#it’s not official yet but I don’t think I even need to send a resume or do an interview lol; they’re just gonna take her word for it

[e77y]

Employed on Saturdays this summer 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

[shiinata-library]

Imagine them telling you they love you

Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bilbo's reactions when they tell they love you

A/N: My imagines become more and more ficlets and we now have 4k words of it… Make you comfortable, and enjoy!

[ ���� Main Imagines Masterlist 📚 ]

Fíli

On a cold winter evening under the lonely mountain, two princes are talking over an ale, one of them in a better mood than the other. “I should never have done that,” you hear Fíli sighs, his face hidden in his arms crossed on a table. “It’s too late, brother,” Kíli laughs as he drinks his ale.

It has been a while since you’re friends in this pub. There is only one pub since the rebuilding of Erebor was still ongoing. The place is busy, and princes or not, Kíli and Fíli drink here every Friday night. 

When you entered, you wanted to surprise them and you were waiting for the right moment to join them, but you didn’t expect they would talk about you. Especially about this subject…

“You were drunk, both of you,” Kíli resumes. Fíli gets his head off his arms and sighs again “Drunk or not, you don’t sleep like that with your…”. Someone shouts in the pub while he finishes his sentence. “As if you regret it,” Kíli laughs. “Stop that Kíli!” Fíli shouts seriously.

They should change the subject now, right? But, should you really join them after that? Then you hear “There are things I regret in my life, but this is the worst and you–”. A group of happy dwarves shout a new time their happiness while you freeze. Kíli is looking at you, as surprised as happy to see you. He speaks to his brother while you already start to run away. You don't see Fíli hit the table with his fist even less standing up so suddenly that he spills his beer all over his brother.

You literally run away until you're almost home. In two streets, you will be in the cosy place Thorin gave you under his mountain. Your steps slow down as you realise how stupid you are to think everything could be the same after àthat. You suspected that Fíli avoided you since you spent a night together, and you have your answer. It's clearly unnecessary to talk more to him. It was a mistake. Period. 

Maybe it could be different if you could have talked the next morning. If only he wasn’t a prince, he wouldn’t have early duties every morning. Especially when he was in your bed! Who sends a guard to fetch someone in the bed of his… his what anyway? You’re just his friend. Well, “was” now.

When you’re almost arrived at your place, you hear your name shouted from afar. You could recognise this voice everywhere, so you quickly hide in the first street you see. Except that before being a prince, Fíli was a warrior, and you can’t escape a warrior that easily… Even though you take another way to go home, someone grabs your wrist when you arrive at your front door. Of course, it’s Fíli. And not a happy Fíli. Everyone who’s walking in the street is looking at you since everyone knows Erebor’s heir.

“Listen Fíli. I don’t want a drama. Like you said, let’s forget. And if you don't want to see me again, well, I understand,” you say as you try to get back your wrist. “No. We need to talk. Let's inside,” he simply says as he opens your front door and leads you inside.

After lighting a few candles, you put the last one on the table. You barely turn toward Fíli that he is already in front of you, not leaving you the time to say anything. He clears his voice and you notice how he is nervous. You never see him like that. Not even when he speaks to Erebor’s people officially. “First, I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier to talk to you since that night. I had a lot to do but the main reason is I was ashamed.” You repeat the last word he said, unstable to keep your surprise. Yet, he continues, his eyes looking at the candle, “I should never sleep with you. We were drunk.” “Yes, we were drunk, but not enough not to know what we were doing,” you say seriously. His eyes turn now to yours, “Yes, maybe, but I should court you first.” He runs a hand on his face as if it could help him to breathe better while your heart starts to beat stronger. When his eyes come back to you, your heart stops beating. Were his eyes always so mesmerising?

“We, Dwarves, always court their One first. I know Men do differently, but I shouldn’t touch you like that. But your dress… Mahal, you were stunning in this dress that night. I behaved like an idiot… Mahal, I really do blame myself,” he pauses for a breath. A murmur escapes your lips, “their One?”. Something changes in his eyes. You swear they looked at your lips before coming back to your eyes. “Am I your One?” you eventually ask in a quiet tone. “Yes, you are. I have loved you since I saw you. But I also know Men’s mores and I don't expect anything from you,” he declares in a serious, almost sad, tone. “You love me?” you stupidly ask, still stunned by his words.

A smile appears on Fíli’s face. The first smile since that night. A chuckle escapes his lips as his fingers find your cheek, warming it with the memories of what they have done to you. “Are you just going to keep questioning me?” he laughs, his moustache’s braid bouncing. You laugh too, the whole tension vanishing. “Even if I’m of Men, I only sleep with the person I love,” you shyly say. That's all it takes for Fíli to kiss you, this time with  all the love he has for you.

Kili

Since you joined Thorin’s company, you have made friends with Fíli and Kíli. The time you enjoy the most is after dinner. They tell stories about their childhood in the Blue Mountains or some anecdotes about everyone while you tell them about your world. Like them, you can’t stay quiet for a long time, so most of the time the others shout at you to go somewhere else to talk. Which you do. 

Fíli is always the first to go to sleep. That’s why the others don’t make fun of him when you barely can open your eyes in the morning when it's time to leave…

Talking with them at night has become routine and when you arrive in Rivendell, without having to worry about the next day, you spend your first sleepless nights with them. After some time, Fíli doesn’t stay with you late less and less since Thorin seems to need him more and more in the morning.

As the quest goes on, you can’t speak with Kíli in the evening. Fatigue, injury, watches, cold, danger, it seems that everything is trying to avoid you to enjoy your evening. Little by little, there comes a time when you can’t remember the last time you had a long conversation with Kíli and you miss it terribly. During the day, you make some jokes but it’s not the same.

So, as soon as you’re feeling safe, you can’t keep your tongue, you and of course Kíli. The first night at Beorn after Gandalf introduced everyone, you and Kíli spoke all night. So much time to make up! Fíli joined you for the first hour, but he quickly abandoned you.

The next morning, it takes you some time to remember where you are. You hear some voices from afar, but according to the bright sun, it must be late, especially since everyone is already up. Everyone except Kíli still sleeping next to you. Well… Behind you. His arm around your waist. His hand on your stomach. His head buried in your hair… He is too close, right? You can even feel his breathing in your neck. Should you stay like this? You definitely can’t move without waking him up, and you don’t want to wake up in this position. Especially with your cheek as red as a tomato.

But… Breakfast is calling you. As soon as you try to move his hand, his arm holds you stronger, your back pressed against his hard chest. He eventually grumbles, “Don’t move.” You chuckle, “But they won’t leave us anything to eat.” He laughs too, but doesn't seem to move. You wait, trying to find a good idea to wake him up until he says in a sleepy voice, “I want to wake up like this everyday…”. You stay still a moment before turning to him and joking, “Without breakfast?”. His answer doesn’t wait, “With you. In my arms. Every morning.”

Oh. Well. You want it too, but it sounds complicated, right? A woman of Men, a Dwarf prince. Plus, you’re poor. Oh and useless as well. You still don’t know what you’re doing in this quest.

Tired of waiting for your reaction or your answer, Kíli suddenly sits up, his arms crossed on his chest, his hair in a mess, but above all, his frowning eyebrows. “I was saying that I love you, you know?” he says in an upset tone. “Don’t joke with that Kíli,” you sigh, starting to feel hurt with a joke like this so early on a morning that was starting off so well. He already joked about this in the past, flirting with you randomly. He even already kissed you without saying anything afterward. Well, maybe because you almost died and you didn’t have the time to talk about this but…

“I’m not joking! I truly love you!” Now he’s not frowning, his eyes look sincere. You want to believe him. “But you always joke about that,” you grumble in a pouting face. “Not about this. Never. Amrâlimê, I kissed you after we ran from the gobelins because I was so scared of losing you. I couldn't see you and I thought you had stayed behind. When I saw you, I couldn't control myself…” You stop pouting, hoping he says the truth. “Really?” you ask in a shy tone. “Really,” he confirms, a smile widening on his lips. You can't resist a smile like that. “Because I love you too, and if you lie, I’ll–” Of course you can’t finish your sentence. As soon as Kíli hears your words, he leans over you and kisses you. He begins slowly, barely brushing your lips, but when you kiss him back, his ardour takes over. As one of his hands keeps him from falling on you, the other one begins to touch your hip. Even though you would love to continue, you were thinking of stopping him when the door of your makeship dormitory opens. “It's nearly midday! Time to get up, night owls!” Fíli exclaims until he sees what his brother is doing. “Alright, pretend I didn't come,” he says as he turns towards the door. “But I won't be able to hold the others back for long.” He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Kíli laughing like teenagers caught in the act.

Bilbo 

During the quest, you easily became friends with Bilbo. He is a charming person, and you and he have a lot of things in common. Little by little, you understand your feelings for him were more than friendship, but you stayed quiet about it, the quest was too important to think about anything else. After the success of Erebor's quest, Thorin, the new king, offered you and Bilbo to live under the lonely mountain. Bilbo missed too much his home to stay here. Yet, he promised to visit them one day. For you, the choice was harder. The mountain seemed great. You would be glad to help with the rebuilding, but without Bilbo, it wouldn't be the same. So you decide to follow him. 

It's obviously impossible for you to live in the Shire, so you have settled in the closest Men’s town: Bree. You have found a correct job and people are nicer than you would have thought. For visiting Bilbo, it's 6 days walking from door to door, but you quickly decided to use a horse. (You really miss trains and buses…) So now you live two days' ride, you visit him when you can. Bilbo offered to visit you in Bree, but with his ponies’ allergy, you prefer coming to the Shire. 

The Shire is beautiful, even more than all Bilbo told you during the quest. He always finds something interesting to show you. Hike, food, drink, festivities, landscape, market, watching the sky with Old Toby,... You enjoy every time you spend with him. At first, Hobbits looked at you strangely, but now, you could say you have drank tea with all of Bilbo's neighbours. Lucky for you, the closest inn of Bag End, the Green Dragon Inn, has one room at Men’s size, which you found weird until Bilbo explained it’s usually Gandalf’s room.

One summer evening, you’re dining in that very inn with Bilbo after a long hike in the east, on an outside table, the wind glowing softly on you. “I’m glad you’re here,” Bilbo says as he finishes his meal. “You always worked during the summer’s festivities and I always wanted to see you.” “Oh, no. Don’t tell me it begins tomorrow…  But I’m leaving tomorrow!” you sadly sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “I thought you knew,” Bilbo says as it was obvious. “It’s the same dates every year. And you saw the tent and everything under the Party Tree, didn't you?” “I thought it was over... Wait here, I'll check with Mr Whitfoot if I can stay in the room tomorrow night.”

Unlike usual, Bilbo is unable to read your face when you come back to your conversation with Mr Whitfoot, the innkeeper of the Green Dragon. “The bad news is I can’t have the room, but the good news is because Gandalf reserved it,” you smile bitterly,  already regretting not going to the summer festivities with Bilbo.

“You can stay at Bag End. I have enough room for you,” he said with a little nervousness in his voice. You notice his embarrassment and you don’t want to impose yourself at his home. “I don't want to disturb you, I’ll think of it tonight and I’ll answer you tomorrow morning,” you explain with a smile. “You won’t disturb me at all, but alright, we’ll talk tomorrow,” he says, finally smiling again like usual.

Of course, you accept to stay at Bag End. The festivities, Gandalf, sleeping in Bag End, just next door to Bilbo’s, waking up together, eating breakfast together, like a married couple. Alright, let’s stop now!

Gandalf is still the same. You spend a part of the night chatting with him and Bilbo, with some other curious young hobbits. At some point, after eating and drinking too much, you both decide to go back to Bag End. The night was very fun – despite Lobelia intervention when she learned you were staying in Bag End. In Bilbo’s smial, you still can hear the laughs and the music from the Party Tree. “You’re sure I can stay here? Your cousin, Lobelia didn’t seem happy about it,” you joke as you’re taking off your shoes. “According to the latest news, Bag End is still my home,” he grumbles as you’re unable to hide your smile, enjoying his reactions every time you talk about Lobelia. “She can say whatever she wants, it’s my home!” He could have grumbled a long time if you hadn’t burst out laughing. “Alright. I get it,” he sighs before laughing with you. You both are tipsy and you continue to laugh until you reach your room.

“If you need anything, I'm just in the room next door,” he smiles as you enter the guest bedroom. If you weren’t as tired and as tipsy, you would have noticed the room has changed. The room is at your size. Both the ceiling and the furniture. “You know your home by heart. I could make tea with my eyes closed!” you laugh, not noticing Bilbo’s cheek becoming pink at your words. “But thank you for letting me sleep here. Nights are not cold, but I never say no to a bed when I can have one!” “You’re welcome. Don’t forget to wake up early if you want breakfast,” he says, smirking. You can’t count how many times you miss the first breakfast in the Shire.

Do you wake up late? Yes. Of course. The bed is so comfortable, the room is so quiet, the smell is so good… with a little touch of bread, tea, jam, egg,... You jump out of the bed and hurry up to the kitchen. Bilbo is smiling, “Good morning.” Has Bilbo been waiting for you? It’s the first time you have breakfast with him since the quest is over, and something feels different now. The table looks so perfect. How many times have you dream of waking up here like that? 

“Do you want tea?” he asks as he takes the kettle off the heat. “Good morning,” you murmur as you sit down on a chair at your size. As you’re half-asleep, you don’t notice you’re still in nightdress, light for summer nights, but Bilbo did. Oh, he did, and that’s why he shakes his head as he repeats his question. “Yes, absolutely!” you exclaim with a broad smile. “I never saw a table like that for breakfast! So many dishes! Bombur would be jealous of your cooking skills! I’m glad to be hungry! Everything looks so good! Can I try each plate?” you ask with great enthusiasm, perhaps a little too much. “Oh, sorry. I’m very loud for a morning. It’s rude and annoying…” Bilbo sits in front of you with two cups of tea. Despite your behaviour, he looks happy. The morning rays of light gently illuminate his hair and face. You could easily get used to this every morning...

“Not at all. I've had mornings noisier than this,” he smiles as he sips his tea. “And yes, you can eat everything you want.” “Don’t say that or I’ll really eat everything,” you laugh as you spread jam on your buttered toast. “I don't even have a third of this table in Bree, when I have breakfast. I mean, at home.” You still don’t use to live in Bree as your home.

“I can make breakfast like this whenever you want,” he says in a too serious tone for a morning as you’re savouring one of his cheeses. “I’d love to, but I don’t think I can stay another night. I have to go back to work,” you say, a little sad not to enjoy another night here, and another breakfast. A long silence makes you feel that something is wrong. Bilbo is too quiet for such a morning. You raise your head from your plate to see him looking at his tea, turning his spoon in his cup endlessly. “If you stayed here, you could have breakfast whenever you like,” he says quietly. You’re about to repeat your former answer, but Bilbo doesn’t give you the time to do it.

 “I wasn’t talking about tomorrow. I mean, yes, I’d love you to stay tomorrow, but I meant for all the mornings. I mean. Oh Yavanna, I’m ridiculous…” As he talks, he gets so upset that he gets to his feet and comes to stand in front of you, one fist clenched and the other hand pointing at you with his spoon. He breathes a last time before looking at you, his eyes eventually softening. “If you want to, I would love you to live in Bag End with me.”

You’re speechless first. Then, “I can’t. I mean, I’m of Men. No one wants somebody like me here,” you sigh as you look at your feet, feeling your tears welling up. “I want to,” Bilbo says, determined, as he takes your hands. “And I'm sure all the hobbits you know won't object. The whole Shire has realised a long time ago how I felt about you and they've all accepted you already.” “Your feelings?” you suddenly ask, your eyes searching for an answer in his eyes before his words. Yet, his eyes frown. “I wouldn't ask you to move to Bag End if I didn't love you. I'd even offer to make you a breakfast every morning, I don't know what more you need…”

At this point, you can't hold back your laughter. Before his upset face, you react quickly. Pulling on his hands, he steps towards you close enough to feel his fringe caress your forehead. “I need a morning kiss, and I’d stay here forever,” you murmur. His cheeks become redder than ever and his hands become sweaty, but when he decides eventually to kiss you, his lips are softer than you had imagined. Softer and sweeter.

Thorin

Tonight is the first night you spent with Men since Bree. Lack-town is still an unwelcome place for you and the company, but Bard and his family are very nice with you. With Sigrid’s help, you’re warm now and you don’t smell fish anymore. The children are already sleeping as some of the company. You don’t know how to thank Bard since you don’t have money like the others, so you offer your help in the house. After helping Sigrid with the dishes, you ask what you could do, and she explains they have some damaged clothes that need stitching and she has no idea how to do it.

So here you are, sitting in the corner of the table, in the light of a candle, mending some clothes. Everyone is busy with their own business when Thorin sits next to you. You first don’t notice him, focused on your task. He put a warm tea next to you before speaking. “Do you want to be my Queen?” he says, as serious as ever. No one reacts, pretending to be still busy. “Queen of what?” you chuckle, still focused on your task. “Queen of Erebor,” he answers after making sure that Bard was no longer there to listen in. You don’t notice how serious he is, all it takes for him to ask you that here, in front of the others. He is not the type of person who expresses his feelings in front of everyone, so you don’t take it seriously. “But there is no Erebor,” you say, not seeing how troubled he is with your answer. “Not now,” he continues after a long silence in which the crackling of the fire is the loudest sound. “But Erebor will be with us soon.”

A smile appears on your lips as you finish what you have planned before going to sleep. After you take the tea that Thorin gave you, you turn to him. Now you notice how serious he was, how sad his eyes are despite his calm behaviour. You take a moment to repeat the conversation in your head. He is about to stand up when you exclaim, “Wait, wait, wait!” You put your tea on the table, then raise your hands in front you.  “You want me as your Queen? Wait. But you. That what you said? But. I’m confused,” you heart is beating too fast to say a correct sentence. When Thorin sees that your hands are shaking, he hesitates to take them. “I know I’m good in organisation and papers, but that shouldn’t be a reason to title me as a Queen. Should you choose someone you love? I thought Dwarves only chose to spend their life with their One. Oh, maybe royalty doesn’t work like that.”

A laugh echoes in the room. Bofur gets Thorin's blackest look of his life. But for you, his eyes are sparkling and a smile eventually appears on his lips. A genuine smile. “That's correct. I want my One as my Queen,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Now your cheeks are burning and you stop breathing. Do you really properly understand what he is saying?

You try to say something, but your words are blocked in your throat. Staying with your mouth open makes the future king chuckling. At the end of the room, you hear two dwarves sneezing exaggeratedly, “Heiswaitingforananswer” then “Notinthreedays”. Fíli and Kíli earn the same look as Bofur, but you don’t see it. As you only realise everyone in the room is looking at you, you suddenly stand up. Understanding you, Thorin stands up too, takes your hand and leads you outside.

As it’s dark and late, no one would see you, but the most preoccupying thing is the cold. Before you say anything, Thorin puts his jacket on your shoulders. “Tell me if you’re cold,” he says seriously, but his jacket is so warm that you already forget about the weather. “Do you really mean it? Why do you think I’m your One?” you shyly ask as you close the too big jacket on yourself, taking advantage to hide your burning cheeks. When you look back to him, you’re surprised to discover a new facet of Thorin. An (cute) embarrassed Thorin is in front of you. “Mahal, how should I tell you?” he begins as he runs a hand on his face, stopping on his mouth. “I know you're my One because I love you. And this is why I want you to be my Queen.” He swallows his saliva with difficulty, waiting for an answer from you that doesn't seem to be coming. “But maybe my feelings for you are not mutual, and if I offend you in any way, I apologise,” he says as his eyes sadden gradually. 

“No!” you eventually cry out as you grab his hands, surprisingly warm. You already touch them a few times, but never like that. “It’s mutual. Your feelings. I mean my feelings,” you sigh, trying to compose yourself. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this in this Men’s town when we’re almost at Erebor, but–” He cuts you off, “I don’t want you to stay here with your kin. I saw how you look at the town and… that man.” You frown, firstly because he stopped you while you were talking, secondly because he doesn’t trust you. “What man?” “The one who lets us stay in his house,” he grumbles.

“If you let me talk, Thorin Oakenshield, you would know that I love you too, since the first time I saw you! About Lake-town, I know nobody here. They are not my kin. The company is my family now!” you hurry to say before the conversation takes a bad turn. You truly love him from the start, but you obviously never hoped for anything. “Are you sure I’m your One?” you ask again, making him eventually smile. He realises one of your hands to run his in your hair. “I've never been so sure of anything,” he tenderly says. As he looks for a place for a braid, you can’t remain motionless. A step is enough to access his lips and you take that step. At the beginning, you feel Thorin’s surprise, but it quickly progresses into a sweet, lovely kiss under a snowy night.

[meazalykov]

custom shoes

kika nazareth x nikesigned!reader

summary: a pair of cleats starts to cause speculation about your relationship

you stand on the field, feeling the anticipation of the el clásico simmer in the air around you. 

barcelona and real madrid—it’s always been a heated matchup, but tonight feels different. tonight, you're debuting something personal, something that you helped create. the teal, ivory, and navy blue cleats on your feet shine under the stadium lights with the black away kit, and you can't help but glance down at them for a brief moment, smiling to yourself.

they're more than just shoes—they’re yours. and soon, they’ll be in stores all over, thanks to nike.

as you tug at your jersey and adjust your socks, you spot kika in the distance, warming up with the rest of the team in the starting lineup. she catches your eye for a second, and even from afar, you see that playful glint in her eyes. 

she's wearing the same cleats as you. a knowing grin tugs at your lips. she gives you a wink, her subtle way of telling you that she sees you. no one knows yet that you’d gotten her her own pair before nike even announced them. 

not just because she’s your teammate but because, well, she’s more than that.

“you ready?” kika jogs over to you, casually glancing down at your shoes as if she hadn’t been admiring them all week. 

her voice drops a little lower, a whisper just for you. 

“you look good in those, by the way.”

“i know,” you tease back, nudging her gently with your elbow. 

“and you look good in them too. we have to be careful; people are already questioning about these.”

she chuckles, her eyes flicking towards the rest of your teammates. 

“let them talk.”

you laugh under your breath, but she's right. fans had been obsessing ever since both of you had been spotted wearing the same cleats in practice last week. a few eagle-eyed supporters had even posted side-by-side pictures online, questioning why kika had the cleats before they were officially released. and now, with both of you about to wear them in one of the biggest games of the season, the excitement would only grow.

“do you think they’ll figure it out?” you ask, half-joking, but there’s a nervous edge in your voice.

“about the cleats or about us?” kika arches a brow.

“both.”

she smirks, pulling you into a quick side hug before anyone notices. 

“we’ll deal with it when we have to. just focus on madrid. they’re the ones we need to beat tonight.”

you nod, taking a deep breath. she’s right, like always. madrid is your focus right now. the cleats, the relationship, all of that can wait. 

soon after—the whistle blows, signaling the start of the match, and you slip into your game face, letting the energy of the stadium and the roar of the fans fuel you.

the first half is intense. madrid plays with their usual aggression, but your team is just as hungry for the win. you weave through defenders, your feet feeling light, like the cleats were made just for this moment. 

in a way, they were. every sprint, every touch of the ball feels perfect. like the shoes were an extension of you.

“y/n! here!” caro calls out, breaking you from your thoughts.

you spot her making a run on the right wing, and you send a perfect pass her way. she controls it beautifully, then sends it back to you just outside the box. 

without hesitating, you take the shot. the ball sails past the madrid keeper, and the stadium erupts.

one-nil.

kika is the first to reach you, wrapping her arms around you as the team piles on in celebration. her grip on you lingers for just a moment longer than it should, but you don’t mind. it's these small moments that make everything worth it. 

when the crowd settles, you give caro a quick smile, a silent thank you for setting up the goal.

the game resumes, and madrid retaliates hard. however, you're in the zone. each passing minute, your confidence grows. your cleats feel like magic beneath you, propelling you forward, giving you that extra edge.

in the 55th minute, you get another chance. a quick one-two with kika, and you're through on goal again. this time, you slot it calmly into the bottom corner.

two-nil.

as the crowd goes wild again, you spot kika grinning at you, her eyes filled with pride. you jog over to her, and she playfully nudges you.

“two goals, huh?” she says, her voice teasing but proud. 

“you’re really showing off those cleats.”

