#joe thinking he's made himself look less hot is so wrong | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

albertasunrise · 3 years ago

Text

Meant to Be

Masterlist

Summary: Frankie was always the one who got away but when you learn that he's retired from the army and has moved back home. Your life falls apart.

Relationships: Reader x Original 'Male' Character, Reader x Frankie Morales

Warnings: Like A03, I chose to give none. 18+

Your husband wasn’t a cruel man. But as time had gone on you'd come to learn he wasn’t a good one either.

Your life revolved around him. His wants and needs and never your own. But he supplied you with a safe, comfortable life and that's all you could have really hoped for. You’d loved him once and you were sure he had to but as the years had passed childlessly, your once blossoming romance had fizzled into something sour. You knew he resented you for not giving him a child. Blamed you for it and you blamed yourself to a degree but as the months blended into years, you found you blamed yourself less and came to terms with the fact that your having kids wasn't meant to be.

You'd imagined your life differently as a younger woman. You'd imagined it with a different man if you were being honest with yourself. You thought you'd met the one as a teenager but, like most childhood sweethearts, he got away. Francisco Morales. The man of your dreams had shipped out to the army as soon as he'd graduated and your relationship had lasted another year after that before you'd called it quits and broken the man's heart. Something you'd regretted to this day and had never imagined you'd see him again. How wrong you'd turn out to be.

"Did you hear the news?" Your best friend Sally asked as the two of you browsed through the sale rail of your favourite clothing store.

Your obvious look of confusion was all the answer she needed to know that you were oblivious to the latest gossip to spread around town.

"Morales moved back." She elaborated and your breath caught in your throat "Retired from the forces and decided to kick out the tenants renting his folk's old place and moved in himself." She finished, shrugging her shoulders as she pulled out a sweater she liked the look of.

"Oh." Was your reply, suddenly completely disinterested in shopping anymore.

"Think you'll see him?" She asked and this grabbed your full attention.

"Why would I see him?" You questioned, eliciting a snigger from your friend.

"We all know you never go over him." She stated and you felt your heart start to race and your cheeks grow hot "Thought you'd be all over, seeing him."

"I'm married, Sally." You warned and she scoffed.

"Yeah to a man that barely looks at you and who's definitely shagging his assistant." She grumbled and you felt a sting at her last statement.

"You don't know that." You choke and her demeanour changed upon hearing the crack in your voice.

"I'm sorry babe." She started as she threw a hand around your shoulder "I shouldn't have said that but you deserve better than the life you have."

"I'm fine." You replied with a shrug "He keeps a roof over my head, clothes on my back and food in my belly. What more can I ask for?"

"Happiness?" She shrieks "Love, passion, excitement... to name a few. He's an asshole and you need to leave him."

"It's not that easy Sally." You snapped "Where would I go? I have no job, no money."

"Your divorce would sort that out."

"Sally-"

"You can't keep living like this." She interrupted, taking your hand in hers and boring into you with her serious gaze "Waiting to die or for him to leave you."

"This is my life now." You said, your tone defeated and your heart heavy "I've made my bed."

Sally decided it was futile to argue any further. You weren't going to accept that you deserved better and she was tired of trying to convince you of the fact. So you finished off your shopping trip and turned down her invites for drinks that evening at your once favourite watering hole.

No way Joe would let you go.

Despite having little interest in sharing any sort of physical relationship with you he hated the idea of you having a social life outside of him. So going out for drinks with your girlfriends was not something you were able to attend anymore. You were limited to shopping trips and coffee. How dull your life had become.

Walking through your front door and placing your sparse shopping bags down on the polished marble floor, you announced your arrival as you toed off your shoes and hung up your coat. Not expecting the arms that wrapped around your middle and or the lips that found your neck.

He did this sometimes. Showed a fleeting interest in you and you took what you could get. For all his faults he wasn't a selfish lover.

He turned you in his arms and dropped to his knees before he pushed your underwear to one side and placed a teasing lick on your clit. You felt a jolt of pleasure surge through you and the moan that slipped past your lips was all the invitation your husband needed to continue. Credit where credit was due, he knew how to fuck with his tongue and it didn't take him long to have you cumming. Your legs then gave out and you were in his arms as he threw you down on the couch and pulled out his throbbing erection for the confines of his slacks. His lips returned to your neck as he lowered himself between your open legs and once again pushed your underwear to the side. Your eyes locked for a moment and you thought you saw a flicker of love in his eyes. Something you'd not seen for what felt like an eternity but then he was pushing inside of you and you weren't able to keep your eyes open then.

Sex with Joe was always good. Whether you wanted to admit it or not your husband could fuck but these sparse sessions only hurt more. You missed the way he used to worship the ground you walked on. How he'd not be able to get enough of you but then again, you were trying to get pregnant back then. This was now him looking for a release and that's all you were to him now.

A release.

He fucked into you expertly and you were cumming again in no time at all, moaning loudly as he continued his assault on that spongy spot inside of you that had your toes curling. He hooked one of your legs around his waist and the new angle started to stir another orgasm down in your loins. It took half a dozen more thrusts for the two of you to cum together and leaving you a sated mess on your couch.

"What was that for?" You asked between laboured breaths and Joe shrugged before slipping out of you and pulling his slacks back up again.

"I've got to go away for work for a few days." He stated simply "Should be back by Wednesday."

"Oh." You replied as you manoeuvred into a sitting position "Short notice."

"Tell me about it." He grumbled before grabbing the suitcase situated by the couch that you'd not noticed before "I'll call you tomorrow." He said, pecking your lips.

