elbow you refuse to tell Steve about?”
That was able to draw a laugh out of Javier, even if it was skittering and faint. “My other sister, the oldest, let me have her old roller skates when she outgrew them.” As he talked, Javier’s words got steadier and steadier, the shake to his hands slowly fading. “We lived on a street with a cul-de-sac at the end, and there was a hill leading up to the circle. My sister showed me how to turn at the cul-de-sac, in a big loop. I started at the top of the hill to gain speed. But I fucked it up. I was going too fast and couldn’t control myself, so I ended up tripping, and skidded three feet. It’s a miracle I didn’t break something. My elbow was somehow the only casualty.”
You giggled, rolling his sleeves up and lifting his right arm so you could kiss the quarter sized scar. “A daring injury,” you promised. “That one on your ankle I teased you about?”
Javier shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. “A glass cup my sisters used to shave shattered in the shower. Cut me in two places. Why are you asking about the boring ones?”
Shrugging, you traced a longer, more wicked scar on Javier’s left arm. “Because they’re fun scars. War stories are interesting, but they’re not you.” As you explained, you felt a knot in your chest grow, drawing the breath from your lungs. “Those little scars, they tell me who you are. You’re a dork, a family man, a brother, a lover, a truster. When I ask about the bad scars, all I see is a soldier.”
Javier grabbed your arms, steadying you. “Tell me about this,” he said, poking a scar on your cheek that was often mistaken for a dimple.
You nodded. “I was a toddler. Ran into a bannister in the hallway, and the sharp edge got my cheek. I needed two stitches.”
Tracing down your arms, Javier turned your wrists over and thumbed over the identical lines that were burned into the crease of each wrist. “These?”
“A common contact point for the blazingly hot pots and pans I cook with.” You shivered as Javier kissed each one. “I dunno if there’s much feeling in that bit of my skin.”
Javier’s eyebrows knit, the worry plain in his face. “And you cook anyway?”
“It’s my escape,” you said softly. “When I cook, I can imagine we’re not getting death threats, that we’re just a few close friends on a trip together and we didn’t want to go out for dinner. I can imagine I’m back home, cooking for my family or that we’re celebrating your birthday when I make a cake instead of us getting a huge lead. You find women who help you forget, I cook and bake to escape.”
“Oh.” Javier smoothed a thumb over another small scar, half an inch long, on the delicate flesh between your finger and thumb. “Knife?”
You nodded. “I got myself pretty good there when I was cutting veggies a few years back. No stitches, but I bled like crazy. My roommate thought I was super hurt.”
Gently resting your captive hands on the wheel of the car, Javier ticked the radio up, letting soft music fill the space. “Thank you,” he said. “For driving me out here. For not hating me.”
You shook your head. “I could never hate you Javi. You were just lost. I helped find you again.”
That grin you’d worked so hard for finally returned, the one that he’d give you over dinner when you made something impressive and when he had to help you with your bulletproof vest. “Should we go home? Steve’s gonna wake up soon.”
You nodded. “Sure. Poor thing’s gonna be so hungover today.”
Sure enough, when you two got home, Steve was sitting up on the couch. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but you were DEA agents. You woke up before the day even started.
“Where were you?” Steve said, standing and stumbling to the door. “I was so worried!”
“We went for a drive,” you reassured, grabbing Steve’s arms to steady him. “Javi, darling, will you grab a pack of bacon from the fridge? I’m gonna make breakfast.”
Javier grabbed the bacon while you steered Steve back to the couch.
“You called me darling,” Javier noticed once you’d entered the kitchen, tossing on an apron and turning a small portable radio on. “Intentional?”
You grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him. “Yeah. Intentional,” you said as you broke away, opening the bacon. “Start the coffee?”
Javier swore softly, grabbing the coffee and three mugs. “I guess I should stop finding those corner girls to help me forget, huh?”
Taking out a pan, you shrugged. “I could always teach you to cook,” you said. “Or you could take up photography like Steve. Or, better yet, sewing. I know you can already do it.”
“I cannot sew.”
“Yes you can,” you countered, reaching around Javier to grab the eggs. “I watched you fix a shirt once.”
Javier swore again. “I think I’ll try cooking,” he decided, standing behind you and loosely wrapping his arms around your middle. “Scrambled?”
Nodding, you cracked six eggs into the pan. “Start making the toast please,” you said, and Javier did so, touching you every time he passed. Just soft touches, a comforting hand brushing your back or shoulder when he walked behind you.
Over breakfast, you read the paper as best you could, occasionally asking Javier to translate. Steve had his head in his hand, the other hand holding his coffee cup. He listened halfheartedly, not making a sound as he took in the information.
“Alright,” you said, folding the paper and standing, taking everyone’s empty plate. “Get ready for work. Today’s gonna be busy.”
Steve left, heading upstairs to grab clothes. Javier went across the hall, finishing first and coming back, finding you already ready, adjusting your lipstick in the mirror. “Waiting on Steve?”
“Waiting on Steve,” you confirmed, turning to Javier. “Well don’t you look good.”
Javier smiled. He was wearing the red shirt you openly adored, the top few buttons popped open.
“Lovebirds,” Steve said from your doorway, adjusting his own shirt. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”
You laughed. “We could never. Not with how you drive.”
Javier nodded his agreement and followed you out to the car. Steve looked back at the two of you, arm in arm. “So, what’s this?”
“This, Steve,” you said, turning a finger and gesturing for him to look where he was going. “Is love.”
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Athanasia Part 4: The Peddler
Mostly a character-building chapter this time.
Tansy’s refsheet
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
CONTENT WARNINGS: Animal Whump, monster whump, discussion of past animal cruelty, marginally competent caretaker, Idiot Customers trying to get discounts they don’t deserve
For the first time in many, many days, the creature does not awake to the cold and wind and rough bars of rusted iron beneath her. But she still awakes to pain and hunger and thirst.
The traveler who found her lying helpless beside the smashed open cage where the people of the village kept her has cleaned her wounds, and wrapped them tightly in fabric. But two of her legs are still broken. She cannot walk properly, or run or jump or climb, and even to crawl causes such horrible pain it is hard not to make a sound. She is still starving, but he has no food for her in the morning.
She still does not know if she trusts him. He saved her, he fed her, he helped her, he speaks kindly and did not hurt her when she bit him out of fear. But he hurt her when he cleaned her broken front leg. He pinned her to the ground and bound her limbs and jaws so she could not get away or bite or claw him, and cut and poked and scraped at the dying, rotting flesh. It feels a little better now than it did before, and he did not cut it off like he said he might have to, but the pain has still made her afraid to let him close to her again. She was ready for it to be cut off, and what he did to her was gentler than what the other people did many times before, but it is too similar.
Even though the night was cold even inside, and even though the window rattled and wind howled and thunder crashed all night, and some part of her she had forgotten for many, many years longed to be close to the warmth of another, she stayed huddled at the end of the bed all night, as far from him as she could get, and she hissed and growled when he woke her to check on her. She had to get up before the sun rose to avoid wetting the bed, and she knew she could not get down by herself without falling, but she still tried to ignore the discomfort and fall asleep again, and she only worked up the courage to wake him when it became painful.
Right now the empty, tearing feeling in her stomach is almost painful. She had almost forgotten the dull ache, but that little bit of food last night made her notice it again. It was all she could eat, but it was not enough, and the hunger has come back as strong as ever. She sniffs at his pack, and there are old smells of food, but when she looks inside there is nothing but tools and cloth and metal in various shapes.
“I’m sorry, girl. I don’t have anything else for you,” the man says with a sympathetic expression. The creature ignores him, and keeps checking the rest of the room. There are the scents of mice, but she knows she is not fast enough to catch one right now.
Footsteps approach the door. Even before the knock, the creature is alarmed. When the sharp sound rings through the room, she scrambles under the bed and hides there, trembling and fighting not to cry out from the pain moving that much has caused her. It is not the young man from before, it is a woman who brings water and a bowl of something hot and steaming. For a moment she thinks it might be food, and as soon as she leaves she comes out to check, but it only smells of grain and milk and a little bit of fruit. But at least there is water. She does not realize how desperately thirsty she is until she tastes it, but when she does she cannot stop lapping at the bowl until she is almost sick.
“Careful.” He reaches out, and she flinches, expecting to be struck, but he just slides the bowl away. “Don’t drink too much. I’ll get you some food soon, don’t want you spoiling your breakfast.”
But the creature does not feel like eating anymore. Hungry, starving, but her stomach feels like it will burst. She retreats next to the bed and huddles there, hunched over, her body aching and trembling. A chill rushes over her, piercing right through her fur. It has been a long time since it has been clean enough that she can stand to groom herself. She tries to fluff it up to hold in more warmth, but the room wavers and her head is spinning. Her hurt foreleg is throbbing with a terrible, stabbing pain, like many small knives being jabbed and twisted in bruised flesh. The wound is tightly wrapped in cloth, but even so, when she sniffs at it she barely keeps the water down.
The chills eventually pass, but she still feels weaker and shakier than she did before. She barely reacts when he picks her up and puts her in the bag he carries on his back. Even when he closes it and she is alone in the dark, in a small, cramped space with hard things moving around under the cloth and jostling her. Even with muffled voices around her. She just sprawls miserably on her side, hoping he will carry her away from the people soon, and hoping she will not be sick in here where there is nowhere to get away from the mess.
~~
“Tinware! Get your tinwares here! I’ve got mugs, saucers, spoons, ladles, and other goods for coin or trade! If you want it but don’t have it, I sell it, if you have it but don’t want it I’ll buy it, if you have it and do want it I’ll mend it!”
Jonathan Markeley counted the meager couple of coins left in his purse one more time, just to be sure, and grimaced. The sooner he got out of this town, the better. Both for the creature he’d found starved and half-drowned in the rain and mud last night, and for his own sake. Whatever the reason they’d locked her in a tiny cage and hung her out on a post at the edge of town, he knew he’d be in danger if it was found out that he’d saved her and sheltered her, and perhaps even if it wasn’t. He had an uneasy feeling that if they’d done that to an animal the size of a cat that couldn’t be a real threat to them, a yellow-eyed stranger wouldn’t be too welcome either.
But he’d spent most of what he had on a room for the night, and more on food. He’d given the creature the meager amount of meat in the stew the innkeeper’s son had brought him that night, but the porridge served for breakfast had none. Fortunately he’d gotten four eggs for a farthing, and less than half of that was a meal for a creature her size, but if she needed meat twice or more a day that could get expensive. And if he was going to splint the broken bones and dress her wounds better than the poor job he’d managed last night he’d need proper supplies. It seemed like the poor creature was sick, too. He didn’t know how to tell if she had a fever, or how to help her if she did. They’d always broken for him, even when it seemed a miracle, but she was in bad enough shape as it was. He wanted to just get out of this place, but he still needed to earn a living. For both of them now.
~~
Roger Snelling eyed the peddler who’d spread his wares about at the side of the road with some suspicion. Roger made it his business to know who came and went from the town, and he was fairly certain he hadn’t seen this man before. Not recently, nor in previous years. He’d never felt the itinerant traders and craftsmen who frequented the town could be trusted – there had to be a reason for a man to always move on to the next village before anyone could get to know him – and it seemed a strange coincidence that this fellow would appear in the village the very same night that the gibbet post on the northern edge of the village had blown down. ~~
“Morning!” A middle-aged man with shoulder-length, graying dirty blond hair hailed Jonathan. He briefly glanced up, but his eyes quickly returned to the pitcher he was hammering a dent out of, and he kept them hidden under his wide-brimmed hat.
“Morning,” he grunted in reply.
“What’s your name?”
“John.”
The man sidled closer. He leaned against a hitching post, but didn’t come close enough to make it seem like he was ready to make a purchase. “I’m Roger. Haven’t seen you before, John. You just got in last night?”
“Aye.”
“Must’ve had a time of it in that storm.”
“Oh, I did, believe me. If it weren’t for my feet sinking to my ankles in the mud I’d probably have been blown clear off the road.”
“Where from?”
“Kenningsford.”
“From the South, then? So you’d have seen the gibbet post?”
Jonathan’s brow tensed. This man didn’t seem like he was part of the law in the village, just a busybody with too much time on his hands, but those could be plenty dangerous. He already felt like he was being interrogated, and he had a feeling he knew where this line of questioning was leading.
“What about it? Was there a sign up there I was supposed to read?” It seemed like a plausible thing to believe.
“It blew down in the storm last night. There was a cage hanging from it. Do you know anything about that?”
Jonathan ran his fingers through his beard in an attempt to look thoughtful. “I saw the post down in the road, aye. I didn’t notice a cage, but I was more concerned with getting out of the rain – and thanking the Lord the thing didn’t fall on me!”
Roger pursed his lips. “It was about this big… we found it smashed open this morning, I guess you might not have seen it in the mud -”
John decided the best approach was to pretend he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “What, that small? You can’t fit a man in a cage that small, can you?”
“No, but -”
“What would you even put in there, a man’s head?” he interrupted again. “Why’d that need a cage around it? Or a baby, but – well, I’d assumed you folk were more civilized. This ain’t France, eh?” John had a moment of panic as he tried to remember if the latest war had been against the French. It seemed like a safe bet.
“It wasn’t a head, it was an animal inside there!” Roger snapped. He was looking a little agitated. “Or something that looks like one anyway, we don’t know if it’s some sort of demon or something, but it’s not natural whatever it is. It’s been in there for a couple of months, and this morning the cage was empty!”
A couple of months. John’s grip on his hammer tightened. They’d left her in there for months… he hadn’t gotten a good look at the cage, but it looked almost too small to turn around in. But he couldn’t let on that he knew… and if this Roger wanted information out of him, he was going to get information back. “An animal?” he repeated skeptically.
“Aye. Was it there when you passed by?” Roger took a slow step closer, his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t know. Didn’t see one or hear one. Must’ve run off by then.”
“Run off?” Roger’s face lit up like a dog that had scented its quarry. “What makes you say that?”
John pulled his hat lower and glared at the saucer he was polishing. “You said the cage was empty, where else would it go?”
“It could’ve flown off. I never said it wasn’t a bird.”
John ground the polishing cloth into the metal. He’d slipped. Just a small mistake though, one he could cover easily. “You never said it was either. Look, if you’re accusing me of some crime or I’m not welcome in this town, just say so, but stop actin’ like I’m some common criminal.” He looked up, for once meeting Roger’s eyes directly. The older man’s probing expression quickly turned to intimidated discomfort, and he looked away. Older looking, at least. John knew that in truth he was far younger. “What, do you think I stopped in the middle of that bloody storm to chop the thing down?”
“No, no – my apologies, I wasn’t accusing you of nothing!” Roger quickly regained his composure. “You’ve got… unusual eyes.”
“Hmm. No one’s ever informed me before,” John replied with subtly, dry sarcasm.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help noticing. I was just wondering if you’d seen any… tracks in the mud the rain might have washed away by morning, any other signs...”
“Can’t say I did. I’ll keep my eye out, though. What sort of creature was it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s even really of this Earth. It was… near cat-sized, with black and white striped fur -”
“A badger?”
“No, smaller than a cat, not larger. It had this long bushy tail with black and white rings on it -”
“What, like a squirrel?”
“No, it was a beast of prey. Long, slender body, ears near as big as its head...”
“Ohh...” John let a look of recognition cross his face. “You mean a tabby cat? Aye, I’ve heard of those. Think I saw one on the church roof this morning.” He suppressed a grin at the consternation on Roger’s face. He was starting to enjoy this.
“Not a cat, no! A cat’s… closer, at least, but you’d know it from a cat if you saw it.” He scratched his thin goatee. “You know, old Tom Porter’s theory’s that a wildcat crossed paths with a vixen in heat and that thing was the result. I think it’s a bit more ferret-ish, but I’ve never seen anything else like it, and I don’t know anyone who has. It’s got eyes like a cat, though. Big yellow ones… a bit like yours, actually.”
“Are you suggesting it shapeshifts now?”
“Eh? No, don’t be ridiculous!” Roger laughed.
“So, why was it caged up out there? Going to show it off at the fair?”
“Oh, we have. A few times. But to tell you the truth, people’ve gotten tired of the thing. It stopped putting on as good a show after a while, so they just hung it up there to… make an example of it, I suppose. I don’t know if there’s more of ‘em out there to scare off, but even if it’s just punishin’ the damned thing, that’s fine by me.”
John raised an eyebrow. “Seems a bit… excessive.”
Roger leaned in close with an angry sneer. “Listen, the damn thing’s vermin, no different from a fox or stoat. Worse, even. Poor Farmer Brown lost a whole henhouse in one night, it just… ripped them all to pieces. Blood everywhere. I’ve seen foxes kill for sport, but not like that. It’s torn men’s hands to shreds – did this to me not long after we trapped it.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing a series of messy, badly healed scars.
“I wasn’t arguing against killing it,” John said. Good for her, he thought. He struggled to keep his voice level. “Just… why not just shoot it?”
“Oh, we tried, believe me. It just… came back.”
A thrill of exhilaration ran through John’s chest. He was right. She was like him, a creature of the same nature. “You’re sure it wasn’t just another creature of the same kind?”
“Aye, that’s what everyone thought at first, but wouldn’t it be a strange coincidence? No-one’d ever seen one before, but then three turn up, here, in just a few months? First I heard of it was Lord Hawkwood apparently caught a strange beast on a fox hunt. They said what was left of it after the dogs were through with it wasn’t worth bringing the pelt back, but it sounds like it was the right size and color and least. But not days later somethin’ starts raiding henhouses. Finally we’ve had enough, a few of us track it down, and Brown shot it. The thing was still moving after half its chest was blown open, thought it was going to limp away until he shot it again. So I thought, well, that’s the end of that, now all we’ve got to worry about’s if Charles – he’s the lord’s gamekeeper – will try to cheat Brown out of a bounty on account of no one ever seeing it before so there’s no price for whatever it is.” Roger was becoming more and more animated and excited as he talked. “Well that worked out fair, Charles strung it up, but a few days later the carcass just up and disappeared off the gibbet. And that was the very same night poor Jack Brown lost his chickens. Not any of the other farmers it was going after before, just the man that shot it.”
At this, John gave a forced, exaggerated laugh. “Ahh… Good one, you had me going for a while!”
“What do you mean? Do you think it’s funny? What’s funny about an honest man losing his livelihood?”
“Nothing, it’s just… come on, mate, I know you’re playing me for a fool. Do you tell that story to every stranger who comes this way? You’re saying it came back from the dead for revenge? Sounds more like something took the body and ate it, and either it or something else ate the chickens.”
“No, not for revenge, it just… comes back. Mrs. Brown saw the damn thing slinking away from the henhouse, eyes burning like torches. It took weeks before they caught the thing. I can’t recall if the pattern of stripes was the exact same as the one we shot before, but Charles slit its throat, shoved the body in a cage just to be sure it wouldn’t wander off again, and the very next day it was on its feet and angry. We’ve tried gutting it, cutting its head off… even burned the damn body to ashes once. I’m telling you, it ain’t one of God’s creatures, if you know what I mean. But even the Bishop didn’t know what it was or what to do with it. So, like I said, we started making a sport of it. Show it off at the fair, make a show of drowning it or setting dogs on it, something like that, then have the people come back the next day to see it… not usually good as new after just a day, but definitely not dead.”
John’s heart was breaking as the story went on. He stood up and hid his hands in his pockets to avoid making fists. God he wanted to knock that grin off Roger’s face. When he was a lad there’d been older boys who thought it was good sport to hold him down and beat him with sticks, because the bruises and even missing teeth would be gone in a few days. And he’d believed for the longest time that it was wrong for him to fight back, because even a broken nose might never be the same. These days it was more about caution, about not drawing attention to himself. But he’d always hated men who took pleasure from tormenting those they saw as below them. Their wives, their children, those of lower social standing, animals.
“It’d be more convincing if you actually had this animal,” he remarked through a strained veneer of casual indifference.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I swear it’s real. You can ask anyone in the village and they’ll tell you the same. Not sure I’ll sleep easy knowing that thing’s loose, though.” He suddenly swooped forward like a hawk, picking up a finely shaped pewter teapot. “Ooh, the wife’d love this! Could you… hmm, could you make a set of matching teacups and saucers to go with it?”
“Sorry, no custom orders. I have to be on my way before tonight. If she enjoys the pot I might have her in mind the next time I come this way,” John lied, having no intention of returning to the village any time soon. Maybe not ever, or at least not until every current resident was dead and buried. “Or I have several cups and saucers to choose from.”
“Well yes, but I was hoping for the flower-patterned engravings.” Roger sighed. “I suppose just the pot then. How much for it?”
“A shilling.”
Roger scowled. “A shilling? What kind of fool do you take me for? He turned it over in his hands, but seemed more preoccupied with making a show of inspecting it than actually doing so. “I’ll give you fourpence.”
“I didn’t take you for a thief, but that’s what you’ll be if I let you take it for that.” John extended a hand. “I’ll be having it back if you can’t pay a fair price.”
“Four’s fair, especially with this scratch on the handle. I might be willing to pay six if that were fixed… or the full shilling with two cups and saucers.”
“Four’s barely what the metal’d be worth as scrap. If you’re going to insult my work you can clear off.” This was ridiculous. The teapot was one of the heavier items he had to sell, and he was eager to be rid of the weight and bulk, but not if he couldn’t at least cover the night’s stay. “I brought the price down from sixteen because of your story, but I can get at least that much in Sheffield.”
“Ehh… I’ll give you eight.”
“I won’t sell it for any less than ten. Take it or leave it.”
“Hmm...” Roger’s eyes darted around. “Nine and that sugar bowl? It’s plain, but -”
“Ninepence and you take the pot and the bowl as they are.”
Roger hesitated for a while. “I’ll take ‘em. You’re a hard bargainer and a fine craftsman.”
“As are you, sir. But you’ve got a good eye. It’s a pleasure doing business with you – and give your wife my regards.”
But as soon as Roger was safely out of earshot, Jonathan growled under his breath. “You’re a ball-less cur, and your wife’s a bitch if she married you and hasn’t poisoned you yet.” He almost wanted to use tweezers to count out the coins so he wouldn’t touch anything Roger had touched. But at least he’d told him what he needed to know about the creature. And he hadn’t gotten as much as he’d hoped for the teapot, but it was enough. It would get them to the next town. And if he could make another sale or two, perhaps buy some medicine. It probably wasn’t a good sign that she’d been hidden right there in his pack all this time and not made a fuss.
~~
Roger Snelling turned the teapot over in his hands as he walked away, whistling a jaunty tune. The peddler was a surly fellow, and suspicious, but he had to admit it was good workmanship.
Good workmanship, but Roger wasn’t so sure it was his. He’d gotten a look at the man’s hands as coin and goods were exchanged, and they weren’t smooth, exactly, but they were… odd. Rough and calloused like a working man’s should have been, but not a scar on them. Not from a burn or carelessly touching hot metal or a slip with a knife or other sharp tool. It was strange. All the smiths he knew had at least a few marks, no matter how careful or lucky they were. He was half inclined to believe the man had stolen them, but then a thief’s hands wouldn’t be so pristine either. Probably just a trader who bought and resold things, that must have been why he was so reluctant to change or mend things, because he couldn’t. But the little scratch wasn’t really noticeable. Roger had only pointed it out to try to get a better price.
#whump#my writing#Tansy (OC)#Jonathan Markley (OC)#animal whump tw#monster whumpee#broken bones#fever#past animal cruelty discussion#immortal whumpee
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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.1}
*Severus Snape x OC*
Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend… and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.
General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing
Words: 5.3k
Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!
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Surprisingly enough, the expected mock and scorn had stayed absent after the incident with the boggart in April. A few odd glances occasionally, and some abruptly ending whispered conversations whenever Robin entered the room had been the most of it. Her roommates had been even more neglectful, even more supremacist than usual, and it had gotten quieter rather than louder in the ranks of the people who despised her. For a while Robin had been deeply suspicious about it, but once the stressful period before the final exams had begun, she had forgotten about it like everyone else seemed to have. Thus the remainder of her third year had once more been filled with calm study nights in the potions classroom, borrowed books from Snape, and the occasional visit to the greenhouse or gamekeeper’s lot for some helping out on the weekends.
Summer had arrived before Robin felt even remotely ready to head home. She had been quite heartbroken to leave behind her sanctuary in the dungeons, and to put another pause to the constant stream of borrowed books and late night snippets of academic conversation with her potions professor. Somehow, leaving Hogwarts got harder every single year and she almost felt guilty that there was so very little that excited her about going home. But she did, she had to, and the days spent in her family home ticked by like grains of sand in a desert that were slowly blown away by the wind only to gather elsewhere.
Still, Robin picked up two habits over the summer: drinking instant coffee at all times of the day, and journaling.
The former had started by chance one day, when they had run out of tea at home and Robin still had felt like having a hot drink. She’d actually discovered that she enjoyed the taste, after years of not bothering to try it, and she’d scolded herself for not remembering if they served coffee at school. Thus she made sure to bring a jar of instant coffee for the next term, and to simply multiply it if there was no other way of getting coffee around there.
The latter habit, journaling, had also started by chance, but not quite entirely. Robin had for the mere sake of it chosen to participate in a two-week creative writing workshop that was offered by one of her mother’s colleagues, and afterwards chosen to keep up the habit that had started out as a mere class project. Admittedly, she had felt rather pathetic in the beginning, to write sappy poetry and badly phrased short stories for class, but eventually she had found a mode of writing that didn’t make her feel like an overly dramatic teenage girl. In the weeks following upon that, she filled up the entire class journal and then moved on to a nicer one she’d bought with her Christmas money on a day trip to London.
During the very same trip, she had also come across the small bookshop where she had bought some of her still most beloved potions books during her first year Christmas break, and unable to resist, she had gone in for a moment. However instead of returning with a giant stack of books like she had feared she would, she had only bought a single one, and that was one she already possessed indeed. The book on literature spells. She planned on giving this copy to Snape once term started, as a thank you maybe, or for any other reason she could think of before then. Honestly, she had just been thinking about him every once in a while over summer, wondering what he might be doing between school years, and when she had discovered the spell book in that shop, it had just felt like the right thing to do to get it for him. Who knew, maybe he could make use of it at some point… At least he’d seemed almost as reluctant to return the book to Robin as she always was to return his own books to him.