“had to make them worth the hype,” you reply, breathing heavily but smiling.

the final whistle blows, and the game ends in a resounding victory for barcelona. the team celebrates, but as you stand with kika, you can't help but notice a few cameras lingering on the two of you, zooming in on your matching cleats.

“you think they’ve figured it out yet?” kika asks, glancing down at her shoes, then back at you.

“about the cleats?” you ask, even though you know she’s not just talking about the shoes.

“maybe both,” she says, echoing your words from earlier, a small smirk playing on her lips.

you shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but your heart races a little. 

“if they haven't, they will soon.”

after the game, as you’re heading into the locker room, a reporter pulls you aside for a quick interview.

“y/n, incredible performance tonight. two goals in el clásico—it doesn’t get much better than that. how did it feel?”

you flash a polite smile, still riding the high from the match. 

“it felt great. madrid’s always a tough opponent, so getting the win today was huge for us.”

“and those cleats…we’ve never seen those nike boots on a player before!” the spanish reporter glances down at your shoes, clearly curious. 

“they look custom. are we getting a special release from nike soon?”

you chuckle, keeping your answer vague. 

“you’ll have to wait and see.”

kika brushes past you, standing beside ellie while catching the reporter’s eye. 

“don’t let her fool you,” she says with a wink. 

“those are going to be big.”

the reporter's eyes light up, and you know kika’s teasing just added fuel to the fire. as soon as the interview wraps up, you head into the locker room, shaking your head at her.

“you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” you say, plopping down on the bench next to her.

“what? i’m just helping build the suspense,” she replies, tossing her hair back dramatically.

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but laugh. she always knows how to make you feel at ease. but there’s a part of you that wonders if all this attention—on the cleats, on the two of you—might lead to more than just product speculation.

a few days later, nike makes the official announcement. the "y/n" cleats will be hitting stores soon, and the campaign photos of you in them flood social media. 

fans go crazy over the design, loving the combination of teal, ivory, and navy blue.

what really sets off a frenzy is when photos surface of you and kika wearing the same cleats during all of the team's training sessions, well before the release. comments flood in, speculating about how kika had her pair so early.

"are kika and y/n collaborating with nike together? where is kika in the promos?"

"why does kika have them already? besties or something more?"

the comments only intensify when someone points out the little moments the two of you share on the field. the way you celebrate goals, the subtle smiles, the touches that linger a little too long.

you scroll through the comments one night, kika sitting next to you on the couch.

“look at this,” you say, showing her your phone. 

“people are starting to catch on.”

she leans in, resting her head on your shoulder as she reads the comments. 

“i mean, we’re not exactly subtle,” she says with a laugh.

“should we be worried?” you ask, half-joking, but there’s a serious undertone to your question.

kika shrugs. 

“let them think what they want. as long as we know what we are, that’s all that matters.”

you smile, wrapping an arm around her. “yeah, i guess you’re right.”

a few weeks later, the cleats officially drop, and they sell out within hours. 

later in the month, fans post photos of their new shoes, tagging you and kika, trying to guess if the two of you had planned this all along. 

rumors about your relationship continue to swirl, but neither of you confirms or denies anything.

masterlist

[nxrthmizu]

| honoured | day 16

»»——⍟——««

@daminette-december2019-2020 ​

prompt | Royalty AU

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng 

words | 1.7k 

author’s note | Hi watch me indulge myself in this because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a royalty au 

»»——⍟——««

“You’re all pathetic.” Damian hissed, twisting the sword out of yet another knight’s grip. “How are you supposed to protect me when you can’t even beat me in a duel?” His sharp words glared at the line of knights that had applied to be Gotham’s prince’s personal guard. None of them lived up to his expectations, and at this point Damian wasn’t even surprised anymore. 

He huffed impatiently. “Is that all you lot have got?” 

“May I try, sir?” Spoke a knight that was way too short and way too small in comparison to the line of other silver-clad men. A pair of bluebell eyes met the prince’s emerald ones, a spark of determination and confidence glinting in them. 

Damian sighed, eyeing the spark in the bluebell eyes, a smirk overcoming his features. How naive, he thought. He couldn’t wait to smite out that light in those bluebell eyes. 

»»——⍟——««

He didn’t. 

The room was completely silent as Damian’s sword flew across the room with a clang, twisted quickly out of his grip as the small knight surprised him with the sudden attack. It was so quiet that the failed knights could hear the prince’s shallow, panting breaths that hurried to pay off the oxygen debt in his muscles. 

“... What is your name.” The prince’s voice was deadly quiet as he stared into the blue eyes. The knight slid the helmet off, dark blue hair tied up in a ponytail, flushed cheeks painted red from the ten continuous minutes of unending parrying. 

“Marin Cheng, sir!” 

The failed knights watched with bated breath as the prince stared down coldly at the shorter knight. They had underestimated the knight greatly- No one thought that the small midget stood a single chance against the prince, who was one of the best swordsmen known throughout the kingdom. 

“...” He surveyed Marin with a careful eye. “Very well. See Mr. Pennyworth about your new living arrangements.” The words were unspoken, but the whole hall was clear about what the prince had left unsaid. 

You are my personal guard. 

»»——⍟——««

Marin never left Damian’s side, per his request. His personal guard’s job was to follow him around to ensure he was never outnumbered in an ambush- And he had to admit, Marin’s presence was rather enjoyable. The small knight was not made out of a lot of muscle- But certainly had the wits and deftness to make up for the lack in size. 

The knight quickly learnt that there were times when Damian wanted the air to be filled with chatter, and when he did not. During the times that he wanted to rid of the silence, the blue-haired knight would begin talking animatedly, chatting about anything and everything around them- The bushes around the royal garden, the new bakery that opened downtown, the new uniform for cadets. And when the prince valued his silence, the blue-haired knight would keep quiet and simply follow the emerald-eyed teen around. 

“Marin.” 

The knight was sitting on the floor of Damian’s private library, flipping through a book with the prince’s permission. Blue eyes glanced up instantly, the book forgotten quickly as the knight waited for the prince’s instructions. 

“I’m bored.” Damian pushed the documents he was supposed to read aside. “Fence with me.” 

The two of them were in the palace courtyard in a while, both their swords drawn as the prince stepped forward with the first move. The metallic ringing of sword on sword rang through the courtyard, the blows consistently repeating as the prince parried his knight’s attack. 

“You’ve gotten better, my prince.” Marin commented with a slight smile, blocking another of Damian’s attacks. 

A smirk slipped onto the prince’s features. “Of course.” 

»»——⍟——««

Months flew by uneventfully, Marin moving seamlessly into the prince’s life, getting used to the daily schedule of the emerald-eyed teen. Marin would be up at 5am, training alone in the empty courtyard until 6, when a shower and a quick pop-in to the kitchen would be needed. At 6.30, the knight would accompany Damian to breakfast and the rest of the day would be spent in the study or in the courtyard. 

Of course, Marin’s appointment as the prince’s personal guard brought a lot of attention in the form of jealousy and hate in the knight’s direction- But most of the time, these glares were simply dismissed by Marin. The other knights started trying to find any sort of dirt on the personal guard, knowing there was no way they could outmatch Marin in skill. 

And fortunately for the other knights, (And unfortunately for Marin), the blue-haired knight had a giant secret. 

The blue-haired knight shrieked in terror as the other silver-clad men dragged her into the middle of the king’s court, wrapped in only a white towel, all of her secrets laid out after they ambushed her in her morning bath. 

“Sir!” One of the knights said with a scoff. “We have an imposter among us.” 

It was clear now, without the wall of her silver armour to hide in, that Marin was actually a Marinette. Her long, dark blue hair covered her bare shoulders like a curtain of ivy, her bluebell eyes sharp in fright of the king’s reaction. 

“Prince Damian’s personal guard...” The knight continued, eyeing her hatefully and with a glint of victory. “Is a woman.” 

Before anyone could express their surprise at this discovery, the doors of the hall slammed open, as loud as a thunder clap across the kingdom’s skies. The furious prince stood in the middle of the doorway, marching to the centre of the court with narrowed eyebrows and a displeased frown. 

“What is this?” He demanded, eyes flitting over to the nearly-naked woman sitting in the centre of the hall.

“Damian,” King Bruce begin slowly. “It seems that your personal guard is... A lady.” 

‘Infuriated’ didn’t even begin to describe the prince’s expression. “And?” He snapped, turning to point his glare at the knights that surrounded the blue-haired knight. “She’s more than competent at her job. More competent than you lot, actually.” 

“My prince, with all due respect, don’t you think it’s inappropriate to have a lady as a knight?” One of the silver-clad men spoke up with a raised eyebrow, his fellow knights murmuring their agreements. 

The prince sucked in a deep breath before sharpening his ice-cold glare. “I am to be the future king of this country.” Hissed the emerald-eyed prince. “And if the knight, whether a she or a he, is capable of holding he or her ground in a duel against me, which, may I remind, you lot weren’t, then I would be nothing less than honoured to have her fight by my side.” 

Silence rang deafening volumes in the courtyard as men registered the fact that Prince Damian- The ice prince himself- Just admitted to be honoured to fight in someone’s else company- Never mind the fact that the someone happened to be a woman. 

“Father.” Damian said in an icy tone, shedding off his cloak to wrap around Marin- No, Marinette’s shoulders. “These knights clearly have no concept on respect and privacy. They dragged out a woman in nothing but her towel into the centre of a hall. Father, surely you don’t believe that these people here deserve to be knights?” 

The king hummed thoughtfully. “You do have a point. I don’t suppose they do.” 

“Your majesty-” 

“Alfred, have these men be removed from the palace premises and be stripped of their knight titles, please.” 

“Father, if I could make one more request?” 

“Speak.” 

Damian stood up, a cold fire burning in his eyes that would later lead him to be a fair and just ruler. “I would like to allow capable women to join knight ranks officially.” 

The court was so silent that you could hear the pen scratching of Mr. Pennyworth, who was busy making arrangements and smiling proudly at the emerald-eyed prince’s request. 

“That is an interesting request, Damian.” The king smiled thoughtfully. “Have your proposal on this new law finished and on my desk by tomorrow afternoon.” 

The prince nodded his head, gripping his personal guard’s shoulders as he helped her stand. “Thank you, father.” He said, emerald-green eyes glinting at the now former-knights as he guided Marinette out of the hall, the doors slamming close as if nothing had just happened. 

»»——⍟——««

 “Did you know this whole time?” Marinette asked quietly, now decked out more comfortably in her knight gear. The prince and his personal guard were seated on the stone steps of the courtyard, the sun beating down into the ceiling-less area. 

“... Ever since you beat me. Yes.” Came the prince’s answer as he watched the blue-haired woman wipe his sword clean. “You were too small-built to be a man. Your shoulders aren’t wide enough.” 

“I see.” 

Silence resumed as the blue-haired knight fidgeted awkwardly on the step, her hands moving quickly to make the metal shine under the glow of the sun. 

“You don’t have to always wear your armour around me.” Damian mused quietly, leaning against one of the pillars comfortably. “You can just wear a shirt. It would be easier for you to move around. And since everyone knows anyway,” He shrugged. “No point in you trying to cover up with your armour anymore.” 

Marinette blushed at the prince pointing her out blatantly. “I... Yes, my prince.” 

“Go change. I want to duel for a bit before I have to draft up my proposal.” He said lazily, flicking his hands at her. “I’ll practice on my own first. Hurry up.” 

He watched her retreating back, the clanks of her armour gradually getting softer as she returned to her room, which was only a corridor away from his. His mind flickered back to the day he first met her- Damian thought he’d never lose to a man in swordplay. 

And he was right. 

He lost to a woman. 

A woman by the name of Marinette Cheng. 

»»——⍟——««

taglist. @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @starmist19 @myazael @stainedglassm @user00000003 @toughluna @nickristus-dreamer @missmadwoman

send in an ask to be added to Cady’s Daminette December taglist! 

»»——⍟——««

also I feel so sorry for everyone waiting for me to update never knowing which dates I’ll write for lol 

Oh oh and I'm pretty proud of this because I didn't use she/her at all before Marin's gender reveal :)

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 17- The Patrol Redux

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning: Very slight spoilers for the provisional licensing exam in the anime and spoiler for the manga

Masterlist

Hawks was well accustomed to the jovial persona he was expected to put on in front of pretty much everyone outside of the commission. After all, it was one he’d cultivated almost his whole life. Of course he had days throughout the years where it felt all too exhausting to play the joker, but hero work was exhausting. That was the nature of the business. But since he’d watch your heart shatter in real time, since he’d heard you crying on the other side of a bathroom door all while you texted him about his betrayal, the persona hadn’t just been exhausting but absolutely suffocating. Yet he couldn’t turn it off. It was almost more natural to be Hawks than it was to be Keigo now. Even when Mirko had pointed out how rough he looked, his instinct had been to sit up straighter and perk up his wings as if that would hide the bags under his eyes. Hawks never dropped the persona. But as he sat on the roof of a building by where he intended to meet Chargebolt he realized he would probably have to.

Mirko had given him a plan. A really good one at that. If it worked he’d have to thank her later. But there was no way it would if he wasn’t genuine and that meant meeting Denki Kaminari as Keigo Takami. If the conversation stayed between Chargebolt and Hawks he was screwed. Knowing it was necessary and actually doing it, however, were two different beasts entirely. He would have to ignore every instinct he had honed over the more than decade he’d been a ward of the HPSC.

It had taken all of Denki’s strength to leave the apartment. You had looked so sad bundled up in his comforter staring blankly at your laptop screen as you went back and forth between attempting to work from the safety of his home and Netflix. Eventually though he had managed to pull himself away from his heartbroken friend, no matter how much it pained him, to go join the very person who had shattered you so thoroughly. He had wanted to cancel his patrols with Hawks but after the gossip blog had tweeted out about a potential feud his agency had demanded he keep it in order to avoid a pr nightmare. Who knew being a hero came with so much politics.

He expected Hawks to swoop down from above once he arrived at their designated meeting spot. He did not expect Hawks to look as bad as he did. “You look like shit,” Denki says by way of greeting. Hawks let’s out a humorless chuckle, “you’re the second person to tell me that today. Let’s go.” Everything about the experience is odd. As the two begin to walk Denki notices the bags under his eyes, the heavy set to his shoulders. For the first time ever Hawks truly looks like a man who carries the weight of Japan on his shoulders. “I know I have no right to ask this but how is she doing?” Hawks asks. Denki wants to snap back something snarky but something tells him not to. “Not good,” he says instead, shoving his hands into the pockets of his costume. Hawks thinks for a long moment, debating whether to ask the next question that comes to mind. In the end he decides he’s got nothing left to lose. “What happened at the provisional licensing exam?” “Dude.” “Not investigating. I swear.”

It’s weird to see Hawks so serious. Even when Denki had been injured during their first patrol Hawks hadn’t stopped bantering even once. It’s what had made Denki want to continue patrolling with him in the first place. At the time he thought they were similar. Class clowns who knew how to pull it together when the going got tough. But now all traces of that joviality seemed gone, except for the few moments the two of them would pass by a civilian, then he’d watch it slide back on like a second skin. “I’ll tell you on one condition. You explain the whole funny guy act thing you’ve got going on right now. It’s creeping me out a little seeing you switch back and forth dude,” Denki says.

Hawks stops dead in his tracks. His jaw clenches because it’s fair, trading one personal fact for another, but it goes against everything the HPSC has taught him. On the other hand, if he refuses, Denki will assume he’s just investigating again and then his chances of winning you back would really be gone. Denki looks confused as Hawks agonizes. He didn’t think it was that deep a question. Expected something along the lines of why All Might used to smile as he saved people. “It was the commission’s idea. I was a quiet kid and quiet doesn’t play well for a top hero,” Hawks finally admits before resuming walking. Denki has to speed up a little to keep pace. It’s an odd answer but he recognizes it must’ve been a difficult one to give. And, well, a deal is a deal.

“Like I said, (y/n) only took the exam because I pressured her into it,” Denki starts. He expected Hawks to perk up at learning new information about you but the man only nods in acknowledgment that he’s listening. “I thought if she got her license it’d convince her to try to be a pro hero again and then she could switch over to the hero course and join my class. She absolutely crushed the first part of the exam too. Yknow we had to tag targets on each other with these balls they gave us. It felt like a game so it was fun for her because she just smoked people out of the water. You should’ve seen Bakugo’s face when he realized she passed before he did! But uh, not the point.... The, uh, the point is uhm second round didn’t go so hot. We were helping some of the fake civilians when Gang Orca broke into the arena to play a villain attacking during a rescue and it, uh, it hit a little too close to home. Reminded her too much of how her mom died. She ended up having a panic attack. That’s why she failed and that’s why she didn’t bother going to any of the supplemental classes afterwards.”

The weight on Hawks’ shoulders seems to grow. “God I really am the worst aren’t I?” he chuckles. “Yea you kinda are,” Denki agrees, “but you’re kinda making it hard for me to hate you. Looking all torn up over this like that. It’s depressing seeing the number two hero like this yknow.” “Hence the persona,” Hawks shrugs. It’s quiet today, although they both expected as much. At least it gave them the space to talk. “Why’d you do it Hawks?” Denki finally asks. “Because she was too good to be true.” “Funny. She said the same thing about you that day.” “I’m many things but I don’t know if good is one of them anymore.” “Because of what happened with (y/n)?” “No. Not just that.” “I think this is the most honest I’ve ever seen you.” “This is the most honest I’ve ever been.” “How’s it feel?” “Terrifying. Mirko says I have trust issues.” “Yea that lines up.” “I need to talk to (y/n).”

Denki is the one to stop in his tracks this time. “I swear to god Hawks if you’re just trying to jerk her around I-“ “No! No it’s not that. I-,” Hawks sighs, “I just want a chance to explain why I am the way I am. Why I was so suspicious in the first place. If she wants nothing to do with me after that then that will be the end of it. I’ll write her a glowing recommendation letter for whatever hero agency she’d rather work at instead and she’ll never hear from me again. I swear.” Denki gives Hawks a considering look. Part of him wants to deny Hawks. That’s what Bakugo would do. Tell him to fuck off and keep his stupid explanations to himself. But he thought about you, curled up in his comforter, and decided it really shouldn’t be his decision whether Hawks stayed in your life or not. And if you were going to decide, you deserved to do so knowing all the facts. “Fine. After we finish patrol you can come with me to my place and talk to her but I swear to god if you make her cry again or I detect any bullshit, I’ll fry you Hawks. Number two hero or not I’ll send a million volts straight through your face with my fist.” “Thank you.” It was sighed out like a prayer. For the first time since you’d seen his texts, Hawks felt hopeful.

Author’s Note: Denki and Mirko are good friends to (y/n) and Hawks :’) In my mind there’s no way the HPSC didn’t know about Touya so I assume they helped Endeavor cover it up and would do their absolute best to make sure word didn’t get out about him being a literal child abuser

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut

[obeymeluv]

Signs they Love You (Pt. 2)

This semester is almost over and while the teacher is a bit disorganized, I have a semblance of breathing room. I thought I’d pop this out real quick and maybe something smaller. Baby-related thing still pending. I want to do it, just not quite enough time yet.

Part 2 has Asmo, Beel, and Belphie.

Belphie’s is not long AT ALL because...well, it’s Belphie. And it’s me. I’m so-so with Belphie.

Asmodeus

For once, his charm and sin is a double-edged sword

Yes, he’s very experienced and has had many lovers--many splendid little things over hundreds of years--but how to make it unique? How to tell you?

Asmo is very calculated in how he flirts, from what he wears and what he plans to say. He personally believes every relationship should be special. No repeated dates unless both people have a preference for it

So when he decides he likes you, the first thing he does is pull out this BIG ASS BOOK he’s kept for centuries and leafs through it to see what he’s done before

 No, it doesn’t matter that 99% of these dates were AGES before you were born. He’s checking the list because YOU DESERVE A SPECIAL DATE!

He’s secretly hoping you’ll get some of the many hints he’ll be dropping, but consulting the book is also a good idea for an official first date

After two weeks of shopping with you, taking spa days, trying to weasel his way into more cuddles, Asmo decides it’s time to pull out The Book idea because you’re not getting it

You’re just distracted by his beauty to see the fact that he’s trying to flirt. It’s fine.

This date idea requires the big guns (really only Diavolo, but he needs Lucifer to get to Diavolo). He’s setting his plan into motion, trying to sweet-talk Lucifer into taking him by Diavolo’s castle but Mammon overhears

The second-eldest is very unimpressed, DARES to mock him while sipping noisily on a soda, and just asks him why he doesn’t tell you straight up.

“Because it’s a stupid, tasteless idea.” Asmodeus scoffs and shoos him away like an annoying little thing as he amps up the charm and resumes his conversation with Lucifer.

“Bet it’ll work.” is all he hears Mammon murmur.

“Look,” Mammon shrugs. flicks his eyes to Asmo and then just nods his head towards you as you come around the corner into the dining room. “You just man up and say, ‘Do you--SMFF!”)

Asmo has never strangled anyone to death but today it might happen

Or he’s going to break this new six inch heel off in Mammon’s mouth (or his ass)

With Mammon sufficiently strangled (or choking on his soda, he’s not sure which) Asmo, plays it cool (barely) as you pass through to do something else (thank god!)

Highly amused, Lucifer agrees to help him

By the end of the week Asmodeus has a cute greenhouse picnic planned. Only Satan and Lucifer know

He’s pretty scarce around the House of Lamentation, even turning Solomon down once or twice, but it’s all worth it for the set up. He even bought special flowers

Barbatos escorts you through the winding greenhouse that almost seems lush and trim enough to be part of the Royal Gardens. He stops just before a manicured arch of flowers, the walkway studded with garden lights, stepping stones, and beautiful roses

He goads you forward, sending you on your way. The little roses perk up and explode into gorgeous blooms

And they’re talking?! One of the notecards say they’re a Devildom brand of rose--a mimicrose. The flower acts like a recorded, hiding a secret message, and blooms when it’s delivered to the right person

Your face lights up a gorgeous flattered color as you make your way down the trail compliments popping up every step

Asmo’s waiting at the end of the arches, looking like the cat that ate the canary with his catered spread. Sitting pretty on the classic checkered blanket.  

You only kind of hear the last rose confess--Asmo’s voice going quiet and shy as he swears he really, really loves you

The demon in front of you seems very far from that shy voice but you catch the tinge of pink on his cheeks. He saunters up to you and says something witty about how only he could be perfect for you, and that only perfect him could set all this up!

You two have a cute, quiet date with little cakes and finger foods

Diavolo sends Lucifer a text with a blurry photo saying he ‘photobombed’ you two, but doesn’t realize he has to be in the photo for it to count. Lucifer still thinks it’s a cute picture

Beelzebub:

It takes Beel a while to come around to the fact that he might like you

Not because he doesn’t like you, but because he’s equally comfy being friends. Friends are fine, too.

Even as a friend he still gets that giddy rush when he holds you, that flood of warmth when he impresses you, so for a while he thinks he has the best of both worlds

When that balance starts to feel threatened, the realization creeps in

Then he realizes there’s no going back and if he doesn’t say anything, you get caught up with other people and he’ll miss you. You just won’t be around as much anymore!

 When someone on the Fangol team starts getting a little too curious and close, the red flags go flying in Beel’s mind. He needs to tell you and tell you now!

Probably doesn’t have an extensive dating history and is, in general, the best sweet boi, so he’ll ask around for ideas. The second someone suggests a cupcake message or cake message, he’s done. No more ideas! That’s the best one!

To put his feelings in it, Beel decides to make the cupcakes himself. He buys enough to make 3 or 4 dozen cupcakes because he anticipates stress eating at least two batches

And the ugly ones. Can’t give you ugly ones!

He takes full advantage of Asmo or whoever getting you out of the house, throwing on a little apron and getting to work. Belphie supervises, occasionally scolding him

Beel eats a few cupcakes more than he’s supposed to and decides to draw frosting people so the space doesn’t feel empty

His frosting spelling isn’t that great. One of the words look weird. More than one, actually

Trying to write over it just makes extra frosting, unreadable globs

Beel eats that one, then realizes he messed up some of the topping, so he smooths it out and tries again

Belphie plays wingman, fully aware of his brother panicking over presentation and trying to spell (and not squeeze the life out of the frosting bag), and writes little love messages on the wrappers

It’s stuff he’s heard Beel say in his sleep for at least a week.