"You're leaving now?" You asked as you followed him out to the lobby and watched as he slipped on some shoes and grabbed his keys.

"Need to or I'll miss my flight."

"Well, safe trip." You said, receiving one last kiss before he disappeared out of the door and left you standing in the lobby.

You weren't sure how long passed before you slipped out your phone and dialled the number at the top of your caller list.

"Sally." You said simply as you let out a shaky breath "Count me in for tonight."

...

"I'm so happy you're here." Squealed Sophia as she pulled you into a tight hug "What changed your mind?"

"Husband's fucked off on a work trip." You said as you downed another apple sour shot "So I thought I would spend my evening seeing my girls." You finished as you woo'ed with your friends.

"It's been too long." Said Lacey as she placed a tray of drinks down on the table and handed you your triple gin and tonic.

"That it has." You agreed as you took a sip of your drink.

...

Frankie hadn't been in the mood for drinks but Benny was determined. So that's how he'd found himself sitting in a bar he'd only ever walked past as a teenager. What made the situation worse was that he was designated drive which meant not even the buzz of alcohol was a possible distraction.

His reason for being in such a foul mood was the information he'd learned upon moving back. He'd only been back a few weeks but when at the supermarket the previous afternoon he'd bumped into your school best friend and he'd learned through her that you were married. He wasn't sure why he was upset about it. You'd dumped him at the first sign of trouble but there had been a small part of him that had held out hope that there was still a chance for you both.

"Come on Fish." Ben groaned "You need to cheer the fuck up dude."

"Ben." His older brother warned but Benny waved him off.

"I don't know what's got your knickers all knotted up but we're out dude. We're free from all that shit now."

"I'm fine," Frankie grumbled, his eyes drifting to a rowdy table across the bar.

He realised quickly that he knew the girls, they'd all been in your year at school and he was fairly sure that you were friends with them. Ho noted Sally, the one who'd told him just yesterday about your marital status and Sophia who'd been attached to your hip once. Movement in the corner of his eye then grabbed his attention and that's when he saw you with a tray of drinks in hand. You were just as beautiful as the day he'd kissed you goodbye in the airport when he was 19. More so if that was even possible.

"She's hot." Ben teased, dragging the older man from his thoughts.

"She's my ex." Frankie grumbled, his attention returning to the one beer of the night he was able to drink.

"Shit, really?" Benny exclaimed and Frankie nodded "She's smoking Fish., Is she single?"

"No." He replied simply, his tone grabbing Will's attention "She'd married."

"Sound a little sour about that Catfish?" Will questioned, "Something still there?"

"She broke my heart twenty years ago." He growled, "Nothing there Will."

"Well, you got me convinced." Benny snorted and Frankie felt his temper growing even shorter.

"Believe what you want." He snapped as he pushed himself to his feet "I need a piss."

He stormed off, leaving two amused Miller brothers in his wake. He hated how seeing you had stirred up all those feelings he'd thought he had buried all those years ago. He went to the bathroom, took a breather and left a few minutes later, only to collide with a soft body.

"Shit, I'm sorry I wasn't looking where I was going." He said as shook his head and turned to look at the innocent person he'd just barged into.

"Frankie?" You questioned and his eyes grew wide as your name fell from his lips "Shit." You said as you let out a shocked breath "Wow, how are you? You look... You look good."

"You too." He replied and he swore he saw you blush.

"How are you?" You asked again and he shrugged.

"Good as can be expected." He replied and you nodded.

"I hear you're married." He said and your stomach twisted "Congrats."

"We've been married a few years now." You said, your face dropped "Nothing to congratulate."

"You happy?" He asked and you were rendered speechless.

You'd never been able to lie to this man and twenty years on that was still that case. So all you could do was shrug and Frankie couldn't help but frown at that.

"Looks like my party has made some new friends." You said as your eyes drifted to your table, Frankie's eyes following yours.

"Those would be my friends." He sighed as he scraped a hand over his face.

"Guess we should make sure they're not getting into trouble."

"Sure."

"Chica, look at these two dreamboats we met." Screeched Sally as you made your way over to the table "This is Will and Benny... They're brothers and -"

"Complete trouble." Interrupted Frankie as he came to stop beside you.

"Francisco Morales... Fancy seeing you here." Said Sally as she pulled him into a sideways hug "You know these two."

"Sadly." He replied with a smirk and Benny gave him the finger as your friends chuckled.

You all stayed together then. The girls cooed over the boys and you sat there awkwardly with Frankie as you watched. The conversation got more and more personal as more drink was consumed and you were glad you were drunk when you and Frank became the subject matters'.

"So Francisco." Sally started as she sipped on her cocktail "No wife and kids to speak of?"

"Nope." He replied, popping the 'p' before sipping his soda.

"Don't get him wrong." Benny started and Frankie instantly cringed "This guy is the pussy king!" He gushed and you felt sick.

Of course, there had been others since you. It wasn't like you were it for him and he was to remain alone for the rest of his life but to hear it out loud still stung.

"Shared a bunk with him for years and some of the women he managed to sneak back..."

"How's married life?" Will asked, changing the subject when he noted both yours and Frankie's uncomfortable demeanours "No kids?"

Your shoulders sank and your face dropped. Sally noticed it straight away and went to speak but you beat her to the punch, the alcohol giving you a false sense of confidence.

"We tried." You said with a shrug, your posture changing completely "Never happened for us and now he despises me for it." You finished with a false laugh and the whole table fell silent.

"I'm sorry," Will said after a few tense moments of silence and you shrugged again.

"It wasn't meant to be I guess." You replied with a shrug, noting out of the corner of your eye how Frankie was looking at you with those sad brown eyes. The ones that let you to fall for him in the first place.