So that’s what she packed for this year: books, coffee and more books. Hopefully that would get her through fourth year.
… … …
The very evening she returned to Hogwarts, Robin let herself into Snape’s office to place the spell book on his desk together with a note explaining that it was a gift from her as a thank you, then she locked the door behind herself and headed to the welcoming feast. Honestly, while she did feel brave enough to give it to him in person, she had come to the realization that it would probably make him less uncomfortable if she didn’t. Thus she had come up with the idea on the train ride here to simply place it in his office before the feast, and so far that plan had also worked out.
As every year, the sorting took forever and the speeches were redundant, but still Robin found herself glad that she wasn’t the one to be upfront, waiting to be sorted into a house again. But she also felt more prone than ever to wonder if the hat really had put her into the right place… the abyss between her and the other Slytherins was growing constantly, and she had no intention to counteract it. It was a miracle that she still hadn’t been mocked for her run-in with the boggart last year…
At least there were three years of students below her now, and that meant that almost half of the student body in Slytherin wasn’t in conflict with her. Rather on the opposite, actually, seeing as the younger students didn’t seem to care about Robin at all. She liked that quite a lot, to simply be nothing more than ‘one of the older students’.
Thus she found herself seated between a group of second years and a group of third years during the feast, which left her to herself and her own business entirely. She used the time during the meal to take inventory of the teachers at the head table, or so she told herself, while she merely spent a few seconds making sure that every person was (at least looking to be) alright, and then let her eyes linger on a certain potions professor. His hair was a bit longer than it had been before summer… but otherwise he seemed to be just the same. Robin found herself smiling to herself before she knew, and a sense of calmness overcame her like it usually only did in the evenings in his classroom. A nice change to the usual discomfort she felt during dinner.
The calm lasted for the entire evening, even as Robin returned to her dorm to pack up some books and papers to do what she’d been looking forward to all summer: studying in the potions classroom. Her roommates were sitting together in a corner of their shared bedroom as always, only acknowledging Robin in the form of weird looks and giggles directed at her, but not with a single word whatsoever. That wasn’t new though, and Robin didn’t let them ruin her surprisingly good mood with their condescending pretense of superior exclusivity. Should they talk about her behind her back, if it made them happy… Robin didn’t even care.
She made her way through the overcrowded common room and into the hallways, taking in the comforting, stuffy darkness she had missed so much. Would Snape be joining her in the classroom tonight to work in companionable silence as always? Robin found herself hoping he would.
Before she could even cross into the right hallway however, the door to her right flew open and she was pulled into the room with a surprised yelp.
“What, pray tell, were you thinking?!” Snape’s drawled hiss reached Robin’s ears before she even realized that she was standing in his office, her back pressed against the inside of the door, with the potions professor an arms’ length away.
“…What?” She frowned at him in the dim light, more confused than anything. Her heart skipped a beat though. “Thinking about what?”
“Why did you give that book to me?”
“I… just thought it would be more useful, for a change, than giving you chocolate as a thank you. I thought you would appreciate it.” She replied positively, even though she felt desperately irritated by his angry demeanor.
“Maybe you shouldn’t think quite so much about things that you know nothing about and that aren’t of your concern. I am not your friend!” He snapped with a threatening glare directed solely at Robin, and her heart squeezed together for an overwhelmingly painful moment in return. Then it sunk down dead into the depth of her chest, and she felt almost numb in equal sadness and anger. There wasn’t any appropriate reply she could give to that, only many necessary ones. To hell with it, if it was her place or not, she needed to say this, and he most definitely needed to hear it.
“Maybe you should learn to accept the kindness shown to you, before people give up on showing it to you in the first place!” She replied in an equally angry manner and held his gaze despite the tears that welled up in her eyes now. Oh, to hell with it indeed.
“People have given up on more than that a long time ago.” He spat, almost bitterly, leaving Robin to feel even more shattered.
“Well, I haven’t!” Her reply came in an instant, without even having to think, and the anger was making room for sheer overwhelming sadness now. She didn’t care if her voice sounded as hurt as she felt when she spoke on. “And I won’t, so stop trying to make me.” Finally the tears rolled down her cheeks, like small angry rivers, but Robin didn’t even bother wiping them away. “Keep the bloody book or don’t, but I will keep on being nice to you no matter what you do to prevent it! I won’t hate you, not even when you so desperately want me to… I never will, so just get over it already!”
Without waiting for a reply, or any reaction even, Robin turned on her heels and left the room, heading down the hallway back towards her dorm. She didn’t feel like studying anymore. She felt like hiding under her covers and crying as silently as she could.
… … …
The incident on Sunday night heavily tainted Robin’s first three days of term, even as the sadness turned into a hollow ache that was a constant reminder of their fight. Maybe she had overstepped her boundaries, maybe she had done something wrong indeed… Maybe he was right to be angry. But then again, she refused to believe that her kindness had been wrong, and she definitely refused to let him scare her off with his stupid defensiveness. She had meant what she said, she wouldn’t give up on him, and her own determination in that surpassed everything she had known to be certain of before. To be honest, she was quite surprised by her own stubbornness in this… and by the desperation with which she clung onto it. Sure, Snape was her favorite professor, and probably also her favorite person in the castle… but she hadn’t really known before just how much she actually cared. It left her feeling a bit irritated with herself, every time she thought about it. She really shouldn’t be caring about him quite that much, as he had made it abundantly clear that he was not her friend. Only her professor. Who happened to have chosen her as the only person he was nice to. Sometimes. Oh bloody hell, he was the only friend she had, and she should finally admit that to herself. Even if she wasn’t his friend in return, he definitely was hers.
And exactly for that reason, Robin refused to let the Sunday encounter change the way she behaved, nor the way she thought. She still came to the classroom every night to study, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, but she didn’t see Professor Snape there even once. If he chose to return to how things were before he snapped at her, or even scold her for the way she’d dared to speak to him, she’d be here. But it was not her place to try to fix something she hadn’t broken, and neither did she believe that she should bother him any more than she already had. Because no matter what had happened, she still didn’t want to disappoint him, and she didn’t want to lose what she had gained over the course of the past three years.
Thus Robin only saw him at meals during the next four days, until it was time for the first potions class of the term on Friday morning. She didn’t feel particularly hungry, hadn’t ever since Sunday night, and thus she decided to come to class early. Without giving any thought to it, she unlocked the room and made her way to her usual second row seat, lost in thought about the book she had been reading for most of the night, since she’d been unable to sleep. For a while she simply stared at the wall ahead, not even existing in the physical reality, until at last the first students started to enter the room with enough noise to break Robin out of her thoughts. And that’s when she realized that her desk wasn’t empty. Had it been empty when she’d come in?
A small frown creased her forehead as she picked up the parchment-wrapped object, and carefully unwrapped the precisely folded layer of paper. The first thing that fell into her hands was a box of Skittles. She couldn’t help the short, surprised laugh that escaped her lips upon that, and she smoothed out the creased piece of paper to read the words that seemed to only appear on the page upon her touch.
Robin.
I unfortunately found myself unable to acquire any chocolate over the course of the week, but I hope that sweets of a different kind have the same value to you, as means of saying thank you. You were quite right, I do appreciate the book. But I also appreciate the gesture. Despite what I previously said, I ask you now to never stop thinking, especially about matters that aren’t of your concern. Nobody is quite as good at it as you are. - S
Robin read the note again, and another time, and yet again, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself as her heartbeat picked up in its pace. Sure, he wasn’t really apologising for his behavior, but he did something equally remarkable, if not something better. He actually tried. To accept a kind gesture, and to make amends for what he’d done. Robin wasn’t so sure if that had ever happened before or if it would ever happen again, but she would value it as the outstandingly special occasion it was. He would certainly not have done this if he truly didn’t care about what she thought of him. He wouldn’t have bothered if he thought of her like everyone else.
“Miss Mitchell, will you stop grinning like a lunatic and demonstrate how to correctly dissect a deathcap without hurting oneself like an imbecile?” Snape’s voice, in full professor-mode, suddenly drew Robin out of her little bubble, and she realized with a start that the entire class was present, silent and looking at her. Oh geez… she must’ve spent more time reading that note under her desk than she had realized.
“Certainly, sir.” She replied then, still unable to stop smiling (especially at his badly feigned scowl), and quickly hid the note in the deepest corner of her pockets. Then she subtly swiped the Skittles into her backpack for equal safekeeping, and made her way to the front to demonstrate what she’d been asked to do. The smile did not leave her face for the rest of the day.
________________
After the rather extreme ups and downs of the first week, things settled back into what had almost become routine now. Robin spent her time in Snape’s classroom, borrowing books, studying, doing assignments, and more often than not these days he would be there as well. At some point Robin had brought her instant coffee (since regular coffee was only served at breakfast here), and with a simple aguamenti and a spell for boiling water, she’d made herself a coffee the wizarding way in under a minute. Upon the curious and humored look Snape had given her in return, she had offered to make him a cup as well, and to Robin’s surprise he had answered with a simple 'Please’ instead of the usual discussion that preceded his eventual agreement. Thus, they fell into the habit of drinking coffee in the evenings, as an addition to the companionable silence they shared while each working on their respective tasks. Some nights they wouldn’t exchange a single word, only take turns at making the other coffee in a silent agreement to not talk about this developing habit. Eventually Robin simply left the coffee in his classroom instead of bringing it every day, and even after two months of keeping up with this ritual they still hadn’t run out.
Unfortunately, two months after the start of term was also when 'it’ happened again. The thing Robin still hadn’t found a name for. It was a perfectly ordinary Sunday night, Robin had had coffee with Snape over their respective work, and she had gotten all things done that she had planned to do over the weekend. More, even. She had gone to bed feeling calm and content, and had soon fallen asleep within a few minutes. Every bit the normal Sunday. But then the nightmares had started, and thereby the beginning of Robin’s personal purgatory.
She was walking through the school. Cold stone beneath her bare feet as she moved through the hallways. Soundlessness. Eyes focused on the darkness around her, emptiness around her. Now, then, another! A flash of darkness… a boy, a body. A puddle of blood, pooling around his small body like a black lake. Lifeless ink. Coldest contentment. She moved on, moved along, hid away, crept into a room, like fog… a flash of darkness. Another body, more blood, another lake. More room, A room, empty, she crept, it was cold. A flash. The room, filled with bodies. More. Hollow eyes, dead stares, dead stays. Blood. Everywhere, in emptiness. She walked on. The dungeons, blackness, hallways. Hollow eyes, a mirror… she walked, cold, empty eyes. A laugh. A door, her room… her bed, herself. Her sleeping body, her dead body, broken, soundless. Hands covered in blood, a wicked smile, bloody lips. Emptiness. A laugh, a scream. Pain.
Robin woke up with a strangled cry, shaking like dry leaves in the autumn wind as her eyes mirrored the sky’s heavy tears. Oh god… it had only been a dream. Only a dream. Her heartbeat had become so fast that she pressed a hand to her chest in an attempt to soothe the pain. She felt entirely too hot and too cold at once. A quiet sob escaped her trembling lips and she pressed her other hand to her mouth to keep quiet. Too late for that.
“Shut up, jay! People wanna sleep here…” One of her roommates grumbled from the bed to Robin’s left, and Robin nodded vainly into the darkness as she felt utterly defeated. She couldn’t, not with… those emotions, it was too much… she felt like dying. As quietly, as quickly as she could, she slipped into her boots and fled from the room, going for a direct dash to the bathrooms. It was closer than anywhere, the only place she could think to go. Her mind was entirely flooded with fear and pain and foremost a defeating deafening numbness, and she couldn’t suppress the tears even if she tried to. Bloody hell, she was going mad, it was too much, too strong, too deep… she was drowning and sucked under by the current of her own blind panic.
The moment she reached the secluded solitude of the girls’ lavatories was when she finally broke down entirely and surrendered to the violent sobs for as long as they came crashing over her like brutal waves. She’d lost every sense of time, of space, of herself… it could be hours, it could be minutes. Her heartbeat increased even further to a point where her vision became blurry even beyond the tears, and Robin actually felt afraid that she would die. Now, here, alone. It didn’t have to make sense, it just was. And it was horrible.
But the sobs died instead of her, and her heartbeat ceased to stab her chest. However the calm that followed came at the price of an absolute and allconsuming numbness, an emptiness of a kind she had never known. She wasn’t crying anymore, she wasn’t even feeling anymore. She just sat on the cold ground of the bathroom and wasn’t. Ceased to exist for a while. No thought, no emotion, no Robin. Nothing.
Yet, at some point, a spark of ice cold reason within her mind made her return to her room and lay back down in bed. She still felt nothing, and stared at the ceiling in the darkness for as long as it took her mind to pass out at last.
That was the first night.
… … …
On Monday Robin was an absolute wreck on the inside, a victim more of the calm’s cost than the storm. She didn’t look any different to anyone but herself in the mirrors, and those she avoided to refrain from looking into her own eyes. She had done plenty of that last night.
And yet, the sleepless night came at even more of a cost when Robin made a public fool of herself in herbology. Her mind was still so wound up in processing the events, the pictures of the previous night’s horrors, that she didn’t notice Professor Sprout walking up behind her while talking loudly about the task they were to accomplish. As the woman clapped a hand on Robin’s shoulder, a random gesture she did with plenty of students who seemed to not be listening, Robin jumped so badly that her entire being fell into a kind of odd stasis. She shrieked, then froze completely as if petrified and merely stared ahead with terror in her eyes that soon was replaced by the tears of the initial surprise. Admittedly, Robin had always been a bit jumpy, especially when caught dwelling in the corners of her own mind, but this was a new level of sheer and utter overreaction that yet she could do nothing about but to bear it out.
The other students started snorting and whispering, and Professor Sprout asked Robin if she was alright, but Robin’s heart was only so slowly calming down to a normal pace again that she merely could nod after a few seconds of forcing herself to realign with reality.
After classes were done for the day, Robin fled from the castle as soon as she could. Her feet carried her down to the lake, to the shore she always found comfort in… and after half an hour of kicking herself in the butt for being so overwhelmed by a simple nightmare, she finally felt ready to go back to normality. It had only been a stupid dream, some subconscious fear that had manifested itself in terrible and bloody pictures. But they were only that; pictures her mind had come up with. With at least some motivation returning, she made her way over to Hagrid’s in order to offer her assistance in this evening’s feeding of the creatures the gamekeeper was responsible for. After all, she always found delight in Hagrid’s silliness, and the animals’ good appetite.
… … …
A purgatory wouldn’t be what it promised if it wasn’t a place for the tortured soul to dwell in once more. And thus it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Robin that she woke up screaming the very next, and also two nights later, heart and mind grabbed in panic by the very same dream. The same pictures, the same darkness, the same bloody deaths. While she was yelled at by her roommates on both nights again, this time Robin resisted the urge to run and simply gripped onto her bedding instead, so tightly that her knuckles turned white, in an attempt to get rid of the excess energy. Eventually her heartbeat slowed down, the panic faded, and the numbness returned to her mind to let her fall into a restless sleep.
The following evening, a rainy Wednesday, Robin went to study in the potions classroom as always, but she decided against the coffee. Maybe all that caffeine was finally taking its toll on her… Maybe it was what caused the nightmares, the restlessness, the overwhelming tiredness she felt by now. Ever since Sunday she hadn’t had all that much sleep, and if there was such a thing as a battery in humans, Robin’s was close to running out. Still, she made a coffee for Snape once she got to the room, as it usually was her turn first and she somehow didn’t want to skip out on the ritual altogether. It had a calming effect on her, and she enjoyed being able to do something nice for him.
For a while they sat in comfortable silence as usual, until Robin dared to look at the clock and an existential dread overcame her with a start. She didn’t want to return to her room so soon… didn’t want to go to bed. In all honesty and truthfulness, she felt absolutely terrified of falling asleep. Or rather, of dreaming.
Maybe she should talk about it. She wanted to talk about it, and the wish to put into words what she was experiencing grew stronger by the second. The only person she wanted to tell was sitting only a few steps away, and yet Robin felt as if there was an ineffable distance between them that couldn’t be overcome. A distance that only existed in her mind.
“Professor?” The words left her lips before her head caught on. Damnit, Robin! “Can… I mean… do you have a moment to spare?”
“I never do, but go ahead.” He replied without looking up from his work, and Robin felt like someone had poured lead down her throat into her chest. Maybe she shouldn’t bother him with this… he surely had enough on his mind already, and on his desk. Her heart squeezed even more at the prospect of bothering him.
“Uh, I…” She started, but her entire being was heavily protesting in return. If she told Snape now that something as pathetic as nightmares was breaking her so much, he would never see her as anything more than just a stupid little kid. Robin didn’t know when that had become so utterly important to her, but it undoubtedly was now. And it was stronger than her fear of the dreams. “I… finished your book already. I mean I, uh, planned to return it on Friday after class, but… I’m short on other reads, so I thought that maybe… I could borrow a new book today?”
That was a more than decent save, or so Robin thought, seeing as her mind was currently rather preoccupied with different matters.
“Feel free to go into my office and pick one that interests you.” He answered a few seconds later, motioning to the only half closed door on the far wall behind him. Still, he didn’t look up from his work.
Robin sighed to herself and made her way to Snape’s office with the book she had almost finished anyway, placing it on his desk before letting her eyes wander over the shelves. He’d never let her pick before, especially not out of his entire collection of books… He must truly be beyond busy if he let her do this now. Maybe it had been a wise choice to spare him from her pathetic problems for once. She couldn’t come to him crying, every time something went wrong in her life! No matter how much she felt inclined to. She couldn’t be around him and bother him with her nonsense all the time! No matter how much she wanted to.
For a moment Robin simply stood in the quiet calm of the office and stared at the wall of books in front of her. She was a fool, an idiot even. But she wasn’t stupid. She knew why she was feeling what she felt, why she cared as much as she did. She just didn’t want it to be true. It scared her, in the overwhelming kind of way that one experienced only when moving on from the sheltered walls of home to the endless horizons of the world beyond. It wasn’t the first time she had fallen for someone… but it was the first time that mattered. Still, it was wrong and stupid and pathetic and obviously hopeless. Nobody could ever learn of it, and Robin would make sure that nobody ever would.
She rolled her eyes at herself then, and at her own dramatics. This probably was just another result of her sleep deprivation, another joke her mind was playing on her… A silly crush on her professor, an infatuation born out of too much studying and too little sleep. She’d bet her good grades that it would all be history by Christmas! Actually, she wouldn't… she knew herself too well for that. But she also knew that she had gotten fairly decent at ignoring things until they disappeared by themselves, and thus that’s what she would do. Maybe, if she was lucky, they could stay at the almost friendly level they were at now. That would already be a great deal more than what she could have hoped for. And whatever stupid things she was feeling for her professor would disappear before long, and be forgotten for good when she just ignored them. She had to. Bloody hell, these nightmares were really breaking her spirits if she allowed herself such sappy thoughts. She was being ridiculous.
With a sigh, she picked out a book on ratio theorems and stepped back out into the classroom. “Sorry it took me so long… I just couldn’t decide, with all those great options.” She said as neutrally as she could while sitting back down and placing the book on her desk a little too defeatedly.
“If you continue at this rate, you will have read all my books before the end of term.” He commented, sounding almost amused, but Robin couldn’t bring herself to smile. There was too much on her mind, too much dread for the night that would follow all too soon.
“Well, you better get some more then, huh?” She tried to joke, but it came out flat and awkward, and Robin looked down at her hands. Maybe she should just go to bed and hit her head against the bedpost until she passed out. Without wasting another thought contemplating it, she packed up her belongings and rose to her feet. “Sorry, I… I’m not feeling so good tonight. No more use studying. I’ll just… go.”
At that Snape’s eyes finally rose to meet Robin’s, but he didn’t say anything for a moment. She wondered what he might be thinking, just looking at her with a frown, but she didn’t ask and at last he did the speaking for her. “Some decent rest might do you good.”
Robin let out a bitter snort in return. “Yeah, huh… why didn’t I think of that."
Snape looked fairly irritated at her sarcastic tone, but she couldn’t help it. It was time to go, before her tired mind could do any more damage. "I’m sorry. Really. Goodnight, professor.” Two seconds later, Robin slipped out into the darkness of the empty hallway. And so falls the night.
______________________________
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Land’s Trust in Light
Building the Foundation (Chapter 2/6)
Word Count: 4080
The writing process for this chapter went as followed: I meant to start writing this in March, spent all of it stuck in brainrot, began writing and finishing the rough draft over the course of 10 days, and wrote the official version in less than a week. How in the hell I managed to still have something out this month, I have no clue.
I think this is the second most "plotless" chapter of this story, if only because this is meant to build up the friendship between Eric and Ferreth while having the plot be served as an appetizer in the beginning. I say second most, because the next chapter, I believe, will be the one, due to the plot taking a backseat but there is a hint to a future element that will be present in the overarching story so keep a look out for that!
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Eric knocked on the door before needing to stifle another yawn. It was mid-morning in Thornewind, though he could hardly tell with the immense shadow cast over the town by the mountains. Despite everything being shrouded in almost complete darkness, he saw people setting up shop and beginning their day on his way over to Bris’ place. His memory seemed to be on point today, even with the handicap. Things were already looking to be better than Brinegarde’s visit.
God, was he tired. Another yawn fell past his lips before he could think to stop it and he felt his eyes droop for just a second. His lack of restful sleep wasn’t from discomfort or a sudden spike of anxiety in the late night. It was simply the matter of being away from home and sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. It’s happened so often by now, it’s become an expectation he’s resigned to. It could be worse; he could be passed out and fall off the stoop of the windmill. Now he could only hope no one noticed his sluggish disposition and draw attention to it.
The door swung open and he forced himself to stand up straight. He had it drilled into his head to have good posture, which meant no slouching. It’d be rude to appear as someone unbefitting of his station to lords and their attendants. He couldn’t afford to risk losing the alliance because of his sloppiness. Instead of Aissyl being the one to greet him, it was Bris.
“Good morning!” That woke him up, if his quickening heart was anything to go by. “How’d you sleep last night?”
“Uh, good morning,” he replied with a nervous laugh. “I slept okay last night, nothing special or anything.”
The bright grin on Bris’s face dropped and he asked in concern, “Mm, really? You look pretty tired to me.”
Why was he like an open book? He tried to explain it in a way that didn’t seem pathetic like, “No, I’m fine, really. It’s just, I don’t travel far from home often and I tend to not sleep very well on trips.”
“We can pick this up tomorrow or another day, if you want.”
“No, no, it’ll be fine, really! Honestly, I work better when I’m sleep-deprived so I’ll be okay.”
With a slight grimace, he stepped aside and said, “Well, all right, come on in and let’s get started then.”
Upon entering, he immediately noticed two things. The first was that one of the chairs he remembered being off to the side yesterday was gone. The other was of a savory aroma wafting around the room, making his mouth water. It emanated from a plate of freshly baked scones sitting on the center of the low table.
“You’re welcome to try some if you want, Aissyl made ‘em.” He jumped some at Bris’s voice. He must’ve caught him staring.
“Oh, um, thank you,” he stammered out, flashing him a nervous smile before grabbing a hot scone.
When was the last time he ate a scone? He knew it had been years and it smelled just like the ones back home. He took a tentative bite and he felt his knees go weak, that’s how delicious it was. He finished off the rest in quick succession, his hunger satiated by a small amount. He forgot to eat breakfast before coming here so having something in his stomach helped wake him up some.
“I’ll make sure to tell her you enjoyed them.” As he went to grab more, Bris headed inside his office. “Now let’s not waste any more time.”
Eric followed behind him, warm scones in hand. Just as he thought, the missing chair from the lounge was sitting in front of the desk for him to settle down in. However, there was something different about the desk. A teal tablecloth laid in the center with a dark blue design embroidered in the middle. It was a hexagonal shape with gladiolus flowers crawling up the sides and its petals being blown away by the wind. That must be Thornewind’s emblem, since he remembered seeing similar symbols in Brinegarde and Aurora Zenith. He wondered if the other three towns he planned on visiting at some point had emblems as well.
Once the scones were eaten, he and Bris began the meeting. He was glad to see the discussion on both sides going much more smoothly than they had between him and Lianthorne. Bris was open to compromise and he spoke in an easy to understand way, which he greatly appreciated. Their talk lasted for a couple or so hours before they agreed on the terms the other man set. With that, Aurora Zenith and Thornewind were now officially allies.
He glanced towards the window to see the sun shining through the curtains. He must’ve been so engrossed in their discussion, he didn’t notice the darkness giving way to light. Covering his mouth with a hand to let out a yawn, he looked back at Bris and that’s when he saw it.
His chin was resting against the back of his hand as his eyes seemed fixed on nothing in particular. He was tapping a finger on the surface of the desk as if he were lost in thought over something. This gave Eric a knot of anxiety. Had he committed a mistake that already threw their alliance into jeopardy?
Before he could open his mouth, Bris looked him in the eye and asked suddenly, “Hey, Eric, would you be willing to hear me out on something?”
“Um, yeah, what is it?” he replied, hoping his nerves couldn’t be heard in his voice.
“Well, here’s the thing, I need time to figure out how I’m going to tell you this. It’s something I haven’t really thought out yet and I need to decide on whether or not I’m going to go through with it. When do you plan on leaving?”
“I-I was thinking in 3 days’ time but I can stay longer if---”
“No, no, that’s plenty of time, I should have a decision by then. It’s just…” Bris pushed back his hair and exhaled. “This is an important matter I have to think on and consider fully before I do something I might regret.”
“No, I understand. I’m just more worried if this has anything to do with the business we were discussing.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, we’re fine on that front. This is separate from that.”