Beel resigns himself to a mash of cupcakes that are kind of readable and way less than what he planned to have. He doesn’t know Belphie’s done a gradual bait and switch of the cupcake liners since he’s eaten just as many as he’s made

You see a smiley face and the frosting people and it’s enough to melt your heart

Beel is speckled in flour and frosting (he’s got crumbs on the corner of his mouth), and he looks adorably awkward in the apron. He’s so nervous he’s in his demon form, wings buzzing frantically behind him.

It’s like he wants to take off and make nervous circles around you.

He stutters out an awkward ‘I like you’ and mumbles other things. Belphie, who’s curled up under the prep table, grumbles out ‘READ THE LINERS!’ before snuggling down again

You and Beel go on a cute little hunt to pick and read the wrappers, splitting cupcakes with each other.

At the end of it you’re very full and very happy. And Beel’s extra delighted because you smell (and taste) like cupcakes.

Belphegor

Does he like you like you, or just like the fact that you don’t bother him?

In his book, you’re not terrible. Not annoying. You don’t wake him up on purpose, and you seem to get along with Beel.

Not bad, right?

Maybe this means he just doesn’t have high standards?

He knows he wouldn’t mind napping with you. Maybe that means he likes you?

One night, when he’s hit that ‘slept all day’ high and he’s awake and thinking it over. He asks Beel about it because who else would know him better than his twin?

Then he learns. OH BOY DOES HE LEARN!

Apparently he talks about you in his sleep? And he blushes? CUDDLES THE PILLOW?

Beel is hardly worried about the threats, the finger pointing in his face, and the way he’s bobbing his head like a bull about to charge. It’s just standard little brother things! Very cute!

Belphegor feels bad and a little unworthy to date you. His sin is very taxing and he spends a lot of the time napping. Is it really a good idea?

It’s a heavy issue to think about, and he dreams.

Belphegor has always believed that dreams are a way for you to work out the issues you have when you’re awake, so he’s not surprised to dream about you

The dreams are so vivid, so heart-warming, and he’s so happy. It’s all about you and him--snippets of dates that he can’t completely see. He’s not sure where you’re at or what led up to the moments, but they’re all a happy, quiet cuddle that gives him more energy than he’s felt in a while

He knows, then, that he should at least ask you. When he gets his next burst of rested energy, he’s going to confess

Belphegor’s nearly scared straight out of bed when he sees you tentatively approaching it. He musters up enough concentration to hold a conversation and is VERY embarrassed to find he basically called you here

Almost like a subliminal message, or sharing a dream, you just simply had to come and tell him about the adorably awkward dream. It was very cuddly and kind of put you in a cuddling mood

Belphegor’s got a major case of sleep brain but it sounds like YOU actually just confessed

Plays the big card--go big or go home!--”If you like me, get in the bed.”

Realizes about 3 seconds later how that sounds. Is very embarrassed and wants to hide under his blankets and die. 

He’s already wormed under them and is firmly cocooned (so he doesn’t have to look you in the face or see if you stay) “You know...if you like me. Want to cuddle and stuff...like a couple...”

He feels your weight spread out along his bed and scoops you up like a blanket monster. It’s like being swallowed by a fitted sheet, blanket coming at you from all sides, and you both laugh about it.

Belphegor is a big fan of the private cuddle pile

[neonponders]

I started writing this very niche au ages ago that @booksfoxesandcoffee and @demogirlfriend tinkered with lol​ it’s not quite what I wanted, but at least it’s done ~

Based on my post for This Steve with This Billy:

vampire/musician!Steve and mobster!Billy.

TW for briefly mentioned drugs and all manner of vampire things.

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

If Billy were being honest with himself, it wasn’t the man’s looks that hooked him. The way a superior dancer stands out in the ensemble, it was the musician’s energy that made Billy’s eyes keep finding him.

Every business that opened his his territory went through Billy’s strict legislature. And the whole city was his to play king.

He didn’t consider himself a strict businessman, but he did attend the new club with regularity to make sure they had what they needed to succeed. If they couldn’t succeed, then they’d have to rebuild elsewhere.

They did succeed. Because they had Steve Harrington.

On paper, he was lead guitarist. An instrumentalist. Vocalist if necessary. Billy Hargrove knew he shined in neon stage lighting and his special trick was swinging the instrument around his body so the guitar switched sides halfway through a song or riff, proving ambidextrous dexterity.

Billy knew Harrington was hard to get ahold of. So far, he’d hosted every member of the band and every guest musician at his VIP table. Harrington always had reasons for leaving directly after a show, which surprised Billy. The man’s band mates clearly revolved around him, looked to him for timing cues, and Billy even had the unique experience of seeing the man smack a drink out of the bassist’s hand because the guy could barely stand.

There was a personality there, and Billy wanted to see it up close. Taste it.

Somehow, Harrington had even avoided being invited to Billy’s table during the mid-show break. Always conveniently disappearing until the second he needed to be on stage.

Until now.

Billy’s guards stood up when Harrington approached with someone held firmly by the scruff of his shirt and jacket. Billy waved them aside, and the musician dumped the guy into Billy’s booth. Some heads turned in their direction, curious for drama but not for long. Anyone who hung around Billy, hungering for his attention, knew to be careful about annoying him.

“Is this one of yours?” Harrington prompted.

“Why would he be?” Billy inquired with a lethargic blink.

“I thought your sort had more class than distributing roofies.”

Billy’s pleased, large feline demeanor sloughed off as he turned his head to the man in his booth. Billy didn’t bother negating Harrington’s accusations. Anybody with sense knew who he was. The only thing that bothered Billy at the moment was the use of some nobody to get the musician’s attention.

“You’re right. He isn’t.”

Just like that, the guards lifted the sorry soul out of his booth and began ushering him out of the club. He made a weak attempt at promising an ability to make Billy money, but the latter wasn’t interested in a business centered around dangerous sex. Billy considered himself a purveyor of the opposite; of passion, and real passion only came when all parties were conscious for it.

“Steve.”

The musician paused to look back at him, already on his way back to the greenroom or wherever he hid in between performances.

“Sit with me.”

Steve’s gaze flicked down to the now available seat next to Billy. “No, thanks.”

As if he could - 

He did.

Steve walked away from the table. Billy saw the more discretely dressed guards loitering in the crowd turn and begin to approach Harrington...before distinctly letting him pass.

It was not a regular day that Billy Hargrove’s employees feared someone else more than him.

He pressed his back into the booth, and one of the women sitting along the back of the booth leaned down to hear him. “I want his file.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred. It took no time at all for her to return to his table with Harrington’s business papers. Typical tax form, resume, no cover letter but instead a CD with his music samples.

“What about his background?”

Her nails raked through her long, black hair. She played the part of groupie very well. “We don’t have anything yet.”

Billy found that hard to believe. “He’s worked here for weeks.”

She shrugged a bare, shimmering shoulder. “He hides very well. We’ll have something soon.”

Not soon enough.

Billy took to wandering his club instead of sitting. Why they didn’t just haul the musician into Billy’s office for questioning…no sensible person detonates a bomb without knowing the area is clear. They didn’t know enough about Steve. Whether he belonged to a family scouting the borough before encroaching on Billy’s property.

Would it be their fault for sending in a mole without honoring the proper channels? Yes.

Would it be Billy’s fault for starting an underground war for harming Steve first? Also yes.

So he watched. So he waited. And he began to enjoy this game he and Steve had developed. Because Steve wasn’t as oblivious. He looked pretty—the kind of pretty that some mistake as dumb—but Steve had proven in many, subtle ways just how observant he could be.

The way he managed his band members’ alcohol or obvious drug addictions.

The second time he hauled some petty dealer over to Billy’s booth.

When he flipped Billy off as he walked away after Billy tested, “I noticed you like brunettes.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Steve watched Billy. And Billy watched Steve. At least, Billy suspected. Billy hoped.

The confirmation arrived in the humid alleyway behind his club. He was already itching for a fight. For the last two weeks, a new asshole had been loitering around and inside his business. No one had yet been able to catch him doing anything—until Billy followed him out of the wrong exit. Nobody could use service doors at the back of the building; it was both a safety hazard for civilians to be in the way of delivery trucks, and any squeals about people coming and going from there would have the police riding Billy’s tail.

Then the bastard had the audacity to take two girls who were definitely sporting fake id’s outside.

He slammed the service door against the brick exterior to get their attention. All three of them were huddled and necking between two garbage bins. A real class act.

“Jail bait bimbos, get inside. This asshole can lock himself in a concrete box without your…help.”

The distinct memory of Steve delivering roofy dealers to him flashed in his brain at the sight of the blissed out girls using the alley walls to stay upright. The memory flew out into the main street at the glistening darkness on both of their necks, dripping into their low cut shirts.

In the window of Billy’s surprise, the guy attacked. Slammed Billy right against the other side of the alley, knocking the air out of him—

Billy’s brain couldn’t keep up. But his eyes could.

A large hand gripped the gelled hair and wrenched the guy’s head so far back that Billy heard a threatening pop.

Billy had never stood next to Steve before. He stood just a little taller than Billy—both smaller than the impressive figure he’d watched so many times on stage, but also bigger because he’d never been this close…

Billy was officially having trouble breathing as he watched the man’s wide eyes darting around his sockets despite his broken neck and the disgusting angle of his windpipe.

“This spot’s taken. Tell your hovel to skip town. You won’t get a fourth chance.”

Fourth?

Billy’s eyes stuck on the bloody, long teeth in the man’s gullet before Steve shoved him down the alley. The man landed several yards away—no ordinary shove—but he hauled ass to his feet, head lolling on his shoulders with more sickening crackles.

Billy remained stationary as Steve fixed the shirts and jackets falling on the girls’ shoulders went to hail a cab. One of them recovered faster than the other, and hauled her friend into the vehicle. By this time, Billy managed to say, “What will they do with those stained shirts?”

Steve looked at him, suddenly looking remarkably…normal. Even startled, like he’d forgotten Billy was there. He didn’t hold Billy’s gaze, instead looking a bit downward—

“What will you do about yours?”

Billy frowned, blinking twice before he looked down at himself. It took him a moment to see the difference in his dark blue button-up. But he glistened like the girls did. Slowly, his mind caught up and realized how warm the side of his neck felt, and how gross. Wet. Dry. Sticky. Crusting.

“How did I not even notice?”

Like a dream clinging onto his waking consciousness, the blurry numbness subsided, and Billy realized his throat really fucking hurt.

Steve’s gaze dropped even further, tilting away from Billy as he pointed at the doors. “Go and clean yourself up. Go home.”

Leave it to Billy Hargrove’s pride to stack his spine back together. He stepped off the alley wall and into Steve’s space.

“Don’t—” he turned his face further to the side.

“Explain,” Billy ordered, even as Steve’s hand lifted to cover his mouth.

Steve shook his head a little. “I don’t have to,” he muffled and lifted weary eyes. “Clean yourself up.”

The answers were right there. Yet it seemed…stupid to say any of it out loud. How many movies? Book? Shows?

Instead he said, “Show me.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “You don’t play with bears like this.”

Billy laughed. He laughed Steve all the way out of the alleyway. Billy only regretted this when the next evening, the secretaries of the business ran through the week’s itinerary. Steve wasn’t scheduled.

A long week progressed of Billy thinking over that night. How the hell a guardian angel with teeth and no wings lived his nights in Billy’s cage and Billy had just…taunted him into slipping right out of the bars.

When another week presented itself with still no sight of his musician, Billy knew he would have more than one inconvenience on his plate. His customers liked Steve. Statistically, the club was fit to bursting since a third more clientele showed up for the band’s gigs. Steve made the barkeeps laugh in between numbers. Billy had always thought he used the alcohol in the greenroom instead of taking up the bars’ time.

Instead he dropped rats right into the king’s lap. Creatures Billy never would have seen unless Steve made them visible.

“Schedule Steve’s group on Sunday.”

His secretary frowned at him. “Am I missing something? We’re off on Sundays.”

“He knows that. Just use whatever number he gave you.”

Billy waited behind the club. Perhaps he should have arranged a specific meeting time instead of just the vague Sunday, but…Steve was punctual to his usual call time. Billy heard his footsteps the same moment the lighter in his hands crackled softly under his cigarette.

Steve approached with his hands in his jean pockets. Then he entered the harsh lighting of the motion-detected beams above the doors. “You don’t look good.”

Because he didn’t. Steve made tired look good but he had met the line between tired and haggard. His lips were chapped and the lights above him put his eye sockets into harsh contrast. Billy missed the lush face he watched bathed in neon stage lights.

Steve only met Billy’s gaze briefly before looking back down the alley. “Haven’t been to the grocery store lately.”

“By ‘groceries,’ do you mean my place?”

“And if I do, then what?”

Billy smirked as easily as blinking. “I don’t recall firing you. You didn’t have to run—”

“Yes, I did. Dipshit.”

Billy moved his tongue over his teeth while he grinned. “Why didn’t you finish what he started? Three easy meals right there.”

“And swell up like a mosquito? Gross.”

Smoke sputtered out of his mouth. “You’re not what I expected. In any regard. It’s a wonder my employees haven’t been inspired by your recklessness. Or my letting you get away with it.”

“There’s no letting anything happen. We’re not all teeth. There’s nothing you could do if we don’t want it to happen. It’s the same on your side for humans.”

Billy’s next exhalation seeped out of his mouth. Slow. “Are you taking your time? Circling a stronger prey?” He tapped the ash off his cigarette, and watched Steve’s irises flick to the movement. “Most people come to me for my looks, money, or power. Is it the same for you?”

“No.”

That might’ve caught Billy off guard, if he didn’t feel gently nailed in place by Steve’s eyes lifting to his own. It was Billy’s turn to look down—down at the fingers grazing Billy’s hand as Steve reached for the cigarette. Took it.

“You’re easy prey because you’re already dying. You smoke a pack of these a day. The rest of the criminal cityscape would celebrate your funeral. A wolf’s goal is to eat. Not bragging rights—well. For the smart ones. We go for what’s easy.”

Glass-blue eyes wandered Steve’s face as he took a long inhalation. “I’ve never been called ‘easy’ in my entire life.”

Steve shrugged and—politely—aimed his lips to the side. Billy wondered how much he’d mind if Steve’s smoke graced his skin. “What can I say? We hunt the same way lions, tigers, and bears to. We go for what’s attainable with minimum effort.”

“You’re lazy.”

That overarching fringe bobbed over his head. Of course Steve had taken the time to style his hair. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Billy took his cigarette back with a huff. “I’ll decide later how insulted I should be. Until then, you’re the one looking like easy pickings.”

“You haven’t thrown anyone out of your place lately.”

That took an extra minute for Billy to process. “You…huh.”

Steve’s head moved with his eyes rolling onto him. “You don’t really think people in this city leave any bar without a fight, do you? I’ve had plenty of dinners on your tab.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Steve’s mouth lifted slightly in a skeptical grimace. “What’s the catch?”

Billy took his time with the last drag and stepped on the filter on his way to minimize the distance between them. “Explain to me why some pervert bites me and I’m fighting a hard on for two weeks?”

A rigid second passed, and then Steve crumbled into laughter. He laughed like a kid. A really cute little shit.

As Steve recovered, he heaved, “I’ve never heard anyone complain about the bite boners.”

Billy followed him as he reclined against the alley wall. “How about, instead of avoiding what’s really at play here, you admit to wanting to bite me. You’re usually on top of the rats that enter my business. But not that night.”

Steve stood on his own feet, making Billy feel the one inch he had on him. “And what if I did? What if it wasn’t your smell that made me crave, but jealousy?”

His musician’s bravado flickered when Billy’s tongue traced the edge of his bottom lip. “How do I smell?”

“Like smoked peaches.”

Steve was proving an annoying skill at making Billy dumbfounded. “What?”

He giggled anew. “Are you the type to fuck without kissing?”

Billy absorbed that and returned, “You like to kiss after blowjobs, don’t you?”

Steve wagged his head, so his words drifted back and forth over Billy’s mouth. “Yeah? So what?”

Billy inhaled deeply to make a show of sighing like humoring Steve’s romantic ethics was tiring him out—

Steve’s hands cradled his head with care, the soft sound of Billy’s hair scrunching underneath his fingers filling his ears as Steve licked inside Billy’s mouth. The latter’s jaw went slack, letting Steve in and meeting his tongue to taste him right back. Apart from the smoke, Steve tasted mutely sweet. The way a clean mouth does; the way a man should taste. Billy had always thought the way a person tasted was a uniquely intimate thing. Like a special piece of DNA could only be read with the tongue.

Steve’s tongue retreated so he could fully kiss Billy’s lips. When the lazy, soft pecks seemed to be Steve’s only intent, Billy gripped his shirtfront, the only warning he got before Billy licked the seam of his lips, wanting more. Wanting what they started.

“Mhm…is everything…a power trip with you?” Steve mumbled, but his breath shuddered when Billy pressed his hard groin against Steve’s pelvis.

“Bite me and fuck me—”

The lights went out, because they were tucked far enough behind a garbage bin for the motion detectors to not see them. Steve’s attention moved between these details and he uttered, “Next to the trash?”

Billy growled, “Ughh,” and hauled Steve off the brick and into his off-day business. “I should’ve guessed you were high maintenance.”

But right inside the doors, Billy tapped in the access code to a private elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Top floor penthouse.”

Steve snorted. “You’re like my cockatoo bragging about the highest swing.”

“You have a bird?”

“Yes, I have a bird! A little asshole named, Orchid. He whistles to all of my songs.”

“You’re the strangest excuse for a vampire I’ve ever seen.”

“And you are easy. Thanks for showing me the key to your house.”

Billy looked at him and met a toothy smirk. “Pisces, huh?”

The elevator dinged and Billy was too deep to back out now. He couldn’t tell which of them was the hunter, but he was ready to share a hell of a meal.

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter three

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rated: E for drug use and sex scenes

AO3 LINK

*

“Bec?” 

Beca hummed absentmindedly, blinking out of her daze and twisting her head in the direction of the voice. 

Sarah smiled gently as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. She cocked an eyebrow, giving a pointed look towards the sink. “I think the pan is clean.” 

Beca glanced down, stilling her movements. She had been scrubbing that pan for probably ten minutes now, her thoughts completely consumed by Chloe and what she was supposed to do next. 

Chloe clearly didn’t want to see her, and Beca wasn’t going to wait by the phone when it was clear that Chloe was far from okay. She was thinner than Beca remembered, and the look in her eye, the lack of light in those once bright blues, chilled Beca to the bone. 

She looked… broken. As though her spirit had repeatedly been battered until all that was left were mere pieces of her old self. 

If there were any left at all.

Beca couldn’t stand the thought of not doing anything, and she needed to come up with a plan to help Chloe without driving her into a corner and risk losing her forever. 

“What’s going on?” Sarah questioned, pushing off the doorframe and padding over. She rested her hand between Beca’s shoulder blades, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You’ve seemed off today.” 

Beca released a sigh, setting the pan down into the sink and reaching for the dishtowel laying next to her on the counter to dry her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m just… worried about a friend.” 

Sarah nodded slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Sarah was unexpected, to say the least. Beca was a workaholic, and her career was too time-consuming for her to get into the whole dating thing. But Sarah, who happened to work as a barista in Beca’s favorite independent coffee shop, had somehow managed to convince Beca to go out with her. One dinner surprisingly turned into a second date, then a third, and it just like that, it had been almost a year since they officially got together. 

Sarah was gentle, patient, understanding, overflowing with positivity, but most of all, incredibly kind. She reminded Beca of Chloe, sometimes. And maybe it was those similar personality traits that drew Beca to her in the first place. 

They didn’t live together. Beca could feel that it was the next expected step on her girlfriend’s end, but she didn’t feel ready to commit, yet. She liked her own space, her solitude. So Sarah spent a few nights a week at Beca’s place, like tonight, and Beca was fine with that. 

“Not really,” she replied, casting Sarah an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just-- complicated right now.” 

“You need to stop apologizing,” Sarah murmured, her expression soft and loving. Beca let her shoulders sag, ready to apologize again. “I understand. But if you do change your mind and need to let something off your chest, I’m here.” 

Beca nodded. “Thanks.” 

“Are you coming to bed?” 

“Not yet, I wanna get some work done, first.” She leaned in to peck Sarah’s lips. “You go ahead, I’ll join you soon.” 

Walking across the living room and past the huge floor to ceiling windows looking over Central Park, Beca made her way to her home office, her happy place. She had bought the Manhattan condo two years ago, making it a requirement during her house-hunt to have a large room with plenty of light and enough space to store all her records and her music equipment. It was also where she kept her Grammys and other prizes, away from the attention as nobody really stepped into her office.

She usually popped a blues album on the record player, enjoying the soothing instrumentals while she replied to various emails, but not tonight. Tonight, she grabbed a yellow legal notepad and her headphones from her desk and curled up on the leather couch tucked in the far corner, then scrolled to her Spotify playlists until she found the one she was looking for. 

she is magic

Beca couldn’t remember the last time she had listened to her Chloe playlist, one she had made back in Barden when she was hopelessly in love with her best friend. They were songs that reminded her of Chloe, or songs that Chloe liked. Or used to like, at least. 

As lyrics she knew so well poured into her headphones, blocking out the rest of the world, different ones flowed out of Beca’s heart, materializing on the paper in front of her in black ink as she scribbled across the page. Lyrics about friendship, unrequited love, and regrets for listening to her brain and not her heart all these years ago. 

It was pushing on two am by the time Beca called it a night. Her eyes burned, her mind felt mushy, but her soul felt a tiny bit lighter. Music had always been her therapy, and writing songs had always proved more efficient than paying a licensed professional, even though it had been years since Beca had last finished one, for lack of inspiration. 

Or rather, because of the absence of her muse. 

*

She woke up five hours later to a stiff neck and sore back, the bright sunlight pouring in from the windows lining one of her office walls drawing her from her sleep. She had meant to go to bed, before deciding to close her eyes for five minutes right on the couch. 

Straightening with a groan, she grabbed her phone and turned it over, hoping to see a text from an unknown number on her screen. 

Aubrey Posen [6:23am]

Any news? 

Aubrey Posen [6:37am]

Should I come to New York? 

Aubrey practiced family law up in Boston. She and Beca saw each other a few times a year, whenever Aubrey was in the city. Bella reunions were a bit more scarce now, with the girls being scattered all around the country. Their last one dated back to a year and a half ago, on the Fourth of July. 

Beca ran a hand over her face and heaved out a sigh, swiping her thumb across the screen to unlock it. 

Beca [7:16am]

No news yet. I think I’m gonna wait a few days before I head back to the club, if she doesn’t call in the meantime that is. The manager gave me serious sleazy vibes and I’m sure he could blacklist me if I’m too insistent. I don’t think there’s any need for you to come down for now. I’ll keep you posted. 

Hitting send, Beca pushed to her feet and shuffled out of her office, hanging a left down the hall towards the kitchen. A note next to her coffee thermos sat on the island. 

Missed you last night, but I hope you got whatever you needed done. I had to leave for my shift, you’re welcome to swing by for your second coffee of the day and your morning kiss ;) have a good day!

Sarah xx

Guilt swooped in over picking old feelings about an ex-almost over her girlfriend, and Beca let her head hang forward, releasing a grown. She was far from an expert at this relationship thing, but she cared about Sarah a lot and didn’t want to mess that up. 

Beca shook off the sleepiness lingering in her bones and the stiffness in her muscles with a long, hot shower, then got ready for her day. She usually got to the office at 8 sharp, but it was already 7:54 by the time she was out the door, and her commute lasted about twenty minutes, so she wouldn’t get the chance to stop by Sarah’s workplace. 

To: Sarah 

I’m sorry, I got caught up in work last night and ended up falling asleep on the couch around 2. Come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner. Have a good shift.

Her morning was spent in the studio canning vocals for girl in red’s new album, a project Beca was stocked about as she was BMLJ’s most promising artist for this year’s Grammy Awards. 

“That was awesome, Marie,” Beca spoke into the microphone, giving her a thumbs-up through the glass. “Let’s take a lunch break and resume in an hour?” 

“Sounds good,” the younger woman agreed with a smile as she took off her headphones. 