Frankie couldn't believe what he was hearing. It explained your reaction earlier when he'd asked if you were happy. He could see it now. How haunted you were and his heart broke for you. He's always hoped that you'd end up happy. Sure he'd prayed it would be with him but as the years had gone on he had come to terms with the fact that it wouldn't be.

A few more drinks were consumed before the night came to an end. Sally left with Will and Sophie with Ben who had left you alone with Frankie and stood on the sidewalk outside the bar in awkward silence.

"How are you getting home?" He asked as you fiddled with your hands.

"Well I have gotten a taxi with Sally but she's gone home with your friend so... I guess I'll get a cab on my own." You chuckled nervously.

"I can give you a ride?" He suggested and you looked up at him with wide eyes "I was designated driver but guess I got ditched too." She chuckled and that made you smile "I don't like the idea of you getting a cab home alone. Please... let me give you a ride."

"Sure." You said after a few moments of silence and Frankie nodded, motioning for you to follow him as he lead you to his truck.

He opened the passenger door for you and helped you inside before closing it and making his way around to the driver's side. Jumping in his was fast to start it up and peel away, driving you home with your quiet directions. It felt like it had all those decades ago. Him driving you somewhere quiet so you could steal perfect moments together before he had to get you home. You couldn't stop yourself from glancing at him every now and then as he drove you in stoic silence.

When he pulled up in front of your large house his eyes grew wide and you smirked at his reaction to your home. You sat there in tense silence for a few moments before you plucked up the courage to speak.

"Do you want to come in?" You asked, eyes hopeful as you looked at him.

"Are you sure?" He asked, smiling at the nervous nod you gave him.

He opened your door for you and followed silently as you led him to the front door, watching as you shakily pushed your key into the lock. Stepping inside he copied you as you toed off your shoes and before he followed you to a large, modern, kitchen that put his to shame.

“Drink?” You asked and he nodded “Just water’s fine.”

“Just water?” You chuckled “I have beer?”

“I shouldn’t.” He replied shyly “Got to drive and all that.”

“Sure… right, of course.” You said, shaking your head and grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

After pouring him the beverage from the fridge, you handed him the glass and went about pouring yourself a glass of wine. The silence that hung over you both then for a short while was suffocating. You'd not thought this far ahead. All you'd thought about was how you didn't want him to leave just yet, you wanted him to stay just a little longer.

"So how long have you been married?" He asked, finally breaking the silence between you.

"6 years this August." You replied, your eyes unconsciously drifting to the silver bands on your left hand.

"He a good guy?" He asked and you sighed, feeling your throat tighten.

"He was amazing at first." You confessed, eyes drifting to the glass in your hands "But when we discovered we couldn't have kids he got sour."

"I'm sorry." He said sadly as his eyes captured yours "You would have been an amazing mum."

You let out a sad chuckle at that. You'd always liked to think you would be but as time had gone on you'd started to wonder how good a parent Joe would have been.

"I guess the universe thought differently." You joked, eliciting a sympathetic smile from him "Just wasn't meant to be I guess."

"You can't seriously believe that?" He asked and you sighed.

"Well I've not been blessed with children so to be the evidence is pretty conclusive." You said with a shrug, trying hard to fight the tears that were threatening to spill.

Silence fell over the two of you again for a while as you sipped at your wine and him, his water. It felt oddly normal to have him there with you yet tense that you were standing in the kitchen of the house you share with your husband, with the man you knew you were still in love with.

"You know I always hoped you'd find happiness." Frankie uttered after a little while "Despite you breaking my heart I always routed for you to have the best life possible."

"I always wanted that for you too." You stated and he scoffed at that "Did you not?"

"I killed people for a living for almost half my life." He replied shortly "What do you think?"

You winced at his reply and he instantly regretted his tone "I had to do a lot of unforgivable things, all in the name of my country." He confessed after a short pause "I don't deserve a good life for what I've done."

"You deserve the best life has to offer Frankie." You said softly "I've always regretted ending things with you." You sobbed "Truth be told you were the one man I could picture spending my life with and I let you go."

"Why did you?" His question took you by surprise but you didn't hesitate to answer it. He deserved the truth.

"Because the thought of losing you was too much to bear." You confessed, "I thought if I broke it off, it would ease the pain of knowing you could die at any point but all it did was break my heart and leave me hollow." You sobbed, not holding back the tears now "You were the love of my life and I lost you."

Frankie could help what he did next. Knowing that you'd regretted breaking things off with him, selfishly, was all he'd ever wanted to hear. Grabbing the back of your head he pulled you into a biting kiss that made your toes curl and your core ache.

Before you knew it your underwear was pushed to one side and he was buried to the hilt, thrusting hard and deep as he swallowed your moans. Your nails dug into the muscles on his back, clinging on for dear life as he tore several orgasms out of you before succumbing to his own release and then he collapsed over you as he caught his breath, practically purring as you run your nails through his hair.

"Shit." He breathed after a short while and you chuckled at his statement "That was..."

"Perfect?" You finished for him as you smiled down at him "We shouldn't have done that but I'm having a hard time regretting it." You confessed after a short pause, moaning when he pulled himself out of your heat and tucked himself into his jeans.

"I'm sorry." He sighed as he scraped a hand over his face and you suddenly panicked at his change of demeanour.

"I should go."

"No, please... Don't-"

"I have to." He interrupted as he grabbed his keys and made his way to the front door, you were hot on his heels "It was nice to see you again." He said without looking at you and then he was out of the door and you were left there to sob over what had been the best thing to happen to you in years.