He silently let out a sigh of relief. Whatever this thing Bris had to mull over was, it was comforting to know it had nothing to do with him. Still, he was curious on what Bris needed to tell him. It did, however, remind him of when Lianthorne tried to bribe him with Ven’s safety and he hoped this wasn’t going to go that route. A life should never be used as a bargaining chip.
“Anyway--” he sat back in his chair-- “when I’ve decided on telling you, I’ll send Aissyl out to come get you. Moving on from that, you have any plans for today?”
Putting the matter to rest for now, he replied, “Uh, no, I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Do you want a tour of Thornewind then?” Bris asked, standing up from his desk to stretch. “Ferreth said you seemed taken in by everything when he stumbled upon you yesterday.”
They must’ve met back up after dropping him off at the inn. He cringed at the idea of what that might’ve looked like to a stranger. “Well, Thornewind is a beautiful town so it’s no surprise I got sidetracked.”
“Then it’s settled, I’ll go get Aissyl.” He started walking around the desk and out towards the threshold of the room.
Following right behind him, he said hurriedly, “Y-you don’t have to do that! I don’t want to take her away from her duties and---”
“She should be getting back from running errands right about now so…”
It was when he tried to stop Bris from going out Aissyl walked in. All he could do was stand there awkwardly as the situation was explained to her, wishing he was anywhere but there right now. She said she had plans for the day, granting him some temporary relief before she pulled the rug out from under him by suggesting Ferreth to be his escort. With Bris’s agreement all but sealing the deal, he was left sitting on the stoop outside while Aissyl went to retrieve Ferreth.
A heavy sigh escaped his mouth as he leaned back to watch the sky. In his attempts to not cause trouble for one person, he might’ve led some to another one’s doorstep. He could only hope he wasn’t hanging Ferreth out to dry with a client of his. Although, he was admittedly looking forward to spending more time with him today. He enjoyed his company yesterday so this might be considered a blessing.
Eventually, Aissyl arrived with Ferreth in tow. They didn’t seem displeased at first glance but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe it was better to err on the side of caution and only let his guard down when everything was all right. He could never be too careful.
He walked down the stairs, gripping the strap of his bag tightly in his hands. The knot of anxiety returned with a vengeance as his heart hammered against his ribs. Just keep calm and breathe, he repeated like a mantra in his head.
“I’ll be leaving Lord Travere in your hands,” he heard Aissyl say before bowing and taking her leave, wincing at her referring to him as lord. He knew she was being polite, he just hated being called by formal titles.
Ferreth, blissfully ignorant to his unease, said in a joking manner, “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to be seeing you again so soon after yesterday. You miss me?”
“Listen, I’m so sorry about all this,” the words spilled out as he continued, “if I’m taking up any of your time, I’ll just go back to the inn and---”
“Eric.” Hearing his name startled him some. “It’s fine, all right? As you guessed yesterday, my work allows me lots of free time and I’m choosing to spend some of that free time with you. So don’t worry about it, okay?”
Doing the exact opposite of that, he shakily replied with, “I’ll try my best not to.”
He turned away from him and cupped his hands over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. He had to just ride it out, let the anxiety ebb. In the meantime, he needed to distract himself with something to slow his mind down.
Seeing this, Ferreth clapped his hands together and asked, “You wanted a tour, right?”
Thank god for convenient timing. “Yeah, Bris suggested it after we finished our discussion and that’d be really great right now.” A helpful distraction, indeed. “Where should we go first?”
“How about the tulip fields?”
“That’s perfect. Shall we go, then?”
They began walking down the street he now recognized as the main road. Eric slowly calmed himself the further away he was from Bris’ house, his mind beginning to feel at ease the more he put it to work at enjoying the tour. Now he might be able to hold a steady conversation.
“So how it’d go with Bris?” Ferreth asked as they approached the middle of town.
“Oh, it went great!” he replied happily. “I am pleased to inform you that Aurora Zenith and Thornewind are now officially allies.”
“I knew it’d go over smoothly. So what does being allies entail, exactly?”
“Oh, well…” He racked his brain for a way to explain things without giving much away. “Say, for example, a disaster were to strike Thornewind. It’d be my duty as Aurora Zenith’s lord to send aid over right away and the same would apply to both Bris and Lianthorne---Brinegarde’s lord---if it were reversed. You’d have to ask Bris if you want to learn more about it.”
“Nah, I’m good. I’m not really interested in all that political crap.”
“I share the same sentiment but I have to be if I want to succeed at my job.”
“Then why enter that line of work?”
“Let’s just say I didn’t have much choice in the matter. I stepped up to take the position but only because I had the qualifications for it. At least I’m putting the skills I learned in my childhood to good use.”
“You have my condolences.”
He snorted in laughter at that. The rest of the trip consisted of them engaging in meaningless small talk that felt like it went on for hours. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a friend in Ferreth. It was easy to see why; he was laid-back, funny, and could find ways to keep the conversation going when he couldn’t. This was different from when he befriended Ven. While he extended a kind hand out that ultimately led to their friendship, this was two like-minded individuals coming together and just bonding over their shared interests. Maybe Alek was right in that he changed from the person he was two years ago into someone better. He smiled at the thought.
A quick visit to the stable to see Asha later and they were out. The tulips were just as stunning as they were when he walked through the fields yesterday. A sea of rainbow swayed in the gentle breeze and his breath was stolen from him once more. He was definitely going to sketch this place sometime in the near future. This was too beautiful for him to pass up.
“A nice sight, isn’t it?” Ferreth asked, throwing his head back to let the wind ruffle his hair. “Just feel that breeze.”
“Yeah, it is quite pleasant.” That was when he remembered his question from yesterday. “Oh, I was wondering, how are the tulips still in bloom this late into summer? I mean, I’m not a botanist or anything but my friend once told me they only bloomed in the spring.”
“Unfortunately for you, I don’t know the answer to that.” He began walking down one of the many dirt paths crisscrossing the massive garden. “You’ll have to ask someone who’s lived here their whole life that question.”
Taken aback by his reply, he followed after and said, “Wait, you’re not from Thornewind?”
“Nope. I’m from a little town called Thesriden that may as well be on the other side of the world. I came to Thornewind just before my 18th birthday.”
“Then forgive me if I’m prying a bit but why come all the way out here? It must’ve been a long trip if it’s as far as I’m imagining it to be.”
Ferreth let out a heavy sigh, no doubt wanting to say as little as possible. “Let’s just say I ran away from home due to some familial issues and I remembered Bris saying he planned on coming here after moving out so I followed him. Welcomed me with open arms and I’ve stayed ever since.”
There was a bitter smile on Ferreth’s face while saying all that. He didn’t need any elaboration to understand where he was coming from. They were more alike than he thought, right down to leaving behind the place they called home for so long because of family. No wonder he held Bris up to such high regard.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, he changed topics to, “Anyway, these tulips really are beautiful. I think my friend would love it here.”
“Well, hey, we’re always welcoming new visitors,” Ferreth said in a brighter tone. “Maybe when you go back home, you can tell him to come up here sometime.”
“I’m not sure if she’d be able to, what with her shyness and all…” The memory of Ven cowering from a crowd of people surrounding her popped into his head and he breathed out. No way was she going to travel all the way up here by herself, especially with how she looked. If Vlixeoxs were barely tolerated in places like Brinegarde and Aurora Zenith, Thornewind would be no different.
“I can help her out when she gets here,” Ferreth suggested. It’s not like he hasn’t been of great importance to him throughout his entire visit so far. So long as he didn’t flirt with her, then maybe…
“If she comes here, I’m holding you to that.” Ven was his friend and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to her. Of course he knew she could take care of herself but he still worried.
“So, shall we move on with the rest of the tour?”
“Sure. We have all day, right?”
So they continued on for the rest of the afternoon. He was shown the local businesses, parks, and occasional oddity Thornewind had to offer. Ferreth even made it a point to tell him of the best taverns to drink at, which he found nice but unnecessary. He wasn’t one to drink and, even if he were, most alcohol never appealed to him. Once the sky began to darken, they decided it was best to wrap up the tour. If Ferreth ever wanted to change his line of work, he’d be damn good at being a guide.
As they were walking back to the Dravitae Inn, Eric remembered his earlier conversation with Bris. An important matter, huh? Maybe Ferreth knew something about what Bris could be hiding from him. After all, they were very close so the possibility was there, he just had to ask.
“Hey, Ferreth, is Bris normally the secretive type?” He studied his face, trying to gauge what his reaction would be.
Confusion was the best way to describe his expression when Ferreth asked, “No, he’s never been one to keep secrets. Why?”
“After we had finished our discussion, he mentioned having something important he wanted to talk with me about. I was wondering if you knew anything of it but I guess not.”
“Yeah, I don’t know anything about this. He didn’t seem bothered at all last night so I wonder what’s going on.”
That wasn’t what he expected or wanted to hear. If even Ferreth had no idea of this, then it really was a waiting game he’d have to play until it was time. Patience was a virtue he had a love/hate relationship with. On matters like this, it was his worst enemy and he had no choice but to deal with it.
“I’ll see him tonight and ask what’s up, it’s just not like Bris to keep secrets,” said Ferreth.
“Don’t do that, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he thinks it’s time.” He saw him open his mouth to say something then shut it. “For now, I’ll have to wait.”
They arrived at the inn just as the lights were turning on. Until the time Bris sent for him came, he planned on enjoying the rest of his trip here. He already had an idea of what he wanted to do tomorrow when---
“Hey, Eric, you have any plans for tomorrow?” Ferreth’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.
“Well, I was thinking about going on up to the overlook I saw while we were at the tulip fields earlier and possibly sketch Thornewind from up there,” he replied, realizing where this was going. “Why?”
“You mind me tagging along?” Yep, that’s what he thought.
“No, but won’t it interfere with work?”
“Eric, I go to work whenever it calls me. Besides, if it was serious enough, they can just come find me so it’ll be fine.”
He gave it a moment of deliberation before answering with, “…Okay but if you get into trouble because you were too busy hanging out with me, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
“Come on, people love me, I bet I could get myself out of it by saying a few sweet words,” he replied with an amused grin. “I’m very charming, you know.”
It was so hard to hate him sometimes. Even when he’d say things that’d normally rub him the wrong way, Ferreth made them have the opposite effect. He was right in that people loved him and Eric wasn’t an exception.
After they parted ways for the day, he climbed up to his room, sat on his bed, and let out a weary sigh. Today was another exhausting yet fun day. He managed to accomplish his goal for being here, went on a sightseeing tour in Thornewind, and spent some quality bonding time with Ferreth. Tomorrow was a day he could kick back, relax, and enjoy the peace it’d bring.
Speaking of which, he reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchbook. Flipping through the pages revealed many works in progress that he never planned on finishing, ranging from messy outlines to slightly cleaner sketches. His subjects were mainly of landscapes, though there were the occasional drawings of Alek during the rare times he’d actually sit and stay down. He’d been honing his craft since he was a child and the years of practice gave him the ability to turn out something truly remarkable. However, this was only a hobby he was passionate about. Nothing more, nothing less.
Eventually, he found a blank page and folded the corners inwards. It was to bookmark which page he wanted to use for the Thornewind sketch tomorrow. Then he put the sketchbook back inside his bag, patting it once for the heck of it. Everything was in there, he was sure of it.
Today was when he built a foundation in more ways than one. Tomorrow would be him strengthening the one he started on with Ferreth. Let it bear fruit so he may savor it in commemoration of this trip.
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TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???
You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.
alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.
pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.
tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy, fluff, slow burn, smut, pining, unrequited love.
rating. ... 18+?
word count. ~5200
note. THIS GETS REAL NON-PG-13 REAL QUICK. I'M SORRY.
chapter 6.
You don't think you'll ever get used to it. The kisses pressed to your crown, over your eyelids, coaxing sandman's dust from your lashes. The saccharine laughter muddled by sleep and swept into messy sheets, threaded into stitches and saved for another day. His hands and his warmth, all over and everywhere and yet never enough. He was like a straight shot of adrenaline and you were a junkie, desperate for the thrill.
Every day was like some wonderful dream - some quietly whispered wish come to life.
And it was all thanks to Taehyung.
Since that first night, you'd fallen into an easy routine. Good morning texts and on occasion, more, his deep drawl acting as a lullaby rather than a wake-up call. Flowers at your doorstep when he knew you didn't have class; a coffee and boxy smile ready when he'd meet you after your last. Date nights every Tuesday, because your lectures ran late and you didn't have time to cook on those days. Your favourite meal from the nearby mom-and-pop shop memorized as easily as his own name.
He was so good to you. Too good to you, you insisted, only for him to brush you off.
Because he'd swept into your life like spring rain and where there'd once been monotony - pretty but boring shades of grey - there was now colour that blinded you. Swaths of red and blue and yellow you'd never seen. Some kind of King Midas, you thought.
"Are you hungry yet?" You're partially inclined to believe he's speaking to someone else - whoever's on the other side of his voice chat - but fail to realize he's behind you, broad frame curled around you as he traps you beneath him. His arms span either side of you, palms planted firmly on the tabletop where you've made a bit of a mess. There are notebooks and loose papers, a textbook with dogeared pages that looks like it's on its last legs. There's even a half-eaten stick of Pocky sticking out from its container, lonely and forgotten.
You turn and peer up at him, trying to focus despite your swimming vision. You've been working on the same composition for the better part of three days and it's been hell. No matter what you do, it doesn't come out right.
When you almost go cross-eyed in your vain attempt to reconcile the two figures in your line of sight, he's slipping your thin gold-rimmed glasses over your ears and off your face, setting them down gently beside your pencil case. You think he's frustrated - you would be, too, if you'd been invited over only to be ignored all night - when his hands find your jaw. You know he isn't by how gentle he is, pad of his thumb pressing soothingly over your bottom lip.
"Take a break, okay?" It's a demand dressed as a request, seducing in its tenderness. You know he's not going to take no for an answer.
You hesitate nonetheless, ready to present your first, second, and third excuses. He silences them before they can see the light of day, coaxing them back into their hiding spots with the sweetest graze of his mouth. Cheater.
Before you know it, you've forgotten yourself and all the reasons why you'd been so ready to return to work, fingers curling over the backs of his hands. It's a makeshift handhold, your way of finding balance after being swept up in the storm that is Taehyung. "Not fair," you chide, not unhappily. You draw his hands to your lap, ignoring the awkward way his body shifts to accommodate the movement.
"I'm just looking out for you," he responds, like that's a good enough reason. You huff. He rolls his eyes but there's no venom behind it.
"What do you want to eat then? I think we have some kimbap leftover from yesterday."
"I ate that earlier when you were having a mini breakdown." You ignore the teasing in his tone because there's adoring understanding too, and a hint of concern. He's not part of your world but he's trying to be. You appreciate that.
Unfortunately, your gratitude doesn't fill hungry stomachs. "How about jjapaguri?"
Taehyung's brow quirks and you know he's going to make some bad joke before it leaves his lips. You recognize the tell-tale signs in the little twitch of his mouth, the way his cheeks tighten and release as if he can't hold back the absolute genius that is he. It's only been a few weeks but you can already read him like a book. (Also, he's a really easy book, like Goodnight Moon.) "Are you trying to tell me you're hiding your husband in the basement?"
"Damn, you got me." You're as deadpan as possible. There's more tonal variety in dry toast.
You stare at each other for half an eternity and then you're both giggling. The sound curls out of your mouth and flits into the air, dragging weight from your shoulders as it ascends.
"You're the silliest." It's meant to be a compliment as much as a rebuff. Darling Taehyung takes it as only the former, beaming proudly. He pulls gently at your hands, coaxing you to straighten with him. He's got you where he wants you now, cradled to his chest like porcelain, and you can't help but relax into the welcoming embrace, cheek pressed to the velveteen cotton of his Celine shirt. When you speak again, it's muffled. "Thank you."
You feel more than hear his laughter, his shoulders reverberating with the motion. "Nothing to thank me for, jagi."
When he uses the term of endearment, poppy red sprouts across your skin, blooms prettily from the tip of your nose to your temples. You still weren't used to it and you're grateful for the cover of your hair, the expanse of his chest that you're burrowed against. "I'll go make food. You stay here."
Then you're gone, scurrying from your bedroom before he can say another word.
Your setup is perfect. From your chair - functional yet pretty, you'd boasted the moment he stepped foot into your bedroom - to the custom-built aluminum keyboard with cat paw esc key, it's a gamer's paradise. Your mouse has all the sensitivity he's used to and it shifts dreamily through the colours of the rainbow, moulded grip lightweight in his palm. (He wishes it were a little bigger, but that's a him problem.) Even the tri-monitor display soothes his secret nerdy itch, filling the void of being away from home with it's insane resolution. The fact that there's thousands of dollars worth of studio equipment in and around it doesn't even deter him. He appreciates that you trust him enough to be seated here.
Pulling your headphones over his ears, he aimlessly reaches for the attached microphone before remembering it doesn't exist. That was something he was still getting used to. He's not really sure where or how the sound is being picked up - maybe by one of the two microphones positioned strategically on either side of your desk, though he can't bother to figure out which - only that it is, and it's good enough for him.
"Ready?" He prompts, watching as his user tag lights up to indicate his question.
JKMKNAE lights up below him. "To kick some ass? Yeah."
Overwatch loads, the FINDING GAME screen sliding into view. The timer rolls on, seconds dragging, and he makes small talk over voice chat while he waits. No one else is on yet - their usual group of near and far online friends still showing offline on Discord - so it's just the two of them.
"Are you going to that party?" He's referring to the little get-together being thrown by Hoseok's new girlfriend. Honestly, he can't remember her name - Gahyeon? Dohyeon? She was nice enough and his friend was clearly smitten, but given that he'd met her in passing only once, he hadn't committed it to memory. He'd learn it before Friday, though. Maybe. H'd have to, if he planned on introducing you.
Couldn't really say 'Jiyeon, meet Hoseok's unnamed girlfriend.'
"Don't know." The response comes indistinct and he imagines Jungkook is shovelling ramyeon into his mouth - can practically hear the slurp slurp slurp through your state of the art earphones - while they queue up. It makes his stomach growl. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
Slurp. Swallow. Response. "It sounded like a freaking animal."
Had Jungkook heard his stomach? No way. "That was me."
This seems to surprise the maknae, who takes a moment to cease his endless eating noises. Thank god - Taehyung had been worried the call was about to turn into a full-blown ASMR session, complete with smacking lips and clinking chopsticks. It wouldn't have been the first time. "Did you get a new headset?"
"Uh, no," comes his response after a beat. It's enough for his friend to latch onto, bowl of noodles long forgotten in favour of the unravelling string of his hesitation.
"You do sound clearer actually. Which did you get? Sennheiser?"
"I didn't get a new headset." Taehyung sounds a little as if he's frustrated with having to explain himself and that only makes the other all the more curious. He should've known. Since they'd been teenagers, Jungkook had been like this. Endlessly curious, tripping over his own feet to be included in whatever news their friend group had to share. It was almost always endearing.
"Then are you wearing a mic taped to your stomach?"
Another pause, punctuated by a sharp exhale.
It's only been a few weeks - three as of this weekend, in fact - and Taehyung's still not sure where you stand. Even when you were opening yourself up to him, there was always another layer. You were an enigma. An enigma wrapped inside a burrito. He chuckles at the thought and reminds himself to use the comparison later. He's sure you'd laugh and he loved the sound - like it was the most beautiful song in the world.
When Jungkook doesn't get an immediate response, Taehyung can practically feel the chagrin rolling through the chat. As much as the youngest liked to tease his hyungs - and he did it often, whether with words or action - he'd never purposely upset anyone. He didn't have a bad bone in his body.
Before he can apologize, Taehyung's cutting him off with a rush of words, like it's the greatest secret ever spoken into existence. "I'm at Jiyeon's."
He'd expected some sort of excitement or downright bro-like congratulations. It was how Jungkook operated, his bravado presented for all to see. Anything to hide that big soft heart of his. (He was different like that - hiding his sensitivity whereas Taehyung and Jimin paraded it around, shouted it from rooftops.)
Instead, there's silence. Because what he doesn't see is Jungkook looking like he's been sucker punched, dealt a straight shot to the gut that he hadn't expected. And why hadn't he expected it? He'd known you were seeing Taehyung, heard about your frequent dates from his friend himself. He'd had to smile along, offering congratulations like the mere thought wasn't burning him from the inside out, like battery acid hadn't replaced the blood in his veins.
"That's great, hyung." It sounds off to Taehyung's ears, cutting over the connection. For a moment, he wonders if he's jostled a cable. You'll kill him if he has. Then there's a bang, an ear-splittingly loud crash. "Shit! I have to clean this up."
Then there's the sound of a participant exiting the channel and he's left to queue all on his own.
"Four packages was two packages too many." You're groaning into your hands, your arms, anywhere you can bury your face. The cold glass of your coffee table is soothing against your cheek, your heated breath forming condensation across the surface.
Above your head, somewhere on the couch behind you, Taehyung laughs, the sound punctuated by chewing. "I could've told you that."
You're not sure how he's still eating, diligently working through his bowl of noodles when you feel like you might explode like some scene out of Alien. It's hard to breathe - in fact, you think you can feel the tail end of a noodle at the top of your throat - and you bite back a gag, shoulders shaking a little with the exertion.
You're being overdramatic, you know.
"I thought I was hungry! I thought you were hungry!" A hand is flying up, wrist weaving bonelessly through the air as if it'll help you drive your very poor point home.
"I am hungry." More laughter. You reach behind you, flailing wildly in the direction you know his legs are, and huff in triumph when your knuckles collide with the sharp bone of his shin. You ignore the fact that you've somehow hurt yourself, too. "You probably haven't eaten today so your stomach is the size of Po's."
As if on cue, the feline sweeps into the room, sniffing curiously at your prone figure before flouncing off to the kitchen in search of more interesting things.
"Why are you so reasonable?" You croak like a dying woman or a frog.
Somehow, against all odds, Taehyung still finds you adorable. He sets his bowl down on the side table, careful to place the chopsticks neatly across the rim, and bends at the waist to fix his hands under your armpits. You can already feel the upward momentum but whine nonetheless, the sound tipping out of your mouth like some sort of Dickensian street urchin.
"No! Stoooop."
"Come here," your not-boyfriend boyfriend coos, dragging you onto the couch. You slump against the cushions when he releases you, rather than falling into his side, eliciting another crinkly-eyed smile from him. It's hard to resist when he's like this, playful and enticing. Still, you try. You pretend like it's nothing, curling your arms around your middle as you stare up at the ceiling.
"I don't feel good." It's a statement that demands payment.
Taehyung happily gives it, peppering kisses over the delicate bones of your face, his broad chest encompassing your frame. He locks his arms around you, sliding them into place around your own, and holds you recklessly close. You don't think you could run if you tried. Whether it's from the noodles you've all but inhaled or the hazy desire that blooms beneath each of his kisses, you're not sure. Maybe both.
"I can make you feel good," he purrs, his mouth feather-light and teasing. He's focused on the sensitive dip by your ear, right where your pulse throbs, and you swear you hear him chuckle before you lose all sense of your surroundings.
The flat of his tongue presses against that sweet spot, laving hungrily at the skin like he might be able to taste the copper that sings beneath it. You whine, louder and higher than you'd meant to, desperate even to your muffled ears. You hear his laughter more clearly this time, breath hot against the outer shell of your ear, and you're not sure whether you're burning up on the outside or just internally.
"See, aren't you feeling better already?" Every word from his mouth is honeyed and intoxicating. You chase the sound, turning your face just in time to feel his lips against yours, more forceful than you'd anticipated. As much as he teased you, he was a kind and forgiving lover, bending to your will as easily you did his.
"You're terrible." You mean it like an insult but, in true fashion, he accepts it like the greatest compliment he's ever received. He preens with it, tossing his head back, causing his hair to fall prettily over his eyes.
Eyes that threaten to swallow you whole, if you'd let them. They're so dark, the ring of his iris all but engulfed by the desire that presents itself in the void of his pupils.
Your heart stutters in your chest. Your breath catches, hitches and careens into a gasp. Somewhere, just beyond the realm of comprehension, you recognize a familiar fluttering in your core. He's looking at you like you're the most beautiful piece of art he's ever seen and he wants to bang - hang - you on the wall, where you belong.
"Do you want me to stop?" Despite whatever war wages in his mind and the thrum of want that skitters up his bones, he's genuine in his delivery. He wants you to want this as bad as he does. He won't hold it against you if you don't.
You owe it to him to be honest. "I'm not sure."
You don't miss the way his expression slips, fall just an inch. He's so careful to retain his composure, offering you the most heartfelt smile you could ever hope for. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, despite his best efforts. You feel awful. Worse then awful. Like you'd shut the sun out.
You reach for him all at once, long fingers framing the edges of his face, thumb sweeping just beneath his eye. He blinks once, twice, and says nothing.
"I want you," you start. It's not clear where you're going with this but you hope you find it along the way - for both of your sake's. "I like you, Kim Taehyung." His eyes sparkle when you say his full name and you want to give up this conversation and smother him in kisses instead. "I really, really like you. But I'm also scared." You say it out loud, though you're certain he already knows.
He presses a kiss to the pad of your thumb that's drifted and found a rhythm in soothing circles at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm an assa." You don't seek pity or understanding. You'd chosen this; you liked it this way. "I don't let people in often. Those I do, I trust explicitly." Your hand slides to his chest, palm flat down the column of his throat to the expanse hidden just beneath his shirt. You settle there, over his heart, and tap experimentally. "I don't want to ruin this - whatever it is - because I expect too much. We deserve to be on the same page. I don't want to ask for more than you can give."
Where the words have come from isn't clear but they spill forth, settling like lead into your veins. He's only been good to you, accepting all of your quirks and flaws in stride. From the first time you'd lashed out - irritable after a long night of rearranging notes - to the time he'd found you half-asleep in front of the fridge at 3 AM, he's accepted you without hesitation. Time and time again, he'd proven his capacity for kindness, for giving you everything and asking nothing in return.
But you can't help the little voice in your head, the same one that demands love in the same breath it rebuffs it.