Beca headed back to her office down the hall and checked her phone for any new messages (finding none important), before shrugging on her thick winter coat and screwing her beanie over her head. 

“I’ll be back in an hour, Gina!” She told her assistant on route to the elevator. 

As Sarah’s workplace was just five blocks south from the label, Beca figured she would eat lunch there as she wasn’t able to stop by that morning. She stopped in the convenience store across the street from the coffee shop to buy Sarah her favorite magazine as she knew her break was coming up soon and she’d have something to read. 

Beca was scanning the press stand for that specific magazine, not paying attention to the person walking into the store until they spoke. 

“A pack of Marlboro, please.” 

Beca would recognize that voice anywhere. Her head snapped up so fast she felt something in her neck pull, and she was rounding the stand before she even registered giving her feet the order to move. “Chloe?” 

Chloe glanced over to her right and froze for a second, before fishing for a twenty in her jacket pocket and handing it to the cashier. “Are you following me or something?” 

Given their last encounter, Beca wasn’t surprised by Chloe’s snark, so she gave as good as she got. “You came in after I did, so maybe I should ask you that question.” 

Chloe stuffed the cigarette pack and the change into her pocket. “What do you want, Beca?” 

“To talk,” she replied, softly. “One coffee, that’s it. And if you decide you really don’t want me in your life, then I won’t bother you again. I promise.” 

Chloe seemed to ponder on that for a few beats. “One coffee.” 

“There’s a shop right across the street.” 

Taking her to the place her girlfriend worked at? Probably not the brightest idea, but she was afraid Chloe might go back on her decision if they spent too long finding someplace else. 

When Chloe nodded, Beca took the lead and stepped outside, forgetting all about that magazine as she racked her brain about what she should say. Tactfulness wasn’t her greatest suit; Aubrey would be so much better at this. 

They stepped inside Devocion and Beca picked a table in the corner, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of her chair. Chloe kept her jacket and beanie on, a bit hunched on herself as she sat down in the chair opposite Beca’s. 

“Beca?” 

Beca glanced towards Sarah as she approached, wearing a waist apron with the café logo on it. Her dark blonde hair was woven back in a French braid, a few strands escaping, and curiosity swirled in her green eyes as they flickered to Chloe. 

Okay, in hindsight, bringing Chloe here was a terrible idea. 

“Hey, um, Sarah, this is Chloe, a friend from college.” She cleared her throat. “Chloe, this is my girlfriend, Sarah.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah replied brightly, her smile fading a little when all Chloe offered was a distant nod. Sarah met Beca’s gaze briefly, clearing her throat. “What can I get you guys?” 

“My usual. You want anything to eat, Chlo?” 

The nickname rolled off her tongue so naturally, Beca didn’t even catch it. 

Chloe shook her head. “Just a black coffee.” 

“Coming right up.” 

“Thanks,” Beca said as Sarah spun around on her heels, her focus shifting to Chloe. “So um, I wanted to apologize for the other day and putting you on the spot at the club. I just… wasn’t sure how else to talk to you.” 

“I can give you some of the money back if you need it.” 

Beca furrowed her brow, not having expected that. “No, no. I… it’s fine. I don’t care about money.” 

Something flashed in Chloe’s eyes at that, something Beca couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Sarah came back with two coffees before she could analyze it further, setting the mugs down on the table. “Your club sandwich will be here in a few, babe.” 

Beca nodded, casting her a small, appreciative smile. 

Chloe straightened a bit in her seat, cradling the mug with both hands. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say or do, Beca.” 

Beca licked her lips. “I was hoping we could… hang out from time to time. I’ve missed you, Chlo. So has Aubrey.” 

The mention of Aubrey made Chloe lookup. “Does she live in New York, too?” 

“Um no, in Boston. She’s a lawyer. But she’d come down to have coffee, or lunch, or whatever you feel like doing. In a heartbeat.” 

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

What little hope flared in the pit of Beca’s belly upon Chloe showing interest in Aubrey’s life vanished. “Why not?” 

“I told you. I’m not the same person anymore. I’m-- I’m not…” 

Beca tilted her head to the side. “You’re not what?” She pressed gently. 

Chloe’s gaze fleeted out the window as her rather calm demeanor now radiated agitation. Her knee started bouncing and her fingers tightened around the mug, and it was as though Chloe was battling against her own thoughts. 

She was itching to reach across the table to rest her hand over her wrist in a sort of grounding gesture, but something told her that would have the opposite effect. 

“Chloe?” Beca attempted once more, her voice as soft as she could muster, as it seemed like Chloe was on the brink of bolting. 

The tear slipping out of Chloe’s eye tore her heart into two. “I-I have to go.” 

Her chair screeched as she pushed it back roughly, and she was nearly out the door by the time Beca scrambled to her feet. 

It was lunch-hour rush in one of the busiest avenues in Manhattan, and Chloe had already disappeared in the crowd when she reached the exit, leaving Beca to helplessly wonder how someone like Chloe, once the epitome of sunshine, got herself trapped in so much darkness.

[ilguna]

Anteric - Chapter Nine (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing. MURDER PLOT, MURDER, SUICIDE MENTION SEVERAL TIMES.

wc; 9.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The next four days follow the same nightmarish pattern of facing your fears early in the morning, and then wielding a gun or a knife in the evening. You think that Caspian and Laurel are really testing fate by allowing a group of unstable teenagers near anything dangerous. 

Sure, all of you have to be prepared to be able to wield a gun and defend yourselves in hard situations. But you wouldn’t say that it’s the brightest idea ever, too. You’re not entirely convinced that some of your fears correspond to shooting directly after. The only exception in this case, would be the one where you’ve watched Finnick die.

Despite all of this, you think that you’re beginning to get a hang of the fear-facing, to the point where you’ve managed to increase your time to five minutes. While everyone else works hard to make their time smaller and smaller, you’ve been trying to go against the current to make yourself look less suspicious.

You’ve figured that it’s easier to calm yourself down once you realize which fear you’re in. It’s only the four that repeat themselves, being buried alive, watching someone bleed out and die, and being trapped in an enclosed space with spiders. The easiest of them being buried alive, mainly because it’s not as hands-on.

You’re not forced to save someone, drowning in their blood as you try to cover wounds that will only become insignificant in the end. As more and more appear on the other’s body, screwing your focus and making you forget that you’re in a simulation. And you aren’t aware of the fact that you have to keep moving around for as long as you can without being covered in the spiders.

With the coffin, there’s no imminent danger, no real threat is hanging above you, besides the sure. Sure, you’re being buried alive, the dirt will eventually end up suffocating you. Yet, it’s not chaotic. You’re not fighting anything, you’re just forced to sit in darkness, feign some fright for a while, and then you’re free. If you were being buried without the coffin, that might be a different story. But that isn’t your fear, the coffin is a detail for a reason.

The others don’t seem to be as lucky as you are. They’re stuck in the same loop of facing their fears, and not knowing what to do after. At least you can say that your nightmares aren’t making your skin crawl anymore. For them, they shake when someone asks what they’ve gone through, and wake up screaming at night.

However, there are a few of you who are outshining the others. And it seems to be the people who hadn’t done too well during the first stage of initiation that’re getting the hang of this one. Which is a shame, because their progress isn’t really going to pay off until the final stage, when they beat the rest.

The few that you’ve noticed are Sydney, Nestor and Cass. They act a little differently than the others do. Sydney and Nestor have always been laid back. You can’t really say the same for Cass, since you don’t know her as well. But they definitely have a different attitude when they go into the room, compared to someone like Thyme.

Then there are the people who are naturally good or bad at the simulations, and it’s typically hard to tell which is which. Like Laurel told you, your friends are close to the twenty minute range, and as far as you know, you’re the only outlier. You can always time people on your watch, but it’s not the same, not really.

Anyway, it’s been about four days since you’ve so much as glanced at Finnick in front of Thyme. It was a smart move to make, because she might have started off stiff, but she’s officially cooled down. She’ll still glare at you occasionally, then again she was doing that before the party, so it’s not a surprise or a change of routine.

Because of that, the only times you’ve gotten to talk to Finnick was in bits and pieces when Thyme wasn’t around. Which was practically never, considering that she attached to him like a parasite and doesn’t let go. You’d hardly be able to get a full sentence in before she came around again. Laurel wasn’t much help either, she didn’t give you any accidental golden chances either.

The more time passed, the more anxious you got over the fact that Finnick might have been thinking that you were backtracking. You were making no real effort to get alone time, not to mention you felt like your grasp was slipping. You said so yourself, you had Finnick in your hold. And leaving him with Thyme for four days all alone might change things.

In order to finally ease the stress that’s been eating away at you, you went ahead and sealed the leap of faith. It’s taken you four days to finally come to terms with the fact that you have to tell Finnick that you’re Divergent, whether you like it or not. You can tell yourself that it’s an unnecessary risk, and that he might already have some biased ideas somehow. But the truth is, you won’t know until you try.

A slight problem is you didn’t get to invite Finnick to the chasm before Laurel called you into the fear room. So, you had to ask Laurel for a favor, which was to call Finnick in next and send him through the second door in the room that will bring him to the dark hallway. It’ll be completely out of the way of Thyme, you won’t have to worry about accidentally running into her on the way to the chasm.

Fortunately for you, today you had to be locked in a coffin underground, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You hope that the same goes for Finnick, because you really would like him to be in the right headspace before you go ahead and dump your biggest secret onto his shoulders. You don’t want it to end up being the last straw that does it.

You twist your wrist towards your face, making the watch light up in the hallway. If you’ve been tracking the time correctly, it’s coming in fifteen minutes. You should have another five to go, and even that might be an overestimation. 

You yawn, cracking your knuckles before getting to your feet. The last time you jumped out at Finnick from the wall, you scared him pretty bad, so you’re not entirely sure if there’s a way to get around it this time. There’s no lantern for you to steal from the wall, not that you’re sure if you’ll be able to do that, anyway.

About a minute or so later, the door finally opens. You emerge from the wall, standing off to the side of the hallway with your arms crossed. There’s just enough light from the room to light you up, so Finnick spots you easily. 

He has one hand reached up and placed over the spot where Laurel injects the serums. For a second, his eyebrows draw in like he’s confused, but then a smile slowly comes onto his face. You lean around Finnick to thank Laurel, she’s already holding a hand up, and then shoos you.

You hold out your hand for Finnick to take, and you watch as he takes it. You pull him along, he lets the door slip shut behind him with a gentle click. The hallway falls back into a pitch black, and you’re left to guide Finnick. You remember when it was the other way around, with you relying on him to warn you of where you step.

“What are we doing today?” he asks, “Another secret party?”

At the thought of your confession, an ache starts in your chest. If only it were something fun, “No, I think I’m going to tell you everything today.” With the exception of one thing, one little thing that doesn’t exactly have any connection to the blackmailing problem.

“Oh.” he says, you’re not sure you’d have anything to say in response to that, either.

The hallway finally splits into two, you head off to the right. It’s only a hundred or so more feet when you begin to hear the rushing water. You have to swallow to ease the growing tension in your throat. Finnick should be fine, you’ve known him a long time. He’ll give you a chance to explain yourself before judgement.

At least, you hope he will.

You let go of his hand in the doorway, continuing to your spot on your own. To the same place you stood last time you spoke to him. This time, you don’t lean against the railing. Knowing you, you’ll get caught up in the conversation and end up falling off backward.

Finnick resumes his spot across from you on the wall.

You have to remind yourself to take deep breaths, “I need you to listen all the way before you make any judgement calls, okay?”

You don’t want to look at him, this will be so much easier if you don’t look.

“Okay,” he agrees.

You know where to start, you’ve rehearsed this exact moment several times, thought up every single possibility. You found the best way to explain why, all you have to do is start speaking.

You swallow.

“It starts with the aptitude test,” you begin, eyes focused on the toe of your shoes. Is this too far back? No, it’s where the root lies, “Normally people get a straightforward result, but I got inconclusive.” you have to look at his face, it’s neutral besides his eyebrows, “Which means that I didn’t place for just one faction, I placed for three. Abnegation, Erudite and Dauntless.”

You pause for a moment, letting him process this. You feel like you’re speaking too slowly, he isn’t a baby. But this is new to him, right?

“How?” he asks, the confusion is setting in.

“Um,” you're hyper aware of your shaking hands, “Well, the choices in the aptitude test are supposed to eliminate a faction each stage. The cheese was for Amity, and the knife was for Dauntless. I chose the knife, so that’s a Dauntless oriented response. But I was vulnerable to the dog, which is Erudite thinking. Then I threw myself in front of the dog, bringing out Abnegation.

“Candor was ruled out when I didn’t tell the truth, and Erudite and Dauntless were brought up again when I posed some stupid question and stood up for myself. And technically it wasn’t a conditioned Abnegation response, either.” You lace your fingers together, “I hold equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless and Erudite. The term for it is Divergent.”

Now you hold your breath, watching the gears turn in his head. You’ll be patient, let him come to conclusions on his own. Maybe he’ll suddenly solve the Thyme problem on his own, only allowing you to fill the gaps. Maybe he won’t, and he’ll demand more information.

The silence is overwhelming, “My legal result is Abnegation.”

His eyes flicker to you, “Why do you say Divergent as if it’s a bad thing?”

You think you’ll cry, “Because I can be killed for it if people find out.” 

Finnick understands, you can tell by the way he goes rigid, “You’re not kidding?”

“No.” 

Please don’t start running. Please don’t have ill intentions. Please say that you’ll keep it a secret.

“Okay, I can understand why you’ve been like this,” he slumps slightly, a frown coming over his face.

You know what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t think that I don’t trust you,” you move forward a little, “I don’t…” you take another deep breath, “A lot of people know right now, and my worst nightmare has already happened.”

He’s still watching you, “Like what?”

A metallic taste spreads over your tongue, “You asked if Thyme said anything to me, and I said yes,” your throat is closing, “You remember that?”

He nods.

“Well, when our families came to visit, Mox and his small family came and visited me,” Finnick raises his eyebrows, he must’ve missed them, “Just before they left, Mox told me that Caspian knows I’m Divergent, and he’ll look out for me. Then he told me that these two stages of initiation are going to be easy, because of the way my brain works so I need to be careful not to get caught, whatever.

“I went to leave the area that we talked in, and Thyme had overheard everything.” Your eyes find Finnick’s face again.

And he is bright red, eyebrows turned down, “What did she say?”

“She said that if I don’t stay away from you, she’ll tell everyone I’m Divergent.”

He doesn’t move for a long moment, jawline becoming more obvious each time he grits his teeth. His eyes cast towards the path you have to take to get away from the chasm.

You feel like crying, this is the exact reaction you were looking for. Anger because the person that’s been playing sweetheart and hanging off his arm has secretly been blackmailing you for a week.

“Is that all?”

No.

“Yes.”

There’s something else that you need to tell him.

“Does she know that they’ll kill you for it?”

You shrug slightly, “It’s Thyme we’re talking about, do you really think she’d care about that?”

“Probably not.” he mumbles.

You scuff your shoe against the rocks, pressing your lips together. You should tell him, do it real quick to get it out of the way. You’ve already spoken about so much, what’s one more?

When you open your mouth, the words lodge themselves in your throat, refusing to move. You settle for sighing instead.

He catches this, raising his eyebrows, “What’s wrong? Is there something else?” 

Tell him.

“No, I told you everything.”

Finnick doesn’t lessen his gaze. 

Just tell him you like him.

You smile, he doesn’t smile back, continuing to wait.

You’ve told him so much already, what’s one more?

“Come on, (Y/n),”

What if he doesn’t feel the same?

Silence.

It’s a chance you have to take.

You clear your throat.

No, you’re going to ruin recently established peace.

“I just wanted to apologize for the final fight, is all.”

What a lie.

Finnick doesn’t believe you, he turns his head to the side a little.

You shrug again, “I didn’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to bring up things in the past if you aren’t bothered by them.” you play with your fingers, trying to figure where to go next. Then you realize that there is a problem that you left unsaid, “Ah, right, I remember now.

“Besides the obvious reason why I was mad at you, I realized something during the fight which made it a whole lot worse,” you rub the back of your neck, trying to ease the growing tension, “You--um--you see me as an equal, right? Cause for a second, I was convinced you thought of me as lesser and that doesn’t… sit right with me…”

Finnick’s got his eyebrows screwed in, “An equal?”

“Yeah, like we’re on the same level ground and I’m not in some ditch or whatever.”

His face twists, “I’m sorry, but shouldn’t this had been in the meaningless conversation the other day?”

You open your mouth, eyebrows in. Once he starts laughing, you snap your mouth shut.

“I’m kidding, of course we’re on the same page.” he grins, showing his teeth, “I mean, if we weren’t, we wouldn’t be friends, would we?”

You purse your lips, “I guess not.”

“You guess?” he laughs again, “Anyway, I don’t care about the fight. You won fair and square, even though you were definitely hyped up on adrenaline.”

You smile.

Finnick eyes the hallway for a moment, the humor slowly fading from his face, “So what are we going to do about Thyme?”

Your heart twists when you hear the word ‘we’, “There’s no real way to get her to shut up, Finnick. Unless we somehow make her get cut during stage three.” you clench your teeth, “All my ideas have been permanent and illegal.”

He nods, “I can see why.”

“It’s a lifelong thing she can hold over me.”

“You can always tell Caspian.”

“He already knows,” you lean your head back and watch as Finnick looks at you, “You know when you caught me that morning getting ready super early?”

Finnick nods.

“Yeah, well, the leaders of Dauntless and our trainers will eat breakfast way before everyone else so that they can discuss initiation and stuff. So I got Caspian away from them and told him about Thyme, and he said he can’t help me anymore because Thyme accused him of interfering so he really needs to back off.”

You crack a smile, “Actually, he told me that I should tell you the truth about everything and have you work with me to find some solution. The problem is that he can’t know what I want to do with her, and he told me not to be too brash but it’s not like I have a choice.”

“We,” Finnick corrects, “It’s not like we have a choice.”

You give him a soft smile, “Right, we.”

Finnick stretches, arms above his head, letting out a groan, “I’m going to go ahead and guess that your plan includes murder.”

“Honestly, it was my first thought when she made me agree to it on Visiting Day.”

“And I don’t really see any other option besides beating her up and throwing her to the streets, but she’ll just tell the factionless that you’re…” he doesn’t say the word, eyebrows furrowing, “...and that would be the end of it.”

“Yup.”

He makes a face, “We should probably think it over some more.”

“That works, I guess,” you check your watch, thirty minutes have passed since the beginning of the conversation, “Alright, you go ahead and go back, I’ll follow after you in a couple.”

“Sure,” he says.

You expect him to start into the hallway immediately, but he comes towards you instead. You lift your head from the wall, face twisting in confusion. He holds a hand out for you, you go ahead and take it, not entirely sure what he wants. Is he going to bring you somewhere?

No, he pulls you into him for a hug. His arms wrap around your back, underneath your arms. Immediately, your face feels like it’s on fire, heart pounding in your ears. It takes you a moment, but you hug him back, placing your ear against his chest, closing your eyes. The last time you hugged was before the Choosing Ceremony, when you weren’t sure if you’d see him ever again.

Your thought from earlier boomerangs back, much louder and begging this time for you to tell him that you have a crush on him. That you’ve had a crush on him for years, you just couldn’t say so before because of Abnegation ideals and how taboo a relationship is.

You can’t though. You’ve said too much today, told him everything on your list. This confession, the very last one, is not as significant as the rest. You can tell him some other time.

Finnick gives you a gentle squeeze, “Thank you for trusting me.” he murmurs.

You swallow the tightness in your throat, “I’ve always trusted you more than the rest.”

He moves away first, a smile on his face, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah.” Why are you dizzy all of a sudden?

He leaves now, all you can do is place your hands on your head, fingers interlaced as you turn to the railing. There’s tears in your eyes, and you don’t even realize it until they’re rolling down your cheeks. You sniff, and then huff out a laugh, bringing your hands back down to wipe them off.

You and Finnick are okay.

It’s a thought that keeps running through your head over the next hour. You’re okay, there’s no need to worry anymore. And he thinks that your problems are his again, it’s a good sign. The hug really topped it off, but it’s also the thing that broke you. He must’ve known that you needed one.

You loosely wander back to the dorm, having had enough of the chasm for one day. You’re more than sure that everyone is done facing their fears now, so it should be safe for you to come back without any suspicion. When you reach the door, you softly push against the wood and slip through the crack that’s barely big enough.

You expect to see everyone off in their usual corners, maybe a few people napping because the daytime is the only time when they can sleep anymore, maybe a few people missing. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that everyone is gathered together around the chalkboard that had given the first stage’s rankings.

Caspian is standing within the half-circle, his eyes follow you on your way in, “Now that (Y/n) has finally made it, I can show you.”

A few people glance over their shoulders, none of them dirty looks except for Thyme. You ignore her, and Finnick, going to stand on the side of Blaire that’s away from them, as if he’s some sort of shield. In classic Blaire behavior, he slings his arm over your shoulder.

“Are these the rankings for stage two?” you ask.

“Progress report,” he says, “Caspian’s showing us where we’re at so that we’re prepared for stage three and how badly we need to improve before then.”

An uneasiness grows in your stomach, heart skipping. Everyone is about to see where you’re at, and how far ahead you are. And with Thyme’s accusation of Caspian interfering, this is not going to look good.

Your teeth sink into your cheek, right into the wound you carved up earlier when you were with Finnick. The warm taste of blood crosses over your tastebuds again, the pain sharp.

Caspian doesn’t say another word as he reaches up to hang the board on the designated nail. He stands in the way for a moment, blocking the view. Then, he shoots you a look before stepping aside, a silent warning that you are not as undercover as you’re supposed to be.

And he’s so right.

Your name is the first one on the list.

Your breath hitches, body rigid, eyes glued to the board, blood running from your face. Three minutes and forty-five seconds. This must be your time from the first fear simulation, and you are so incredibly grateful that your two minute one hadn’t been put up there. It would be a lot worse, then. Suddenly, the predator would become prey.

The person in second is, unsurprisingly, Finnick. He has nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. There is a five minute gap between you two, and it is so significant that it makes your stomach twist.

Someone looks at you, you think it’s Eytelle. Judging by the corner of your eye, she is incredibly angry, compared to Blaire, who has a tight grip on your shoulder, shaking it to bring you back to life. You think it’s praise, you think that he’s excited for you.

His name is in the third slot.

You look past Blaire, eyes finding Finnick for comfort. He’s already looking at you, his lips are pressed together. Thyme could easily mistake this as displeasure towards you, good. To you, this looks like worry. You told him you had to be careful, and this does not look like careful.

When you look at Thyme, you can see her arm loop around his, pressing her body into his side. She doesn’t speak very loud, only enough for Finnick to hear. Unfortunately for her, in Abnegation you’re all used to the silence and working around it so that you don’t disturb the others.

“She’s cheating.”

You elbow Blaire slightly, trying to get his arm off of you, “Laurel warned you about accusing me of cheating already.”

The silence in the room is overcome by the blood rushing in your ears, body heating up. You’re tired of people saying that you’re cheating, Thyme, Ameer, now Eytelle. Is it so hard to believe that you can be in first place without cheating? That you don’t need help to get there?

Thyme looks over at you, face twisting until her mouth drops and her eyes widen. She looks at Caspian, shaking her head, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Except you did.” Cass says, she’s standing further back than the rest of you. Which means she’s got a clear view of Thyme, “You mouthed it.”

“But I didn’t say it, there’s a difference.”

“So you’re admitting to it?” Caspian asks.

This is when Thyme pales, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Come with me.” Caspian starts towards the door, “Tomorrow’s a day off, don’t waste it.”

Thyme shoots you a nasty look on the way out.

The tension in the room doesn’t have time to grow, Blaire throws his arm back over your shoulder. You have to force a smile before you look at him, “Congrats.”

“Congrats to me?” Blaire’s laughing, the circle is beginning to form. They’re probably going to want to celebrate, “You’re in first!”

“I’m pretty sure (Y/n) meant to say, ‘Congrats for beating Lennox’.” Sydney laughs too, she’s in sixth, her hand is intertwined with Nestor, who holds the same smile. He’s placed in fifth.

Lennox makes a warning face at her, it’s playful. You can tell because he can’t keep the expression for very long before smiling. Lennox is in fourth. 