2 Months Later...

Your hands shook as you held that stick of plastic in your hand. You felt sick. How, after all those years of trying, were you now looking at the second positive pregnancy test you'd taken that afternoon.

How was this happening?

You slowly started to panic the longer you stared at it. It was a disaster and you didn't even know where to start in terms of how to deal with it. You knew you had to tell your husband and you knew he was going to be excited but you also had to tell Frankie.

There was a chance it was his too.

Grabbing the tests and shoving them in your pocket you made your way to the front door and grabbed your keys and bag. Slipping your shoes on, you made your way to your car and, after taking a steadying breath you got in. Driving to Frankies, you were relieved to see that his truck was on the drive and after parking up behind it, you hopped out of the car and briskly walked to his front door.

It didn't take him long to answer after you knocked but his shock at seeing you stook there made your stomach twist into painful knots.

"What are you doing here?" He asked and you thought you were going to cry at that alone.

Instead, you let out a steadying breath before you answered him.

"We need to talk." You said firmly "Can I come in?"

He said nothing, just opened the door wider so that you could enter. You looked back when you heard the door slam behind you and then you made your way to his kitchen, sitting at his table, you waited for him to join you.

"What do you want to talk about?" He asked plainly and you felt your nerves come to a head. God, you could be sick.

"Well uh... I need to talk about that night."

"Why?" He groaned "It was a mistake. You're married. We need to move on."

"Yeah well, I wish it were that simple." You snapped and his expression changed.

"Why isn't it?"

"Because I'm pregnant Francisco." You growled, slamming the two positive tests on the table.

That stopped him dead in his tracks. He started at the two tests, both saying 6 - 7 weeks along. He's regretted that night since it happened. Not because of what happened but because you had been drunk and he'd taken advantage of that. So now to see that from that night, he was facing the possibility of being a father, he regretted it even more.

"Is it mine or?..."

"Fifty per cent chance." You confessed "But let's be realistic. I try for five years to get pregnant with my husband and then I fuck you one time and bam... Baby."

"What are you going to do?" He asked and you sighed "Are you..."

"Going to keep it?"

He nodded.

"Yes, I am going to keep it." You scoffed "But I need to tell my husband I am pregnant and there's only a fifty per cent chance it's his."

"Shit." He breathed and you nodded in agreement.

"I only came here to tell you because you have a right to know." You stated plainly "I don't expect anything from you and if turns out to be yours well... You only have to be involved if you want to be."

Frankie nodded. He was numb and completely at a loss for words. It was his lack of reaction that had you scoffing before you scooped up the tests and grabbed your bag, barely saying goodbye before you were out the door and halfway to your car.

When he realised you were gone, he ran out after you. Only to find he was too late and you were gone. He groaned in frustration at his reaction to your news. He's just been so shocked by it. Seeing you at his door, that had not been what he'd expected when you'd said you needed to talk to him.

Now you were gone and he was completely lost.

...

At home, you'd just finished up the dishes when you're husband had called to say he was going to be working late. So you started on dinner for yourself, something that he could reheat when he got home and then sat to watch TV whilst it cooked in the oven. Joe's iPad lighting up a short while later caught your attention. It was unusual for him to leave it laying around and so you couldn't help your curiosity. Noticing it was a text, you tapped on the notification and what you saw made you sick.

'Can't wait for you to breed me later baby'

You read the first message and choked. It was, sure enough, from his secretary. What a fucking cliché.

'Make round with you baby J.'

Popped up another message a short while later.

You'd known deep down he was cheating. It was obvious. The late nights the secrecy. They had all been warning signs but to see it confirmed in writing hurt but that's not what you were most angry about. No, you were angry that he was not fucking his assistant... but that he was trying to get her pregnant in the process. That made your blood boil. You may have slipped up but this was something completely different and you knew you had to leave.

Your bag was packed less than an hour later. You packed what you could into your car and you drove to the first place you could think of. Sally's.

1 Month Later...

Frankie had been browsing the cereal aisle when he'd bumped into Sally. He's desperately tried to sneak past but she had the eyes of a hawk and he was soon cornered by the Coco Pops.

"Haven't seen you since that night out what... three months ago?" She asked and Frankie shrugged.

"About that yeah." He confirmed, "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine." She replied, "My girl on the other hand is a mess." She stated and Frankie's stomach sank "Girls 3 1/2 months pregnant and in the middle of getting a divorce."

"What?" He exclaimed, the last statement taking him by surprise "Why?"

"Fucker is shagging his assistant." Sally revealed, "What's worse if they're trying for a kid together." She continued "Well they were and then he found out she was pregnant and he's been begging for her to forgive him."

"Shit."

"Turns out though that there's a chance it's not his."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She said with a nod "Had a weak moment a few months back and well... Kid might be the other guys but apparently he doesn't want anything to do with it so-"

"I never said that." Frankie expelled, eyes widening at his sudden confession.

"Wait what?" She practically yelled "She didn't tell me who the other guy was... It's you??"

"We uh... The night we met up, I took her home and we got to talking and one thing led to another-"

A hand impacting his face was not what he'd expected to happen to him whilst doing his weekly shop that day yet here he was, rubbing his cheek as your best friend glowered at him.

"She's in pieces." She scorned "She's all alone, pregnant with a baby that could be yours."

"I've been meaning to talk to her its just... Well, I didn't know what to say."

"Say that you'll support her." She shrieked "You're a better man than Joe, I know that for a fact so step up and take responsibility! It takes two people to make a baby."

"Where's she staying?" He asked, knowing she was right and that he had to make this right.