"I'm right here with you." As if to drive his point home, Taehyung's hand finds yours and squeezes. He's so heartbreakingly handsome like this, unwavering in his sincerity. "But even if I weren't," he indulges your worries, because he knows he needs to face these demons with you, lest they steal you away, "we'd still be reading the same book. You'd just be a few chapters ahead and that's okay."
Not for the first time, you're reminded of how overwhelmingly good he is. It makes your heart swell ten sizes and you crash your lips to his because you want to and he wants it, too.
"You're so poetic," you muse, withdrawing just enough that your words don't get lost.
He grins and does that same toss of his head, chin cocked as his tongue swipes over the soft pillow of his bottom lip. "O, Juliet, Juliet, wherefore art thou, Juliet?" He's inching closer, like it's a game, and you're nearly stumbling back, though you have nowhere to go. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name." There's mischief in this expression, setting his smile aglow. "Take all of me."
You only manage to get your taunting response out, a snarky "that's not how that goes" before he's upon you, devouring you whole.
Despite the hunger in his kiss, the way his mouth slants over yours in a demand, it's anything but rushed. He takes his time in coaxing your mouth open, seeking out the warmth with tentative passes of his tongue. You hum appreciatively when he chases yours with his own, catching your bottom lip between his teeth as some sort of punishment for getting away. You think you could do this forever.
So you pout when he withdraws, out of breath and delirious. You think you must look the same, can see it reflected in his blown out pupils.
As if to sooth your ache - it's not enough - he caresses your jaw, the delicate line of your neck, capable hands running the gamut of hot and heavy and soft and searing. He's sprinkling weak kisses where his hands go, following the paths they carve over your exposed skin. When he dips his tongue into the dainty turn of your collar bone, you keen, chasing the sensation when he exhales cold breath over it.
"We have lots of time," he parrots with a grin so smug, so salacious, you want to cry.
You're pouting, fingers curling into the silk at his nape, tugging none-too-gently on the hairs there.
He seems to find that funny, his nose brushing the collar of your shirt, the valley of your chest that he aches to explore. "Patience is a virtue."
"Who says I'm virtuous?"
You're meeting his surprised stare with big doe eyes, a coy smile playing over your kiss-swollen lips. Taehyung almost considers giving in. Almost.
Instead, he returns to the task at hand, trailing open-mouth kisses across the front of your shirt. He's grateful for the flimsy cotton, the way it drapes over you like wrapping paper begging to be torn apart. You're reclined against the cushions but it's not enough - there's no more space for him to nose past your rib cage. He stops; you whine.
"Tell me we can keep going." The words are nearly lost into your skin. He's holding you so intimately, the curve of his cheek pressed to the underside of your breast. He can feel the scalloped trim of your bra. It's not nearly enough. He wants what's underneath, exhales his need in a throaty moan, lips seeking out his hidden treasure.
You don't immediately respond and his head snaps up, a little concerned. But you're not looking at him, lost to the ceiling above and the heavens beyond. You look so hot. He feels his cock twitch and he has to remind himself to wait, to hold out for your breathless yes.
The moment it comes, you're in his arms and your eyes snap to his face, bewildered. He's an anomaly beneath you, equal parts hard and soft. The planes of his stomach are taut but comfortable; he's lean muscle beneath a yielding layer. You've never been this close, body pressed recklessly against his as he carries you to your bedroom. Your ankles lock around him, heel of your bare feet digging into the expanse of his lower back. He says nothing, simply nuzzles into your softness of your neck and smothers you with affection.
"What was wrong with the couch?" It's meant to be mocking but it loses its edge when Taehyung releases you atop your bed, eagerly slotting himself between your knees when your hold on him releases.
His hands are driven, making quick work of your tee shirt, and then he's feasting like a man-starved, taking in every line of your body like he can commit it to memory. "You're so beautiful," he says in response, diving into your skin that begs to be touched, soft as silk and unblemished. He hums happily against your throat, licking a wet stripe from your clavicle to your ear, pausing to bite thoughtfully on the lobe. The sounds you make should be illegal. He wants to hear them forever, until the day he dies.
The strap of your flimsy bra - pretty periwinkle lace, he notes with a quirked brow - twists around his finger and he can feel you staring at him, expectant. When he lets it fall and you huff, he wants to laugh. He doesn't, though, choosing to drop his head to follow the trail of his hands over the swell of your chest. Thumb and then mouth catch, teeth nipping at your nipple in a way that makes your back arch. He flicks his tongue out, circling the pebbled bud with precision, and he thinks he might be stealing the breath right out of your lungs by the way you're coming undone beneath him.
"Sensitive?" He drags the edge of lace down between his teeth until the fabric is caught beneath your tits, showcasing them proudly. He leans back on his calves, catching your wrists with ease when you try to cover up. You're so pretty like this, head thrown back, body on display. Like a piece of art.
He wishes he had his camera.
"You're a tease, Kim Taehyung." You don't know how much he loves it when you say his name like this, a little authoritative and full of want.
Your own personal Adonis settles over you once again, kissing you as if his life depends on it. He swallows you whole, taking all of your moans and pleas like they're prayers and he's your deity. Maybe he is. "Patience, jagiya." You can feel him grinning against you, sweet as sin. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, dragging the edges of your teeth over the sensitive petal.
Now it's his turn to whimper, hand fisting into your hair before relaxing, fingers soothing the roots he'd just pulled.
"I said patience," he repeats. You don't have time to test him again, suddenly encompassed by the feeling of his warmth pulling away, drifting lower. You miss the weight of him, his chest pressed to yours.
But you like this, too, his hot breath fanning over your skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You like it even more when he licks a strip down the valley of your cleavage, inhaling your scent. You're sure you're coloured like a neon Christmas sign, rouge blossoming over your skin where you want more - need more.
"I'm going to be so good to you."
How he manages to be so unrelentingly sweet, even while mouthing sloppy kisses over your bare abdomen, you're not sure. He does it so well, like this side of him is only for you. It makes you see stars. They flicker brightly in your vision, sparked to life with each pass of his lips, each concentrated glide of his hands.
"Look at me." It seems almost impossible that his voice has dropped even further, the lower octave simultaneously exciting and surprising. It sinks like weights in your stomach, forcing your eyes to his face. He's at the edge of the bed, his head ducked against the swell of your bare thigh - when had that happened? - eyes half-lidded as if swept up in dreams. You know he's paying attention when he nips gently at the sensitive flesh, manipulating your softness with firm, unyielding hands. "Do you know how crazy you drive me?"
You thought you'd had a clue - had spied it in the way he kissed you in the morning, held your hand in his - but you were wrong. You realize that now, watching him watching you.
"Show me," you all but whisper. An appeal, a wish, a begging demand.
When he looks at you, it's as if your words are the keys to his heart. He smiles that blindingly handsome smile and dips forward, shifting your calf over his shoulder. You think you might die from the sight alone but you're sure you do - heart stopped and all - when you feel his breath at the juncture of your legs.
He inhales deeply and you blush scarlet, the desire to clamp your thighs shut twitching your limbs. As if he can sense your sudden shame, he redirects your attention with the tip of his tongue. You nearly buck at the sensation, somehow already wound so tight that the feeling is a harsh constriction of the coil in your stomach. You need him. "Tae, please." The sound is a garbled whine, half bitten into the pillows you're buried in.
Luckily, he needs this just as much as you do. He's generous with his love, spreading you wide open and nearly groaning at the sight. You're already dripping, inviting him to sink his tongue into you. He alternates between long, languid strokes along your slit and teasing, penetrating delves of his tongue into your hole. He dutifully ignores your clit. You writhe beneath him and he mimics the motion, grinding his straining erection into the bed. He feels a little bad when the motion jostles you but he thinks you don't care, too far gone in your own blissful heaven to notice.
"Tae," his name barely registers, so caught up in the taste of you and the way you coat his tongue, his lips, his chin. "Tae. Baby. Please." You're keening, teetering dangerously on the edge of ecstasy. You hadn't known how badly you needed this and now it's eating you alive, burning you from both ends until you're left in ashes.
"What, jagi?" Taehyung's the devil in disguise, pausing his ministrations to suck a wet kiss into your thigh. Wet from his own mouth or your juices, he's not sure.
"I need more," you whine, the neediest he's ever seen you. He's so turned on. He curses his choice of pants, the soft cotton too inconsequential against him and his useless rutting. He needs a zipper or your hands or better yet, your mouth. But this isn't about him.
This is about you. He'd come later. Literally.
"Is this more?" The last word disappears, a shot in the dark as he wraps his lips around your aching clit and sucks, simultaneously sinking his middle finger into your feverish core. He groans when your hips undulate with the pressure, seeking out more like the greedy kitten you are. He pumps into you once, then three more times for good measure, before adding his ring finger, endlessly proud of the way you take him to the knuckles without an ounce of hesitation. "You're doing so good," he praises you as if he knows you need it, laving at the sensitive bundle of nerves with unrelenting attention.
He can feel it before you're able to verbalize the words, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your plea careening off your tongue. "Please don't stop. I'm so, so close." A hiccup. Your voice is wet. "Tae, please."
So he doesn't, instead twisting until he finds that spongy spot at the front of your pelvic wall. He rocks against it, fingers tapping with brutal precision. It's what sends you over the edge into an Earth-shatteringly strong orgasm that he fucks you through with tender care, rolling your clit over his tongue and basking in the feel of you soaking his hand (and face and chest).
Your head's still in the clouds when he pops up, triumphant. Even in your fucked-out bliss, you recognize he's drenched. If he didn't look so proud, you think you'd be mortified.
"Well, that's a first."
notes. as @fortunexkookie and @taehyungforreal (two of my main reasons for writing, tbh, and people i fangirl over from afar) once said, kim taehyung remains the reigning king of lovemaking. i hope i did him justice. xo
#bts smut#kim taehyung smut#taehyung#taehyung smut#jungkook smut#bts#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts fluff#kim taehyung#kim taehyung fluff#taehyung fic#taehyung fluff#taehyung x you#taehyung x reader#taehyung x oc#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook fluff#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook x oc#work.zip#ttmab.doc#jungkook.doc#v.doc
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Jewels
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Themes: smut | adventure!au | archeologist!reader | dodger!jk
Word count: 16.1k (whoops!)
Summary: Nobody said it’s going to be easy, but when Jeon Jungkook, the handsome troublemaker, tags along on my adventure, my simple trip morphs into a life-threatening mission. I was to find an ancient necklace and gain fame in the archeology field, but thanks to Jungkook’s mischief, we also attracted lots of unnecessary attention and plenty of enemies.
Warnings: unprotected sex (there’s a lot going on, and I’m not gonna spoil it here), foul language, questionable loyalty
A/N lightly inspired by adventure movies such as Tomb Rider, The Mummy, Indiana Jones, and maybe others but unconsciously
***
The first thing which hit me when I left the airport was the heat; it was scorching hot, humidity was unquestionably above seventy percent, and I knew my stay in Casablanca wasn’t going to be as pleasant as I had expected it to be regardless of being used to high temperatures. I could make it, though. Casablanca was just a stop before I’d head further toward my destination.
Adjusting my straw hat which almost got blown away by a sudden wave of sizzling wind, I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the taxi rank. My hotel was only fifteen minutes away from the airport, but I wouldn’t risk getting sunstroke at the very beginning of my journey.
Thankfully, the taxi driver spoke English.
It was the only upside, unfortunately, since I almost died inside the vehicle without air-conditioning. The driver was unbothered, and I wondered how the hell he could withstand such conditions. Or how people could endure such weather in general.
“First time in Casablanca?” The driver started, glancing at me in the stained rearview mirror.
“No,” I lied, “I come here every year,” I added, knowing better not to disclose such information as he might’ve taken advantage of me, the naïve and inexperienced tourist. “It feels like home,” I added, looking through the window, admiring the beautiful scenery while the taxi driver hummed in acknowledgment as he turned to the left.
“Have a nice stay,” he respectfully spoke as he handed me my suitcase, and I paid the fare.
“Thank you,” I replied, smiling at him brightly, glad he drove directly to my hotel and not around the whole city at least twice.
Blowing the fringe off my forehead, I clenched the suitcase with one hand, undoing two first buttons of my thin white blouse with the other one, desperately trying to cool off.
“That’s it, it’s your shot, don’t fucking waste it,” I muttered to myself, hoping the pep talk would help me not chicken out. It was my only chance, or I would be royally screwed in more sense than one. My career wouldn't be the only thing ruined.
Having delivered the motivational speech to myself, I raised my head high and went into the hotel. Unlike any other hotels, the one in which I was staying was flea-bitten; half of the bulbs weren’t working, dust was everywhere, and the smell of sweat and dirt hung in the air. Too bad, I couldn’t afford the night in a four-star hotel nearby.
On the bright side, I’m staying here only for one night.
Confidently, I reached the front desk, telling the receptionist personal information so he could give me the keys to the room booked under my name. Although he spoke pidgin English, I could pick up most of the instructions he needed to relay.
Though my room was of the best quality they could provide, I still had a handful of reasons to complain. I wasn’t going to, though. It was already nine o’clock in the evening, and knowing me, dirty windows or empty mini refrigerator or broken air-conditioning wouldn’t agitate me that much after a couple of drinks at the hotel’s bar.
Not bothering to unpack, I opened the window, hoping to air the room, so when I'd have returned it would be more bearable to survive the night.
“You got this,” I egged on, staring at my reflection in the stained mirror. “People will write about you in papers when you find that jewel.” I continued as I reapplied my red lipstick.
Most of the scientists believe the Aminata’s accessory is a myth, but I was going to find it, earning the glory and fame in archeology environment. The necklace is made of African’s biggest blood-red ruby, decorated with twelve large diamonds, and it said to have supernatural properties.
Four thousand years ago, Aminata was the most beautiful woman on the entire African continent, and though she didn’t have a wealthy background, no man could resist her beauty. Many wanted to marry her, and some of whom were ready to kill for her grace.
On her sixteenth birthday, a handsome nobleman paid her a visit. Enchanted by her beauty, he gave her the necklace which was a token of his feelings for her. The blood-red ruby symbolized he would execute anyone who dared to look into her eyes. The diamonds, depending on two different translations signified either all the lifetimes he was going to love her or the purity of his feelings.
He claimed her, but the attention she was receiving from other men grew. Whatever her desire was, she had plenty of volunteers to fulfill it. Despite the dazzling pendant around her neck, men still yearn for the tiniest bit of her attention, whereas women hated her enormously being driven by envy.
When sun descended behind the horizon and the moon shined brightly, a few high-positioned women (a few women with high-positioned husbands) went to an enchantress, inclined to sacrifice everything for Aminata’s death. In exchange for their tongues, the enchantress locked Aminata’s beauty in the necklace.
Aminata’s charms were gone the second the necklace got stolen by one of the women, Yaya. She possessed the beauty and forced the men to kill Aminata. They scarred her beautiful face and defiled her body, and when she begged for mercy, Yaya slid her throat.
When the night fell, the women commanded their slaves to take Aminata’s body on the boat and bury her corpse in a cave on one of the inhabited islands. Tempted to keep the necklace, Yaya earned disrespect from the other women. Out of hatred, the women locked out Yaya in the tomb with Aminata.
The necklace remains lost until now, but I’m about to change that. I studied the Senegalese legends for two years, writing my master degree paper on it, and I am determined to find it, shaking up the entire archeology field. It may be dangerous, but I am willing to face the odds if that means the Aminata’s necklace becomes mine.
Checking my appearance one more time in the mirror, I threw the bag over my shoulder, ready to get wasted. Maybe it was the last time I had a chance to get drunk, so I was going to make the best of my current situation even though a lot of aspects could be improved.
As soon as I walked inside, I felt all the eyes on me. Maybe ten people were seated in the bar, and all of them were men, so I wasn’t surprised by the commotion I was making. Ignoring their nasty stares, I sat down on a barstool, waiting for the bartender to approach me.
“What can I get you?” The bartender asked in English, sensing I was a foreigner, and I smiled, staring at the bottles of alcohol which was sitting on the shelves behind him. It's my first time traveling alone, and given the circumstances, it may be my last, so I assumed it was an excellent opportunity to try something new and experiment a little.
“I’ll have a glass of bourbon with a lot of ice,” I ordered, and the bartender nodded.
“Put it on my tab,” a man, who was sitting two barstools away from me, spoke, as he tilted his glass a little, sending me a smirk. “What such a pretty little thing is doing in such a shabby place like this?” He inquired, his doe eyes scanning my frame.
“Getting hit on by random dudes,” I retorted, thanking the bartender who brought my order.
“Feisty, I like feisty,” he commented as he jumped off his barstool, taking the one beside me. “I’m Jungkook, and you are?” He introduced himself, offering a handshake which I hesitantly accepted. “What a pretty name,” he said when he heard me say it.
“And what are you doing here?” I curiously asked, cocking up my eyebrow. “You don’t exactly fit in here,” I pinpointed as I tasted the bitter drink which did not suit my preferences.
“Not as much as you,” Jungkook challenged, and I rolled my eyes at his hesitation to disclose any information about him. Either he was very secretive by nature, or he was hiding something, and I wasn’t going to be one of his victims if he was plotting something vicious.
“I am an archeologist,” I started, thinking how much I could tell him without risking anything. I was alone in a foreign country, I had to be cautious. “And I’m staying in Casablanca for one night before I join my crew in Algeria,” I added, hoping my deception was believable. “And what about you?”
Jungkook turned to me so I could have a better look on his sun-kissed skin, doe and innocent eyes, veiny forearms, muscular arms, his messy brown hair, and his toned chest which I could admire because of the deep neckline of his shirt. He sat there, effortlessly looking like a cover model, and his attention was entirely on me.
It was weird. I had to travel across the world to be noticed by a handsome male, while in my hometown guys drooled over girls with overdrawn eyebrows when I was literally there, waiting to be hit on.
Outrageous!
“I’m a freelance writer.” Jungkook easily answered, and I wondered why he didn’t want to admit that in the first place. He was just a stranger; I had no reason to not believe him. People would do much more than lying if that meant they could get laid. “You know… guidebooks and sometimes articles in travel magazines. And sometimes, I help people around the town.”
“That’s interesting; tell me more,” I urged him, sipping my drink. I had nothing better to do, so I might as well listen to his story. Apparently, Jungkook had traveled much more than I had, so he must’ve had a few stories to share. Also, his experience could be useful.
“What’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear Casablanca?” Jungkook inquired, and I hummed, thinking about my answer. When I didn’t speak after a few seconds, Jungkook cleared his throat, “a lot of people associate Casablanca with that 1944 movie under the same title, and therefore – love. And currently, I write a guidebook, or maybe even an actual novel about different forms of love here. It may be something cliché-ridden like a newly-wedded couple making out on the beach, or something simple like a florist who gives flowers to beautiful girls free of charge. And frankly, I think Casablanca is more romantic than Paris.”
“Paris is so overrated,” I commented, nodding my head, as I agreed with him. Although I had never been to Paris, I had heard tales. Perhaps, I haven’t explored Casablanca the way the city deserves it, but I could tell it gave off that dreamy vibe.
“And what are you going to dig up, huh?” Jungkook casually asked as he whistled at the bartender, wanting a refill. Of course, he was curious. How could he be not?
“Are you seriously interested?” I questioned, and Jungkook eagerly nodded, smiling at me encouragingly. “Well… you are the first person who is excited to hear about me digging up pots.” I joked, and Jungkook chuckled at me almost lovingly. The Casablanca’s atmosphere must’ve got to him. “Have you ever heard about Aminata?” Jungkook shook his head.
“Is it something to eat?” He guessed, but he couldn’t be more wrong.
“No, Jungkook, it’s not food,” I clarified before I told him the legend purposefully missing, changing or adding minor details out of pure paranoia. I was being mistrustful, but it was my once-in-a-lifetime chance, and I couldn’t hand it over to a random guy in a hotel’s bar. My dignity wouldn’t allow me to come back home without it, and no matter how ridiculously good-looking Jungkook was, I wasn’t going to get distracted.
“Wow,” he said, impressed, “it’s tragic. Romantic, but tragic.”
“I guess.”
“Are you really going to find it?” Jungkook asked, and I firmly nodded. I would find that bloody necklace, or I’d die trying. “There’s one more question I want to ask; what made you want to become an archeologist? As far as I know, it’s a rare profession.”
“I suppose I’ve Indiana Jones one time too many,” I answered, and Jungkook laughed genuinely, and without any doubt, it was the most adorable sound I had heard in a long time.
“You really are something, aren’t you?” Jungkook challenged, and I shrugged shyly. I could feel his intense stare, and it made me feel weak. His huge eyes were looking into mine; his smile was wide and bright. “It’s so easy to talk to you. I could talk to you all night long.”
“Likewise,” I said shamelessly, finishing my drink, feeling quite buzzed.
“Rahim!” Jungkook hollered at the bartender. “Can we take this bottle to go?” The bartender approached us and placed the half-full bottle of bourbon on the counter.
“Add it to your tab, too?” Rahim asked, and Jungkook simply nodded, grabbing the bottle.
“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Jungkook jumped off the barstool, waiting for me to do the same, and when I was on my feet, he interlaced our fingers together. Quickly, I grabbed my glass, and we left the bar behind us.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
***
“It’s beautiful,” I said in admiration, as I looked at the pink sky; the sun was about to descend fully, and the colors across the horizon mixed stunningly. “Maybe the hotel doesn’t have many stars, but the view is marvelous,” I added, and Jungkook hummed in agreement.
“It would make a great postcard, wouldn’t it?” Jungkook sighed, and I pulled out my phone to snap a few pictures of the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen. “You know what’s also beautiful?” He asked, staring at me.
“Let me guess,” I muttered, paying him little attention. I was too engrossed in the view in front of me, so I was barely aware of what was going on around me. “Me?” I replied carelessly, as I had a feeling Jungkook was going to say something cheesy.
“Quite conceited, aren’t you?” Jungkook teased, and I blinked, realizing what I just said. “I wanted to say the lighthouse over there, but I must admit you’re not wrong,” he elaborated as he walked toward me, standing just behind my back.
“Sorry, I just assumed you tried to hit on me again,” I apologized, and Jungkook chuckled.
“I did, but in a less cringe-worthy way,” he agreed, and I turned to look at him; he was so close, and the warmth was emitting from his body made me question what was hotter – the weather itself or just he. “You ruined the mood, but are you at least a bit swooned?”
“Not really,” I answered honestly since my previous response was quite excruciating. “But I’m really into you so I wouldn’t really mind if you wanted to show me your room,” I added boldly, and Jungkook smirked, turning slightly, so his side was brushing against me.
“I hope you wouldn’t mind a little teaser,” I smiled, and Jungkook leaned forward to press a cautious kiss against my lips. As if tasting the waters, he gently nipped my lips, and when I kissed him back, he relaxed, moving against my mouth more courageously.
When he slowly pulled away and looked me in the eyes, I licked my lips before I said, “This won’t do; I need more.” Jungkook smirked mischievously, happy that I was thinking the same thing he did. There was no need to play dumb; I wanted him, and Jungkook wanted me, so it was pointless to play hard to get. Tomorrow, I was going to start my journey, and right now, Jungkook looked at me as if he wanted to devour me; a promise of unforgettable night glistened in his beautiful eyes, and I’d be a complete idiot if I rejected him. “Much more.”
I hadn’t been fucked properly for way too long, and now, I was going to have my brains fucked out. It was going to be the best lay of my life, so in case it would be my last, I definitely wasn't to regret it.
“Fuck yes,” Jungkook hollered cheerfully, as he cupped my face, and once again kissed me, making my legs shake under my weight. He was passionate and energetic, and that combination really got to my head; it was what I needed to ease the stress which had been accumulating in my body ever since I had decided to find the Aminata’s necklace.
“I’m not gonna put up a show here,” I warned him when his hand slid under my blouse. I had no problem with his touch; quite contrary, I’d urge him to caress my skin if he didn’t do it by now, but letting other people see me writhing under his ministrations? Never.
“There’s nothing you should be embarrassed about,” Jungkook said, gawking at me as if I was a piece of meat. “You’re gorgeous,” he added, leaning down to suck on my neck, while his palm still roamed around my stomach, upwards to my breasts.
“Still,” I whispered, as I closed my eyes, “I want you to be only one seeing me like this,” I continued, telling him that tonight, I belonged to him only. “But I hope everyone will hear me screaming your name when you make me come.”
“You know how to get me in the mood,” Jungkook admitted, and I smirked, as a sudden wave of confidence washed through me. Usually, I’d never do that, but the atmosphere and the circumstances and Jungkook made me act without putting much thought into my actions. Right now, I was bold and determined to have the night of my dreams with a stranger, and I couldn’t care any less about the consequences. None of it mattered anyway.
“Jungkook,” I moaned when his large hand massaged the inner side of my thigh. Instinctively, I pressed my legs together, squeezing his wandering palm before he touched my cotton panties. “Not here,” I purred when his mouth kissed my neck and throat, nipping gently.
“Let me, at least, eat you out here,” Jungkook whispered into my ear, as he pinched my thigh, making me spread my legs a little. “I promise, no one will see you,” he added, as his right hand traveled up to my panties, tugging it playfully.
I had no idea what got into me, but the idea of Jungkook on his knees right now, eating me out was more than arousing. With his head under my skirt and between my legs, with his tongue on my clit, with his fingers up my pussy; just thinking about it made me dizzy. I’d probably faint if he started his ministrations.
“What do you say?” Jungkook purred against my skin, while his hand was teasing me by pulling on the hem of my panties. “Agree, I know you want to,” he continued, gently rubbing his nose against my neck.
“Yes,” I mumbled so quietly I thought he might’ve not heard me. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was pressed tightly against me, I’d probably have to repeat myself, losing the last bit of my composure. I barely knew Jungkook, yet I’d bend however he told me to; it only took a snap of his fingers, and I’d fulfill his every wish regardless of how freaky it could be.