Trink, who’s in eighth place, is bouncing next to him, face suddenly lighting up, “Oh! That means that Lennox owes you his twenty points!”

Lennox lets out a groan, “No, don’t remind her!”

In order of first place to last, the list goes as follows: You, Finnick, Blaire, Lennox, Nestor, Sydney, Cass, Trink, Ameer, Mirza, Thyme, Allio, Eytelle, and Horace. The rankings from the first stage have definitely flipped. Allio was first, now he’s last. Eytelle’s isn’t all that surprising either, she nearly got cut on the last stage too. She was saved by Amos and Ossie.

There are fourteen of you. If Dauntless only accepts the top ten, then that means Thyme, Allio, Eytelle and Horace will immediately be cut. Which would partially solve the Thyme problem, only she would still know you’re Divergent and would be able to tell people later on,

When you look at Finnick, you think that he’s working on the same thought process.

“Well?” Sydney says, “Hand the points over, loser.”

Lennox punches her arm, “Shut--”

“Hey, Lennox,” you nudge him with your elbow, “You can just pay me five every month so I don’t run you dry.”

He stops, raising his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

You shrug, “How else are we supposed to get celebratory tattoos today?”

Ameer and Mirza let out a whoop, leading the way out. They placed ninth and tenth, you’re not entirely sure if you'd be celebrating if you were them, but then again, they aren’t going to get cut. If they keep this up for the final stage, they’ll be golden. 

As expected, there are a couple of people that stay back, namely Eytelle and Allio, who are giving you dirty looks like Thyme normally does. Horace trails behind Ameer and Mirza since they’re refusing to leave him behind. You have to grab onto Finnick to make sure that he doesn’t stay here, either. 

“Hey Blaire!” You call, making him turn, “Finnick was wondering who you think the hottest leader out of all the factions is. He was thinking about Haymitch.”

“(Y/n)--?” Finnick strangles out, giving you an incredulous look. You flash him a smile, pushing him forward into Blaire.

“Really? I was thinking Mags.” Blaire snorts.

--

Even though it was risky, you and Finnick went ahead and got matching tattoos like a couple of idiots. It was a long process of trying to figure out a middle ground. You’d suggest something like the Abnegation logo and Finnick would look at you disgusted. Then he would suggest something vulgar, and it would be your turn to look at him like he was doing it on purpose.

Since it took a while, by the time you two made the decision, Blaire, Sydney and Nestor were the only three that were still willingly sitting with you. Lennox and Trink had disappeared sometime during the middle, Ameer, Mirza and Horace went to play a dangerous game near the Pit drop off. And Cass got distracted when she realized that her blonde hair was perfect for dying.

You can’t take all the credit for the tattoo idea, it really stemmed from Sydney and Nestor when they showed you theirs. If they stand side by side, with Nestor on the right and Sydney on the left, and lift up their shirts, they have a flutter of butterflies across their ribs that make a whole picture.

So, you and Finnick decided to get something like that, but a lot simpler. No color or shading, just the lining of two hands holding out their pinkies to make a promise. Yours is on your left shoulder, and Finnick’s is on his right. It can’t really be seen unless you force your shirt over, so there’s not a lot of risk.

Unless Finnick walks around shirtless, and someone catches a glimpse of your tattoo and Thyme somehow finds out and puts two and two together. However, you don’t see that happening any time soon. As far as you’re concerned, she’s completely oblivious to the planning that’s going on between you two.

You tie your hair in a knot at the back of your head, desperate to get it off the back of your neck. Next to you, Trink is twirling her hair around her finger like she always is. She’s also leaning into Lennox more than she usually does, so something definitely happened between them yesterday when they left.

Lennox seems to be making an effort to stick close to her, too. This morning, they had sat next to each other at breakfast, glued to the hip and refused to let anyone sit in the middle. It makes you think that they’ve officially started dating, but they’re not acting like it. Not like Sydney and Nestor.

Your eyes drag over to Finnick and Thyme, they’re sitting on the other side of the dining hall. She sits across from him, body turned so that she isn’t facing you. Finnick, on the other hand, has made sure that he can see you from where he sits. He’s not eating his lunch anymore, his cheek is cupped in one hand.

And his other is on his shoulder, where his new tattoo is.

You sit up a little straighter, wondering how long he’s been waiting for you to see. You and him decided to make a sign for if one wants to talk to the other, so that you two don’t have to keep waiting to talk to each other after fear facing. He suggested that putting your hand over the tattoo would be it, a telltale sign to go to the chasm after whatever you’re done doing.

Finnick briefly glances over, you go ahead and place your own hand over your shoulder, giving him a gentle nod before looking back at your friends. You need a way to get out, you’ve been sitting here, done with your lunch for a while. You’re sure that they’ll understand.

You place your hands onto the table, getting ready to push yourself up. This immediately catches Trink’s attention, she slowly tears her eyes from whatever Blaire is talking about, to look at you. Her eyebrows are raised, mouth parted.

“I’m going to disappear for a while,” you say, “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Trink pouts for a moment, “Can you be back before dinner this time? I thought we could all sit around and play some Dauntless games.”

You shrug with one shoulder, “Sure, no problem. I’ll keep track of the time on my watch.”

She smiles, “Thank you.”

You say your goodbyes to the others, punching Blaire’s shoulder on the way out. 

You’re the first to escape the dining hall, taking your time when you walk to the chasm. There’s no question that you’ll be back before dinner. Only in your dreams will you be able to hang around Finnick for longer than thirty minutes at a time, anymore. On the off-chance that you stay behind for a while, Sydney and Nestor know where to find you.

You get halfway down the long hallway that drops off at your corner, when there’s a rapid sound of footsteps behind you. You raise your eyebrows, a smile on your face when you spot Finnick running at you. He holds his hands out, making a noise that’s a mix of a snarl and a snort.

You get it, you’re supposed to run away.

You play along, running down the hallway in the dark. It’s dangerous, you could trip and fall. But then again, your whole life has been dangerous since the moment you finalized your decision of joining Dauntless. On your first day you jumped from a moving train to a rooftop! You hung from the chasm bridge by your fingers! You ziplined face first off of a building! You’re Divergent, for fuck’s sake!

At this point, you’re beginning to think that danger could really be your middle name.

Your guys’ laughter echoes off the stone walls, you can see your little dip for the chasm coming up, preparing to throw yourself against the wall to avoid Finnick. He’s much quicker than you, his hands clamping around your upper arms as he pretends to roar.

Tears appear in your eyes, you wipe them away, “Okay, get off of me.”

Finnick’s still chuckling to himself when he goes to his far wall. He doesn’t stand, though, he sits down immediately. You go ahead and follow, criss-crossing your legs and placing your hands in the gap in the middle.

“So, what’d you call me here for?” you ask.

Finnick shrugs, “I just didn’t want to be around her anymore. She kept asking me if she thought you were cheating. I think she’s a little on edge now that you keep ranking on top.”

“I can’t help it,” you murmur.

“I know,” he says, his legs extended in front of him, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

You smile, “Have any ideas on how to solve the problem?”

He shakes his head, “I mean, at this rate she’ll probably get kicked out, but that isn’t what we’re looking for, right?”

You press your lips together, “It’s not realistic.”

“I figured as much, don’t worry.” he looks off to the side, “What if we blackmail her?”

You don’t answer him right away, “We don’t really have any leverage.”

“But if we trick her into it?” Finnick asks, sitting up, “Like, I could hint at getting rid of you from number one somehow, which will keep her in the top ten so she wouldn’t get cut.”

You try to hide your horror when you remember just how alike you and Finnick are. Sometimes you forget that you’ve been around each other for so long that you ultimately have the same brain. You could be thinking something, and he’d probably be able to guess what.

“I’m… not sure…” you manage to get out, “if I still want to be the--um--center of the danger...?”

Finnick doesn’t question you, nodding, “But it’s an idea.”

“I guess? How about we put that on the back burner and try again?”

Finnick gives you a funny smile, “I’m not sure if any of my other ideas will be as perfect as that one so bare with me.”

“Sure.”

And he’s right, once the two of you try brainstorming again, you’re not really coming out with any ideas that you like. You’d really like to go for the first one, but you’re not sure how Finnick would even lead her in that direction. You have no doubt that Thyme wouldn’t have any qualms about murdering you to get ahead. To her, that would be the perfect solution to keep you away from Finnick forever.

The real problem would be to frame her for thinking it up on her own without getting Finnick mixed in there somewhere. Also, there would need to be witnesses--other than you and Finnick--because it’s already known that you three aren’t exactly the best trio when you’re around each other. You could end up getting in trouble, Thyme could figure out that you’re working with Finnick, and it could end right there.

Finnick suggests accusing her of being Divergent, giving it a little spin. You shoot him down, explaining that your results had to be entered manually. Not to mention, she could always spin it back on you, and then the two of you could be taken away together. 

He’s not very quiet when he calls you a buzzkill.

You glance at your watch.

“Is time up?” Finnick asks.

“Is it that obvious?” you joke, beginning to get up, “We can always brainstorm tomorrow, it’s not like we don’t have a week until initiation ends.”

You stretch your arms above your head. Finnick gets to his feet too, sliding his hands into his pockets, “Before I go, I actually had something I wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smile, leaning against the wall.

“I know we just started being okay again...” Finnick trails off suddenly, eyes fixated on something in the dark. You open your mouth, going to ask what he’s looking at, but he takes a hand out of his pocket, palm-down as if to tell you not to speak.

“Who are you talking to?”

You can feel your blood run cold.

Finnick moves forward, “I was practicing.”

You knew that going past thirty minutes would be a mistake, but you didn’t think that Thyme would come looking. Did she follow you guys? No, she would have come out a lot sooner. Then again, she waited until you found her to say anything about you being Divergent.

And there’s only two people that know this spot is yours. Which means that Thyme might have gone asking about Finnick, she came up with some excuse, and ended up here.

You close your eyes, tilting your head up to the ceiling, holding your breath.

“No, there was another voice, I heard it. Who are you talking to?” Thyme demands, her shoes are loud against the floor.

You look over to Finnick, who’s trying to walk towards her to make her backtrack. 

“It’s (Y/n), isn’t it?” she asks, her voice is getting closer.

“Thyme, no one is there,” Finnick says.

“Then prove it, move out of the way,” she presses her hands to his chest.

You scoot to the left, moving away as you exaggerate a nod. 

You two can trap her here, and figure out where to go from there. The more you think about murder, the more your heart skips. You can’t just kill her, someone will figure out that it’s you two that did it. Thyme goes looking for you two, who are known for hanging out together now, and she doesn’t come back?

You have to convince her not to say anything about you being Divergent. 

Finnick moves aside, allowing her to look for herself. His eyes lock with yours, lips pressed together into a tight line, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what you’re going to do, but he’s sure that it isn’t going to work. You wish he’d have a little more faith.

Thyme comes around the corner, arms crossed over her chest, mouth twisted into an angry mess. You reach out, grabbing her arm and throwing her towards the railing, trading spots with her. She catches herself on the railing with her hands. You used too much momentum, she could’ve fallen.

Finnick moves around you, standing on your right side. Thyme slowly turns around, eyes landing on you first, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

You stare at her, not saying anything. She goes to walk around Finnick, but he moves when she does. He’s not going to let her through, and she doesn’t understand this at first. Only when he mirrors her movements again, does she shoot a glare at him.

“Finnick, you don’t understand what she is,” Thyme’s voice changes significantly, from anger to softness, “I don’t know what she told you, but it wasn’t the truth.”

“So it’s not true that you’re blackmailing her?” Finnick asks plainly.

Thyme gapes for a moment, clearly not expecting him to outright say it.

“You’re not a very good actress,” you say, “you should work on being less transparent.”

Her eyes flicker to you, and she’s back to being pissed, “I told you what would happen if you came near him.”

“And I warned you about what would happen if you did this to me, Thyme.”

She doesn’t get it, you can tell by the way her face scrunches up. The more the gears turn, the more her face relaxes and she pales instead. You’re glad you’ll be able to see the terror in her eyes, the same terror you felt when you realized that she had heard about your secret.

“You won’t be able to kill me.” Her voice isn’t as smooth as it was before.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, tilting your head a bit, “You think that just because Finnick’s here, he’ll save you? If that were the case, he would’ve let you go by now, don’t you think?”

No comeback.

“What’s the plan?” Finnick asks, glancing at you.

“Don’t let her think for you, Finnick,” Thyme blurts, “You told me yourself that you hate  it when she’s in your head like this!” she reaches out for him, he takes a step back, “And now that it’s happening again, you’re just going to let it go?”

“I never said that.” Finnick suddenly snaps, “I said I hated it when she’s in her head, like she can’t tell me anything.”

You ignore the wrenching feeling in your heart. You need to focus.

“Did she tell you that she has Erudite tendencies?” Thyme asks, not a hint of regard in her tone.

You straighten up, because it’s decided. She just sealed her fate by asking him that question. Had she shown a little restraint, a little bit of sympathy, then she would’ve been fine. But just saying it out in the open like that, trying to use it as leverage again…

You reach out, grabbing her wrist harshly, “Throw her over.”

Thyme’s face changes, façade dropping again. She raises her other hand up, fist formed and aimed at your face. Finnick catches her wrist, holding it above her head. She starts yanking her arms down, “No--no, let me go!”

“Give me her other wrist, you can take her feet.” Finnick says, “I can hold her up higher than you can.”

“Stop!” the scream is shrill, “No!”

Finnick holds both of her hands above her head. If he wanted to, you’re sure, he could pick her off of the ground like this. His arms aren’t even fully extended yet, that’ll come in when you have to pick her up to get her over.

“Finnick, please!” she tilts her head back, “Please don’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Finnick glares.

You sweep up her feet, holding her ankles together under your arm for when she starts kicking.

“(Y/n), don’t!” Thyme inhales, a sob follows after, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t say anything, please don’t do this.”

You let go of her feet when they’re over the railing, letting her scramble to find footing. Finnick doesn’t let go of her arms yet.

“I warned you,” you say again, staying on her right side. You place both hands on the railing, leaning forward so that she can see your face, “I warned you that you’d end up here if you went through with this. You’ll be lucky if they find your body this far down the river.”

“They’ll catch you,” she sobs, her eyes bloodshot, hair blowing up because of the wind from the river, “you won’t get away with this.”

You give her a smile, “No one in this faction will miss you.” you lean in a little, “They might even thank me.”

“Or think you committed suicide because there’s no way you’re surviving initiation.” Finnick says.

“Hey, being dead is better than being factionless, right?”

Thyme sucks in a deep breath through her mouth, “Help!”

You snort, “Thyme, we are so far down this hallway that you’d be lucky if someone heard you.” you look at Finnick, giving him a nod, “Any last words?”

“Finnick, I thought I was your friend!” she screams, leaning backwards, away from the river.

“I was wrong.” he says plainly, letting go of her wrists.

Thyme teeters for a moment, looking like she’s going to catch her balance. All it takes is one pat on the back to send her flying forward, “Good luck!” you shout.

Her screams are loud, and are cut off suddenly when she hits the water. You don’t move from where you stand next to the railing, Finnick comes up beside you, wrapping an arm around your back, hand squeezing your upper arm as he pulls you into his side. 

All you can think about is what your father would think, after being murdered by a factionless. How his daughter, who had suffered from this loss, went through with a half-baked plan like it was her only option. How selfish it was to save yourself.

You need a distraction.

You suck in a shaky breath, closing your eyes when your head dips, “What were you going to tell me before she came?”

Finnick’s quiet for a moment, “That I’m Divergent too.”

--

It’s late into the night when they discover Thyme’s body, and you’re already wide awake when Trink shakes you to let you know. You have to pretend to be groggy when she helps you down from the top bunk, already tugging on your arm to get you to move faster.

You couldn’t sleep, not after what you’ve done.

There are only a few people awake, you notice. Blaire is hovering over Finnick’s bed, a hand on his shoulder as he speaks quietly. When Blaire notices you staring, he nods at you. Finnick is rubbing his eyes, but his movements are far too soft for a person who just woke up. He wasn’t sleeping either.

Trink doesn’t stop to wait for them, bringing you right through the door and down a series of hallways, taking you deeper into the Dauntless headquarters than you’ve ever dared to go. There must be another place where the river shows up besides your corner, otherwise you don’t think they would have found her.

“How’d you know?” you ask her, trying to sound like you’ve just woken up.

She seems to believe it, “Lennox was trying to be cute by showing me where the river leads because I mentioned that I like it. And we followed it all the way back here, and I don’t know how he saw her body through the dark because I couldn’t see at all. But he saw, and told me to stay put while he got help.”

She looks at you, “When Lennox got back, he told me that one initiate dies every year because of their ranks.” she’s shaking her head, “But I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just choose to be factionless?”

You shrug, feigning a frown. The plan is working exactly like you hoped it would, not a single finger has been pointed toward you. Then again, it might be too early to speak, her body was just found. 

Thumping footsteps makes you and Trink turn back to see who it is. Trink gives room between you two to allow Blaire and Finnick in. Finnick comes right up your left side, his tattooed shoulder to yours. His hand finds yours, squeezing tightly.

You didn’t believe him when he told you he was Divergent. You were convinced that he was just telling you that to level out with you, to make you feel better and that you weren’t alone after all. But the more he kept talking, the details he was giving, the more you realized that he was telling the truth.

On the aptitude test day, Finnick had been stuck in the room with the Candor man. And that detail alone was enough to begin to settle the doubt because the Candor aren’t supposed to lie. An adult man in Candor shouldn’t have the urge to hide a Divergent teenager, especially if they’re supposed to be a danger to everyone else. Candor is supposed to be the law.

Finnick kept going, telling you that he took his aptitude test like normal. It was only after the test did he realize that something was wrong because of the look on the Candor man’s face. Finnick figured that the man was new, he looked confused and didn’t move from the aptitude test for a long time.

When Finnick asked what was wrong, he was told that the test accidentally gave him two results. One of them being Dauntless, the other being Abnegation. The Candor man went ahead and manually entered Dauntless, though, because the Abnegation part of him was ‘so insignificantly small’ that it couldn’t even count towards Divergence. But when Finnick caught a glimpse of the screen…

You were still confused on how Finnick didn’t know the terminology for it, then, if that’s the case. He said that the Candor man never explicitly used the word ‘Divergent’ or ‘inconclusive’, he just said that the results came out as an accident, it happened all the time, and there was nothing to worry about. That was the reason why manually entering results was possible in the first place.

And since you’re not supposed to discuss faction results, Finnick never had the reason to tell you his result or the aptitude problem in the first place. Honestly, he’s lucky he made it this far without casually telling anyone. Plus, you can’t imagine what he felt like while you were explaining your own Divergence to him, the realization of just how dangerous it is.

It explains a lot, though. Why Finnick’s time is so low when he faces his fears, but it makes you wonder why it isn’t as low as yours? Is it because he’s only Divergent in two ways instead of three? And a part of you thinks that Laurel should’ve asked him if he was Divergent, or figured that out on her own. Unless, of course, he’s still within the reasonable time range, which blocks him from being so suspicious.

So many questions, and no one to answer them

“When’s the last time you’ve seen Thyme?” Trink asks, looking over at Finnick.

“Just before I left lunch yesterday.”

Trink looks at you, her eyes lowering into a squint, “Which was a few minutes after (Y/n), right?”

You nod. She better tread carefully, because if she starts pointing fingers at you two…

“Oh my god!” She lights up, “Does that mean you two are…?”

She’s making a scissor motion with her fingers, chopping them together with a slight head tilt. You think she’s trying to ask if you two are together without realizing how odd her symbol for it is. 

“Dating?” you guess, Finnick’s grip tightens considerably, “No--”

“They’re holding hands,” Blaire grins, giving Finnick a wink.

Trink raises an eyebrow, “I bet you two are taking it slow, huh? Since you’re both Stiff’s.”

“We were Stiffs.” Finnick corrects her.

“Same difference,” she waves it off, “I’m just surprised you two can hold hands without being a mess.”

If she were standing next to you, you would’ve punched her.

“Anyway, did Thyme ever come find you?” Blaire asks.

You turn to your right to look at him again, “What?”

“Yeah, she asked us if we knew where you were, and Sydney told her that you were probably by some empty corner of the chasm. When Sydney asked why, Thyme said she wanted to apologize or something.”

You called it, you said that she probably went looking for one of you. And she did. If she had waited to eavesdrop, though, she would’ve heard you and Finnick speaking. She could’ve wreaked so much havoc, but she wasn’t patient enough for that. You’re thankful.

Your grip on Finnick’s hand is like iron.

“We never saw her,” Finnick says casually, looking at Trink, shaking his head, “(Y/n) and I were in the party room messing with the microphone for an hour before we decided to head back to the dorm.”

“Oh, it’s still in there?” Blaire asks, he sounds a little excited.

“Yeah! At least when we were in there,” you say.

“Huh,” Trink’s eyebrows are drawn in, “Do you think she was looking for you to make amends or something, and when she realized that you didn’t want to see her, she killed herself in that corner?”

“Didn’t Lennox think it was for ranks?” Finnick’s trying to steer her back to her original point.

“It could be both,” Trink shrugs, “I was just saying. It’s over here.”

She takes the lead, bringing you three around another corner before you all come to a stop. Lennox has his back to you guys, his arms crossed, but he’ll lift one every now and then when he speaks, like he’s trying to explain the situation. Off to the side, there’s a large puddle of water beneath a motionless body.

Thyme is soaked from head to toe, lying on her back. Her head is faced away, toward the ledge that has no railing. Wet hair, flattened against the ground and the sides of her face. Her clothes are like a second skin with the way they stick to her body.

A woman is holding a blue lantern up, staring down at Thyme. If it weren’t for the light, this whole area would be pitch black. And with the light, you’re able to see the ear piercing that you insisted on her getting when you and Finnick got nose piercings.

Finnick draws in a breath, and doesn’t release. Blaire stays on your other side, staring. Trink is the only one who moves forward, coming up behind Lennox to tell him that she’s brought you two. Her hand is gentle on his back, and he offers you three a half-glance, a nod, and then turns back to the man he’s talking to. Trink doesn’t leave his side.

“I’m… so sorry, Finnick,” Blaire says slowly, not being able to tear his eyes from the puddle of water.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really my friend, anyway.” he gives your hand a squeeze.

Was she anyone's?

You try to bring out some sense of remorse, thinking that you should at least pretend to be upset, but what’s the use? Everyone in the transfer initiate group knows how much you hated each other, it would be weird for you to cry over her. In fact, it’s even weirder that Finnick isn’t crying over her.

Besides, you can’t fake an emotion that’s the complete opposite of what you’re feeling. In order to be a good actress, you have to feel what your audience would feel at that moment, and you just can’t do it. There’s something else that’s brewing, something more sickening and vile and would most definitely get you in trouble.

It’s pure gleeful laughter, the relief and satisfaction of knowing that you will never have to deal with her again. Much less worry that she could snap at any moment and get you killed. No more pressing your ears to closed doors, no more walking on eggshells...

At the rate the balloon is swelling in your chest, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to hold it in.

--

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @liaaacantwrite / @terezasworld / @i-dumb-bitch /

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Chapter 9

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: Getting your bearings at BigHit

Previous chapter here ---------------------------

It’s fine it’s fine, Yoongi kept repeating to himself this morning after you had left to go to the security office. I’m not even home that often, it’s not her fault. He slipped on a t-shirt and jeans and went downstairs. He put his dishes away and looked in the foyer. Two suitcases and a backpack were sitting there. He couldn’t believe this was all you had. That’s it. He sighed and picked up the bags, wheeling them over to the guest bedroom. He looked around the room and frowned. He would need to order a few more blankets. He took out his phone and ordered some quickly. He walked into the guest bathroom. No towels. He placed an order for those as well. Even if you ended up living somewhere else, it was good to have extra towels and blankets, he reasoned with himself. 

He checked his calendar and yours. You should still be in the security office with Namjoon. He had already texted Hobi earlier.

Y:WTF dude, I thought you were my friend

JHOOOOOOPE: I brought a nice looking girl to your house, how is that not nice **angel**

Y: You can’t just drop someone off into someone else’s house without asking!