"Mine." She stated "I'm going to be out this evening if you wanted to talk to her alone.

He nodded and she sighed "Please don't hurt my friend Frankie." She pleaded "She's suffered enough."

...

You hadn't been expecting a knock at the door that night. Sally was out on a double date with Sophia and the Miller brothers. She'd asked if you wanted her to stay but the truth was you just wanted some time alone to grieve. Your life as you knew it was over and you were facing bringing a baby into the world without the love and support of the man you knew was its daddy. Without a shadow of a doubt, you were certain.

You stiffly walked to the front door, not thinking to check who it was before you pulled it open but when you saw it was Frankie standing there your eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Frank?" You all but whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk." He replied, "If that's okay?"

You nodded. Opened the door and motioned for him to come in before closing it behind him. You led him to the lounge, muted the TV and motioned for him to sit as you plonked yourself back on the couch.

"How are you?" He asked although he knew that answer already.

"My life's falling apart." You scoffed "How do you think?"

"I'm sorry." He replied, instantly regretting his question "How's the baby?" He asked after a short pause and you sighed as you rubbed your now slightly swollen belly.

"They're okay. Had my first scan and they were pleased with its progress so that's positive." You replied and he nodded "Why have you come here, Francisco?"

"I want to be a father to this baby." He stated simply "If it's mine and you want that."

"Frankie I-"

"I reacted like a complete idiot when you told me but I was shocked." He confessed "The last thing I'd been expecting you to tell me was that you were pregnant but I saw Sally today and she literally slapped sense into me and I... Well, baby, I love you and I want us to be a family but if just being a father is all you're willing to give me then that's fine."

"And if we are a family and it turns out that it isn't yours?"

"Then I will love it anyway."

That was all you needed to hear. Next thing you knew you were on his lap and kissing him like you needed it to breathe. Finally pulling away to breathe you looked him in the eye and you smiled.

"Take that as a yes then." He stated before you laughed and kissed him again.

It was definitely a yes.

6 Months Later...

"Well, shit that's a cute kid." Said Ben as he propped his head on Sally's shoulder.

"He's beautiful." Sally gushed as she looked up at you and Frankie laying on the hospital bed.

"How are you feeling hun?" Ben asked as he came to stand beside you and place a sweet kiss on your brow.

"Exhausted." You confessed and he chuckled "But I wouldn't have been able to do it without Fishcakes here."

"I thought we were past the nicknames." He grumbled and you all chuckled.

"I just pushed your eight-pound baby out my vagina and now have stitches to prove it." You scoffed "I can call you what I like."

"Touchê." He conceded and you chuckled.

"Did you have a paternity test done?" Ben asked and you both nodded

"I mean it's obvious who his father is but Joe was adamant that we get it done. He wasn't a happy bunny when the news was broken." You stated.

"No, he was not." Agreed Frankie as he rubbed his still sore jaw.

"You got a name yet?" Sally asked and you both shared a look before nodding.

"Luka." You said in unison and the others gasped.

"Luka Morales." Ben said, testing the name on his tongue "It suits you, little buddy." He said as Sally handed him the baby.

As watched your best friend and Frankie's coo over your newborn, a sense of peace washed over you. In the months that had followed, you discovered what true happiness felt like. The love and adoration Frank had showered you with had led you to realise that your life with Joe had never been good.

"You okay?" Frankie asked, quiet enough that only you could hear him.

"Yeah." You replied as you rested your head on your shoulder "Tired but so fucking happy."

"Me too." He replied, kissing you sweetly before pulling away to look you in the eyes again "Marry me?" He asked and tears started to form in your tired eyes.

Frank instantly panicked "Or not... It was just an idea but if you don't-"

"Yes." You interrupted and he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and you both stared at each other.

"Yes?"

"Yes Francisco Morales... Love of my life and father of my child." You started, smiling at him sweetly "I will marry you."

He kissed you deeply, stealing the air from your lungs before he broke it and rested his forehead against yours.

"Great." He replied and you chuckled.

"Great."

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whumpcereal · 2 years ago

Text

behavior modification, future snippet

master list here. a little peek into jack and joe's new life after jack's WRU contract is voided, somewhere after this piece. the sculpture referenced is canova's cupid and psyche. this is mostly fluff, which i offer to you in the hopes that you'll forgive me for all the bad things i will surely still do to these boys.

content warnings: references to past trauma and captivity, bbu/bbu-adjacent

future snippet, eros

Jack can’t list all the things he missed.

Part of it is that he didn’t have enough control of his own mind to really miss anything at all. Everything comes back to him in fits and starts. He missed Carl. Legos. Cooking. Standing under a hot shower. The feeling of a cool pillowcase beneath his cheek. A glass of whiskey while he does the crossword.

And Joe. Joe, calling him an old man for doing the crossword. Joe, reading to him at night. Joe’s complete ineptitude in the kitchen. The cold warmth of Joe’s kisses just after he’s taken a drink. Joe’s gentle hands on his skin. Joe, and everything they used to do together.

Things like Sunday visits to the museum.

In the in between, it was too hard. Jack wasn’t supposed to move freely outside the house. If Joe wanted to take him anywhere, there were specific WRU protocols. Like the collar. Joe wouldn’t collar him, wouldn’t do anything to signal to others what Jack was so long as he was under contract, so they didn’t do much.

But the contract is voided now. Jack doesn’t belong to anyone but himself; Joe says he never did. And so they’re here, at the museum.

Joe once said he fell in love with Jack at the Met. He fell in love with Jack while Jack fell in love with art.