“Fuck yes,” Jungkook breathed out and pulled down my panties in one fluid motion, his large hand grazing my skin. Instinctively, I raised my right leg and then left one, helping him to get rid of my undergarment – which in a matter of seconds was pushed into his pocket.
“Jungkook,” I moaned his name when he rubbed his erection against me, turning me on even more. I hadn’t felt this hot in months, and he barely touched me. If he was going to keep up the pace, I would explode before we’d reach his room.
“What is it, baby?” Jungkook asked innocently, teasing me, evidently trying to strip me of the remains of my dignity. He heard me, but I had a hunch he wanted to hear me beg. “That’s right, that’s my name,” he spoke in a low voice; his hands cupped my butt, squeezing it.
“You like teasing, don’t you?” I inquired, hoping to sound less affected than I was; my voice would break in an embarrassing stutter, but my articulation was the last thing Jungkook paid attention to. “Just eat me out already!” I cried out, frustrated with his ministrations.
“Teasing? Only you,” he mocked. “And for someone so reluctant about being eaten out here, you seem very eager now,” Jungkook continued to provoke me, his finger finally touching my clit, making me gasp at the sudden sparkle of pleasure. Because of the lack of attention to my sensitive bundle of nerves, the slightest of his touches was setting me on fire.
“P-please,” I begged as I shut my eyes close, feeling my knees give up under his compelling touch. “Jungkook, please, just do it,” I carried on, as I yanked him closer by his belt, moaning when his prominent erection rubbed against me.
“Spread those beautiful legs for me, baby,” Jungkook commanded, playfully slapping the inner side of my thigh, and I obeyed without thinking. Holding my breath, I leaned against the concrete railing. With a smug smirk on his face, I watched Jungkook got on his knees in front of me, getting lost in my wild fantasies when he lustfully licked his lips.
“Oh, God,” I breathed out when Jungkook pressed his mouth against my clit, kissing it so sensually. “Mm…” I huffed in pleasure, as Jungkook sucked on my clit, sending me into overdrive so quickly. His hands were on my butt, pulling me closer, his nose was grazing against my pubic mound, his tongue licking my folds.
I was panting; I gave myself all to Jungkook, letting him do everything he wanted, and I loved writhing under his will. I hadn’t felt this good in weeks, or maybe even months, but damn; I was floating over the cloud nine because of his touch.
“I love how you respond,” Jungkook muttered, as he pulled away from me. I was so sensitive, and when Jungkook gently tugged on my clit, I just kept pressing myself against him, desperate to feel more.
“Keep going, Jungkook,” I moaned, licking my lips. “Fuck me with your fingers,” I voiced quietly, hoping he would consider my humble request. His tongue felt divine, the way it flicked against my folds sent shivers down my spine, the way it swirled around my clit made my toes curl, but it wasn’t enough. “I need more.”
“You’re so needy,” Jungkook chimed in, as he pulled away and looked into my eyes. His chin was glistening with my juices, and his lips were swollen from all the work he had done, and he looked incredible. He was handsome, but right now, he looked like a deity. “How much do you want my fingers? Would you fuck yourself on them?”
“Yes! I’ll do anything you tell me to,” I answered obediently, afraid that he’d stop unless I gave him a definite reply quickly. “Please, Jungkook, I was so close,” I begged, and Jungkook generously complied with my plea. “Oh, yes,” I gasped when he inserted his middle finger in my drenching pussy.
“Tell me how much you love it,” Jungkook urged, and I moaned my gratitude, but words were incomprehensible, and I hoped that my attempts to praise him would suffice. “I made you feel so good that you can’t even speak; damn, you love my fingers,” he teased, adding another finger, curling it inside of me, almost throwing off the edge.
“Yes!” I hollered between my shallow breaths, all tensed, sensing my orgasm approaching. Just the way Jungkook had suspected it, I rocked my hips against his hand, needing his fingers deeper inside of me. “Yes, yes, yes. Jungkook, don’t stop!” I screamed, not bothering who might’ve heard me. At the moment, I only cared about Jungkook and my impending high.
“That’s right, squeeze around my fingers,” Jungkook egged me on, though I’d do it without his encouragement; he agitated fire in my veins, and when he started to suck on my clit again, I reached the moment of explosion. With the final thrust, my blood burnt, my vision blazed white, my throat growled his name, and my body thawed out falling straight into his arms.
“Jungkook–“
“Look at the mess you’ve made,” Jungkook stood up, showing me his hand all covered in my juices. “You look so blown away,” he added, staring into my eyes, as he licked his fingers clean. “So fucked out,” Jungkook pointed out, planting a peck in the corner of my lips.
“Well… yeah… you’ve got very skillful fingers,” I spoke, wrapping my hand in his; it was still a bit sticky, but we were also covered in sweat, so I didn’t care about it that much. “Thank you so much, I really needed that.”
“Don’t thank me now, you’ll thank me later when you feel my cock,” he corrected me, as he looked down at our interlocked hands, giving it a light squeeze. “My room or yours?” With a twinkle in his eyes, he asked directly, and I smiled, refraining myself from throwing myself into his arms, so he could take me to his chamber and fuck me all night long.
“The one which is closer,” I eagerly answered when I bit my bottom lip, looking at his erection, still cramped in his trousers. “You’ve been so hard for so long, your dick is gonna fall off,” I retorted cheekily, and Jungkook smirked at me.
“We could always finish up here,” he egged on, but I firmly shook my head; it was enough of exhibitionism for today. For maybe months, even. “Whatever you say, but sex under the starry sky? Mind-blow-ing,” Jungkook stated, articulating each syllable, but he might’ve as well spelled it out for me, yet it still wouldn’t change my mind. I’d rather have him in the sheets. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”
“Maybe some other time,” I said vaguely, running my hands across his chest, entwining my fingers behind his neck. “Indoor sex can be mind-blowing, too,” I added, staring at his swollen lips when I licked mine.
“Oh, yes,” Jungkook breathed out, quickly throwing his hands on my butt, hoisting me up. “Hold on,” he said when I wrapped my legs around his waist, “let’s not forget about the booze,” he added, as he turned around, letting me grab the bottle and the glasses before we forgot about it. “I bet sex with you is always amazing. You got the prettiest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” Jungkook whispered, and his words affected me much more than I would’ve guessed.
“Oh, Jungkook,” I murmured against his skin, nipping on his neck teasingly, and since Jungkook didn’t seem to mind my ministrations, I continued to suck the hickey while he was walking down the stairs. “I want to feel you inside of me,” I purred into his ear, and Jungkook immediately stopped in his track, pressing me against the wall quite aggressively.
“You do tend to speak carelessly,” he whispered, his voice giving me chills. “I barely control myself around you,” he added, playfully nipping my earlobe. Jungkook was sensual, and I was incredibly close to letting him fuck me right here in this shabby corridor. “If you keep talking like that I may not be able to hold myself back any longer.”
“I will make it up to you, I promise,” I muttered before I smashed my lips against his in another hungry kiss. “I will suck your cock dry if you want me to,” I added, and Jungkook began the walk to his bedroom.
“I want this and much more,” Jungkook mischievously added when we reached his room.
Quickly, Jungkook opened his room and let me enter it first, acting like a real gentleman.
When Jungkook was closing the doors behind us, I placed the alcohol on the cabinet. Then, I took my shoes off and looked around, wanting to study the interior, silently judging if his room looked fancier than mine. Unfortunately, the moment I started my thorough analysis, Jungkook wrapped his hand around my wrist, swiftly turned me around and yanked me against his muscular body.
My eyes gazed into his, instantly seeing the pure desire in them. Jungkook had already made me come, and now, he deserved to reach his orgasm too.
“Come here,” he muttered, and I, as if I were under his spell, wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him slowly. His bottom lip felt incredibly soft between mine. Quickly, his hands found a purchase on my hips, as he pulled me closer, and I deepened our kiss. “I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you. You drive me crazy,” Jungkook confessed, and I moaned feeling the same; with each move of his lips, I felt thirstier and thirstier.
Slowly, my hands roamed across his shoulders, down his chest until they reached the buckle of his belt. Biting my bottom lip, I undid it along with the button of his trousers.
“Can you do it any slower?” Jungkook asked in mock anger, impatient with my ministrations. “You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he added, and I smiled when I realized how he called me. I had never been a fan of pet names, but when one rolled of Jungkook’s tongue, it genuinely made me feel wanted and adored even though I was just about to kneel and suck his cock. “Please, have mercy.”
Having pulled his zipper down, I pushed his trousers down his muscular thighs, leaving him only in his deep-cut shirt and a pair of boxers. The bulge was impressive, and I unconsciously licked my lips, admiring the view in front of me.
Enthusiastically, I got on my knees, pulling his boxers down, making his erection spring out of its restraint right in front of my face. “Oh my,” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish my thought. I really wanted to suck his cock and make him come either down my throat or on my face or whatever he wanted to.
“You know what to do sweetheart,” Jungkook said, as he grabbed his cock and gave it a few lazy strokes. Damn, it was hot. His veiny hand was moving smoothly up and down his length, as he stared down at me, waiting for me to take care of him.
Gently, I put my hand over his. “Let me,” I whispered, and Jungkook took his hand away, allowing me to touch him. His cock was throbbing in my hand, as I stroked him carefully, feeling the slight curve of his erection and prominent veins.
“That’s right,” Jungkook sighed, kicking his head backward, giving into the pleasure I was giving me. “Spit on my cock,” he instructed, and I followed his order, quickly smearing my saliva over his length, mixing it with a bit of the precum. His cock was slick, and my hand moved quickly, making him grunt in enjoyment.
Shortly after, I leaned forward and started to suck on the tip of cock while still running my hand up and down his erection. Jungkook thrust his hips slightly and hissed when he felt the tip of my tongue on his cock.
“Oh God, yes,” he praised, and I hummed, glad that he enjoyed my ministrations. “Yeah, suck me off, just like that,” he grunted, as he shut his eyes close, giving completely into the pleasure. Eagerly, I hollowed my cheeks, taking more and more of him, resting my hands on his hips. My head bobbed back and forth as I sucked him, my tongue gently pressing on the veiny underside of his cock. “Oh my God,” Jungkook whined in enjoyment when I squeezed his balls with one of my hands.
“Do you like what I’m doing to you?” I asked as I pulled out with a pop. “Are you going to come?” I asked innocently, still playing with his balls. Jungkook looked down at me, but I just smirked, leaning down, pressing my tongue against the tip of his cock, licking it down to its base along a large vein. “You are close, aren’t you?” I teased, chuckling when Jungkook’s cock started to twitch in my palms.
“You won’t be smirking when I am done with you,” Jungkook warned me, but I only giggled to his threat. If he was going to fuck me into oblivion, I’d gladly take that punishment. “No one has ever fucked you like I’m about to,” he added, and I only hoped he wasn’t all talk and no action.
“Can’t wait,” I muttered before I once again put his cock into my mouth, sucking him off eagerly. Jungkook, on the other hand, decided to take control of the situation. Gently, he grabbed my hair and wrapped it around his hand as he wanted to give me his rhythm.
“Will you be a good girl and let me come in your mouth?” Jungkook asked, and though I had never let men finish on my tongue, I couldn’t bring myself to decline him. Jungkook woke up my inner most-hidden desires, and right now, I would let him do anything. Even if he wanted me to swallow his cum, I would do it with pleasure. With him, I felt like a sex goddess, and I was eager to cross all of my past boundaries.
Tonight, I had no inhibitions.
It could be my last time having sex, and I was going to make the most of it.
Jungkook was on the verge of coming, and I felt needy too, so my hand reached down to rub my clit. He had given me one orgasm, but I was ready for more.
“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked as he pulled my hair, staring at me touching myself. “Stop it. Only I can touch this pussy,” he added authoritatively, and I quickly stopped since I didn’t want to upset him. Although it was difficult to resist this temptation, I had a feeling that Jungkook would reward my obedience.
Biting his bottom lip, Jungkook closed his eyes before he began thrusting his cock in and out of my mouth. His hips quickly snapped, but he didn’t push it beyond my limits. Though he was a little upset about my urgency, he respected my boundaries and didn’t force his cock, so it didn't become unpleasant to me. His thick cock gagged me a little, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jungkook breathed out when he pulled out. “Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he urged me, and I instantly complied with his order, being too enchanted by his quiet grunts. I have always thought that men moans were the hottest thing a man could do during sex, and Jungkook only proved me right now.
With a throaty groan of my name, Jungkook came, milking my tongue with his massive load. His hand moved across his shaft quickly throughout his orgasm, and I moaned when I felt the taste of his cum in my mouth.
“Are you going to be a good girl and swallow it?” Jungkook asked me in between his shallow breaths, and I obediently nodded my head, fulfilling his request. “That was so hot,” he added, as he stretched his hand for me to take it, so he could help me stand up from my knees.
“Everything you do is hot too,” I honestly said, “and I am really needy,” I added innocently, smiling at him, slowly unbuttoning the last piece of clothing which he had on.
“Once I fuck you, you’ll never get enough of me,” Jungkook muttered when I slid my hands under the silk material of his shirt, slowly pushing it off his shoulders. “Why don’t you put up a little show for me? You’ve got so many clothes on,” Jungkook started as he lazily moved towards the bed.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I teased, pushing him backward, so he stumbled on the bed, staring at me as if he were an addict and I was a sweet dose of drugs. “Sit back and enjoy,” I said, having no idea how the hell he made me so confident.
Putting attention to every detail, I started to unbutton my shirt, doing it agonizingly slowly. Jungkook enjoyed my performance; I was teasing him, but I could tell he liked every second of it. When my shirt hung freely over my shoulders, Jungkook leaned back, propping his body on his elbows.
“You’re killing me. I’m gonna be hard again, and you haven’t even taken your shirt off,” Jungkook complained, but I only giggled, glad that my show was affecting him that much.
Smirking at him, I pushed my shirt off my shoulders, letting him admire my body clad only in a simple bra and a skirt. His eyes studied my appearance, and I didn’t need any other validation that I looked stunning.
“Do you mind bringing me a drink?” Jungkook requested politely, and I gladly poured us drinks even though the alcohol didn’t particularly fit my preferences. With two glasses of clear whiskey, I approached him and handed him one. “To your success,” he whispered before he clinked his glass against mine and drank the half of the liquor.
Sitting on his rock-hard thighs, I reached behind my back to unhook my bra. As if enchanted, Jungkook sat up, staring in admiration at my breasts. Quickly, he placed his glass on the floor beside the bed, desperate to touch me. In an instant, I felt his large hands on my sides, slowly riding up to my bare breasts.
Jungkook started to kiss the curve of my neck, and I kicked my head backward, giving him more access to my skin. His thumbs gently played with my nipples while his lips covered my collarbones with kisses, and his tender ministrations made me buckle my hips against his flaccid cock.
“Jungkook,” I moaned quietly, and Jungkook’s mouth turned into a wide smile. He was very pleased with himself whenever I reacted to his touches. “Why don’t you lie down?” I asked him, pushing him onto the mattress before he managed to reply.
“Why don’t you hump me until I’m hard again to fuck you?” Jungkook said, correctly seeing through my intentions. “Or maybe you think you could get yourself off against me?”
“I’d rather feel your cock inside of me, but if you can’t pop another hard-on, I guess you’ll leave me no choice but satiate my needs with dry-humping you,” I teased him before I leaned forward to shut him up with a kiss. I’ve had enough of talking; I wanted another orgasm to wash through me. Besides, I was sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind another one, too.
“Baby,” Jungkook moaned the moment I started to rub my drenching pussy against his limp cock. “It feels too good,” he added, but once again I shut him up with a passionate kiss. My tongue danced with his in imperfect sync, his hands roamed all over my hips and thighs, while I rocked myself against his half-erect dick.
“Oh fuck,” I cursed when Jungkook cupped my breasts and pinched my hard nipples. “Oh my God, yes, Jungkook, yes!” I shouted, rubbing myself against him way harder. It felt good, and that stimulation almost made me reach my high.
“You’re a real freak in the sheets,” Jungkook commented, amused by his remark. “You really need my cock, don’t you?” He inquired, as he stared at my desperate moves against his length. “Let me take care of you, okay?” He asked, and mirroring my previous bossy mannerism, he didn’t wait for my reply, but he just pushed me onto the mattress and got on top of me, his hard cock poking my folds.
“Jungkook, please, fuck me with your cock already,” I urged him, but Jungkook only smirked before he grabbed his thick length and with its tip slapped my drenching pussy, making me choke on a throaty moan. The sensation was erratic, and though he didn’t penetrate me, I felt another wave of warmth surge through my body.
“How can I say no when you’re asking so nicely,” Jungkook whispered, and I buckled my hips against his erection. Though I was desperately whining for his touch, I wasn’t ashamed of my words. We both had needs which we were going to deliver to each other.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, Jungkook, oh my god,” I breathed out when Jungkook slowly eased himself in, stretching out my walls. “It feels so, so good,” I added, raising my hips off the mattress, only to have them pinned back to the bed by his strong hands.
“Lie still,” Jungkook commanded, and though I felt tempted to roll on top of him and ride him, I decided to follow his order. Despite looking my age, Jungkook perfectly knew how to please a woman, and I was going to let him take care of me.
Staring into my eyes, Jungkook pushed his length inside of me. Trying my best not to react, I bit my bottom lip, waiting for Jungkook to make another move. Gently, he massaged my thighs before he slowly wrapped them around his hips.
“Good girl,” he murmured, sending me a mischievous smirk which could only mean trouble. Before I managed to reply, Jungkook started to slam his fat cock in and out of me, making me a whining mess beneath him.
Sweat was rolling down his forehead and chest, and I couldn’t help myself but admire the wild beast which fucked me senseless. Though he only started, and I was nowhere near the orgasm, I felt tiny sparks of electricity erupting in every cell of my body. His pounding was incredibly pleasurable, and I knew the orgasm would be bone-crushing.
The bed creaked in the rhythm of Jungkook’s thrusts and my moans. The sounds of our bodies colliding and Jungkook’s quiet breaths rang in my ears made me close my eyes and grip on the sheets, completely giving myself into the pleasure.
After a while, Jungkook’s tempo slowed down, but I couldn’t complain when he was pounding his cock inside of me and rubbing my clit simultaneously.
“Tell me when you’re close,” Jungkook grunted, and I obediently nodded my head.
Jungkook was falling out of his rhythm when I was near my orgasm. My walls started to tighten around his cock, and I moaned his name. “Jungkook, I’m…” I started, my voice breaking, since I was feeling too good to sound comprehensive. “I’m gonna come.”
The moment when I was panting, when my blood was boiling, when I was about to explode, Jungkook stopped. With a smug smirk on his face, he pulled out, denying my second orgasm.
“That’s not cool,” I said, starting to giggle. This situation was ridiculous.
“You have to trust me,” Jungkook whispered, as he massaged my thigh gently. I wanted to purr, but before I managed to produce a sound, Jungkook suddenly turned me around, making me lie on my stomach. “Butt up, sweetheart,” he ordered in a seductive voice, and I instantly obeyed his command.
On my fours, I waited for his touch. Carefully, he traced the tips of his fingers across my thighs up to my butt. Then, taking me aback, Jungkook slapped my butt. Though it didn’t hurt me, it left a pleasant stinging sensation.
“You like that, don’t you?” Jungkook purred into my ear when he pushed his cock inside of me from behind and leaned against my back. “Admit that no one has ever fucked you the way I’m doing it now,” he whispered while pounding in and out of me.
“Jungkook, yes, yes,” I breathed out, gripping the sheets when I slowly neared the bliss. “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” I moaned, craning my neck as I needed to kiss him.
“That’s right,” Jungkook let out a throaty moan, making me shiver. His body was making me feel amazing, but his raspy voice was going to be the death of me. By far, it was the sexiest sound which had ever rung in my ears.
“Jungkook, can I ride you?” I asked quickly, as I thought about sitting on his muscular thighs, sliding up and down his pulsating cock.
“Fuck yes,” he eagerly answered before he pulled out and sat up, leaning his back against the headrest. “Come on, jump on it,” Jungkook urged me, and I, with a mischievous smirk on my face, I sat astride him.
“I’m really frustrated,” I truthfully said as I looked into his eyes and entwined my fingers behind his neck. “No more playing dirty,” I added when I started to move my hips, rubbing my drenching slit against his veiny cock.
Jungkook’s grip on my hips tightened slightly. “Jump. On. It.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, sounding quite angry. He was just as impatient, and I, obeying his order, sat down on his cock. “Mm… Good girl,” he whispered before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.
His kiss was passionate, and it felt as if our lips molded together. His hands held my hips, giving me guidance, helping me set the right tempo. God, it felt like heaven.
“I’m coming,” I moaned, as I increased my pace, giving him no chance to deny me of another orgasm. I’d die if he stopped me again from reaching the blissful high.
“I’m close, too,” Jungkook genuinely admitted before he captured my lips again. My walls were squeezing around his throbbing cock as I entirely gave in to my instincts. I moved up and down his erection until I felt an explosion of pleasure rip me apart.
Jungkook came a few seconds after me, growling my name as he milked my walls with his cum. All covered in sweat, Jungkook looked at me, and I just started to giggle.
“It was…”
***
According to the analog clock on the desk in the corner of Jungkook’s room, it was five o’clock. Jungkook was lying on the bed beside me, breathing soundly, and for a brief moment, I marveled his gorgeous looks; his muscular body, his soft hair and his sun-kissed skin with a variety of love marks I had given him when he had been pushing all the right buttons. Damn it; even his eyelashes were beautiful, casting shadow on his cheeks.
No matter how much I fancied having another round in the morning, I had to leave; I am a woman on a mission, and now, when the night was over, I had to return to my priorities. The fling with Jungkook was unforgettable, but I had to flee his chamber.
My legs were sore, but strangely I felt energized; almost as if I had slept for twelve hours, not two. It must’ve been the hormones.
In haste, I collected my clothes, carelessly putting it back on my body. From time to time, I’d peek at Jungkook, yet every time when my eyes landed on his frame, he was sleeping soundly, as if it was the first time in years he had such a calm slumber.
Sighing at the beautiful sight in front of me, I turned around and left.
***
As soon as I stepped into my room, I undressed and headed to the bathroom, desperately needing a shower. I was sticky with sweat and my and Jungkook’s arousals, and I just had to clean myself.
Quickly, I turned on the tap, letting the water spill on the yellowish tiles. “Mm… he was so good,” I daydreamt, thinking of the night escapade with Jungkook, and how he made me feel. He was just a mere stranger, but none of my previous lovers had satisfied me even half as good. Too bad we would never meet again; I’ll be on my way before he’d even wake up.
“Get a grip,” I spoke to myself, hating how much he was distracting me although I had met him less than ten hours ago. Yes, the sex was mind-blowing. Yes, we had gone a few rounds. Yes, it was by far the best sex of my life. It felt like heaven, but I have a goal. I needed to stay focused, so regardless of how many pictures of him my mind would project, of how his deep voice echoed in my subconsciousness, of how I still felt his touch on my flesh, I had to figure out how I’d get to Senegal.
After what it felt like an hour, I stepped out of the shower with a towel tightly wrapped around my body. I was to spend maybe a few days in the wilderness, so instead of wearing my typical clothing, which consisted of a button down shirt with rolled up sleeves and a skirt, I put on one set of specially bought clothes.
Three days before the flight, I had purchased a pair of waterproof trekking boots, a few sets of bamboo organic cotton underwear, and of course, T-shirts and shorts made out of breathable fabric. I was prepared for heat, for flood, and any other climate anomaly in that region. I had even got vaccinated for exotic bugs, insects and other viruses.
When my phone was getting charged to the fullest, I threw everything out of my suitcase and packed the necessities into a huge backpack. I had nutritious food, a special bottle to filter water, ropes, and other archeology gear which I’d need to get into the tomb.
By seven o’clock, I was ready to leave. Nervously, I adjusted my backpack’s straps, and with my head high, I left my room and headed to the reception desk to check out. The receptionist was a bit startled by the change in my appearance, but he didn’t say anything; probably because he couldn’t formulate his commentary within his narrow range of English vocabulary.
“I can’t believe you didn’t say goodbye,” I heard a familiar voice the second I stepped out of the hotel. Instantly, I turned around and saw Jungkook, in a fresh set of clothes, leaning against the wall, munching on an apple. “You didn’t leave a note, either.”
“Sorry,” I said nervously, not sure how to talk to him. We were never supposed to meet again, yet there he was, apparently waiting for me. “Why are you up so early?” Folding my arms across my chest, I asked. He had never told me he had a reason to get up so early in the morning.
“I don’t sleep alone very well,” he added, as he pushed himself off the wall, and threw the half-eaten apple on the ground.
“Then I hope tonight someone will keep you company until you’re well rested,” I said politely, giving him a wide smile, hoping he’d get the clue that I didn’t have time to chat with him now. I really wished him well; I couldn’t stay any longer, and I didn’t want him to get lonely. “And if you excuse me, I have a bus which I need to catch.”
“How can you be so cold to me?” Jungkook asked, and I sighed, regretting that I had stopped when I had heard his voice. I should’ve ignored him then; I should’ve pretended not to hear him. “And why are you in such a rush? We could have breakfast together–“
“I’ve already eaten, sorry,” I interjected before he’d lure me back to the hotel with his handsome looks and tantalizing stare. “And yeah, I’m in a hurry, so have a nice day, but I gotta go,” I added with a smile, turning on my heel so I wouldn’t have to look into his eyes.
“But you have to try some of the Moroccan dishes before you leave,” Jungkook concluded, but I wasn’t having this. Yes, it could be delicious, but I really had more important stuff which had to be dealt with immediately. I couldn’t afford to get stalled and/or distracted.
“Your proposition is tempting, like really tempting, but I just can’t,” I spoke, trying to sound as genuine as I could. I didn’t want to be rude, but in my life were plenty of things which were more important than man’s companionship. Jungkook was amazing, but right now, my work was my priority. “I’m sorry, Jungkook,” I added quietly, before I turned around on my heel, and started to walk away.