JHOOOOOOPE: It’s not my fault no one told you. I was told to deliver your new assistant to your apartment because you needed her to be available to whims at all times. I do what I’m told like every other person who works here. **shrug** it could be worse. I could use an assistant. Send her my way if it doesn’t work **Grin**

Y: >=(

Yoongi walked off the Elevator and saw Namjoon’s smug face there "What the hell is wrong with you?" Yoongi growled, walking up to him. He was surprised he didn’t see you anywhere.

"Not now Yoongi, I have a meeting in 15 minutes." Namjoon sighed. That fucking prick.

"You just dropped a girl into my house without telling me and think I'm not going to have something to say about it?" 

"You knew she was starting today. You agreed that the two of you were going through with all of this. What did you think that meant? Huh?" Namjoon said, almost bored.

"Why don't I get a say in any of this?" Yoongi raised his voice, exasperated. 

"You did. You picked her." Namjoon said calmly as he pushed the up button on the elevator. 

"This is such bullshit!" he yelled. You walked around the corner, surprising him. 

The elevator for Namjoon arrived and he got on it, not bothering to look back. 

You walked closer to Yoongi. "Hey. I'm sorry this was a surprise for you. It was to me too. I thought I would be in a dorm with a bunch of other girls." You gave him a sympathetic look. 

He took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry it's not you. It's just...ughhh…" He put the hat back on.

"Really. It's fine. It seems like Namjoon isn't interested in our opinions though, huh? I'm a good roommate. I'm quiet and I clean up after myself. And I can cook." 

Yoongi wasn’t angry at you, so his feelings had morphed into pouting at this point. "It's fine I put your bags in the guest bedroom." He pushed a button on the elevator. He sighed 

"Thanks Yoongi." you said, standing next to him. 

“And I can cook too. So don’t think that’s part of your job or anything.”

“Now what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t cook for you,” You teased as the doors opened up. You were surprised to see him blushing. He hit the button for the 12th floor, feeling like a total idiot.

You looked so cute and professional. He tried to not think about the fact you had seen him in his underwear that morning. He looked down, mumbling something, hoping you wouldn’t notice how embarrassed he was. He was eager to just get to his studio. He understood abstractly that the two of you would be spending time together but now that it was actually happening, he felt awkward and shy. And vaguely annoyed by everyone else. He got off the elevator with you following. “What are you doing exactly?” He turned and asked.

“I’m your assistant. I’m supposed to help you. Do I have a desk or anything? There wasn’t really an orientation. There isn’t anything on the calendar for the rest of the day.”

“Oh. Ok. Umm take the rest of the day off…? Go unpack?” He shrugged.

You scowled. “That doesn’t seem particularly helpful especially since you want me to move out.”

Yoongi sighed and continued to move down the hallway, “You don’t need to do that. There,” he pointed. “That’s Jiwoo. She’s the office manager for this floor. Ask her if she knows anything. I need to get to my studio.”

You had so many more questions but you didn’t want to bother Yoongi.“Ok. See you later.” You turned and walked over to the woman he had indicated to.

Yoongi continued on to his studio. He had no idea if you had a desk or not. He hadn’t really put thought into it. He cursed himself for not thinking to ask Namjoon about any of this. He detested appearing as though he didn’t know something, which unfortunately meant he hadn’t asked questions when he should have. Oh well. He hoped Jiwoo could straighten it out. Otherwise he would later today. He typed in his pass code and walked into his studio. Fortunately he felt inspired this morning and went straight for his notebook.  

“Hello. Excuse me?” You said as you walked up to the desk of the woman who had been identified to you as the office manager. She appeared to be older than you; her hair cut into a bob, she also had super cute glasses. She looked up. 

“Yes, can I help you with something?” 

“I’m Mr. Min’s new assistant, [Y/N]. Today is my first day and nobody really seems sure what to do with me.”

She laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me at all. They all do a great job with the big picture around here. But the details? That’s my specialty.” She stood up. “Follow me. Your desk is over here, near the lounge area. It’s a little noisy, but it’s across from the coffee maker. Which is important because Min Yoongi loves coffee.”

“Yes, thank you. That is like one of the only things I do know.” You smiled, grateful for any help.

“You don’t have a company laptop yet. I would expect it by Monday. You can do most things via the App though. If something does come up, let me know and we can work something out. Now, if you walk around the corner here,” she led the way. “We have some empty studios. If you ever need to rent space for any reason, they are available under the App. Mr. Min has his own studio so you shouldn’t need to book any spots unless you are helping with a collaborator. Speaking of, here is his studio. Good luck with that.” She pointed down to the doormat which had a cat flipping you both off. You laughed. You looked at the plate by the door. “Min Suga. Genius Lab.”

“Humble. Nice.” You pointed at the placard.

“He is really good though.” She said thoughtfully. She began to move down the rest of the hallway, pointing out the restrooms and arriving back at her desk.  “Also, don’t wait up on him. He’s in there most of the time. Follow your calendar. If you try to follow his, you’ll never sleep or you’ll end up with a sleeping disorder. Seriously. He sleeps in there sometimes.” She sat back down at her desk.

Your eyes bugged out a little bit at this. Damn that was some dedication. You hoped he at least had a futon in there then. Jeeze. “Alright. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.”

You almost wished you would have kept your desk plant now, looking at the empty space. You had a few office items in the bags in Yoongi’s house but nothing really worth going back for. A message popped up on your phone. **ORDER READY MIN YOONGI #2983627** You clicked on it. Apparently there was an order at the store ready for Yoongi. Because there was a store in the company building. Huh. Ok. I guess this is part of my job now. You looked up where the store was and headed down to the 2nd floor. It appeared to be a multipurpose grocery and home-goods store with also a few clothing items.  Looking around you found the *Pick up online order* section and walked over. You queued up and recognized the perfectly coiffed blonde hair of Namjoon’s assistant. 

You gave him a light tap on the shoulder. “Hey!”

Jimin turned around, surprised to see the girl from the interview last week standing behind him. “Hey you.” He smiled, “so you got the job?”

You nodded. “Yep. Sorry again about last week. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He laughed, his eyes turning into adorable crescent-moons  “I’m sorry I literally yelled “shit” at you. So I think we’re even.” He stuck out a hand, “Park Jimin. Nice to officially meet you.” You shook it. “I see you have figured out some stuff. You’ll be on the 14th floor with Yoongi right?”

“Yep. I just got my desk. That’s it. The rest of the day doesn’t have anything and he hasn't given me anything to do yet.”

Jimin turned to move forward in line, with you following suit. He turned back, “Well Yoongi hasn’t had an assistant before but if he’s anything like Namjoon he’ll figure out a million things for you to do soon. Once they get used to it they forget how to even use food delivery apps or how to do their own laundry.” He shook his head. “To clarify: I don’t do his laundry. I coordinate the dry cleaning.”

“And here I was imagining you washing Namjoon’s undies.” You teased, causing him to laugh some more.

“Noooo stop. I don’t want that mental image.” Jimin licked his lips. “If you’re not doing anything later you should join me and Tae for drinks. Not at Club Tokki.” You raised your eyebrows. “Sorry, I peeked at your resume. Think about it and let me know.” He cut the conversation short as it was his turn in line. He concluded his business at the counter quickly. He turned around, carrying a few paper bags. “I’ll see you around.”

You waved, “Alright, I’ll text you about later.” It felt so nice to be included on your first day. He seemed fun. You stepped up and held the QR code up for them to scan. You were handed two paper bags and a larger plastic one. You took them and stepped aside, reading the stapled receipt paper. **PINK TOWELS X 4** on one of the bags. **QUEEN SIZE BLANKET WHITE X 2** on the larger one. He bought me blankets and towels!?!?! You took the bags back to the apartment. Yoongi had taken your bags and put them nicely in the corner of your room. You were pretty sure this stuff was for the guest bedroom and bathroom but you didn’t want to seem presumptuous.

YN: Hey! I picked up your order from the store. Where should I put the towels and blankets?

You waited a few minutes, unpacking one of your bags.

Y: Those are for you. The washing machine is upstairs in the hallway. 

YN: Thank you so much. Pink is my favorite color!

Y: :]

You went and started a load of towels and continued to unpack. Holy shit. This was weird.  You went back upstairs with the blankets. The upstairs loft area had a more lived in feel to it, with blankets strewn over a black couch, a large tv, and a video game system. There was also a keyboard in the corner. There was a short hallway containing a closet and the washer and dryer. You assumed the door at the end of the hallway led to his room. You were a very private person yourself, so you weren’t about to intrude on that. You honestly felt weird being in the loft area, it felt as though the lower level was for show and this was where Yoongi actually lived. 

You moved some more laundry around and decided to head back to the office. You still weren’t sure about joining Jimin for drinks tonight. You decided you would wait and see what the laundry status was. You set a timer on your phone and went back to the office. You stopped by the lounge area and made a coffee for yourself while preparing a coffee for Yoongi. Another ping on your phone.

***EVENT ADDED SATURDAY 6 PM***

Retirement Party for Lee Soobin Akioko Flame Restaurant

The espresso stopped dripping. You added the water and then poured it over ice. You walked over to the studio and gave the door a knock. No answer. 

 You huffed in slight irritation while trying to get your phone out one-handed. 

YN: It’s me. I have coffee.

Y: Leave it by the door.

YN: :( But someone could kick it over

Yoongi took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Y: Give me a minute.

He got to what he deemed was a good stopping point and walked over to the door, opening it the slightest bit.

“Here you go.” You handed him the iced coffee. 

He took it, eyeing you suspiciously.  “What?” You said, exasperated. You had lovingly hand-crafted this brew.

“You like shitty coffee so I’m worried.” He took a sip. His eyebrows went up. “This is not shitty. This is good. Where did you get it from?” He noticeably relaxed, the doorway opening slightly more. 

“I made it using the espresso maker in the break room.” You said. “I worked in a coffee shop before I was old enough to work in bars. Shitty coffee has to do more with sleep deprivation than actual preferences.”

“True true.” He said, his lips pouting as he took another sip. The sound of a phone ringing in the studio cut through the air. He scowled, making no attempt to answer it.

“Is that your work phone?” You asked.

“Yes. I imagine it’s Jimin or one of BPD’s assistants.”

“So...shouldn’t you answer it?” You asked.

Yoongi shrugged and walked into his office, not bothering to shut the door. You took this as a slight invitation and followed him in. You took a brief look around before the phone rang again and you identified it’s location. You walked over and picked it up. “Genius Lab. This is [Y/N] speaking.” 

Yoongi turned around to ask what the fuck you were doing but then you had sounded so professional, he just plopped down in his work chair instead, a dumbfounded look on his face.

“I’m not sure. I’ll find out and get back with you. What’s the number?” You took out your phone and typed the information in. “Ok yes. Thank you.” You hung up the phone. 

“What are you doing exactly?” He asked. You weren’t sure if he was angry, amused, or confused. He was difficult to read sometimes.

You smirked. “Being your assistant. Would you like me to have this phone forward to mine so it doesn’t ring in here?” 

Yoongi’s eyes grew slightly wider, “You can do that?”

“Yep. There’s an app for it.” You responded, happy some of your previous office experience actually translated to this position.

“Yes. Please God yes.” He said quickly. 

You laughed, setting up the forwarding application. You picked up the phone to see what the number of the studio was. “Alright. I can at least triage some of the calls for you.” You said, satisfied with yourself. “Also. Ew.” You eyed a few take-out containers and coffee cups. “I’m coming back for...this.” You gestured to the room and excused yourself to get a trash bag. 

Yoongi sat there slightly dazed. He rarely let anyone into his studio and yet you had just come in, fixed his phone anxiety issue, and also scolded him. He scrolled through his phone, seeing the event on Saturday. It was annoying but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with you and J-Hope there. Maybe. Even if it all was a stupid pretend performance.

You retrieved a trash bag from the break room and came back. You started cleaning without saying anything. It was becoming obvious that Jiwoo had spoken the truth, Yoongi really did spend most of his time in here. You made your way around the surfaces, throwing trash away. To your shock, Yoongi just sat there, drinking his coffee and scrolling through his phone.

“Thanks again for the towels and blankets. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“No problem.”

“Are we going to the party on Saturday?”

Yoongi looked up at you, “Sure.”

And just like that, you had committed to your first event at BigHit. “Alright, I’ll let Jin know.”

Yoongi shifted in his seat slightly, “is that who called?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Has he hit on you yet?”He asked casually, belying the fact that he was actually very interested in how you would react to the infamous flirt. 

You giggled. You were almost all the way done tidying up. “Of course. Have you seen his face? He had to let me know how in demand it is at all times.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, him and Namjoon stopped by the bar last week. Idiots.”

“Agreed.” Yoongi felt his body become more at ease with your answer. He didn’t know why he cared.

You looked around the spartan room. “Alright. I’m all done. Do you need anything else?”

Yoongi put his phone down. “Just to get back to my writing.”

You were so very curious but you didn’t want to intrude. “Sure thing. See you later.” You picked up your trash bag and left the room, shutting the door behind you. You were honestly surprised at how easy your day had been so far.  You sat the trash bag down by your cubicle, unsure of where to deposit it.  A text to Jiwoo about the dumpster and an RSVP to Jin about the party on Saturday and your day was almost done. You dropped the garbage off on your way to the apartment to switch out laundry. You were getting tired.

YN: Hey! I’m going to take a rain check for tonight. I am so tired and I still need to unpack ;-; I do want to though, so don’t think I’m blowing you off. Lunch tomorrow? 

JM: Shit I totally forgot you would need to unpack and everything. Sorry. No worries. Also, check your schedule, we have a huge design meeting around lunch time so they will most likely have it catered. I’ll buy you a drink on Saturday if you actually get Yoongi to attend.

You raised your eyebrows. It was on the schedule clear as day, on you and Yoongi’s calendar. Why wouldn’t he attend?

YN: Of course he’ll be there. Why wouldn’t he be?

JM: HAHAHAHA good luck. See you tomorrow!

It was already after five so you didn’t bother going back down to the office. You finished the laundry and finished your unpacking. And then you stood in the apartment just staring. The sun had gone down and the windows had a lovely view of the city. You could see part of the river and one of the many lit up bridges. You turned on the kitchen light. Shit. You had no idea what the food situation looked like here. Your stomach growled. You took some rice out of the cooker, leaving enough for Yoongi and sat at the countertop. 

You opened up your personal email. You had paid the dorm deposit for your brother, using your “disappear in the middle of the night and change your name again” emergency fund to pay for it. It had scared the shit out of you to pull all your money from savings and you still were secretly afraid that the job was lying about how much money it would pay you. Before you knew it, it was 9. 

YN: Hey, I ate some of the rice but I don’t want to just go through your kitchen. Do you want me to order or make anything?

No response. Ok. He was probably busy. You rifled through the cabinets. If his office was any indicator there should be at least a few ramyeon packs you could eat and replace. Bingo. You made a spicy prawn one and texted one more time.

YN: I owe you a spicy prawn ramyeon pack. Thanks again for everything. See you tomorrow.

You set the coffee maker for the next day and brush your teeth. You nestled into your new bed complete with one of your new fluffy blankets. You couldn't remember the last time you had your own bedroom. It was before your sister was born. The two of you had always shared a room. And then 7 years ago you started sharing a room with her and your niece. You took a deep breath, feeling as though you were letting 7 years of bullshit go all at once. If only it were all so simple. NEXT CHAPTER @lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan  @firefairy1  @cuteipat  @sugaslittlekookies  @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 10

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), teasing, some good old grinding and power plays.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Well, this if officially the calm before the storm but not really because the storm is already blowing and this shit only gonna get worse from here. Let me say thank you to you all for your support for this series. Usually Thor and Loki aren’t really popular on my blog but I’ve had so much fun writing them.

And as always, @lokislastlove​ is the actual devil. 

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

When at last Loki let you rise, you felt hollow but full. Your legs were jittery but heavy. You bent to gather the blanket as he dropped the book in the basket. You dumped the folded fabric atop the rest of your load and felt a brush across your ass and stood straight.

The prince acted as if his fingers hadn't just been wandering across your rear. He was rather good at acting the innocent. You hooked your arm through the handle of the basket and choked down your anger. You suspected the more you gave him, the more he'd take.

He smirked and turned his back to you, waving you to follow him. You kept behind him, just a few steps back, and watched the ends of his dark hair that hung between his straight shoulders. He walked as if he had not a care in the world, even after his brother had gotten the best of him. Well, in turn, Loki had got the best of you.

When you returned to his chambers, his silence persisted. He shed his heavy jacket and disappeared into his bedchamber. He returned, his tunic collar open wide across his chest and untucked from his trousers. His boots had been disposed of as well and he reclined over the chaise.

"I should like to finish my book, if you could bring it here," He said at last.

You set the basket down and dug around for his book. You crossed to him and held it out. He took it, his eyes on you as he did, and rested it against his chest. His long fingers picked at the edge of the cover as he watched you.

"Shall I read to you again?" He asked coyly.

"Your highness," You uttered, "I must dispose of the crusts we did not eat and take the blanket to the laundries."

"Leave them for now," He cooed.

"And your chambers will need sweeping. Some dusting at least along the mantle." You insisted.

"Go ahead then. I am certain you can listen and clean at the same time." He took the book and opened it. "It might make your work easier... or harder, depending on your perspective."

"I do not like the story," You argued. "I'd prefer silence."

His eyes flashed and he lifted a brow as he looked to you again.

"I would prefer silence as well. From you." He said sharply. "I will not abide that tongue for much longer if you insist on impudence."

You averted your eyes and sighed quietly. 

"My apologies, your highness." You eked out.

He grinned and nodded. He opened the book then closed it. He sat up suddenly and placed the book down beside his leg as his other hand shot up, his index pointed in epiphany.

"I have devised a way to make our work more... entertaining," He said. "At least, for me."

You blinked. You knew by his tone that it would not doubt make your work more difficult.

"Take off that ugly dress." He demanded. "And the presumably stained shift you wear beneath. You may dust my chambers then... I shall try not to be too distracted from my reading."

"Your highness," You spoke between gritted teeth. "I--I..."

"Darling, would you rather I remove them myself? I fear they might not be left in a wearable state should it come to that." He warned. "So go on," He grabbed his book and laid back down. "I expect you to be about your chores by the time I am done the first page."

He propped his head up on the end of the chaise and lifted his feet up on the other. He found his place as you glared at him and begrudgingly untied your apron. Loki grinned and began to read.

'A veil of sunlight shone over her, illuminating the simple yet intricate curves of her body. She was like a statue come to life, chiseled painstakingly to perfection...'

You could not repress your spite as you undressed, one piece at a time, and when you were naked, you kept your back to him and cursed whatever tainted fortune had led you to this point.

You fished inside your apron pocket and let it fall back with the rest of your clothing. You took the cloth and went to the mantle as his voice carried through the airy chamber. You took each ornament and wiped away the few specks of dust upon them and then the shelf itself.

'Her sleepy eyes peered up at him as he held himself above her. She tasted like cinnamon as he kissed her. She grumbled but did not pull away. He felt his desire growing and soon prodding against her thigh. He needed her again. Badly.'

You dropped the cloth as you shook away the scene etched in your mind by Loki's voice. You bent to retrieve it and heard a hum. You glanced over and the prince winked at you.

"The table," He gestured to the low table that faced the chaise. "Don't forget that."

You approached the other side of the table but realised there was no where to hide; no vantage from what he would not see most of you. You kept the table between you and bent to wiped the smooth surface. He watched you before slowly turning the page and finding his spot.

'Her lips were so delicious, he wondered what every part of her tasted like. He slowly retreated, holding himself above her as he pushed himself back, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her tender flesh.'

Your lips parted without thinking and you gripped the edge of the table. You felt that same warmth between your legs and as you moved, you felt a dampness there as well. You turned away to hide your confusion and went to the side table along the wall, giving extra attention to the vase there.

'...And her most sacred part tasted like paradise. He delved into it without restraint. Lapped her up as her legs pressed against his head in her want for him...'

You looked around for another task and caught your foot on the leg of the table. You stumbled and crashed to your knees. You cringed and shakily climbed back up, embarrassed at your clumsiness. Loki had stopped his reading.

"Are you well, dear?" He asked.

"Quite," You lied. "Careless is all, your highness."

"Mmhmm," He purred and raised two fingers, bending them as he beckoned you close. "Come here."

You pouted without thinking. He raised his brows and you obeyed. You neared him and reached to take the cloth from you, tossing it so it landed on the low table. He grabbed your wrist and drew you closer until your legs met the side of the chaise.

"Get up here," He set aside the book and patted his stomach. "Just atop me."

"Your high--"

"What did I tell you about that mouth?" He warned. "Do not be so nervous, I am fully clothed and I mean no harm."

You pushed your tongue against the roof of your mouth in frustration. He let go of your arm and you turned, lifting a leg over him as you climbed up onto the chaise, straddling him beneath you.

His hand went to your hips and grazed your sides, sending a chill through you. He cupped your tits and let out a heady breath.

"Tell me," Loki said. "Has a man every held these before? Held you?"

You stared at the wall and shook your head. He tweaked your nipple and you looked at him.

"Answer me aloud," He ordered.

"No, your highness." You answered stiffly.

"Never?" He asked. "A pity."

He played with your tits a little longer, his eyes followed his hands. You felt something stir beneath you, just within his trousers. His hands settled on your hips once more and he led your pelvis back then tilted it forward again. You gaped at him curiously.

He rocked you again, slowly at first as he kept up the motion. Then you felt it, the way his bulge rubbed against your bud, the way your arousal spread across his pants. Your lips formed an O as you looked down at yourself and planted a hand on his stomach as you tried to stop him.

He let go of you and grabbed your wrists. He put your hands on his shoulders and held you like that.

"Move your hips, darling," His voice was low and lurid. "Don't make me tell you twice."

Your lips twitched but no protest could rise above your fear. You did as he said. You rocked as he had guided you to before. Slow, nervous, and yet each time felt better than the last.

"Faster," He urged and your brows drew together as his eyes went between your bodies. "Faster, dear."

You obeyed. Again. You felt helpless and yet it was you. You were riding him and you didn't want to stop. The heat began to swell within you and the slickness which had seeped into his trousers only added to it. It was wrong, you knew that, but you just didn't care.

He purred as you grinded against him harder and your hips picked up without thinking. You bit your lip and pushed your head back as your fingers curled against his shoulders. 

His thick breaths turned to animalistic grunts and his hand fell to your ass. He pushed you against him as he lifted his pelvis just a little, his cock rubbing through his pants against your clit. You bucked as you got closer, closer, closer.

You shuddered as you came and kneaded your ass. He snarled and swore as he squirmed and grasped your hips to slow you. He was panting as he stilled you entirely and his hands slipped down along your legs. He smiled, his eyes dilated and dazed.

"My dear maid," He slithered. "I thought you were supposed to be tidying my chambers, not making a mess of me."

🌩️

Loki didn't let you dress until he dismissed you. After his little game, he allowed you to return to your work only to resume his reading. You hated how he could make you both so angry and so entirely weak. You hated him but somehow he could make you want him. You didn't understand him or what he did to your body.

As you made your way down to the lower levels, you felt as if you were walking through water. As if every step was a struggle. You were tired, overwhelmed, and utterly perplexed. By Thor and his politics, Loki and his teasing, and yourself, more than either of them. 

You should go; get out of the palace. You thought of running away but where could you go that they wouldn't find you? Of course, they'd search the docks first and they wouldn't stop there. The king had enough guards to scour the kingdom a dozen times over and you had no gold to take you away from Asgard. And even if you did leave Asgard, where could you go?

As you turned the corner to the corridor lined with the servants’ shared chambers, you caught yourself. There was a shadow not far ahead, waiting for something or someone. It only took a moment to recognize the large silhouette.

You backed up on tip toes and felt along the wall as you retreated around the corner. Your hand caught on a handle and you pressed the lever down slowly. You eased open the door, praying the hinges didn't betray you, and slipped behind the heavy wooden barrier. You coaxed it back into place and leaned heavily against it.

You turned your back to the door and slid down to the floor. You drew your knees up and listened. The king's boots scuffed softly on the stone as he paced. He wouldn't wait all night. He couldn't. You were trembling.

You closed your eyes and lowered your head to your arms crossed over your knees. Thor's footfalls harried from patient to frustrated. You heard his breaths, almost growls, and a grumble to himself. He cursed his brother and marched away from the servants' quarters and past the closet you hid within.