Jack had never been to a museum before Joe. It wasn’t something anyone would have thought to do with a kid like him. But immediately, he was grateful to Joe for bringing him. He’d always thought museums were cold, dead places, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. There was something about knowing he was surrounded by beautiful pieces of other people that had managed to survive decades and centuries beyond their creators that made him feel a little less alone. The white eyes of the sculptures and busts, the faces in the paintings, all of them had outlasted whatever horrors came before. Maybe Jack could too.

Of course Jack fell in love with art. How could he not?

Jack doesn’t know when he fell in love with Joe again, but being here, he can feel it. It sits, warm in his chest. Alive again, just like Jack is. He survived, like everything else in this museum.

“You remember when we used to do this?” Joe asks. His fingers thread through Jack’s as they step into the Great Hall.

Jack nods, kissing Joe’s cheek. “I missed it,” he says, and it’s true, even if he didn’t realize it at the time.

“I missed it too,” Joe says shyly. It doesn’t take a genius to sort out that he wasn’t spending his weekends on Museum Mile while Jack was with Ivan.

It’s something they haven’t talked much about, actually: what Joe’s life was like then. Jack’s suffering is well-documented—literally, thanks to Ivan—but Joe likes to ignore his own. Jack remembers when Joe worried himself into the hospital. Who knows how bad it was before he came home?

Jack thinks Joe still looks a little tired, in his slouchy professorial way. Rumpled sweater, tousled hair, and dark smudges beneath his pretty green eyes. Only now, Joe is the right kind of tired. The kind that suggests that he’s earned it, that something big is over and done.

And it is. Joe doesn’t have to worry anymore. Neither of them do, even though Jack knows they will. It will be a difficult habit to break. But they have to try. They deserve a little peace and quiet.

Jack kisses Joe again, and Joe’s cheeks color. It feels good, Jack thinks, to have that effect on Joe again. It feels good to choose.

“Where should we start?“ Joe asks.

Jack pretends to consider. He looks to his right, even though he knows he won’t be able to visit the Egyptian wing for a long time; the death masks and sarcophagi hit different now. To his left, he knows he’ll find the brighter galleries of the Greco-Roman collection, but something about wandering through statues missing their various pieces and parts doesn’t exactly appeal to Jack just now either. He lets his gaze stop on the grand staircase and then looks down at Joe with a tentative smile.

“I should’ve guessed,” Joe says, squeezing Jack’s hand. “Let’s go.”

There’s one piece they always have to visit. Well, really, it’s Jack who has to visit; Joe just humors him. Every time they come to the museum, Jack makes the pilgrimage upstairs and weaves through the galleries of smug portraits of rich people and pastel cherubs until he finds it.

It’s a plaster model of Cupid and Psyche. Jack knows the story: the beautiful girl who finds herself in Aphrodite’s crosshairs when she dares to love Cupid. Mythology was one of the only things Jack liked when he bothered to show up to English class. The sculpture catches the two young lovers just as Cupid is waking Psyche from her sleeping death with a gentle kiss. He cradles her head in his carved hands, and her arms reach for him. Something about it makes Jack’s chest ache. It always has.

He knows the finished version is in the Louvre–at this point, he knows everything about it–but Jack likes something about the plaster’s rough finish, how he can see the pins marking the artist’s reference. It makes Jack feel like he could almost reach out and touch it.

It takes a minute for Jack to find the right gallery. The European collections are always crowded, and on a weekend, it’s even worse. He clings to Joe’s hand as he tries to remember the way, feeling a little bit like a lost child. But he isn’t lost. He couldn’t be, not with Joe by his side. He knows that now.

He hears Joe’s breath shift before he sees it.

“There it is, Jackie. Look.”

And it is there. They’re there. Cupid and Psyche, Joe and Jack. Just like they always have been.

No one else in the gallery is even looking at the piece, too distracted by the stuffy paintings on the wall. Jack’s never understood why they put it all the way back here.

They move close to the white pedestal, still hand in hand.

“I love this one,” Jack says. Needlessly, of course, because Joe knows.

Joe lets go of his hand and then wraps his arm around Jack’s waist. He presses a kiss to Jack’s shoulder. “I know you do. I do too. I–”

“What?”

“I came here a few times. Before. While you were–”

Joe doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Jack understands.

“Oh.”

“It made me feel closer to you.”

Joe wraps both arms around Jack, as if to remind himself that he can.

There was no way for Jack to feel closer to Joe while he was away. Ivan did everything he could to sever that connection, and he’d been successful. Like Psyche in the myth, Jack was enslaved by his tormentor, sure that he’d been abandoned by the person he loved most.

But Joe never abandoned him. Jack knows that now. He won’t abandon Joe either.

He looks at the model, pressing Joe close to him. And even if the two lovers are impossibly beautiful, Jack sees them–him and Joe. Maybe Jack’s death was waking instead of sleeping, but he knows what it is to be punished in the name of someone else’s jealousy, and he knows what it is to be revived by love. It might have taken more than a single kiss to bring Jack back, but it was Joe’s love that did it. It doesn’t matter how cheesy it sounds; Jack knows it’s true.

Joe chose him, and Jack will choose Joe forever. It’s something Jack hasn’t let himself think about in a very long time, but just now, he can’t ignore his certainty. He doesn’t take being certain for granted anymore.

“Joey?”

“Hmm?”

“Joey?” Jack says again.

“What is it, baby?”

The words slip out without fanfare; Jack doesn’t even have the wherewithal to drop to one knee. He just knows he has to ask, and so he does. “Will you marry me?”

Joe’s face turns toward Jack, his mouth hanging open. “Jackie–do you–”

“I mean it,” Jack says. “You–you brought me back. You waited for me. I–please, Joey. Please say yes.”