“That’s too bad,” Jungkook added, “but have I ever mentioned that I have a chopper?” When I heard him, I immediately stopped in my track. I didn’t have to face him to know that this bastard was smugly smirking. “It’s not healthy to start a journey on an empty stomach. Please, have breakfast with me, and I’ll give you a lift to wherever you meet your crew.”
I must’ve gone crazy to actually consider Jungkook’s proposition. I didn’t know anything about him; how could I even think about accepting his ridiculous offering? Especially when there was no crew waiting for me anywhere, and I was headed in the opposite direction to what I had told him. It wasn’t a good idea to involve him, even though he could prove himself incredibly useful. Owning a chopper, for example.
“You lie, you wouldn’t be staying in this hotel if you could afford a chopper,” I concluded, still hesitant to his offering. It didn’t make any sense.
“Here’s where you’re wrong,” Jungkook said with a mischievous smirk upon his face. “You see, I’m supposed to write about regular people, and if I stayed in a fancy-ass hotel, who could I write about? Probably, some rich assholes who came here with their side-chicks to cheat on their wives. And I got my chopper from my super-rich sponsor who apparently loves my feuilletons.” Jungkook explained, and even if he lied, his reasoning made sense.
“Fine, I guess I could find an hour to have something to eat,” I gave up, and Jungkook smiled radiantly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders when he approached me. “Okay, Jungkook, lead the way,” I urged him, but Jungkook only beamed, guiding me to his favorite restaurant.
The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy, but I liked its homely atmosphere. Taking the table next to the window, Jungkook waved at the waitress, as he was ready to order without looking at the menu.
The woman smiled at him, and he smiled at her when they shared a conversation in a language I didn’t understand. However, judging by Jungkook’s frequent glances toward my direction, I had a suspicion that he was ordering me food.
Once the women walked away, Jungkook looked at me, and I instantly asked him. “What was this about?” I couldn’t help myself but be curious.
“Nothing, I just ordered some must-tries. We’re leaving Casablanca today, and you just have to try some of the dishes here.” Jungkook explained, and I internally cringed at the pronoun he used. He was just helping me to get from one place to another; he wasn’t my side-kick.
Though it didn’t sit right with me, I didn’t correct him. My bus left a few minutes ago, I couldn’t lash out at him, and then have him nullify our agreement.
“So what have you ordered for me?”
“A little bit of everything, you know,” Jungkook said, looking through the window. “I got you some fruit with yogurt, a plate of Sfenj, and fried eggs with olives. It’s really delicious.”
“I don’t really like eggs, so I guess I’ll enjoy my Sfen-something – whatever that is,” I added, and Jungkook chuckled.
“Sfenj are a type of deep-fried Moroccan fritter,” Jungkook explained, and I nodded my head, thinking it wouldn’t be half bad. “And whether you like it or not, you should eat the eggs, not only they’ll be amazing, but also you need a lot of protein.”
“Ugh, you sound like my father,” I grunted, remembering a dozen fights with my family regarding my eating habits.
“Well… I wouldn’t mind you calling me daddy,” Jungkook said, and I rolled my eyes, glad that the food wasn’t yet served because otherwise some of it would end up on his face. “What? Don’t act so coy. After last night, I know your true colors. You’re a freak.”
“I was just caught in the heat of the moment.” I tried to defend myself, but when I saw another smirk on Jungkook’s face, I knew it had no sense. No matter what I would tell him, it wouldn’t change his opinion about me and my kinks.
As soon as our food was served, we started munching it almost as if we were starved for a few days. Our physical acts must’ve drained us of energy more than anyone of us had thought.
“So… where are we headed?” Jungkook asked when he finished his serving, wiping his mouth with a clean napkin.
“A nameless island west of Ziguinchor, Senegal,” I said, and Jungkook looked the location on his phone, as he was probably unfamiliar with this region. Furrowing his eyebrows, he thought of the best route how to get there. It was difficult itself, but given the fact that the island wasn’t drawn on most of the maps, wasn’t making his task any easier.
“It’s not even on the map,” Jungkook muttered, cocking up his eyebrow, being even more curious than before. It was mysterious, and it definitely piqued his interest. “It’s gonna be difficult, but screw it, let’s do it,” he added happily, as he locked his phone and placed it on the table, giving me his full attention.
“Thanks, Jungkook, I really appreciate your help,” I added before I returned to my breakfast.
“No problem, I was getting bored here anyway,” Jungkook shrugged, sending me another bright beam. “So how about you finish your breakfast, and I’ll go get my stuff. I’ll pay for our meal, and let’s meet outside in ten, okay?”
“Sure.”
***
Within ten minutes Jungkook met me outside. He was carrying a large backpack on his back, and despite his handsome features and a bucket hat on his head, he looked ridiculous.
“Okay, show me your chopper,” I said with a smirk as I couldn’t wait to start the journey. The breakfast with Jungkook was a delight, but I had a pretty tight schedule, and it was about time to get going.
“We have a long journey ahead of us, sweetheart,” Jungkook said, as he showed me the way to his car. “I googled the distance, and we’re gonna be lucky to get there before the nightfall.”
Although we were on a pretty hectic schedule, we managed to board the chopper before 9 o’clock. Jungkook carried our backpacks inside and sat in the pilot’s seat, and I just followed quietly behind him, letting him work in peace.
“You know… you would be an awesome stewardess,” Jungkook said, trying to start a conversation with me for the nth time this day. “With your long legs, and everything else,” he finished his thought, but I was lost for words. I already was an outstanding archeologist, and I didn’t have to have long legs to prove how great I was at it.
“How long is it gonna take?” I questioned, getting a bit impatient. I had been studying Senegalese legends for years, and now, I was near to my first great discovery.
“Why? Do you hate my company so much?” Jungkook teased, and I just rolled my eyes. “If the rest of the flight will be as smooth, we’re gonna be there in an hour or so.”
“That’s good,” I said with a deep sigh before I looked through the window, admiring the calm sea below us. “Thank you, Jungkook. And sorry for being so sour in the morning, I was just anxious.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand; you must be under a lot of pressure,” Jungkook answered with a soft smile, as he looked at me. “Oh shit,” Jungkook cursed, his beam fading away. Quickly, I cocked up my eyebrows, having no clue what caused his sudden change in his behavior.
Still confused, I looked through the window again. I saw another chopper. Why did it make Jungkook freak out a little? What was going on?
“Hold on something,” Jungkook ordered, and I clutched the armrests of my seat.
“What the hell? What is going on?” I asked, but Jungkook didn’t even bother to answer my questions. Instead, he focused on the buttons in front of him, pressing one after another, making the machine soar higher.
“Okay, maybe I wasn’t entirely honest with you,” Jungkook started, and I looked at him in panic. What the fuck he meant by that?! “So, this chopper isn’t technically mine. It’s my friend’s, and he sometimes gets a little bit angry with me when I borrow it without his direct permission,” he explained, but I didn’t trust him wholeheartedly.
He had lied to me once, and he could do it again.
“Don’t worry, though. Namjoon’s harmless,” Jungkook added, trying to calm me down. Unfortunately, the moment I heard his words, the glass of my window cracked after what it seemed a bullet. “Or maybe, I’ve angered him one time too many,” Jungkook smiled sheepishly, as he swerved the chopper around, trying to avoid getting shot again.
“What the fuck?” I screamed, losing my composure. It was supposed to be a peaceful expedition, and right now, someone was aiming a gun at us. That’s not what I signed up for! “Jungkook, do something!”
“Don’t panic; I already see the island,” Jungkook replied, but his statement didn’t calm me down; not when more shots were fired our direction. It was difficult to remain level-headed, I did my best. Of course, everything changed when I felt a sharp pull right before when our chopper started to descend. All kinds of alarms flared red and began ringing, and I was terrified when I realized that we were going to die regardless of how tight I was holding onto my seat. We were doomed.
My heart was beating rapidly, my knuckles were white due to clutching onto my seat, and my eyes were shut. I was too cowardly to face reality when the death was about to swallow us in a few brief moments as soon as the chopper would collide with the surface of the water.
“Come on, we have to jump,” I barely heard Jungkook over my pathetic meltdown. I could comprehend only bits and pieces of his words, but thankfully, Jungkook just grabbed my hand, and yanked me out of my seat, handing me my backpack. “I hope you know how to swim,” Jungkook shouted before he opened the doors and pushed me out of the chopper.
I was in complete shock; one moment I was sure I was going to die, while a few seconds later I screamed my lungs out, waving my hands back and forth as I fell down into the water.
When I regained the remains of my composure, it was already on the narrow beach. I had no idea how long it took me to get to the shore, nor how I managed to swim such a long distance with my pathetic stamina.
Spitting seawater, I threw my backpack on the sand before I lay on the beach, the calm waves washing my feet. I felt terrible, everything hurt me, and I had water in my nose. However, I couldn’t complain, I was still alive after all.
As soon as I calmed down, adjusting myself to my current situation, I looked around, trying to spot Jungkook and our wrecked chopper. Though my sight was still blurry, either because of seawater or my tears, I could see smoke coming from the jungle.
“It was a close one,” Jungkook said as he emerged from the water and lay down next to me, trying to catch his breath after the energy-draining swim.
I was thankful that we were still alive, but when I saw Jungkook beside me, talking so casually about our near death situation, I felt rage wash through me. Before my mind could register what I was doing, I sat astride on him, violently hitting his chest with my fists.
Unfortunately, after what we experienced not that long ago, my punches weren’t as painful as I wished them to be. Without any trouble, Jungkook wrapped his fingers around my wrists, stopping my poor attempt of hurting him.
“Is your friend really harmless?” I asked him, trying not to burst into tears. I didn’t want him to think I was weak. Quite contrary, I thought I was pretty strong. However, because of him, I was caught in a life-threatening situation, and it was natural to feel so confused. “For fuck’s sake, he shot us down! What is going on, Jeon? Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
“OK, maybe he doesn’t consider us friends, but in my defense, it’s unlike him to behave like that,” Jungkook said, but his explanation didn’t have any value. I still didn’t understand what the point of shooting us down was.
"You're not completely honest with me, Jungkook. This Namjoon guy wouldn't shoot down his own chopper if he was mad at you for taking it. There has to be something more to it. Tell me the truth, and don't you dare lie to me again," I demanded, and Jungkook seemed to be immersed in thought as if considering disclosing the facts to me. Although he was dubious, deep down he knew I deserved to know the truth about his conflict with Namjoon.
“So… I might’ve borrowed some money from him, and technically, I haven’t paid it off yet completely, so maybe that’s why he’s feeling a little bit angry with it.”
“Jungkook, he’s not a little bit angry, this guy almost killed us, he’s livid,” I interjected, being unable to listen to him sugarcoat things. “This is just perfect; a guy almost killed us, the chopper is a wreck, and on top of that, we are on the wrong side of the island. I shouldn’t have agreed to go with you. I felt it in my guts back then; I should’ve listened to my hunch.”
“Don’t be like that, we’ll find a way out of it,” Jungkook said, trying to cheer me up, but I wasn’t having any of that. First of all, there was no we. Secondly, the chopper crashed, so even if we found the necklace, we wouldn’t be able to escape the inhabited island.
“Yeah, of course, you’re right,” I spoke bitterly, being on the verge of hysteria. The situation was ridiculous, and although we survived the crash, we were still trapped on this island. We were alive, but it was only a matter of time. “I have an idea; I’ll go through that jungle and find that necklace. In the meantime, you can stay here on the beach and built a fucking boat for us because as far as I am concerned, there’s no other transport we can use. How about that?” I was mean, but I didn’t care. It was Jungkook’s fault; he should be the one to do the hard labor.
“Well, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Jungkook argued back, clenching his jaw. “Besides, I believe you said something about your crew, they’re going to get here sooner or later,” he concluded, and I wanted to slap myself.
“No, Jungkook, you’re wrong, there’s no crew,” I admitted, and Jungkook really started to panic. “I lied to you back then. It’s my solo expedition.”
“OK, so we agree we’re both to blame. Now, we have to come up with a plan,” Jungkook concluded, and with a deep sigh, I agreed. “What are you suggesting?”
“I think we should focus on finding the necklace. Once we have it, we can start thinking of an escape plan,” I suggested, and Jungkook nodded, understanding my logic.
“That sounds like a plan, but I think we should think of a way to spend the night. The sun is about to descend soon, and from what I heard the wilderness can get pretty dangerous at night,” Jungkook voiced, and I hummed in agreement.
For people who had lied to each other so many times, our dynamics were pretty synced.
“What should we do? We can stay here, or find a place to sleep somewhere in the jungle; which would be safer?” I asked him, hoping that he had a good sense of survival. I didn’t want to get eaten by a puma in my sleep, so I really hoped we could rely on Jungkook’s instincts and survival skills.
“I think we should start a fire here, and dry off first,” Jungkook said after a moment of thinking. “I have a sleeping bag in my backpack, but like all the other things inside it, it’s drenched.”
“Okay, let’s do that,” I quickly agreed with him, desperately needing some sort of heat. Naturally, I had pretty low blood pressure, and right now, I was drenched. The blowing wind didn’t help, either. “You know how to do that, right?”
“Of course, who do you take me for?” Jungkook asked me, being slightly offended with my question. “With me, you’re safe.”
Wrapping my hands around my body, I watched Jungkook work. His clothes were sticking to his muscles, and when he was carrying wood, I could admire his masculine beauty. Although Jungkook had a base of a handyman, I would never peg him as one. If anything, I’d sooner consider him to be a cunning ladies man.
“Voilà!” Jungkook exclaimed when successfully prepared the bonfire. “Come here, you must be freezing,” he added, encouraging me to have a seat beside me. Grumbling under my breath, I stood up and approached him, sitting next to him. “Have you brought anything to eat? I gotta admit, I am starving,” Jungkook asked, and I pulled out two energy bars from my backpack.
For a while, we sat in complete silence, basking in the warmth of the bonfire, and it was actually pretty pleasant, given that Jungkook was my company. I had several reasons to complain; he had lied to me and put my life in danger. However, despite all of that, I couldn't bring myself to hate him with every fiber of my body. Because he had proven himself to be useful, I only hated him to some degree.
“Tomorrow, we’re gonna have a nice trek,” Jungkook started, as he looked at me. “Do you have a map or something?”
“No, Jungkook, there’s no map. It has never been discovered; all I have is a handful of very vague clues.” I answered with a sigh. Basically, I was looking for a needle in the haystack. “Also, the clues vary based on different translations.”
“Oh,” was all he said. “Don’t lose your spirit, you will find it, and I’m gonna help you,” he added, and I cracked a faint smile. It was comforting, but I still had a few doubts haunting me.
“Thanks,” I replied, wrapping my arms around myself tighter. “Are our sleeping bags dry yet?” I asked, feeling a bit sleepy. Just like Jungkook had said, we would have a long trek tomorrow, and I wanted to be well-rested.
“I don’t know, you can check if you want,” he said, and I walked up to them.
With a quick, sharp motion, I picked the sleeping bag up, wanting to get rid of the sand. Unfortunately, when I did so, I felt something fell out of the sleeping bag, and it was a fucking snake. The second my eyes spotted the reptile, I shrieked loudly, tossed the sleeping bag aside, and ran up to Jungkook to hide behind his back.
“It’s a fucking snake! Do something!” I shouted at the top of my voice when I looked down to see the snake slowly moving towards us. “Kill it, please,” I begged him, but Jungkook only chuckled, evidently amused by my panicked outburst.
“It doesn’t seem to be venomous,” Jungkook concluded, but I had no trust in his analysis. According to what he had told me, he was a journalist – not a biologist. “It probably wants to warm up,” he added, but I wrapped my hands around his biceps, expecting him to provide me with safety. “Jesus Christ, your hands are cold,” he turned his head to look into my eyes.
“Please,” I cooed, hoping that after what we had survived together, I had an influence on his actions. “Jungkook, please, get rid of it,” I added, and Jungkook seemed to soften under my pleading gaze.
“Ugh, fine,” he spoke before he grabbed a broken branch and walked up to the snake, wanting to pick it up and take it far away from me. “It’s all done, it shouldn’t bother us again,” he explained, but I told him to check the other sleeping bag in case there was another surprise waiting for us. Thankfully, nothing else sought sanctuary in our belongings.
“Is it safe?”
“Yep, it’s absolutely reptile-free,” Jungkook said in a mocking tone, so I smacked his shoulder playfully. “If you’re afraid another snake may creep into your sleeping bag, we can share mine,” Jungkook suggested, and I actually caught myself considering his offer.
“Fine, but it’s not because I’m afraid,” I answered, and Jungkook cocked his eyebrow in curiosity. “I know I will get cold, and you’re like a portable heater, that’s why,” I explained, but it didn’t make his smug smirk disappear.
“It’s fine with me.” Jungkook smiled before he put his sleeping bag on the sand. “Come here,” he urged me, and I quickly obeyed, wanting to warm myself up. A bit too willingly, I snuggled up to Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook hissed when he felt my cold hands on his skin. “What do you think about a quickie before sleep? I don’t know about you, but I sleep like a baby after a good fuck,” he hinted, placing an inviting kiss on my neck.
“I think I’ll pass,” I answered, turning on the other side. “And FYI, I haven’t forgotten about that I almost got shot because of you.”
“You can’t blame a man for trying to be romantic,” Jungkook said, not taking my rejection personally, but I only snorted. Yeah, it was romantic as fuck. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight, Jeon.”
***
At the crack of dawn, we woke up cuddling. Jungkook’s morning wood was digging into my back, but I couldn’t care any less. I was mad at him, and no matter how many times he would beg me to help him out, I wasn’t going to comply with his humble request. I was still mad at him for what he had put us through.
Having consumed energy bars for breakfast, we packed our things (now thankfully dry) and set off our journey. We had two possibilities; we could walk along the coast, or trek through the jungle. The decision was difficult, but after a brief discussion, we chose the shorter and more dangerous hike through the wilderness. Our food would suffice for two days tops; we didn’t have the time to take the longer route.
“How long do you think we have to walk like that?” Jungkook asked before he cut the bush in front of us with a sharp knife so we could move forward.
���According to the legend, they walked the entire night until they reached the heart of the island. Also, it was either April or May, so the trek took them about five hours.” I explained, trying to remember all the details from my report. I had it saved on my phone, but I didn’t want to stop to get it out of the zip lock bag from the very bottom of my backpack.
“And how long is it gonna take to get there from this side of the island?”
“Probably the entire day,” I answered quietly, focusing on walking and breathing. For someone with my stamina (or the lack of thereof), it was incredibly tiring, and I didn’t want to seem so weak in front of him. I was the captain of this expedition, not a thorn in Jungkook’s side. “Maybe a little less if we find a short-cut.”
“Now, that’s comforting,” Jungkook giggled, and I smiled. We were screwed; it would be a miracle if we found the necklace and made it alive. “So what you want to do when we come back to the civilization?”
“All I want to do is to lie in my bed and binge watch RuPaul’s Drag Race,” I admitted honestly, even though it might’ve sounded silly to Jungkook. “Don’t judge, it’s highly addictive.”
“I’m not judging you,” he chuckled, and I wondered if he was honest with me. “I was just asking what you’re gonna do with your discovery. If the necklace is half as important as you let it on, then I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be a headliner soon.” Jungkook elaborated, and I, being a complete idiot, blushed.
“Oh,” it’s all that left my mouth. I was shocked, for someone who could double-cross me, Jungkook appeared to be suspiciously supportive of my achievement. “Thanks, Jungkook,” I answered quietly still digesting his words. He was right; if I came back home with the necklace, it would definitely bring me lots of fame and wealth. “And what are you gonna do if we make it alive?”
“I’m not sure,” he whispered, thinking of the best way to convey his thought into words. “This journey is an once-in-a-lifetime adventure, so I’ll probably live my life peacefully, sometimes reminiscing how fun it was here with you,” Jungkook explained, and I felt funny. Yes, it was dangerous, but above all, it was incredibly exciting.
“It’s not gonna be as fun when I push in a puma’s claws, so I can run for my life,” I joked, and Jungkook chuckled, reminding me of the night we met; I had been feeling so lighthearted back then. “I’m not joking, though.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Jungkook teased, and I shook my head. We were alone in the middle of the jungle, yet we still could find some energy to bicker playfully. “You’d be scared shitless to move, let alone push me. I saw how you reacted to a harmless snake, trust me, you’re not gonna do shit,” he added, and I smacked his shoulder, acting offended.
“It’s a mistake to underestimate me,” I retorted, but Jungkook didn’t appreciate it. Instead, he only raised his hand, wanting to shush me. Cocking my eyebrow up, I eyed him, a little bit fed up with his superior attitude. “What do you –“ I started, but Jungkook quickly turned around, and cupped my mouth. Confused, I furrowed my eyebrows, looking up at him.
“Shh…” he whispered before he removed his hand from my mouth. “It appears the island isn’t completely deserted,” he commented, and I fixated my eyes on the people on the meadow just a couple meters away from us.
“Who are these people?” I asked him quietly, not expecting him to know the answer. It didn’t make any sense; where the hell did they come from? What kind of shady business were they engaging in here?
“I don’t know… maybe they’re pirates or something,” Jungkook guessed, and I just shrugged, not knowing what to say. It was a possibility. “I think we should get out of here,” he proposed, and I agreed. I didn’t want to get involved with these people; it was for the better if they didn’t know about our presence.
It was reasonable to retreat, but curiosity got the better of me. When Jungkook was cautiously backtracking, I was observing them. It bugged me that I didn’t know the reason why they were here, but when I saw one of the men carrying white packages, I regretted my actions.
They were smuggling drugs, and I was positive that I wanted to stay as far from them as it was possible. They were dangerous. Though I wasn’t entirely convinced, I believed that Namjoon didn't threat as much as they did.
“Are you going or not?” Jungkook whispered, and I immediately nodded my head, walking up to him in a hurry. Unfortunately, I didn’t watch down, so being the idiot I am, I tripped over the roots. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed when he saw me fall down, face first.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed under my breath when I realized how loud disturbance I caused. The smugglers had to be deaf to ignore such strange noises coming from the bushes. Quickly, I picked myself up and ran after Jungkook.
The men were chasing us, but we had heavy backpacks, so it was just a matter of time until they would catch us. It was just fantastic, we had survived Namjoon’s attack, yet right now, we were going to be killed by some drug smugglers.
My life was just perfect.
And all of that because I wanted to find some jewel.
Mindlessly, I ran after Jungkook. The adrenaline must’ve kicked in because I wasn’t tired at all. Furthermore, my large backpack felt like as light as a feather. In no time, I caught up with Jungkook, sprinting right next to him.
“Jungkook, look,” I said when I saw a large rock with a split in it; it looked like shelter, and we could hide away in there if we were fast enough.
“It looks like a tunnel,” Jungkook noticed when we squeezed into the chink. “Should we go further? It can be a dead end,” Jungkook asked, a bit doubtful about exploring the cave.
“Let’s go further,” I said confidently, “just in case, they find this gap,” I added, knowing it would convince him. These men meant trouble, and we both wanted to never see them again.
Cautiously, I put my backpack on the ground, looking for small LED flashlights, giving Jungkook one.
“Ladies first?” Jungkook asked, and I just shook my head, bravely going further. “Who would’ve thought that we could attract so much trouble,” Jungkook said, trying to kill the pregnant silence. We were walking for the last thirty minutes, and the exit seemed unreachable. “It’s never boring with you, is it?”
“What are you talking about? I can boldly say that you’re responsible for the eighty percent of everything bad that has happened to us,” I said with a playful smile. The only fault in my behavior was not paying attention to where I was going; the rest of our misfortune was caused by him. “Shh… I think I’ve heard something,” I shushed him quickly, sensing upcoming trouble. Perhaps, these men knew this area better. Maybe, they knew all along that we were going to hide in this cave, so they just slowed down their pace, letting us think we’re safe.
“You’re just paranoid,” Jungkook said with a shrug. “They won’t find us here in a million years,” he added jokingly, but it didn’t make me laugh. I was still anxious. “Oh,” Jungkook mused upon noticing something, “check this out,” he prompted me, flashing the light on the wall. “What can it mean?” Jungkook wondered, gawking at the strange letters.
“Jungkook, I think this is it,” I answered, having difficulties with forming words. “I think it’s Aminata’s grave,” I added, wanting to pull out my phone. I had on it copies of the most important documents on her legend as well as I had my notes of their ancient language.
“Can you read it?” Jungkook asked in curiosity, being amazed by my skills, even though I haven’t showcased them yet. “It looks weird; are they even letters?”
“They are,” I confirmed quickly, looking for the right file on my phone, determined to decrypt the message on the wall. “Can you point your flashlight at it?” I asked, and Jungkook swiftly aimed his torch at the wall, fulfilling my request.
“What does it say?”
“Well… it’s hard to translate it literally, but it basically means “who lives by the sword shall die by the sword”. It’s strange; why did they put it here? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe it doesn’t, but it surely gives me chills,” Jungkook said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “Should we get back?”
Jungkook must’ve gone nuts if he thought that I’d just give up at the very finishing line. We were by the gate to Aminata’s tomb; there was no way I would just turn around and quit. I hadn’t survived all the misery to come back home empty-handed.
“No, we’re going further,” I said confidently, blowing my fringe off my forehead. “We’re close, I’m feeling it,” I added, and Jungkook sighed in doubt. “You can stay here, but I’m going.” It didn’t matter to me if Jungkook wanted to join me or not. If he didn’t feel like it, he could stay behind.
“Are you insane? I can’t let you go in there alone, I’m coming with,” he quickly said, sending me another boyish smile. Jungkook was truly endearing when he was looking out for me.
“Fine, but if you have a knife or anything that you can use as a weapon, leave it here,” I suggested, and Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What? Didn’t you get the message? Don’t you know it’s better not to mess with curses? Ancient ones in particular.”
“Sure, you’re the boss here,” Jungkook voiced, hesitantly leaving all his weaponry on the ground. “Lead the way.”
Completely weaponless, we explored the cave further. It was risky as hell, but nothing inside the cave could’ve been more dangerous than the drug smugglers looking for us.