You didn't dare emerge, even as his steps faded away and you were left only with the still silence of the palace. You slumped down onto your side, unknotting your apron to bunch up beneath your head, and fell into an uncomfortable slumber.

You dreams were a blur of blue and green eyes, hands reaching for your body, voices swirling in your ears. Run, run, run, but you could never hide. In the end, you would be caught. As it was, you already were.

🌩️

The next morning, you awoke with a crick in your neck, slightly disoriented by the racks of brooms and rows of buckets. You stood, bracing your sore back, and stretched with a suppressed groan. The tension had nestled between your shoulders.

Well, since you were already there. You took a broom, a pan, and a bucket. You carried your lot to the prince's chambers and left them just inside the door before you descended once more and fetched his breakfast.

Upon your return, he was awake. He stood in the bedchamber doorway as he rubbed his forehead and smiled as he saw you carrying the tray. He was unashamed of the ten at the front of his trousers or his bare torso.

"I will enjoy my breakfast on the balcony," He announced and strutted through the archway.  "It is such a lovely morning."

You followed him with a sigh and set the tray before him. You removed the lid as his eyes skimmed over the scenery of the palace yard. He took a lush berry and popped it in his mouth and chewed. He swallowed it with a contented hum.

"I have decided to work from my chambers today." He declared. "And you... will serve me as you did yesterday."

You frowned. Did he mean--

"I do hate the way that apron gets in the way," He tugged on the fabric that hung from your waist. "A woman like you shouldn't hide herself and I suspect you've done so most of your life, dear."

"Your highness," You gulped. "Out... here?"

"Trust me, darling, those below barely have the same vantage as I," He smirked. "So let's avoid the threats and this little act you have. I've seen it all already."

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. It didn't matter that he'd seen you naked before nor that he'd touched you. Not even that he'd made you feel so... delightful. It was still absolutely degrading.

You sniffed and began to undress. You left your clothing on an empty chair around the table and swallowed your shame. You looked at Loki as if you were not bare and folded your hands before you.

"Did you require anything else for you meal, your highness?" You asked.

His eyes searched your face then drifted lower. His thoughts brewed behind his green eyes and he shrugged.

"No, you may go about your usual duties. I do expect to bathe when I finish," He bid. "And you might tidy my desk before I get to work."

"Your highness," You bowed your head and turned away. 

His hand snapped across your ass, a stinging slap, and you flinched but kept on. You strode over to the broom and took it, tempted to return to the balcony and hit the prince over the head with it. Instead, you dragged the bristles over the stone.

You finished sweeping the receiving chamber as Loki appeared in the archway. You went to draw his bath and he wasn't far behind, shedding his loose silk pants before sinking into the steaming tub. You left him and neatened his desk.

When he emerged, he dressed in the clothes you set out and sat at his desk. You retrieved the broom and began to clean his bedchamber. He was unbothered by the constant scratching and barely seemed to notice you. 

His work continued well until noon as you kept yourself busy in the receiving chamber. Then a knock came and you stopped dead, a cushion in hand that you'd been fluffing up. The banging came again, louder, and Loki swept into the room. You covered yourself as well as you could with the pillow.

"Fetch some goblets and a bottle," He said. "And put that thing down."

"Your highness, I--"

He smirked and tilted his head. "I gave you an order."

He continued to the door and opened it. You went to the cabinet and opened it carefully. You took a pair of cups and nearly fumbled the bottle.

"Brother," He greeted, "Do come in. I have some wine and we will discuss my proposal. I think it would do the farmers well if we subsidized them."

"Oh, yes, I do rather enjoy talking about seeds," Thor replied dryly as he entered. "I really do not have--"

He stopped as you spun around. He blinked at you, his lips parted slightly, than glanced at his brother. He sniffed and cleared his throat. He went to the straight-backed chair and sat. Loki remained standing as you set the cups on the low table and poured.

"Make it quick," Thor snarled.

"Not an issue if you've read my proposal in full. A subsidy would only be a temporary loss and in the end a profit to the crown," Loki said smoothly.

You offered Thor his cup and he took it without looking at you. A vein stood out along his forehead as his eyes narrowed at Loki. He didn't drink but cradled the cup over his lap. You then handed Loki the other goblet and he sipped before continuing.

"Not only that, but it would be good for your reputation among the common folk," Loki smiled. "And it is not as if we cannot afford it."

"Fine. Do it." Thor barked as he stood, restless. He put the cup down so hard the wine sloshed over the rim. "I know you did not me bring me here to speak of crops. What is the meaning of this?"

"Of what, brother?" Loki prodded.

Thor looked at you at last and his nostrils flared. His eyes sparked and electricity seemed to pulse beneath his skin.

"You know what." Thor hissed.

"It has been a hot summer, brother," Loki taunted. "And I am doing no different than you have done. I know you've not so quickly forgotten--"

"You wait." Thor jabbed his finger in the air and a crackle flew off of it, dying in the air before. "You are still just a prince. As you will ever be."

Thor turned and his cape flapped around him as he stomped towards the door. He slammed it behind him as he stepped out into the corridor. You were breathless, stunned. Loki however only seem amused as he chuckled.

The room suddenly turned dark and you turned to look through the archways. You stepped closer and lightning shot across the sky, eerily black in the daytime. A sudden hale of rain began to batter at the balcony as a storm raged without and added to that within you.

"Well," Loki neared and peered out. "That was fun."

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars) Kix x Reader: A Trip to the Medbay

-Though you're injured, you refuse to get help because of a certain medic. Little did you know, this trip to medbay would change everything-

You kicked and tried to wriggle free, but there was no escaping Fives as he carried you to the medbay of the ship with his arms wrapped firmly around your torso, pinning your arms to your side. Troopers and other respected members of the GAR stared at you as you passed by. Not only did this look unprofessional, but you were trying very hard to avoid the destination.

“Fives,” you grunted. “Is this really necessary?”

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, arms still around you.“Well, if I put you down, will you walk to the medbay?”

“No.”

“Then yes, this is necessary.” He smirked. “Although, I do appreciate your honesty.”

“But- but the medbay is for people who need it.”

“And you need it. I saw you at the hangar. Don’t you want to get better?” Fives resumed walking, and you huffed.

“It’s nothing. There are so many soldiers and people out there who need it more than me.” While it was true you felt that way, it wasn’t the only reason you were so desperate to avoid the medbay- or rather, someone in the medbay. Feelings for a medic is what kept you away.

“Come on, ________,” Fives said with a sigh. “I know you’re not crazy about the medbay, but I hear Kix is on his shift. You know Kix. He’ll take good care of you.”

But that’s what you were afraid of.

In actuality, you and Kix were good friends. You’d gotten to know him well on and off the battlefield. You aided the 501st in many ways by helping to move or distribute weapons, gear, or other necessities on board the ship and on missions. On a few occasions, you had been an unofficial assistant to Kix when he was short on help in the heat of battle to get injured troopers to safety and give them the care or medicine they needed. You admired how good he was to the men. Sure, it was his job to ensure their survival, but it was evident that he truly cared about them. You were touched by the depth of his compassion, which was evident whether he was tending to troops or civilians.

You were determined to not let these feelings get in the way of your job, and they didn’t...until one day when Kix tended to one of your injuries. You weren’t used to the close contact with him, even if it was strictly professional. With pulse racing and skin growing warm, you fumbled over your words while answering his questions. You hoped to avoid another interaction like that.

Your heart dropped at the sight of the medbay doors. Fives walked you right in and finally released you from his hold. You winced from the movement. His hand rested on your shoulder, but it was pointless. Kix had already glanced up from his datapad. There was no turning back now.

“Hey, _______. Hey, Fives. What seems to be the trouble?” Kix asked, though he directed his question more towards the ARC trooper. It made sense, considering he was usually the one getting himself into trouble.

“_________ here has an injury she’s been neglecting,” Fives informed him. “I caught her wincing all day, but she refused to come see you. Had to drag her down here.”

Kix looked to you, brows furrowing as he went into medic-mode. He motioned for you to follow him to the nearest empty gurney, which wasn’t far since things were slow in the medbay. You quietly took a seat. Kix noticed your silence and offered a small smile.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you checked out, and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

His efforts to ease what he thought were nerves about the medbay made you feel guilty for being a little distant, yet seeing that smile simultaneously thrilled you.

“Well, my work here is done.” Fives gave you a casual wave. “I’ll see you later.” As he left, your nerves grew. There was no one here to buffer your interaction with Kix.

“So, what’s going on, _________?” Kix asked, eyes meeting yours. This was what you feared...Having his undivided attention in a moment of vulnerability.

“I, um...was… I was moving some supplies in the hangar, and I-I think I pulled something,” you said. “I’m getting sharp pains when I lift anything now” You failed to mention it was an injury you sustained lifting very heavy gear during the most recent battle, and it was reinjured because you hadn’t received the proper treatment or rest since then.

His brows furrowed again as he thought. “I see. First thing we’re going to do is locate the source of pain.” He leaned forward and put a hand on your shoulder. “Does it hurt here?”

“No.”

Kix’s hand travelled to your shoulder blade where he pressed. “Here?”

“No.” Your cheeks were burning.

He carefully lifted your arm, and a sharp pain jolted in your ribs. Air hissed through your teeth, and Kix looked at you apologetically. “Those muscles don’t pull easily, but when they do, they hurt. You must have been really exerting yourself.”

Unable to think of a response, you simply nodded.

“It’s nothing that a little pain-dulling stim won’t help, but you’ve got to rest. I’m giving you a note to excuse you from heavy-lifting for a while until you recover.” As he began to administer the stim, his eyes found yours again. “________, is everything okay? You’ve seen me do this a hundred times with others. You know there’s nothing to be afraid of, right?”

You took a deep breath, and the pain that was usually there already started to fade. You figured it was time to at least give him a little insight as to what was going on in your head. “Actually, I guess I’m just a little nervous being treated by...you.”

“Me?”

“But it’s not because I don’t like you or anything! It’s quite the opposite. I mean…” You cleared your throat. “You’re my friend, and I guess I’m not used to you being my medic.”

He nodded, that small smile returning to his face. “I think I get where you’re coming from.”

“Really?”

Ugh, he was handsome, strong, smart, compassionate and understanding. This wasn’t helping the situation with your feelings, but you were glad he didn’t take offense.

“If I’m being honest, I feel the same way sometimes,” he continued. His gaze was on the datapad again as he typed some notes. “Being that you’re a female.”

“But you deal with female civilians, and you never look nervous,” you pointed out curiously. “Why am I different?”

He stopped typing, but didn’t meet your gaze. “I suppose it’s the same reason as yours, because you’re my friend. And a young, attractive female friend at that.” Then his brows went up. “But it doesn’t interfere with my work. I don’t want you to be in pain, and nothing hinders that.”

Your heart nearly melted in that moment. “You think I’m attractive?”

“I was hoping you didn’t notice that part,” he muttered, giving a shy sideways glance. “But yes. You’re attractive, smart, caring...”

You suddenly noticed that the medbay was empty, save for the two of you. Good thing, too, because you had gathered your courage. “I, um...The feeling is mutual. I think you’re attractive. You’re kind, intelligent, compassionate.” Kix’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. Something was communicated in that look between you two. In the next instant, he had left the datapad behind and walked over to stand in front of you. You were still sitting up on the gurney, legs dangling over the side. There was nowhere to go as he leaned in- not that you wanted to go anyway.

Kix’s hands rested on your shoulders as he quietly asked, “Does this hurt?”

You took a breath. “No.”

His hands moved to rest on each of your arms. “This?”

You shook your head.

Finally, he wrapped one arm around you to pull you off the gurney and to your feet, his other hand tipping your chin up. “And this?”

“Not one bit,” you whispered. You leaned in the rest of the way to press a kiss to his cheek, pausing to gauge his reaction. He returned the gesture on your cheek, and then all at once your lips captured his. Kix leaned into the kiss gently at first, as if getting used to the feeling. Then, he took control and pulled you tighter into his embrace as he kissed you over and over. Your arms wrapped around him, just as you had wanted to do many times. It felt safe there. Secure. He pulled away momentarily before placing one last soft peck on your lips.

When you separated, reality started to hit you. You kissed Kix. He kissed you back. It was something you had dreamed about, and it happened in the empty medbay. At the same time, you felt waves of affection as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“So this happened,” you said.

“Yes, it did.” Kix smirked. “You had it coming. You’re too beautiful, you know that?”

You smirked back, revelling in the newfound confidence in front of him now that your feelings were revealed. “And you’re talking too much.” You pulled him in for another electric kiss.

The moment was interrupted when the medbay doors slid open. Kix quickly turned to shield you from the view of whoever entered, quickly trying to think of a cover.

“Relax,” Fives’ voice echoed in the room. “It’s just me. And you’re lucky it is because if anyone else spotted you locking lips, you’d both be in trouble.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Had to say, I approve. I just wish it hadn’t taken the two of you so long to get together.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He raised a brow at you. “So, did you at least get your injury taken care of, or was this whole thing a plot to avoid getting checked out?”

You laughed. “Kix took care of it. I have to tell my boss that I’m off the field for a few days. I’ve got a note and everything.”

“I’m sending it directly from my datapad,” Kix informed, releasing you to retrieve the device. “In the meantime, why don’t we hit the mess?” He glanced up at you.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to some grub,” Fives agreed. When you and Kix stared at him, he shrugged. “What? I feel like going to the mess hall too. I think I’m entitled considering I know of a little secret of yours.”

“You’ve got a point.” You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Fine, but you can’t come on our official first date.”

He held his hands up. “Like I’d want to. I’m going to have to rinse my eyes out after catching you swapping spit the first time.”

Kix clapped a hand on the ARC trooper’s shoulder. “You certainly have a way with words, brother.” You and Kix held hands on your way out of the medbay, and Fives led the way. At the sight of the first trooper in the hallway, you and Kix let go of each other’s hands and put some distance between you. You caught Kix’s gaze out of the corner of your eye, and he smiled knowingly at the secret the two of you shared.

This was going to be difficult, but you knew you could do it together.

[ariwilder]

Crazy, Stupid, Potions (6/?) Pairing: Penny Haywood x Jacob’s Sibling (MC)

Summary: Penny is practicing for the upcoming Wizarding Schools Potions Championship and she needs test subjects. One would say, that’s what friends are for, right? Right?!

1- 2- 3 -4- 5-6

-x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X-

After long hiatus. A new chappie. Love you everyone.

-x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X-

A fiery looking Beatrice Haywood interrupts you half through your treacle tart early in the morning. Her arrival is so abrupt, a piece of tart falls off from your spoon into your robes. You hear Charlie chuckle behind you.

“Is it true you almost killed my sister with a hug?” She put one of her hands menacingly between Rowan and you. Or at least, that’s what you guess.

You don’t answer instantly. To be honest, much like Penny, you didn’t always know how to treat Beatrice after everything that happened. You open your mouth to answer but Rowan beats you to it.

“Of course not, who told you that?” they ask matter-of-factly. You send Rowan a grateful glance.

“Ismelda.”

You give the younger Haywood a confused look. So, people truly believed you had tried to kill Penny, great. Just what you needed, yet another rumor of death surrounding you.

“Could you hug me?”

You turn violently behind you. The one who had said this was Ismelda, who was giving you a deadpan look. You hadn’t seen her trailing behind the younger Haywood. Bloody hell...

“What the…” you see Rowan frown before elevating their hands dramatically, “you know what? Just leave...”

“But−”

“Leaveeeee.” They drown out.

You see Beatrice glare your way before seeing the pair retreat from your place in the dining table. Not without managing to hear Ismelda whisper an: “At least we tried.”

You push your plate of half-finished treacle tart away from you, you don't feel hungry anymore. You didn’t know if people were looking at you and wondering the same things Ismelda wondered but it definitely felt like it.

“That was morbid, even for Ismelda.” Charlie says before gulping a mouthful of food. Nothing would ever diminish the appetite of a Weasley.

“Yeah.” You slump your shoulders in defeat.

“Charlie, would it kill you not to speak with your mouth full?” Rowan shifts the course of the conversation, managing to egg Charlie into playful banter.

You smile against your low spirits. At least you always have your friends.

You hear from Tonks that Penny was officially discharged from the Hospital Wing early in the morning. You don’t share classes with her that day, but she doesn’t leave your mind all morning, nor do several curious stares from the occasional classmate. You skip lunch that day and ask Rowan to make an excuse for you. You weren’t quite ready to face Penny Haywood in front of so many people, all of the staring was driving you crazy.

It’s early afternoon when you find yourself on your way to the dungeons ready to do some good ‘n old scrubbing of floors. You are quietly grateful when you don’t stumble with anyone on your way until you open the heavy door.

In front of you, Penny Haywood is hunched on her knees scrubbing the floor with a big old grey brush.

“Penny?” you ask dumbly. Of course, it was Penny, you moron.

She looks up with a tired smile. Her face looks flushed from exhaustion, you reason with yourself. Your heart skips the littlest of beats.

“Oh, hey,” she sounds out of breath but doesn’t look surprised to find you there.

“What are you doing here?” you ask her again, being captain obvious.

“Oh you know, good old hobby of mine, coming down here and scrubbing all the grub away from these floors is a favorite pastime of mine, didn’t you know?”

She is only wearing her uniform, and you see her wipe a speckle of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

She flushes like a tomato instantly when you find yourself speechless.

“It was a joke, never mind,” She blows a couple of strands of sandy hair away from her face and you can’t help but think you had never seen a more endearing scene in your life.

“Of course, it’s a joke, who would enjoy scrubbing floors, anyway?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously and you see her smirk.

“Well, apparently a friend of mine does, because they get so often in trouble with Snape they know the cleaning routine of the dungeon by heart by now.”

“You are right, Tonks looks like the kind of person that would enjoy this kind of weird hobby.”

It feels like a burden is lifted from your shoulders and both of you erupt in laughter after that. You knew she was talking about you.

You decide to join Penny on the floor and sit beside her, throwing your cloak aside with nonchalance.

“So, what are you doing here, then? Did Snape ground you too? Cause that’s of heartless of him, considering you just been recently discharged of the Hospital Wing, then again, this is Snape we are talking about and he is a −”

Penny interrupts your nervous rant with a hand on your forearm. You still hadn’t asked her how she was doing, and that sole fact made your mind go in overdrive.

“A worried soul might’ve told me you had gotten in trouble yesterday.”

“Rowan.”

“Tonks.”

“I was well after curfew yesterday, and Merula −”

“Merula?” Penny’s eyebrows are so high you felt they could easily disappear into her hairline.

“Yeah, never mind Merula,” you say this a bit too fast for your liking, you instantly regret bringing Merula up, “she told on me, and Snape gave me detention.” You shrug, quietly hoping she decides not to interrogate about Merula further. That is a conversation you don’t want to have.

Penny’s scowl relaxes at this as she lets go of forearm.

“I might’ve bargained your detention with Professor Snape. I know I can’t make it up to you this easily, but I feel really sorry about what happened. We can stop the whole experiment if you want to.” She does not look at you when she says this but her voice is so soft if almost breaks your racing heart.

“Penny,” you put a hand over her shoulder, in an attempt to smash your desire to hug her, “I know I might have acted a bit uncertain about this, but I trust you, okay? I know you would never do anything to hurt me. So, the experiment can go on. I think.”

You gulp. The rational side of your brain still felt iffy about the situation, but you were finding yourself not thinking entirely straight whenever Penny Haywood was involved.

“Are you serious?” Her smile is so bright it illuminated the dark dungeon.

“Very.”

She shrieks happily before putting her wand in the air to summon another bucket with bubbling soap and its respective scrub.

“Well, we need to get going if we want to finish before midnight.”

“I thought you said you bargained with Snape!” you point at her in fake disbelief.

Penny Haywood does a loud and playful raspberry. “Of course, I did, Hero of Hogwarts!” She puts both of her hands over her waist, “But the most I could do was offer myself for help. Sorry, I couldn’t be of more help to your majesty.”

She bows after this and you stifle a cackle.

“You better start soon before I change my mind though.” Penny Haywood winks at you before resuming her scrubbing on the floor. You are not sure how serious she says this but it doesn’t matter.

All is swell if you have Penny Haywood by your side.

-x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X-

you can find it in Ao3: here

-x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X- -x-X-x-X-

[syilcawrites]

A prompt (dunno if I should've messaged or sent a note, but eh, I'm used to asks):

Following the defeat™ of Ganon à la Link and Zelda, our favourite pair have settled in Kakariko Village for a bit as a temporary reprieve.

Then disaster strikes.

It starts with spaced-out sniffles. Then as hushed whispers come on the light snorts of a nostril attempting to impede the flow of an oncoming river of muscus. Rising to a crescendo, a throat reddens and sputters in an attempt to relieve an unending roughness that hinders speech and catches on food.

Link has the common cold.

Never has the hero felt so demeaned, so disrespected by the gods. His bones and blood and mind were forfeit the moment he drew the Sword as a child, of that he came to know and accept. But to now be impeded by snot and sebum - no affront could be greater.

So, stubborn as he is, he attempts to go on about his day, training, cooking, collecting - but, of course, fails spectacularly, his condition worsening. Looking from afar, Zelda finds that she's had enough and tends to the matter directly.

Ensue whatever great stuff you wanna write about.

TL;DR: Link gets mildly ill, worsens it by overexerting himself and Zelda has to force him to rest; magic ensues.

Sorry if that was way too detailed or exact for a prompt... I just have so many ideas of my own that I want to write but I just don't have the time right now. Sho, I'm keeping to plans aplently. ☺️

a/n: i loved this prompt and how detailed it was thank u for sending me this it was so fun to write sfauihhaifs sobs... I hope to see your writing someday!!! And hope you enjoy this lil fic (’:

ao3

to chase away a cold

It's been a little over two months since Calamity Ganon had been defeated. Paya had been kind enough to let them stay in her room for the time being, while Zelda recuperated from… well, everything. And it had been quiet around Hyrule since—the significantly decreasing amount of monster attacks had been a blessing for their short trips; they had run into little to no problems, fortunately, ever since they reunited.

But then, it started with a sound that Zelda could only affiliate with to a mouse squeak.

Her wide eyes flit to the ground, where Link was sitting atop of a futon that Paya had laid out for him. He didn't look at her as he continued shining away at his weapons, his back still facing her, pressed against the mattress of the bed Zelda was on.

She shrugged it off, resuming to mess around with the Sheikah Slate in her hands. Perhaps she was just hearing things… it wouldn't be surprising, since she hadn't officially settled into being back in her own body yet—

Zelda's ears perked up as the peculiar squeak happened again. But this time, the bed shook a little. She quickly lowered the Sheikah Slate from her view once more, her eyes narrowing.

"Link, was that you?" she asked, poking his back with her big toe.

He shook his head and shrugged.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

The next morning, Zelda awoke at noon.

Which was, of course, normal for her. She was never an early-riser to begin with, even before the Calamity.

But Link? He was always up the moment the sun rose. She was a light sleeper, and always heard him get up, despite his best efforts to be quiet. And he never missed a day to leave a couple of fresh wildflowers in the vase next to the bed for her before she would get up to start the day.

But today, the wildflowers at the bedside had been the ones from yesterday—beginning to grow flaky and brown.

And Link was still sprawled on the futon next to the bed, obliviously sleeping away.

"Link," Zelda whispered, leaning over the bed. But he didn't budge. Weird. "Link!" Zelda leaned over a bit further to shake his shoulder. "Get up!"

"Hah?" He flinched, startling himself awake. He sniffled as he looked over at her with glazed, sleepy eyes.

"It's past noon. I thought you were going to help Cado—"

"Noon?" he gasped, scrambling up from the futon. "I told him I'd come by at eight," Link mumbled, fumbling for his tunic and trousers. "We might have to go to the Great Fairy Fountain tomorrow instead, I promised I'd help him find his cuccos today." His voice sounded a bit heavier than she remembered.

She waved her hand at him, shrugging as she stifled a yawn. "It's okay, go help him. I'm sure he's waiting." Zelda quirked an eyebrow up as he sniffled again—he was doing that a lot more recently. "If you need a hand, I can help."

"No, you're still recov—" Suddenly, Link's face contorted up in a way that she had never seen before—he whipped around and sneezed into the crook of his elbow.

"Did you catch something?" Zelda asked, shifting off of the bed to place a hand on his forehead. But with each step she took closer to him, he took one away from her as he shook his head fervently.