Joe’s cheeks are pink again, and he reaches up to brace his hands on either side of Jack’s face. “I don’t want you to feel obligated–”

“I don’t,” Jack interrupts. His hands are light on Joe’s shoulders, and he can feel eyes shifting toward them, but he doesn’t care; Jack is used to being watched, and at least this is worth watching. “I want you. I know it,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Joe’s lips. “I choose this. I choose you.”

“I choose you too,” Joe says breathlessly. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they are bright with tears. “Yes, Jackie. Yes.”

They kiss again, just like the stone lovers behind them, and Jack knows that he has finally made his way back.

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy-s, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @termsnconditions-apply, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keep-beach-city-werid, @keeper-of-all-the-random-things, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @whumpyblogthing, @sowhumpful, @considerablecolors, @ramadiiiisme, @sunnywhump

#behavior modifcation #future snippet #jack kenyon oc #joe prescott oc #past trauma #bbu/bbu adjacent #recovery #fluff #gentlemen in love #art is good for the soul apparently

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ecliptsukki · 4 years ago

Text

his delinquent phase ❧ kaoru sakurayashiki // cherry blossom

navigation | music

➣ genre: fluff

➣ warnings: adam’s existence

➣ request: can i request a one shot where you’re cherrys s/o and like childhood best friends with joe and cherry and adam and you’re gushing over cherrys old bad boy look with piercings and everuthing and cherry one day goes to S with his piercings and hair the same way as before just to see you fawn over him skjfks

➣ a/n: this took me three times to type up because the first two times i did it, tumblr thought it would be funny to delete it. i’m not sure if i love how this came out, but it’s still better than my original plan. hopefully this was correct to what the anon requested. enjoy!

ps: i’m also going to be going on a trip for four days tomorrow, so i’m not sure if i’ll be able to post. i’ll definitely try to start working on my other requests!

You had known Joe, Cherry, and Adam ever since the four of you were in high school. Out of the three, you had met Joe, first, not soon before you met Cherry.

You were walking down the eventful streets of Okinawa, admiring the sights and getting accustomed with the area. You had moved to the city not too long ago and already were growing attached to the place. In your defense, the city was your perfect and desired location to live in.

A gentle breeze blew through your hair, rustling the leaves of the green trees. You sighed at the feeling of the cool breeze tickling your warm skin. Not long after that breeze had gone, another, harsher breeze blew past you. You flinched at the abnormally sharp wind, snapping your head to the side, in its direction. You were met with honey red eyes and short, green locks, swaying.

The male slips past you, stopping abruptly.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, embarrassed, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You were in awe, seeing what the boy was standing on, and on alert because you had always been taught to be cautious around strangers, especially when you were walking alone.

“Um, no. I’m alright, just shocked,” you shrugged, replying quietly.

Another harsh, but gentler than before, wind blows past you, revealing a pink-haired male. He had three piercings on his ear and one on his lip. Half of the boy’s face was hidden by his long bangs, allowing your focus to lock on his golden eye.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snaps at his green-haired friend. “Sorry about him,” he apologizes, giving you a polite smile.

All the sirens were going off in your head.

He has so many piercings! Is he a delinquent? Are both of them delinquents? If they are, I can’t fight them off on my own. What do I do?

“I’m Kaoru,” the bubblegum-haired male suddenly said, “This is Kojiro.”

Kojiro nodded at you, an embarrassed blush still grazing his cheeks.

“Hey, aren’t you the new kid?” Kaoru asked, finding your puzzlingly familiar.

“Oh, that’s why I felt like I’ve met you before,” Kojiro spoke up, nodding his head when he realized who you were.

Awkwardly, you shyly respond, “Sorry, I can’t seem to remember seeing you guys at school. Are you in my class?”

Until dusk, the three of you talked, getting to know the each of you better. You were also able to befriend the boys you were so afraid of, becoming your first two friends in the city.

You met Adam in the dark of night, beside Cherry and Joe.

They had brought you along, one night, wanting to skate with you. You already knew the basics of skating, nothing more, nothing less. Therefore, as your closest, and only, friends, they wanted to get further acquainted with you in something they loved.

“Who’s the sweet cheeks?” His hoodie-covered eyes left an eerie pressure on you, causing goosebumps to emerge from your skin.

“This is our close friend, Y/N L/N,” Cherry spoke up.

“She goes to school with us, and we wanted to bring her skating. Mind her tagging along?” Joe asks his hooded friend.

“Not at all, just as long as she can keep up,” he spoke in a cocky tone.

The pretentious attitude the unnamed face had was irking you in the wrong way. He seemed too mysterious for your liking. A third of the boy’s face was hidden in the shadow of his hoodie, leaving you only able to see the blue tips of his hair and his structured nose.

He must’ve noticed your timid stare because he looks at you, under his hood, “Call me Adam.”

Cherry and Joe look at you expectingly.

“Just call me sweet cheeks, for now,” you reply, distantly, not ready to let your guard down just yet.

You hear your two friends sigh, chuckling to each other.

“Don’t worry, she’ll warm up to you, soon,” Cherry told Adam, “We know firsthand how she is with meeting new people.”

You blush, remembering your first encounter with the pair.

Thinking back, you still regret letting your walls down and accepting Adam as a friend. Not a day goes by that Adam doesn’t linger in your mind, as much as you’d hate to admit.

You despise that man with a passion. From your first interaction, you should’ve known that there was something off about the blue-haired male, but pondering on these frustrations now wouldn’t change anything. As much as you’d like to curse the man for hurting your friends’ and your feelings, you knew you had to move on.