Although it felt as if we walked kilometers, I didn’t feel tired. The anticipation and excitement completely took over me, giving me the strength which I needed to fulfill my mission. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about Jungkook; he was panting behind me, probably waiting for the tunnel to end.
“Shit, now I think I heard something,” Jungkook whispered, suspicious of strange sounds from within the cave. “It’s not possible, though. How the hell would they find us here?”
Though I didn’t hear anything, I wasn’t going to disregard his suspicion. It seemed highly unlikely, but we had to be prepared for the worst; especially when we were unarmed, lost somewhere in a long, dark tunnel.
“Then we can only pick up the pace, find the necklace, and hope there’s an exit on the other end of its tunnel,” I concluded, but Jungkook didn’t seem very convinced. It was evident that he didn’t fancy my plan, but currently, it was the only idea we had.
Our casual stroll quickly morphed into a swift march; it required plenty of energy, but in the face of danger, it didn’t matter. This procedure had to be done.
“Is it weird that all of this turns me on?” Jungkook commented, once again attempting to lighten up the atmosphere between us. “All I can think of right now is how I want to fuck you when we come back.”
“You better stop that train of thought and focus, Jeon. We have a job to do, please focus,” I scolded him, and Jungkook, with a quiet whine, composed himself. “Really, Jungkook, you can’t keep it in your– aaah” I screamed when I lost my footing, falling into an abyss.
Two-meter deep abyss – still an abyss.
“Shit, are you okay?” Jungkook asked me, now not caring about his volume. If someone were actually on our tail, there was no way they wouldn’t hear my pathetic scream.
“Yep, I’m okay, although all in the dust,” I said when I realized I was lying in a pile of dust and whatnot. “Well… I hope it’s only dust,” I added before I began sweeping the dust off of me.
“Move aside, I’m coming in,” Jungkook warmed me before he jumped into the hole. “Do you think it’s the tomb?” He asked, and I looked around, studying my surroundings.
The pit looked simple. Rocks on the left, rocks on the right; no diamonds, no gold.
Well, except for one beautiful necklace sitting on a handful of tiny bones – which must’ve been Yaya’s phalanges.
“OMG, there it is, can you believe it?” I asked Jungkook when I ran up to the necklace, admiring its timeless beauty. It looked even better than I had imagined. Regardless of ornate words used to write these legends, nothing could convey its elegance.
“What I really can’t believe is that you used the abbreviation in an oral conversation,” Jungkook retorted, but I dismissed his rejoinder. The object of my research was within my reach, I couldn’t pay less attention to my annoying sidekick and his quips.
Just before I touched the necklace, I heard a bullet ricocheting against the walls of the cave.
“These fools,” I spoke, remembering the strange writing on the wall. “It’s not good,” I mentioned to Jungkook right before a few smugglers jumped into the hole, pointing their guns at us.
They were giving us some orders, but neither of us could comprehend what they wanted us to do. Based on their intonation I could only theorize the meaning behind their words. On the other hand, when one man’s gun pointed at me and then slightly tilted it in the direction of the necklace, it was actually pretty self-explanatory.
Despite the direct message, none of us moved an inch. Jungkook and I were stubborn, unwilling to cooperate. Maybe, someone would admire our courage, but most people would call us stupid.
The tallest of the smugglers wasn’t having it; he was sick and tired of our attitude. Staring into my eyes, he raised his gun, aiming at my head. It was perfect; after all I had experienced, it was how I was going to die.
Whispering something chilling, he pulled the trigger, whereas I, expecting to get shot, closed my eyes. Suspecting these milliseconds to stretch into hours, I anticipated the impact. It never came, though. Time passed, yet I didn’t feel anything.
Then, I opened my eyes and saw the man drop on the ground. He had a clear shot, yet he missed, and the bullet ricocheted and went right through his forehead. What the fuck? A few laws of physics must’ve been broken for it to happen.
“That explains the quote on the wall,” Jungkook stated when he slightly leaned toward me, taking advantage of the smugglers’ disorientation. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“It depends; are you wondering what Indiana Jones would do in this situation?” I answered, still unable to process what just happened to that man.
“Well… kinda.” Jungkook shrugged. “Take that necklace and let’s get the hell out of here,” he proposed, and I nodded my head, mindlessly following his suggestion.
It was unreasonable; as long as Jungkook and I were in the cave, we were safe. They couldn’t hurt us with their weapon. On the other hand, if we were outside, nothing could stop them from shooting us down. Unfortunately, due all that accumulated stress and panic, my mind didn’t function properly.
Quickly, I grabbed the necklace and ran after Jungkook.
At the same time, the smugglers fixated their eyes on me, blocking my way to the entrance. Each of them stared into my eyes with what seemed admiration? With each passing second, I could comprehend less and less.
What the hell happened this time around?
On cue, the smugglers kneeled before me.
“It starts to get really creepy,” said Jungkook upon seeing the strange behavior. “Care to explain what you’ve done to them?” Jungkook urged me, but I was lost for words. He demanded an answer, and I wished to have one.
“How should I know; I’m absolutely clueless,” I whispered, still in confusion. The smugglers behaved as if they were infatuated zombies. And then it hit me. “No, it’s not possible,” I muttered to myself, unable to fully wrap my head around it.
“Can you enlighten me? What is going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Jungkook said something, but to me, it was all white noise.
My theory didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t be possible that everything is valid. Magic is a myth; it was crazy. I couldn’t control their behavior with that necklace. And even if I could, how come Jungkook seemed resistant to it?
According to the legend, every man who took a glimpse of Aminata felt a strong desire to worship her. Men were literally falling to her feet; all men – no exceptions. It just couldn’t be happening to me, it just couldn’t.
Jungkook, still unfazed – exhibit A.
“Stand up,” I ordered them, and although they hadn’t spoken English before, they perfectly understood me. “Help me get out of the hole,” I added, and they obediently positioned themselves directly under the hole, ready to pick me up.
“What the hell is going on?” Jungkook asked, blinking swiftly, trying to grasp the current situation. How did they, in a matter of seconds, turn from shooters to butlers?
“No time to talk, let’s get the hell out of here,” I commanded before I started to run away outside, not even waiting for Jungkook to follow me. I wanted to feel the fresh air as soon as it was possible, and I didn’t care if Jungkook thought the same.
Whatever happened in the tomb, it was too much to take in, and I needed time and space to digest it; preferably, in a four-star hotel, sipping my fourth mimosa. Yep, that sounded like a perfect plan.
The distance seemed shorter when we were going out of the cave. One moment I was controlling zombie-smugglers, while the other I was basking in the sunlight.
“What the hell was that?” Jungkook asked when we sat down on the ground, panting while I took an empty ziplock bag and put the necklace in it. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he added, and I just shrugged, not knowing how to explain it, especially when I wasn’t sure about it either.
“I have no idea.” I sat beside him, pulling out a bottle of water, taking a few gulps of it. “Shit, there are more of them,” I pinpointed when I saw a few men running in our direction. “And they don’t seem to be enchanted like the ones in the cave.”
“Holy shit, when will this day be over?” Jungkook cursed, jumping to his feet. “And they aren’t alone, look there,” he added, pointing his finger to the left. “Oh my God, I don’t fucking believe it.”
“What?” I asked, once again being completely clueless.
“It’s Namjoon and his crew.”
Fuck. What else was going to hunt us? Aliens?
“What are we doing now?”
“Let’s split,” Jungkook proposed, and I couldn’t say I liked that idea. “I’ll go this way, and you go that way. We will meet by the chopper wrack. Once we lose them, we’ll figure out what we’re gonna do next, okay?”
I wasn’t okay, but we didn’t have time to strategize a better plan.
“Okay,” I answered, and Jungkook pulled me closer, giving me a kiss. This act surprised me, but I didn’t hate it. It was somewhat adorable. “Good luck,” I quickly added before we ran away separate ways.
Not looking backward, I sprinted as fast as I could. Adrenaline-driven, I really felt as if I was breaking some records. Unfortunately, it seemed to be only a figment of my imagination.
Not even twenty minutes later, I was surrounded by six pissed off smugglers. Due to our snooping, they must’ve lost almost an entire day of loading their shipments. Although I was scared shitless, they seemed to be pleased to catch me.
It was pointless to run at this point, so I decided to check if the trick with the necklace would work in this situation too. All of the men were looking at me, wondering what I was doing. In a desperate attempt, I put off my backpack and opened the pocket where I had hidden the necklace. Much to my surprise, it was gone.
“That motherfucker,” I whispered, furious at Jungkook for double-crossing me like that.
______
Sometime this week, I will post the second (final) part to it. Stay tuned!
#jungkook smut#jeongguk smut#bts smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jeongguk#jeon jeongguk#jungkook scenartio#jeongguk scenario#jungkook fanfition#bts fanfiction#jungkook angst#jeongguk angst#bts angst#namjoon cameo#namjoon#bangtan smut#bangtan story#bangtan fanfiction
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Tongue-Tied
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Bucky is smitten with the girl from forensics, but he has no idea how to talk to her. It’s almost like his tongue’s been tied up.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2117
Bucky never did know how to talk around her. Every time he tried, he found his vocabulary suddenly lacking the words he needed. It’d been like that from the beginning.
Bucky had first seen her as she rushed into the compound, a little late for work. He’d boarded the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, getting ready to let the doors slide shut, when he’d heard her desperate cry.
“Hold the door!”
Her voice was melodic to his ears and he shot his arm out to stop the doors from closing automatically.
With the doors opened once more, she dashed in, her hair falling wildly into her face and her chest heaving with her deep breaths. “Thanks,” she muttered as she hung her head to catch her breath.
Bucky had the sudden need to catch his breath too. This woman before him was absolutely gorgeous. With her hair in disarray and her pristine white lab coat askew, he had never seen a more beautiful individual in his entire life. His breath was literally taken away the second he saw her.
Once she had regained her bearings, she looked up and simply said, “Five.”
He blinked dumbly, the sound of her voice catching him so off guard that the only thing he could utter was, “What?”
She chuckled. “The floor. Can you press number five for me?”
“O-Oh. Of course!” He turned to press the button when he saw that it was already illuminated. That’s right... He had to go to the fifth floor too. “It’s pressed,” he murmured.
“Thanks.”
The doors slid shut and the woman straightened up a bit with a breathless laugh. “Heh, sorry about that. It’s just that I’m late for work and I’ve been in a rush all morning. Sorry if I startled you.”
“S’okay,” he murmured. “I know that feeling.”
It was then that she looked up at him and her eyes went wide with recognition. “Wait, I know you!”
The way she said it wasn’t in fear or terror like he would’ve expected; instead it was in awe and admiration as she stared up at him.
“You’re Bucky!” she cried out. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! You’re great!” She stuck her hand out for a handshake. “(y/n) (l/n),” she introduced with a smile. “I work in forensics. I was on that HYDRA case a few months ago.”
The HYDRA case... The Avengers had gotten wind of a covert base inside an abandoned warehouse at the edge of Manhattan and had gone to investigate. He vaguely recalled seeing the team of forensic scientists rushing about in their white suits collecting evidence and marking samples. If he really strained his memory, he could probably recall seeing her (e/c) eyes peaking out through the goggles that the scientists were required to wear.
Bucky nodded and shook her hand. “I-It’s nice to officially meet you, (y/n).”
She seemed to turn a little pink as her name rolled off his tongue. “It’s nice to meet you too.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but it was then that the elevator stopped and the door dinged open. “Oh,” she said, almost as if she was disappointed. “Well, this is me.” She started to back out of the elevator, never turning away from him as she smiled. “Don’t be a stranger, Bucky!” she called out before turning around to dash off to work.
Bucky slowly exited the elevator as well, his pupils surely blown and his heart racing in his chest. What had just happened?
A boisterous laughter from beside him snapped him out of his dreamy daze and he turned to the side.
Tony Stark walked over to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “I see you’ve met (y/n). She’s great, isn’t she?”
Bucky could only nod. “Is she usually so...”
“Pleasant? Kind? Charming?”
He nodded again.
“Only when she wants to be and only to people she likes. You must’ve done something to get on her good side, Barnes.” Tony chuckled. “And I can see it in your eyes that you’re absolutely smitten.”
“What? N-No I’m... I mean—”
Tony clicked his tongue. “Don’t lie to yourself, man. It’s alright. She’s single as a pringle which means that you can go for that if you want.” He jerked his head off in the direction that (y/n) had run. “Go get her. Talk to her. Get to know her.” Shooting the super soldier one last smile, Tony disappeared into the lab to get to work.
Bucky had been on that floor to get the results of evidence samples that had been sent for analyzing for the new case the team was working on, but now he had another motive for being there.
It didn’t take him long to find (y/n)’s work station and he found her leaning over the table and peering into the microscope in no time.
Her desk was bright and unique just like her. Candy wrappers littered almost every bit of free space and there were pictures dotted wherever they could fit. Resting in a small jar in the corner was a large pile of rocks with fake plants in it.
Bucky came up behind her as quietly as he could so as not to startle her. When he was right behind her, he called out, “Hey.”
She squeaked and jumped.
So much for trying to not startle her.
She turned around to look at him, on her guard right up until the point when she saw and recognized him. When it dawned on her that it was only Bucky that had spooked her, she laughed. “Bucky! You scared me.” She clutched her chest with a grin on her face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again so soon?”
“I-I... Uh...” He couldn’t speak. It was as if he’d forgotten how to. Standing there under her curious gaze, he could feel his cheeks redden. How she had rendered him speechless, he had no clue. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the Bucky that was so well spoken and could charm the socks off of any young lady.
She waited for him to work out his words, smiling softly at him as if she understood. “Hey, it’s okay,” she cooed gently before her eyes lit up. “Ooh! Bucky, look at this!”
Bucky would find out quickly that (y/n) was more than willing to make up for his lack of words as she showed him fun tidbits from her work. She was always talking with her new ideas and ever changing thoughts.
Bucky couldn’t help but be amazed by everything that went on in her head. She was incredibly intelligent and very good at her job and he was in awe.
Their friendship blossomed quickly and he found himself walking her up to the forensics floor of the compound when she’d come in for work and perching on her desk to watch her work. They’d also venture out of the floor, going out for lunch or the occasional coffee break. All throughout it, he was very quiet, still unable to squeak out the words to talk to her. He maybe spoke two dozen words in two weeks, but neither of them minded.
He wasn’t sure when it had happened, maybe it had always been there, but one day, as they were sitting in an open air cafe, Bucky watched as her hair caught the light just perfectly and he felt his heart leap at the sight. It was then that he realized that, somehow, somewhere, he had fallen for her and he had fallen hard.
He thought he could handle these feelings quietly.
It was maybe a month after first meeting her that he figured he had to do something, anything, to let her know how he felt. But he kept tripping over his words and getting tongue-tied. How was he going to do that?
The answer? He was going to use a pick-up line.
...Or at least attempt to.
He sat down at his laptop, google open and read to search for some pick-up site or something. He stared at the screen, absolutely clueless on what to look up first.
The cursor blinked at him mockingly, almost as if it was goading him into typing something so it could mock him.
“Look at me, Bucky Barnes,” it seemed to coo. “Look at me and weep. You’ll never know what to search for so you can tell her how you feel. You can try, but you’ll fail.”
Bucky’s stare hardened and he muttered, “Yeah right,” under his breath before he settled his fingers on the keyboard and began typing.
pick up lines for a forensic scientist
He pressed the enter key and waited. Not even a second later, he was met with countless results.
He clicked on the first result and started scrolling through the suggestions. About ninety percent of them didn’t make any sense or seem to relate to forensics at all and the ones that did were oddly sexual. The only one that was remotely okay was “ Do you have a partner? Because you seem duo-able” and even that was a stretch.
Abandoning the website, he clicked on the next result. That led him to Pintrest. It was quickly abandoned as well.
He searched for literal hours or so it felt. Every pick up line was just downright nasty and would make his mother turn in her grave. Finally, he just slammed the laptop shut and sat back in his chair. With a sigh, he rubbed his face in defeat. It was hopeless. He was never going to get a clever pick up line to ask her out.
He dragged himself out of his chair with a groan and shuffled over to his dresser. As he got ready for bed, he could only wonder how he was going to actually talk to her and tell her how he felt.
———
The next day he was at her desk again, sitting on it idly swinging his legs. She was late this time and it made him worry a bit.
Fifteen minutes after her usual arrival time, he finally heard her shoes clacking against the cool tile of the floor and he lifted his head.
She looked as gorgeous as ever in her lab coat with her twinkling eyes shining as she looked at him. In her hands, she held two Starbucks coffee cups. One of them had a small bit of black on the side that he couldn’t quite make out.
She smiled shyly at him as she approached. “I got us coffee,” she said as if to explain her tardiness.
Bucky nodded along. “I can see that. Thank you.”
She held out the one with the black squiggles he could now see to be words on it out to him, taking a sip of hers. “Enjoy.” She bypassed him as she took her seat at her desk and began rifling through papers.
Bucky nodded before turning over his cup to read what it said. There, in black marker, her unique handwriting stared at him. As he read over the words, he could feel his heartbeat speed up in his chest.
You seem a little tongue-tied around me so I thought I’d make the first move. Pick me up at 8? xoxo (y/n)
Turning his head to look at her, he could see the nervous smile on her lips and he chuckled. “That obvious, huh?”
“Yeah...” she said turning to face him. “I find it really cute and endearing how you have no idea how to talk to me, but if I were to wait around for you to finally ask me out, I’d be here for years. So what do you say? Eight o’clock for a late night movie?”
Bucky nodded. “I’ve heard that that new superhero movie’s pretty good. You want to see that?”
“So long as I’m with you, I don’t care what we see.” The smile on her face was bright and incomparable as she beamed at him.
Bucky found himself smiling along with her and immensely grateful for her making the first move. He didn’t want to admit it, but she was probably right when she said she’d be waiting for years for him to get his tongue untied around her. Though, if he was being honest, he figured he’d never get over that.
And he was right because, even years later as they celebrated anniversary after anniversary, he never did quite learn how to speak around her. But she didn’t mind. She always found it endearing and was more than happy to do the talking for them both.
TO BE TAGGED PLEASE SEND AN ASK. IT IS MUCH EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR REQUESTS IF THEY’RE IN MY INBOX BECAUSE THEN THEY WILL NOT GET LOST IN MY OTHER NOTIFICATIONS. IF FOR WHATEVER REASON I HAVE MISSED YOU, PLEASE DON’T HESITATE TO MESSAGE ME AND WE WILL GET IT CLEARED UP RIGHT AWAY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME. Bucky Barnes Taglist: @cauraphernelia @thorins-queen-of-erebor @ria132love @moonstruckhargrove @free-as-fishes @jitterbuck @mallorydoesstuff @baneofkoveras05 @trashpanda-barnes @klmpun @karla-silva @imarockstar45 @danyofwesteros @seachelle-the-tideborn @nerdyladydream @bambamwolf87 @some-person-somewhere @fairislesheets @thefridgeismybestie @nerd-without-a-cause @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @katielcollins @until-theend-oftheline
Marvel Taglist: @ifyousayyouloveme @butimthekingofhell @mojitoclauds @annazierden
Sebastian Stan Taglist: @mywinterwolf @libbymouse @crazybutconfidentaf @lynn2503-blog
Permanent Taglist: @dont-speak-just-read @becauseismellgood @impalaimages @breezy1415 @lou-la-lou @aestheticapricity @a-book-pressed-rose @watchoutforfrostbite @dragonborn791924 @everythingisoverrated @hi-my-name-is-riley @wishingforahome @natcad @whyugottabsorude @tutis24 @buckysbeardliness @oh-balls-you-idjits @s3glz33 @tina8009 @picapicapicassobaby @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @carmillatheboss @shieldgirl95 @racheo91 @vvhat-the-hell-is-a-stiles @piensa-bonito @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-wayward-robot @cutie1365 @sinviix @supernatural-girl97 @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jjk-biased @sedanleystanley @kuro-no-kenshi @bb8-damneron @forthesnakeofdragons
Requested by: Anonymous
#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky fluff#request#bucky imagine#marvel#mcu#marvel imagine#mcu imagine#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fanfiction#bucky oneshot#bucky one shot#bucky barnes fanfic#fanfic#delicatelyherdreams#bucky x forensics reader#x reader
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❝ What I’ve learned from a mirror? Look too hard and you’ll find you a stranger. ❞ FREDERICK ‘FRED’ WEASLEY II looks a lot like that muggle, JUSTICE SMITH, right? Only 19 years old, that GRYFFINDOR alumnus works as a TRAINEE HEALER and is sided with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as a CISMAN and is a HALFBLOOD. [ PLOT ARC 23, PROPHECY 26, THE DROWNED. ] (cami, she/her, 20, gmt+1)
DEATH TW, PANIC ATTACK TW, ANXIETY TW
PAST
george weasley, entrepreneur legendary, and angelina weasley, quidditch superstar, turned ireland’s national team manager. the couple was a shining example of success and happiness, and that only grew at the news that they’d soon have their first child. a new generation of the ever growing family was on its way, and fred was to take a quiet spot within it - not the eldest, not the youngest, just right.
born to salt and mist, fred grew up by the sea, in a house his father insisted he must build himself (and constantly repair, due to all the flaws in the construction). the irish coast is carved in sharp cliffs, and some of his very first memories are the wind at the very top - which he swears would have blown him away if his mother wasn’t holding him - and the clashing of waves, making the ground shake. small as he was, frederick didn’t fear the powerful water, but was drawn to it instead. to the contemplation of how much stronger and destructive that natural force was, to the beauty of it, to a humble acknowledgement. in retrospect, he knows this should have been his first fear. sometimes it even feels like a confirmation that there was never a mistake, he WAS brave, but perhaps simply lost it along the way.
a couple years later, roxanne joined the family. fred was always rather close with his cousins on both sides of the family, but roxanne was different. he couldn’t quite understand it, but it was with her that he developed his role of protector. even though they were so close in age, fred embraced his big brother place, and soon that tender caring way of being was shown to most, if not all. he’d rush faster than all to whichever cousin took a fall, his eyes would fill up with tears at the sight of the smallest bruise on his mother, the result of the quidditch matches she won. he quietly understood melancholic states way before he had any business in knowing what sadness was - his father got unexpected hugs and gifts of drawings after bad days at work, and at a certain date every year. from a rather young age, fred had a knack for emotional intelligence. (this is obv likely to change when we finally have a roxanne, which reminds me - GIVE US ROXANNE)
as a way to connect them to the muggle part of their heritage, angelina made sure her children got as much of a non-magical education as they could before they headed off to hogwarts. with two hard-working parents, it was also the most practical solution. thus, fred’s days were constant tastes of both sides, and that was simply his reality: in the morning he’d be walked to school, just a few streets away. they’d play and learn the alphabet and talk about their favourite cartoons. in the afternoon he’d sit with grandpa arthur, who seemed to ask lots of questions about rather normal things, or he’d “help” dad and his uncle at the store, which mostly meant passing coins from customers to the cashier (a rather important task). george and angelina worried about the potential signs of magic fred should one day show, and how they might ostracize him and later roxanne in such a society, but they soon learned they had little to fear.
fred took a little longer to begin showing clear signs of magic. long enough to bring around some speculation of him being a squib, but it turned out that his magic, regardless of his lack of control or the height of his emotions, was simply subtle - flowers bloomed a little more, a mirror fogged up, a loose thread on a shirt for pulled a few more centimeters. it still isn’t a flashy sort of magic to this day - sometimes it’s like his magic runs on a very empty pipe, leaking a few drops at a time only. others, it’s as if he’s working with a rather fine thread, rich but fragile. he’s yet to learn if there’s an actual block in his system that he need to work out, or if he’s simply carrying a type of magic he’s hasn’t fully understood yet.
when fred was still rather young, his family showed concern about his lack of complex speech, which soon developed into a very clear stammer. caring as they were, the couple tried all methods, magical and muggle, to help their young son - after lots of trial and error, they settled on a dublin speech therapist, who stuck by fred for most of his early life in constant sessions. the little kids who copied his stuttering with mockery in the playground soon became a foggy memory and at age twelve he had his very last session. his speech was fluent. “cured”, he’d thought.
his speech was intertwined with his signs of magic at first. most emotional reactions, which lead magical children to show uncontrollable magic, were conveyed through his stammer. if fred was nervous or angry, it intensified, or his voice was simply blocked. it took close attention for anyone to notice all of this, and his subtle works of magic, and to this day that is how it works for fred. his spells are subtle, almost dimmed. he has an eye for the small touches and delicate work, but can’t make a single thing explode.
then, it came the time to pick a side. there wasn’t much choice, given how it’d always been expected that the year he turned eleven, fred would move to hogwarts and leave the muggle world behind, so he didn’t say a word. however, there was real anguish in saying goodbye to his school friends and realising that the following year there’d be no way back. he was a wizard, who’d lead a wizard’s life. he BELONGED somewhere else. doing what was expected of him, the boy said a tearful goodbye to his parents, after confessing once again his fear of living away from them; held his little sister for as long as possible; and took his cousin’s hand, joining them in the whole chapter of his life.