"I'm fine," he insisted, pulling his cloak over his shoulders, still facing away from her.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

Zelda sat outside on the steps of Impa's home, eating pickled plum with her as the both of them watched Link run around Kakariko, trying to find Cado's precious, missing cucco's.

"It is beyond my understanding as to why Link even tries," Impa scoffed, handing Zelda the plumpest pickled plum of the batch. She still didn't have much of an appetite, but Impa had been as observant as she always was, and usually only offered Zelda bite-sized foods that she knew she wouldn't have trouble eating. "Cado loses his cuccos as least twice a month."

"Maybe we should build him a bigger fence," Zelda murmured, giggling as she watched Link wrestle with a cucco he was trying to drag over to Cado's little coop. "They wouldn't be able to fly as easily."

"Those little buggers will always find a way," Impa scoffed, shaking her head. "And—"

A loud sneeze caused the both of them to flinch—Link's well-fought battle against the cucco ultimately failed, and Zelda watched the aftermath of it with pity. He stared in defeat as it scampered away, back into the bushes.

"Link's been a little weird, hasn't he? He hadn't even stirred by the time I was awake," Zelda inquired, plopping another pickled plum into her mouth, chewing slowly. His jog was a little slower than usual, and he had to pause every five minutes to catch his breath—that never happened before.

"He's been staying up a little later than usual, hasn't he?"

Zelda nodded—he wanted to take her to several locations that were a bit further than their usual trips, so they had been mapping out the most efficient way to go about their mini excursion. While Link was an early bird, Zelda was more of a night owl… it did make sense that he would be a little off recently, with a shift in his sleeping schedule.

After he spoke to Cado, probably to apologize for not getting them all today, Link stumbled—he stumbled—a bit on his feet as he made his way to the cookpot, since dinner was just around the corner.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

By the time Link went into the room to retire for the day, Zelda had already situated herself on the futon. She was lying on her stomach, humming, as she plotted out the last of their destinations for the upcoming trip. She craned her head to the door when she heard it creak open; he looked even worse than earlier.

"How was your bath?" Zelda asked, sitting up.

"Good…" he said, sniffling, a little confused. He pointed at her, quirking an eyebrow up.

"You're sleeping in the bed tonight—and!" Zelda pointed at the cup of tea sitting on the desk next to the bed. "You should drink this up before you go to sleep. The trip can wait until you get better."

"What do you mean? I'm fine," he muttered, rubbing his nose.

"Link, having a cold is a perfectly normal thing to catch—and you just made it worse by trying to hide it. Which you were terrible at doing, by the way." Zelda grabbed the cup and held it out to him, waiting. "Plus, I added some extra ingredients that I think could possibly increase the potency of the medicine—"

"I'm not sick," he said, shaking his head with noticeable effort. "I don't need it, I'm fine. I—I feel better than I've ever had before, actually." He sneezed—and the cough that accompanied it sounded just as painful.

"But I made this specifically for you," Zelda muttered, lowering the cup a bit. Before she could continue to convince him to drink it, he had already grabbed it out of her hand and taken a large gulp out of it.

"You didn't put something weird in this, right?" Link asked, sniffing it. At least he tried to sniff it, but his nose was closed up. She laughed at his scrunched up face as he continued to try to smell it.

"It's a secret," she said, patting the top of the bed. "It's been a long day, you should rest."

He took one more long gulp before handing the cup to her with a satisfied sigh, his smile a little woozy. Zelda quickly grabbed it from him and stared into it—he had drank the whole thing in two gulps. He was supposed to drink it slowly.

He flopped over on top of the bed, burying his head into the pillow.

"This bed is really comfortable," he said, his voice muffled as he rubbed his face into it.

"Hey, you're going to get snot all over my pillow if you do that!" Zelda scoffed, tugging at his sleeve as she twisted around.

"It smells like you," he murmured, looking at her with half-lidded eyes as he strained to keep them open.

"Oh? And how do you know what it smells like if your nose is clogged?" She brought her arms over the bed and folded them together to rest her cheek against them. She had never witnessed him getting sick, even before the Calamity. And to see him acting a little aloof brought warmth into her chest—even though he hadn't recovered every memory, he still treated her with familiarity, which she appreciated. She was afraid of being thrown into a world so familiar, yet different.

But he stayed, even though he didn't have to.

"Hmmm... I can just feel it," Link muttered as he closed his eyes, pressing deeper into her pillow.

"You can feel what my pillow smells like?" Zelda snorted, trying to hold in her laughter. Instead of responding to her, he began snoring.

Zelda would have to remember that including a few sprinkles of nightshade acted as an excellent way for someone to fall asleep quickly.

[randomguywithwords]

On The Line: Part 1 of 3 (KamiJirou Short Story)

No quirk AU, normal life and all. Enjoy

––––––

Jirou’s phone buzzed. She frowned when she saw that it was an unknown number, but the country code was that of Japan’s. She answered, assuming it would be a prank caller, or Mina using a stranger’s phone because hers died from playing battery-draining gacha games. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi!” A boyish voice was on the other end, sounding slightly out of breath. “I’m Denki Kaminari, I need your help.”

Prank caller it is. Although it was unusual for them to introduce themselves by an actual name, It was likely fake. 

“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number,” She responded, mustering all the politeness she had at this stranger who was interrupting her precious break time. 

“No, no, please! You’re 81907621 right?”

“That’s correct,” Mechanically she said, taking a sip of her coffee and feeling a growing sense of frustration of how much time this Kaminari was wasting. 

“Just give me 15 seconds!” His voice was fraught with panic, so much so that Jirou started to question how genuine this person was. 

Rubbing her temples, she sighed, “Ok. 15 seconds for your sales pitch, and I’m hanging up.” She definitely could have hung up 10 seconds ago, but on the off chance this wasn’t a prank call, or a scammer, but an actual person in dire need of whatever assistance Jirou was supposed to provide, then so be it. 

“I’m applying for a job, and they asked for references, and I meant to put down my ex-teacher’s phone number, but I accidentally put yours instead, and I just found out and the company said they would be calling you soon and I really, really need you to tell them I’m suitable and not that I screwed up my application. I know it sounds stupid but I can prove it. My teacher’s name is Shota Aizawa and he’s a teacher at U.A High. You can look it up!”

Kyoka whistled under her breath at how fast he had managed to speak, and even more so that she caught it all. Guess being friends with fast talkers like Ashido and Momo was a good life skill after all. 

“Okay, I’ll google him and you to see if you’re telling the truth. You’re an alumnus there? What year?”

“Graduated just last semester.”

“Hm, how convenient. I did too. Lucky you landed me and not some old lady.”

There was a nervous chuckle on the other end. “I swear it’s the truth. Please help me, I’ll even pay you if need be. Just don’t tell the company I messed up.”

Some employee he would be, Jirou grumbled internally, though she did sympathise with his self-caused plight. She could remember the bunch of times she had total failures and had to be bailed out. 

“I’ll call you back in 5 minutes. And the second you ask for my credit card number I’m reporting you to the police, got it?”

“Yes!” He yelped. 

Jirou hung up, and then resumed her break, wondering whether all of this was worth the trouble. With another sigh, she pulled out her laptop and typed in the names she heard. 

“Hmm. It all checks out,” She muttered, scrolling through U.A High’s official website. Looking through social media accounts, she repeatedly saw both Shota Aizawa’s face in staff photos as well as Denki Kaminari. While the former looked as if he had woken up five minutes before taking the photo, the latter sported a mischievous look, with yellow, unkempt hair. 

In other words, Denki Kaminari looked exactly like the type of person who would fill in the wrong number in an extremely important document. 

Closing her laptop, she sent a text message to Kaminari’s number. “Send a selfie. I need to make sure it’s you.”

The reply – sent in a record-breaking time, she might add, was more amusing than she thought, seeing his expression that spoke levels of, “I’m not sure what face I should make for this.” Nonetheless, she was pretty convinced that Kaminari wasn’t bullshitting her. 

“Alright,” Jirou began when Kaminari answered her call, “I believe you. So, what do you need me to do?”

“Uh, right, I just need you to pretend to be my ex-teacher and answer their questions.”

“Right, but I’m a girl, if you haven’t noticed. Wouldn’t your teacher have a more gravelly voice, from the looks of him?”

A pause. “Sorry, I did not consider that. Uh...” The frantic pace in his voice was returning. “Do you have boyfriends?”

Jirou coughed to contain her laughter at the question, that Kaminari immediately corrected. 

“Shit – I didn’t mean it like that! Like – boy friends. Guy friends, friends who are guys!” 

“Yeah, so I give the phone to them?

“If you could, I would be so, so thankful.”

“Fine, I’ll do it. But now, you’re going to have to fill me in on your life story, or the parts relevant to this job. What are you applying for, by the way?”

“It’s an admin job at a tuition agency.” 

“Okay. Could you text me whatever’s needed? I’ll deliver all this to my friend.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks so much for helping me with this, by the way. I could send you some money or something.”

“Let’s discuss that later. Do you know when they’ll call?”

“Well it’s the lunch hour now, maybe in an hour or two?”

“Gotcha. Call you back when it’s all over, and good luck to you.” 

“Okay. Bye!”

Jirou hung up, and called another person, “Yo. Meet me in the canteen ASAP.”

5 minutes later, a tired Hitoshi Shinsou sat down in front of her, tired being a redundant adjective. “What’s up?”

Kyoka began to explain. Shinso’s face barely shifted throughout, and he only had one question at the end. “How are you so sure I can imitate this Aizawa person?”

“Here’s a video of him delivering a speech.” 

After five seconds of listening, Shinso put down the earphones. “Alright, so I just speak normally. Got it.”

A smile curled at Jirou’s lip. It had been an admittedly boring day of classes. Maybe this plot of sorts would make it more interesting, but Jirou wouldn’t admit it to herself yet, but she was becoming more interested in this character of Kaminari Denki. 

–––––––––

Just a plot idea I thought of and saw how applicable it was to these two characters. I’m not sure whether it’s been done before, but the wrong number texting trope has been. *coughs in Dial and Error by Ionica01 which is one of the best Todomomo fics I’ve read* I’ve linked it, hope she doesn’t mind ._. But it really is very good IMO. 

Anyway, I swear this is just a 3 part story. Not a full length novel/novella. I’m working on c25. 

[hopelikethemoon]

Relax (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Relax Rating: Explicit Length: 3000 Warnings: Smut (female recieving oral, blow job, anal sex)  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in the August 1993. Idea credit belongs with Tiernan, despite her anti-pimento cheese slander.  Summary: Javier has a creative way to help Reader unwind after a stressful day at work. 

@grapemama​ @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​ @pedropascalito​ @rogrsnbarnes​ @thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​ @gooddaykate​ @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​ @plexflexico​ @readsalot73 @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​ @snivellusim​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​​ @sabinemorans​​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​​

“Today was a fucking nightmare,” You fumed, collapsing back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I wish there was a hole punch big enough to punch a hole through his smug-ass face.”

“My jaw hurts from clenching my teeth,” Javier admitted, sitting down on the bed beside you, resting his hand on your thigh. 

“If I didn’t have Josie — I would’ve killed him.” You leaned up on your elbows. “I still could kill him.”

“Baby.”

“Only partially kidding.” You patted his hand as you sat up. “I need a fucking cigarette.” You scooted up the bed, pulling open the bedside table to grab Javier’s pack.

He’d tried to cut back after Josie was born, but it was hard to stop when you both led such fucking hellish lives. “Or maybe five.”

You fished the lighter out of the drawer as you tucked the cigarette between your lips and lit up. You inhaled deeply, relishing the burn at the back of your throat before you exhaled. 

“Lay back, baby.” Javier urged warmly, rubbing his hand down the top of your thigh. “Relax.”

“I can’t fucking relax.” You grumbled around the cigarette, pulling a spare out and throwing it on the nightstand beside the lighter 

You did as he told you though. You took another drag as you sank back against the pillows, watching the smoke as it wafted from your lips on another exhale. “The team in Atlanta was never this bad.”

“Yeah?” Javier questioned, the bed dipping as he moved to join you. He settled on his side, his head about even with where your stomach was. 

“It was the casual bullshit,” You explained to him. “While you’re up, can you get me a coffee refill, sweetcheeks?” You mimicked the voice of George — one of your co-workers back in Atlanta. “The asshole had grandchildren my age, but he was one bad day away from trying to cop a feel. I’m almost certain of it.” 

“If Chris lays one hand on you—“ Javier’s grip tightened at your thigh briefly, before his hand traveled higher, slipping beneath the hem of your sleep shorts. 

“I’ll break his hand.” You drew in another breath. “And we both know that hand is his best friend. Arrogant fucking asshole.”

“These need to come off.” Javier told you and you shivered a little as you felt his lips against the soft flesh of your leg.

“Alright.” You lifted your ass up off the bed as Javier peeled your shorts down your legs. You dragged a hand over your face as you sighed heavily, before leaning over to tap off the ash on the edge of the ashtray. “I just don’t get it.”

Javier pressed a kiss to the top of your thigh, running his fingers over your hip. “What sorta shit did you deal with in Atlanta?”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Unsurprisingly, I was the only woman in the department. Shocking, right?”

His breath tickled your skin as he chuckled softly, “Who would’ve thought?” 

“What are you doing?” You questioned softly, reaching down and winding your fingers through his hair. 

“Just keep talking baby, I know how to make you feel better.” Javier promised you, settling himself between your thighs and leaning down to press a kiss to your lower stomach just at the line of your underwear. 

You bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him hook his fingers in your underwear and slide them down your thighs, until they were discarded over the side of the bed. His hands traveled over the tops of your legs, thumbs dragging along your inner thighs. 

“You know,” You started, taking another drag from the cigarette as you settled back against the pillows. “The fact that he dared to call into question my work ethics. When I am always on the ball with my work.”

Javier nudged your thighs apart wider, tilting his head to rest his cheek against your leg as he ran his fingers along the inside of your other leg. He trailed them upwards until he reached the apex of your thighs. “You could run circles around him, baby. He’s just pissed he doesn’t have your job.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m sure he’ll get it soon enough.” You reached over and grabbed the ashtray, sitting it on the bed beside you as you tapped your cigarette against the edge. 

“He’s never going to be my partner, baby.” I Javier assured you as he traced his fingertips over your inner folds, parting the tender lips of your cunt. “No matter what bullshit he tries.”

You exhaled shakily as Javier shifted between your thighs and swept his tongue between your folds. His hands curled around your soft thighs, palming them roughly as he worked his mouth over your sensitive flesh. 

A quiet moan escaped you as his tongue grazed over your clit, but you composed yourself. “I thought I’d be back in the field by now.” You admitted. But you knew that had been wishful thinking. “I miss it.”

He squeezed your leg three short times and you smiled. 

“I would give almost anything to go on a stakeout with you again.” You mused, taking another drag of your cigarette as you relaxed back, enjoying Javier’s efforts. He wasn’t taking you anywhere fast — brief passes over your clit, just enough to make your stomach burn and your arousal peak, but not enough to get you towards the edge. 

Javier lapped at you, tongue dragging between your folds, dipping into your center, only to press kisses to the junction where your legs met your hips. 

“I’m useless at a desk.” You sighed, “I was useless in Atlanta too. They put me in the field once, you know. A big lead came in while the team was already out chasing a ghost. I jumped on the assignment — nailed the asshole.” You inhaled another puff from the cigarette, watching the smoke swirl as Javier kept his mouth on you. “Fuck.” You breathed out as he worked his tongue into you all too briefly. “My boss got all the credit. I thought it was my day. He wasn’t even there!”

You reached down and scraped your fingers through Javier’s hair, watching as he pulled back up to catch a breath. His eyes were dark with his own arousal and his mustache glistened. “It’s in your file, though. I saw it.”

“You looked at my file?” You questioned, blowing out another exhale of smoke.

“I wanted to know who we were getting.” He shrugged as he lazily stroked two fingers over your slick flesh. “You’re not the only one who does their research.

Javier lowered himself back down, lips wrapping around your clit as he teased that little bundle of nerves once more. You squirmed beneath him, lost momentarily in the bliss that came from his mouth. 

“Did you…” You tapped off the ash again, taking another drag. “Did you like what you saw?”

“Your background on any jackass, would’ve had the talking heads eating out of your palm, baby.” He told you as he looked up at you from between your thighs. “I was impressed.”

You grinned down at him and tugged at his hair. “Past tense?” 

“Baby you constantly impress me.” He remarked before he resumed his work, sweeping his tongue through your folds, delving into you. 

Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as his tongue worked in and out of you — it was enough to make you moan again, your breath catching in your throat. But then he pulled back, hot breath dancing over slick flesh. 

“It’s so fucking unfair.” You complained, dragging in another inhale off the cigarette, letting the smoke slip from your lips. “I miss being out in the field. I miss long drives outside of the city with you.”

Javier groaned against your cunt and the reverberation went straight through you, sending a shudder of desire straight through you. He pulled back again, eyes meeting yours. “We could have so much fun on those drives.”

You laughed softly and nodded, threading your fingers through his hair. “Want a smoke?”

“Yeah.” Javier nodded and you passed the cigarette to him, watching the way his lips wrapped around it. He exhaled slowly, smoke fanning out over your stomach. “We both know you’d be a nervous wreck. Thinking someone might see us.”

You shrugged, taking the cigarette back from him. You wrapped your lips around it and tasted the faint essence of your arousal that had been left by his lips. “Touché.”

Javier had — more or less — moved into your apartment, though there was nothing official about it. He spent more nights with you than not. And you were fairly certain most of his clothes already hung in your closet and sat in your drawers. 

But he couldn’t officially vacate his apartment without drawing attention to your relationship — and you weren’t ready to own up to the lies you’d told the DEA. Not yet. 

Not when you might still be able to get back in the field. 

“You wanna come, baby?” Javier questioned, lips brushing against your inner thigh, his moustache tickling your skin. “You’re still so tense.”

You tucked an arm beneath your head, sinking back against the pillow as you took another drag and exhaled. “Yes, please.”

Javier bit lightly at your thigh, making you inhale sharply. “I could do this every day.” He told you, dragging two fingers between your folds, before sinking them into your aching center. “I fucking love this pussy.” He drawled out.

“I’m pretty fond of your mouth.” You quipped, you took one more drag off the cigarette before sitting it aside in the ashtray. You wanted to focus on what Javier was doing. 

He swept his tongue over your clit, circling the little bundle of nerves with just the tip. His fingers curled within you, always knowing just how to reach that sweet spot within you.

Javier reached up and pressed his hand against the center of your lower stomach as you arched up off the bed. The pressure made a new desire coil through you, a shaky breath escaping you. 

You moaned as he kept dragging his fingers over that sweet spot within you, coupled with the way he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked and swept his tongue over it. 

“Fuck.” You hissed out, your cunt clenching down around his fingers as the first wave of your release took hold. Your toes curled and you dug your heels into the mattress as he kept his mouth right where it was. 

It was pure bliss as your release washed through you, white heat and a blissful tingling sensation that spread through your entire core. 

Javier pulled back, breathing heavily, lips and chin covered in your slick arousal. “I wish you knew just how sexy you look after you come.” He told you. 

You laughed softly, picking up the still-smoldering cigarette and taking a drag before offering it to him. “Bet it’s just as sexy as you look between my thighs.”

Javier snorted, holding the cigarette between his lips as he climbed back up the bed and laid down beside you. “Better?”

You hummed, “Still a little stressed.” 

Javier arched a brow at you as you smoked.

“Think you still have one of those lubricated condoms in a pants pocket somewhere?”

He snuffed out the cigarette, taking it and the ashtray with him as he got off the bed. “Might have one in my wallet.”

You laughed, “Should I be concerned?”

He shot you a look, “I like to be prepared. Never know when you might want me to fuck your ass.” Javier winked at you, before he walked across the bedroom to the dresser where his wallet sat. He picked it up, opening it, and pulling out a condom packet. “Happy?”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you slid down to the foot of the bed, letting your legs hang over the side. “Almost.” You quipped.

Javier stepped in between your thighs, planting a hand on the bed beside you as he leaned down to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his mouth and his tongue and it only fueled the new bloom of need in your belly. 

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your other hand traveled downwards, cupping his rather noticeable bulge in his jeans. He was hard as fucking rock — all because he’d eaten you out. And that made lust spike through you. 

He groaned against your lips as you started working at getting his jeans off, fingers tugging at his belt and drawing his zipper down. Javier broke from the kiss, taking a step back to kick off his jeans and then his boxers. 

“Come here.” You urged, licking your lips as he stepped closer — his cock jutting towards you. You cupped his balls as you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. 

Javier’s fingers tangled into your hair, a groan escaping him as you took nearly the full length of him into your mouth. You pulled back, giving his cock another stroke before you took the condom from him.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathed out, brushing his fingers over your cheek as he watched you roll the condom onto his cock. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, “Roll over, baby.”

You smirked up at him, “Make me.”

He caught your jaw, dipping back down to kiss you roughly. “Now.”

This time you obeyed. You pushed your palm to his stomach to get him to back up, before you rolled over. You stretched yourself out on the bed, feet touching the ground as you laid with your ass hanging over the side of the bed. 

Javier palmed at your hips, using his knee to nudge your thighs apart. “You’re still so fucking wet, baby. Did you like coming?”

You pressed back, wiggling your ass. “What do you think?” 

Javier smacked your right ass cheek lightly, making you yelp softly. “Too much?”

“No, it’s perfect.” You told him, rocking back towards him. “Come on, Javi. Don’t tease.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the small of your back. “I love you.”

You smiled, turning your head to the side. “I love you too.” You glanced back at him, breath catching in your throat as he dipped his thumb into your cunt, gathering up your slick arousal and smearing it over your puckered hole.

“Is this what you want, baby?” He questioned, dipping his thumb into you — a slow press as your body resisted. 

“Fuck yes.” You told him, trying to relax beneath his attention. 

He used his spit to add to your arousal as he worked his thumb into you. He teased you for a moment, before he replaced his thumb with the head of his cock. 

Your fingers gripped at the sheets beneath you as his cock pressed into you. “That’s it, baby.” He urged. “Fuck, look at you.” His voice was rough with desire, his hand gripping tightly at your thigh as he used the other to guide his cock.

A throaty moan escaped you as Javier worked the full length of his cock into you, his hips pressed into the soft globes of your ass, before drawing back and repeating the action again. 

“So fucking tight, baby.” Javier panted out, rolling his hips slowly in time with the way you rocked back into him.

He tangled his fingers into your hair, pulling on it just enough to make you arch your back. His name slipped past your lips as you moved with him. 

It felt like heaven. The faint edge of being almost too much. The delicious pressure of being filled by him. You wedged your hand between you and the mattress, fingers teasing at your clit in time with his thrusts. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” You told him, clenching your body around him as he bottomed out. He pulled back, nearly pulling out of you completely before slamming back into you. “Holy shit.”

“You like that, baby? Wanna hear you.”

“Yes. Fuck yes. Javi, please.” You groaned out as he started to pick up the pace. 

He released his hold on your hair, using his newly free hand to smack your ass. Once and then twice, making your cunt clench around nothing and your ass tighten around his cock. “Goddammit, baby.” He hissed out. 

Javier slipped his hand around your hip, batting your hand away so he could work his fingers roughly over your clit. 

You came again. You couldn’t hold back — your back bowing towards him as your fingers gripped at the sheets beneath you. Every nerve ending in your body felt alive as you pulsed around him. 

Javier’s cock retreated from your body and you heard him grunt out your name. You looked behind you, watching him as he peeled off the condom and fisted his hand over his cock. 

He spilled out over your ass, his come painting over your skin, dripping down over your cunt. “Holy fuck.” Javier breathed out, giving your hip a squeeze. “Stay here.”

Javier drew in a ragged breath as he steadied himself before vanishing out the bedroom door. He returned a moment later with a damp washcloth, using it to tenderly clean up the mess he’d made of you. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna need that other cigarette.” You remarked, gingerly pulling yourself up off the edge of bed and climbing back to the center. “That took the edge off the day.”

He chuckled, “Thought it might do the trick.” 

“You make the most stressful days worth it,” You told him as he joined you on the bed, a possessive arm wrapped around your waist. 

“Yeah?” Javier kissed your shoulder. 

“Yes.” You ruffled your fingers through his hair.