HOGWARTS
GRYFFINDOR. fred had no preferences, so he was silent as the hat pondered for a few seconds, just short to a minute. at first the decision made sense - his family had a longstanding reputation in the house of roar, so why not? his namesake, the war hero fred weasley, had been a brave man. his mother was stoic and valiant against everything. frederick had never feared the waves.
the doubts took a few months to set in. shy and simple, his housemates often overwhelmed him, and the natural feeling of belonging that his family spoke about was a promise that never came. the true sense of displacement came after his very first winter break. he’d returned home, to his house, family, and beloved muggle friends he’d left behind. his routine briefly returned to what it was before hogwarts and january was a cold and harsh reality check - on the second day back, he drafted a letter to his mother, asking her to let him go home. but he never sent it. instead, he made the best he could with the little tools he had, deciding to become a great wizard, rather than a great lion. after all, fred could not quit. the temptation would be torturous, but he had higher expectations of himself.
fred made few but intense friendships, mostly with kids from other houses. he accepted the narrative that he was not brave, nor noble, much less the hero type, but instead a gryffindor legacy (and that was the sole reason of his placement). he focused on his grades instead, his dream job adapting from doctor to healer - sleepless nights and migraines to achieve the one goal he had in mind, even if he’d stopped feeling the pull towards it by third year.
from the very start, fred’s relationship with his magic was complicated. he enjoyed it, surely, and was able to perform it, but his biggest aptitude was for the theory of it all. essays, understanding the mechanics, homework. at times, it felt like not much about him would have been different, had fred stayed in the muggle world. sometimes, he even revisited that thought of leaving it all behind - but he never did. after all, he was a driven young man, he couldn’t QUIT.
everything changed in his final year. there’d been commotion in the background, but fred had willingly shut it off until his uncle’s murder. after all, the aurors got it, right? the legendary order of the phoenix got it, yeah? headmaster longbottom got it. HARRY POTTER got it. long gone were the days where children such as himself had to worry about dangers outside the stone walls of the castle, and fred had nothing in common with the generation past, who’d begun their own revolution from within hogwarts. uncle harry’s murder changed it all.
fred knew his limits and fears, and he’d never think of himself as a revolutionary, a child soldier. yet, his heart belonged to a kinder place, and he was good. out of all the uncertainties that surrounded him and his narrative, frederick knew for certain that he was a good person, and that the world required more of him than he’d been so far willing to give. on his final year at hogwarts, a spark of purpose lit up after he made one of the few spontaneous decisions in his life, and joined the newly formed knights.
as far as he could remember, fred was a protector, so the decision made sense. it was an unexpected decision nonetheless, but soon the boy realised that at last, something clicked. whenever their work got hard or scary, he didn’t wish to quit, but was energized by a hidden fire. for once, that flame didn’t feel dim. his passion didn’t waver, perhaps because it was more of a necessary task than a hobby. taking the codename of LUCAN - a loyal companion to king arthur even after he’d been hurt himself - fred channeled the bravery he’d never seen in himself. he channeled the knights from the myths of his group. his father and mother. his uncle fred. pushing himself to the very edge just to accumulate a little more kindle.
his seventh year was a haze. like an adrenaline rush, it went over his head. fred felt larger than life and than himself, too big for his skin. while starting his time at hogwarts was harsh, leaving was much harder. how could he in good conscience walk out when they were so close to their goal, to bring back the bravest man he knew? how could he leave them to their own devices? and selfishly, not that he’d admit it - how could he break away from his newfound purpose and from what he so devotedly believed int?
PRESENT
the order of the phoenix, counting legends among its ranks such as harry potter, alastor moody, marlene mckinnon, fred and george weasley - and now him. his friends at school collected their cards. he knew their legendary stories, some directly from the players’ mouths.
it was the logical next step, but when he joined, just some days out of hogwarts, there was a clear distinction. he was a child once more, rather than lucan, a brave knight. the knights weren’t seen as a necessary part of the war, the order couldn’t yet comprehend the work they’d been doing. neither could fred.
he took up the codename HORTON, after his patronus, an elephant. the mighty size of the animal, he speculates, is due to his own fears and how much he needs a big protector that can shield him - he’d never consider the possibility that there’s more of him within his small body, or that HE could be that very protector. the codename was the first thing that popped to his head, a memory of horton, the elephant, a character from dr. seuss books he was read as a kid. a kind and loyal character that somehow always achieved his goals, quite a good parallel. did he casually tell the older order people he wished would take him seriously that his codename came from children’s books? yes. no regrets.
graduated with the soul-crushing requirements for healer training, fred had a ten year plan drawn and step one was taken care of. it was beyond competitive, everyone trying to climb higher and get the best shot - a shock to his system. fred would fall asleep over books, the work consuming him even at home, and yet it wasn’t enough. ‘your heart isn’t in it’, an older healer said to him once, after yet another failure to keep up. it made no sense. on paper, he was the perfect candidate: kind, caring, smart, high grades. hands on? he froze, it was as if his tongue was stuck once more, words and actions unable to get out.
his heart wasn’t in it. it was busy with the order, where he kept trying to prove himself worthy despite his youth and inexperience. it was busy with his fellow knights, who he couldn’t leave hanging.
frederick knew that to be taken seriously, he had to close the door on the knights. outwardly he did so, but his research on the resurrection never ended - it was the only logical solution, and one that would bring such joy to his family and himself as well, or so he thought. letters and patronuses, secretly sending research back and forth, maps and notes and order secrets signed with LUCAN at the bottom. their work was too important to stop, and he hyper fixated on it, until death did its bidding.
first, do no harm. he was not a muggle doctor, but his code of ethics was the very same. on paper, they’d done all the right moves, but it ended terribly. appalled by the results, he fell into a deep hole once the consequences of his actions hit him. as a future healer, he should have known better than to meddle on life and death. as older, graduated, an ORDER member, he should have known better. as frederick weasley, with all the standards he’d self imposed upon himself, he should have simply known better.
guilt is a consuming feeling, corroding one from the inside out, soul and body. headmaster longbottom was murdered. they’d murdered him. he’d murdered him. and uncle harry, after a life of war, deserved to rest. he’d murdered him too, taking away all that he was and knew. there was blood on his hands.
the order could not know. if they were made aware of the extent of his actions, how he’d used their resources and knowledge to do this, how he’d not broken away after graduating, they might just kick him out. sure, he’d fed his fire too much too fast, resulting in the predicament he found himself in, but he couldn’t simply put it out. there was too much of himself depending on it, and surely he could still do some work. some good work. when asked, he justified that “it felt right then”, but never that he’d kept on going. the shame over the hurt he’s helped bring about is too heavy. now, more than ever, his younger fellow knights are stuck in war, and he can do less and less about it.
fred sets clearer lines now. terrified of what war can do to him, and how much of a slippery slope the feeling of usefulness and purpose is to him, he tries to keep himself in check. it barely works, though. his attention is on his healer work now, and how it can benefit the war. perhaps he was always meant to be a helper, not a fighter, or so he tries to convince himself.
he’s trying to prove himself to the order and earn their trust and respect, but is petulant enough to ignore the experience of the battle-tried leaders. how can he not when at times he’s seen a better way, and been in the very center of it? his attempts to rise up fail when he constantly disagrees with methods and positions, but his voice shakes after one simple denial.
OTHER
“The Drowned will ultimately survive the war, but they will pay dearly for it. Doomed to outlive their loved ones, death might have been a much kinder fate for them.” fred wishes he could apply muggle logic to prophecies and such, but that’s a chance he could never take. the allocation of prophecies and people is a game he’s played many times - that drawer in his bedroom full of half-empty notebooks had a distinctive coldness to it. a mathematician getting equations in place. however, he’s never even entertained the thought that he could be a part of it. even though there are more fates than leaders, he’s just assumed that the war shall be longer than expected, that others will join and be found.
he’s avoided the topic of mortality within a war, despite it having been the cause of many a demise within is family. during his heyday with the knights, he feared it often, but quietly. he feared for others mostly, and that still applies. the thought of his family and friends getting killed in the conflict drives him into full-blown breakdowns, so he’s learned to lock it out of his head.
fred will develop a strong sense of survivor’s guilt alongside his already rather intense guilt. the fact that he sees himself as a minor background character, rather than even a small player, and that he constantly feels like whatever he’s done is simply not enough - it all adds up to him never believing he deserved the win that is surviving over all the fallen. every time he needs saving on the field, that someone must disarm his opponents for him or that he purely freezes - it just plays in his head in a loop. how could he consider himself worthy of surviving when he needs so much aid to do so?
death is always a trade. he’s learned that with neville’s death. so who is being traded for him?
he has inherited absolutely none of his father’s famous knack for pranks and being a class and family clown, but rather the bits of dry humour he gathered from both him and angelina. he’s also just too lame in general for it, i love him
his father’s shop in diagon alley is his safe place. after a bad shift at st. mungo’s or with the order, it’s always there that he returns to. it’s more impersonal than home, so bringing that heaviness with him there doesn’t stain the memory of the place. and, of course, being there simply brings his mood up, be it the contents of the shop or his uncle, father and other employees who’ve quite literally seen him grow up. sometimes even when george isn’t there, fred will sit around in his office, or just help shelf stock, marvel for a bit at the creativity that goes into some of the products. however, he visits the hogsmeade location much less.
it was always obvious he’d likely into end up working at weasley wizard wheezes full-time, that his ambitions lied in different places. that was never really an issue within the family.
his work with the order is a bit all over the place, when they do allocate him a task (there’s a deep frustration growing within fred, though). he’s been doing some healing work, some field as well - although he’s not very good at it; most of all, he’s been doing logistics. moving refugees, spies, soldiers and objects under the radar, organizing who goes where and how - but all under very clear instructions from above. however that flame inside of him craves for more, for the rush once more.
bravery can come in subtle ways. it doesn’t need to be a showy explosion of dauntlessness, but rather a willingness to remain somewhere terrifying, and to give name, body and soul to something worthwhile. he’s horrified every day, though.
fred has very much built a narrative about himself and his lack of importance and bravery in his head. no matter how often he proves himself wrong, it’s quite hard to change the way you’ve always been thinking.
there’s something very CONTAINED about fred. it always feels like he’s not giving people more than a surface level insight, or that there’s a bubbling underneath, barely contained by his skin. even his closest family struggles with this. he doesn’t quite have a reason for it besides expectations he’s placed on himself - who should fred be? what would fred say? how would fred react to this? or perhaps there’s just something wrong with him, a glass wall between him and the world.
he has trouble expressing himself. he’s also quick to quit explaining himself anyway.
he’s used glasses since he was eight! goes for a thin rounder rim currently.
fred has truly kept all knights secrets to himself. despite not being able to deal with the consequences of their mission, he doesn’t see them and the order as partner entities, and his loyalty is much stronger with his armored friends.
in the last year or so, the techniques he’s learned to deal with his stammer have failed him. perhaps it’s due to the stress he’s been under, but fred has found himself more and more often stuck on a syllable, or fully unable to get any sounds out. especially when he needs to throw a spell out.
he wishes the order and thus the revolution would be safer, not visible at all even. does think they should feel like they have something to hide. they’d have so much more of an advantage if the whole world didn’t just know them so easily - but his complaints get ignored at the order, especially when he puts them out in a very distinctively know-it-all tone.
which he has most of the time. fred is very much a know-it-all, a tad arrogant even in that aspect.
“tell the truth and run”
please make him stop with this ‘i’m not that significant, all people considered’ mindset
fred has a tendency to accumulate until he bursts. his family and close friends have seen their fair share of intense breakdowns coming from frederick. on a smaller scale, panic attacks as well. but he’s never made any push towards getting professional help, passing it out as a ‘thing i do. we’ve all got those, yeah?’
his name is actually frederick, just often shortened to fred. but truly, he prefers the full version. it has a smarter more classic feel to it, and it also helps him forget who he’s been named after and all the complicated feelings that come with that
raised in coastal ireland, fred spent a lot of time growing up at his grandparents on both sides of the family, and in diagon alley and hogsmeade, where his family owned shops. his accent was a tad confusing before he joined muggle school, and then the irishness really fixed.
growing up in a very halfblood sort of environment and still having to this day close muggle friends had made him develop some rather muggle tastes, especially when it comes to technology and entertainment. huge video games enthusiast, we love a gamer
also loves chess though. and as much as he loves muggle things, nothing beats the rush of wizards chess
he was already graduated when the knights divided and got their daemons, so he didn’t exactly go that route, but he applauded their commitment to doing no further harm. he fears that himself, very often actually. that there’s nothing quite as strong stopping him from falling down the same rabbit hole again.
really close with his parents and sister. still lives at home but is planning on moving out soon, although that’s quite a daunting step and he’d miss their house by the sea.
breaks his glasses often
has a baby face and that only makes it harder for others to take him seriously
messy gay
george dropped out and followed his dreams. angelina was highly successful and passionate about her work. sometimes fred feels like he's lacking that drive and that one perfect goal in his life-long plan.
he’s the human embodiment of trying too hard
loving quidditch was not a question. raised in the cheering crowds, he got quite a privileged look inside the famous sport, having pictures with loads of quidditch stars, some of them being usual dinner guests back home. he learned to ride a broom quite young, but only applied for the hogwarts quidditch team once, in his third year. he got in, but left during his fifth to focus on his studies and his new role as prefect. he still watches professional games religiously, and is a die hard holyhead harpies fan., although his main allegiance was always shifting to where his mum was playing back then
a very easy crier. tells everyone to just ignore it.
grandpa arthur got special tours of his muggle schools whenever the family got invited to events and plays. just frederick pulling him by his hand and showing him everything and adoring the curiosity. he always loved mixing both sides of his life quite a lot.
his wand wood (black walnut) doesn’t do well with inner turmoil and loses some of its accuracy and finesse. he’s been struggling with that a lot - always has, but in the past few months more than ever. catch fred throwing it against a wall and leaving the room, only to return and apologise 5 seconds later.
STATS
name: FREDERICK ( named after his uncle. meaning ‘peaceful ruler’. ) LLYR ( meaning ‘the sea’. ) WEASLEY II
age: nineteen
date of birth: 6th of july, 2006
hometown: lahinch, ireland
current location: lahinch, ireland
gender: cis-man
pronouns: he/him
orientation: so gay
blood status: halfblood
hogwarts house: gryffindor
financial status: upper middle-class
spoken languages: english and can read ancient runes.
occupation: trainee healer
sun sign: cancer
moon: scorpio
mbti: ISTJ-T
moral alignment: lawful good
four temperaments: melancholic
element: water
enneagram: type 1 (the reformer)
father: george weasley ( b. 1978 )
mother: angelina weasley née johnson ( b. 1977 )
siblings: roxanne weasley ( b. ??? )
pets: a dog named lando and a snowy owl named hugh.
wand: black walnut, phoenix feather, twelve inches, reasonably supple.
patronus: elephant
electives: arithmancy & study of ancient runes
NEWTs: arithmancy (A), transfiguration (O), potions (E), herbology (E), charms (O), DADA (E)
hogwarts extracurriculars: prefect, quidditch chaser (3rd-5th year), briefly in the charms club during 4th year
favourite subject: study of ancient runes
least favourite subject: astronomy
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The Wailing Woman Part One
Pairing: Diego x Reader
Content/Warnings: Sweet Klaus and a slow burn baby, slow burn
Words: 2355
I’d do anything for this soft boy 💘🔪 If you want to be added onto the tag list for this, let me know ☂️
When Klaus gets a phone call in the middle of the night he doesn't hesitate to help his friend out. After all, who better to help with the dead than the seance himself?
or
Reader is one of the 43 who roommates with Klaus and gets dragged into helping with the apocalypse. The world is ending, so whats the harm in a slow burn?
You didn’t realise how cold it was until you stopped walking.
The walk to your launderette wasn’t too far from your apartment, a walk you’d grown to loath in the cold wind of March. Your washer-dryer had broken down just before Christmas when a little bag of questionable contents had worked its way into the motor. It was safe to say neither you or your roommate were best pleased.
“That was high quality stuff Y/N!” Klaus whined, his head falling into his hands.
You snorted, “Well maybe you should keep your high quality stuff in a high quality safe place and not the washer!”
“It seemed logical at the time I’m sure.”
It wasn’t unusual for Klaus’ little bags to turn up in the strangest of places. Once, he’d hidden his ecstasy pills in with the frozen fish fingers because ‘the fish can’t get any higher than they already are, the little heathens’. But that was the first time his little habit had actually broken something expensive, too expensive for you to replace just yet anyway.
And so, for nearly 4 miserable months you’d been making the twice-weekly walk to your local launderette. Sally, the owner, was a nice old lady who had become enamoured with Klaus ever since she met him. His first trip with you he spent the whole time flirting with her and trying on some of her old skirts from her younger days. In Klaus’ defence, he always managed to pull it off and wore them, freezing weather be damned, each time he decided to accompany you.
Shivering again you wondered where your laundry was now, bras and socks were probably littered among the streets of New York along with one of Sallys old skirts. You vaguely wondered whether Klaus would forgive you for losing it.
The harbour was empty, save for a few empty shipping containers and the stray animal or two. Your feet seemingly working of their own accord carried you further forward as you wondered how far you’d managed to walk this time. At least 5 miles you reasoned, knowing that your apartment wasn’t the closest to the sea much to Bens disappointment.
You stopped as you felt something wet seep into your socks through the hole in your trainer. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that it was the sea, some spray from that storm a few nights ago that hadn’t quite disappeared yet. Clenching your fists you dug your nails into your palm as you rounded the corner of a high pile of shipping containers.
3 of them. That’s why you’d walked so far.
Under the dull light of a distant lamp you heaved as the light glistened off the blood. Leaning against the container you heaved again as the buzzing noise began to increase, hands on your knees and eyes cast downward you realised that it wasn’t spray from the ocean; you should be so lucky. Blood mixed with the spray had seeped into your shoe, feeling nauseous at the sight you vomited.
Steeling yourself you stood upright and slowly wandered forwards towards the three men, knowing that the buzzing wouldn’t go away otherwise. Pulling your cardigan up to cover your nose from the stench you studied their faces. You didn’t recognise any of them. They looked like normal people, one who seemed greying in a nicely pressed suit while the other wore simple jeans and a hoodie. The strangest though was the third, a rotund man in nothing but a pair of boxers. Burns covered his body in the strangest of places, his ears and nipples being the most prominent.
You searched your pockets for a phone with numb fingers and shaky hands. Fumbling with the lock pattern you dropped it into the blood beneath your feet.
“Shit!” Picking it up you wiped it on the jacket of the dead guy, mentally apologising for being so rude. Pulling up Klaus’ number you hit call, hoping and praying to anything that he was sober enough to answer.
“Y/N! I was just -”
“It’s happened again.” You interrupt with tears beginning to collect in your eyes, “I think I’m by the harbour and there’s three of them and I don’t know how I got here and -” Your words come out fast and slurred, the cold making it hard for you to talk properly. “- and I just wanna scream.”
Klaus shushed someone on the other end of the phone, “Where are you? Don’t scream yet, I’m a little fragile.”
Hugging your body with your spare arm you looked around frantically, “I don’t know! I’m by a load of shipping containers? Near the harbour I think, I can see the sea.” Closing your eyes you felt rain begin to patter down around you.
“Is she near Hammerpit or Junior?” Someone spoke to Klaus, a voice you hadn’t heard before.
Walking out of the circle of containers you looked up and down the harbour for a sign, “Neither,” You replied as you caught sight of a sign in the distance. “There’s a sign that says ‘Cookies bait shop’ just down the way though.”
Klaus repeated it to someone, “Do you know where that is?” He asked them as you perched on one of the bollards. “Yeah, it’s about an hours drive though...How did she get there on foot? It’s miles away.” You’d walked farther than you’d thought.
“Klaus I’m freezing.” You whispered, your teeth chattering together now as you began to feel more like yourself again. “It’s so cold -”
“We’re coming, don’t turn into a fish finger just yet.” You could hear a voice and a car engine in the background. “Diego said to stay away from the sea front, you’ll get colder if you stay there.” He paused as you began to walk back towards the inner harbour walls. “Don’t go sleeping with the fishes now Y/N, you -”
Pulling your phone away from your ear the screen faded to black. Just your luck that the battery had to die just when you needed it most. Shoving it into your pocket you sat down on a cold metal bench and waited, wondering who the men were that had been murdered.
You felt yourself being shaken, “Y/N! Come on I told you not to turn sleep with the fishes!” Opening your eyes you saw Klaus and another man. Sitting up you looked up at Klaus with an apologetic frown, “I lost Sally’s skirt.”
“Maybe I should just leave you here then.” Klaus teased as he pulled you up from the bench.
“Maybe we should get her into the car before she catches pneumonia.” The other guy spoke, gesturing towards their ride. Nodding vehemently you followed and took his advice on sitting in the passengers seat, ‘The heaters work better up here’. He’d explained as you wrapped yourself in a blanket Klaus had thrown at you off the back seat.
You were thankful for your friend coming to get you, and to the stranger who had managed to get him here so quickly. “Thank you Klaus,” You mumbled after a moment or two of having your face mushed up against the car heater. “And you too.” Shooting the stranger a quick smile of thanks he started the engine and began the drive back into the city.
“This is Diego, my brother.” Racking your brain you could vaguely remember Klaus mentioning his brother. From what you could remember he had four, Ben who you’d already met, five who had gone missing when they were young and another called Luther. “Right, Klaus mentioned you a few times.” Turning in your seat you got a quick look at him in the light of passing street lamps. “Knife guy right?”
He let out a quick bark of laughter, “That’s me, knife guy.”
You hummed in your seat, “Ben told me about you a bit too.” Letting your eyes close you missed the sideways look he gave you. Looking back at Klaus who just shrugged, he settled his eyes on the road ahead, figuring you were perhaps just as strange as Klaus. It would, after all, explain why you were roommates with his brother.
“So did they have their brains blown out or what?” Breaking the silence Klaus leaned forward between the two front seats, his olive eyes on you.
“Jesus Klaus!” You felt the car swerve a little, your nausea making its way back with the motion.
“All different, one...” You mumbled, the cold dead gaze of the people you found flashing in your mind. “One of them was just in his underpants, had some sort of burns on his nipples and earlobes.”
“Wowee now that’s what I call a good way to go,” Klaus giggled, resting back into the backseat again. “Jesus...” Diego muttered, his face scrunched up in disgust.
“Oh don’t start making everything about you.” Klaus whispered to the space next to him, “We’ll get waffles later.”
It was strange with Ben. You’d seen him before and could probably draw a semi-accurate picture from memory, but you couldn’t see him all the time. At first you were a little freaked out when some strange Korean guy pulling funny faces at a cat sat outside your window appeared in your apartment, until Klaus saw you staring at him anyway.
“Can you see him?”
You scoffed, “Can’t you? Who is he?”
After that Klaus and Ben sat you down with a nice martini a la Klaus (Which in other words is a glassful of gin with half a dried lemon in it) and explained that Ben was actually dead, and had been for quite some time.
“Are you sure you’re dead?” You drawled as you took another sly look at the man. “Because you don’t look dead.” You threw the accusation that he was lying at him as you took another mouthful of gin.
“Last time I checked...Yeah.”
Since then the three of you had lived in almost perfect harmony. You could hear Klaus shouting some nights at seemingly thin air, mostly when he was higher than a kite about how ‘it’s his life to waste if he wants to and Ben can’t change his mind’. You hadn’t figured out yet why Ben seemed to appear and disappear from your vision at random points, but you didn’t mind, you’d always continue your conversation right back off where you’d left it.
“What were you doing out there anyway?” Diego spoke, ignoring his brothers seemingly insane ranting in the backseat. “It’s freezing out and you’re not exactly dressed for late night hiking.” Referencing your thin cardigan and tracksuit bottoms you pulled the blanket further around yourself.
Blushing you tried to search for the right way to explain yourself without seeming completely deranged. “It’s a bit like how Klaus can see the dead.” You started, your fingers toying with the tassels on the blanket. “I don’t ever mean to find them, but sometimes I’ll be going somewhere and before I even realise how I’d got there there’s...” You trail off into silence, letting the obvious fill the void. “It’s just my bad luck that this time I was walking to the launderette.” You chuckled humourlessly as you looked over at a smirking Diego.
“Oh so it was your underwear we saw on the drive here then?” He joked, earning a tired laugh from you.
“Oh the red lacy ones? They were mine actually.” Klaus piped up from the back seat, making the three of you laugh once again. It felt nice to laugh easily, the shock from finding them hadn't quite worn off yet so it was nice to keep your mind occupied.
Klaus leaned forward again, “So did you do that scream this time?”
You weren’t sure, did you scream? Your mind was in such a haze you couldn’t even really remember ringing Klaus properly. “I think it’s normal to scream when you find a pile of dead bodies Klaus.”
“No it’s different when she screams, it brings you to your knees and not in a good way may I just add.” Leaning back he kicked his feet up and yawned, “It’s almost like she’s wailing.”
Leaning against the window you pulled the blankets tight around you and tried to drift off to sleep without seeing the bodies again.
For the second time that night you found yourself being shook awake. Blinking your eyes open you looked over at Diego who gestured outside. You were home, having slept for most of the journey you were surprised to find that you didn’t dream about the bodies this time. Grateful for the peaceful sleep you sat up and yawned. “What time is it?”
“4:32am.” Diego answered as you watched your apartment lights flick on. Figuring Klaus must have already gone up you unbuckled your seat belt. You’d been out longer than you thought, figuring you must had left for Sally’s at around 8pm.
“Thanks for coming to pick me up, I can only imagine what a pain in the ass Klaus was on the ride here.” Hoping that your apology and gratefulness came through, you smiled at the man beside you.
“Nah he was alright, truth was I don’t think I’ve seen him that upset or worried since Ben died.” You sat in silence for a moment. “Otherwise I think I would have thought he was being dramatic. He seems to worry about you a lot.” Feeling a wave of guilt wash over you at the thought of causing your friend worry, a tight lipped smile worked its way onto your face.
“I wish he wouldn’t, he has enough to deal with without worrying about me too.” Sighing to yourself you opened the car door and got out.
“Hey Y/N,” Diego called as you were about to leave, bending down you looked back at him. “I don’t think he minds. Stay safe, yeah?”
You smiled back at him earnestly and gave a small wave, “See you later Diego.”
Walking up the steps to your apartment you pushed the door, glad to finally be home. “I’m counting on it.” You heard behind you before the sound of a car faded into the distance.
#Diego hargreeves#Klaus hargreeves#Diego Hargreeves x oc#Diego Hargreeves imagine#Klaus Hargreeves imagine#slow burn#Diego imagine#the umbrella academy#the umbrella academy imagine#Luther hargreeves#Allison hargreeves#Vanya hargreeves#five hargreeves#Diego Hargreeves fanfic#David castaneda#Robert sheehan#pogo#grace#Reginald hargreeves#imagine#im back#loki doki imagines
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