You sat on the soft mattress of your shared bed, scrolling through old pictures stored on your phone. You saw pictures taken by Kaoru when you guys went on dates. Majority of the photos were candid, seeing as he always had told you that you were the “most photogenic woman” he had ever met.

You remember the day he had told you that. You also remember your laughed reply.

“Then you’ve got the whole world to explore, my love.”

Although, honestly, you thought Kaoru was quite the photogenic one himself. His gorgeous, sorted, pink hair matched with his golden eyes and perfect face never looked bad, not even at the crack of dawn or in the late of night.

Speaking of which, you scrolled upon a photograph of Kaoru sitting all pretty with his piercings on display. Those piercings brought back many memories, humorous and lustful.

Ironically, the thing that brought you fear before now brings you yearning.

Honestly, once you had befriended Kaoru and came to trust him, the piercings no longer frightened you but instead, fascinated you. Those metal hoops further increased your attraction to the ponytailed man, leading you to the relationship you were in now.

Obviously, Kojiro played a big role in setting the two of you up together because both of you were completely oblivious to the other’s feelings. It got to the point that Adam almost had to step in and wack some sense into the both of you.

Anyways, ever since Kaoru had started working in the calligraphy business, he removed his piercings to maintain a professional image. You detested the idea, but you also knew that it was the best for his business.

Now that you were looking back at photos of Kaoru as a teenager, you began to crave seeing him in those metal rings once more. You missed the “bad boy” look your boyfriend used to have, not that you didn’t appreciate how he looked now. It’s just that there’s a different vibe to his current and past aesthetics.

As you stalked through more pictures of teenage Kaoru, you were unaware of the very man you were thinking about watching you. He noticed the longing and craving in your gaze. Then, he caught a glimpse of what was being projected on your screen: it was him but in his teenage years.

Suddenly, everything clicked for Kaoru, and he had the perfect plan in mind.

Something was off. Usually your boyfriend would insist on bringing you to “S” himself but not today. If anything, he was urging you to go with Kojiro.

“He’s been your friend for the same amount of time as I. You should take this time to your advantage and catch up,” was Kaoru’s excuse.

First of all, catch up on what? It’s not like you haven’t talked to Kojiro in months. Actually, you talked to him a day ago, at “S.” Secondly, what’s up with the sudden lenience and weak excuses?

Joe, who was also in on the plan, tried to help his friend out, making a feeble attempt to lure you with free food.

“I can get free food from you whenever I want,” you replied, squinting suspiciously at your friend.

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.” That pulled a raised brow from you and a regret-filled face from the muscular man.

Though you weren’t fully convinced that nothing was off, you still left with Joe, caving into their terrible attempts of covering up whatever they were hiding from you.

You had arrived at “S” with Joe for about ten minutes now, but there was still no sightings of your beloved, Cherry. Joe caught glimpse of your searching eyes and reassured you that he would be coming, be it later than usual.

Reki, Langa, and Miya had made their way over to you, sparking up a conversation with you, making you forget about the missing presence of a specific male.

Miya was explaining the new training regiment and diet he was to use in order to advance his strength, leading you to worry for the small teenager. If he didn’t eat enough, it could become fatal to him. You didn’t understand why a child was being treated so harshly by his managers, forcing him to eat barely anything and train long hours of the day.

You were concernedly asking Miya if he was feeling alright and offered him an energy bar you carried around in case of emergencies, which he gratefully accepted, when you heard the cheers of fangirls behind you. Knowing they weren’t meant for Joe, you turned around to meet the golden eyes you’d fallen in love with.

This time, there was something different. His face wasn’t hidden by his mask. You could see the pale skin of his cheeks and the pink of his lips. Besides the absence of the black cloth, you noticed metallic rings decorating your boyfriend’s lip and ears. Also, his hair wasn’t whipping behind him, as per usual, but laid low, drifting in the wind.

For a hot moment, you had thought you had finally lost it, but when you blinked your eyes, looking at Miya then back to Cherry, you realized you were still sane and your boyfriend still looked like he aged back into his high school days.

“Is that Cherry?” Miya asked from beside you.

You nodded, speechless.

You heard someone let out a loud laugh beside you, “Since when did he have piercings?”

Ignoring the redhead’s outburst, you were mesmerized by the Cherry you had been obsessing over a couple days ago. It felt like one extravagant dream that you didn’t want to wake up from. In your defense, as he stepped of his skateboard, coming to embrace you, he looked straight out of a fantasy. His skin was practically glowing, and his hair gently floated perfectly onto his shoulders.

“Hello, darling,” he spoke in a sultry voice, placing a soft kiss to your forehead as he held you in his muscular arms.

“K-Kao—” you quickly realize your soon-to-be mistake and fix it, “Cherry.”

His eyes shrink as he laughs, endearingly, admiring the flustered and confused look you were portraying.

“Is this why you and Joe were being so weird earlier today?” You asked, cheek pressed against his slim, toned chest.

“Indeed, my love. What do you think? Definitely brings back some memories of the old days,” he lifts your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“I love it. It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” you smile brightly, eyes lustrous. Pushing yourself up on your toes, you whisper into his ear, “You also look really hot.” You quickly pull away, turning a vibrant red.

“I think you broke her,” Joe told his friend, placing a heavy hand on the pink-nette’s shoulder.

After the supposed one occurrence surprise, you began to avidly ask him to wear his piercings, loving how attractive and domineering he looked in them. If he denied, you would ask him to, at least, tie his hair in the relaxed half up half down hairdo. He didn’t mind the different hairstyle as much as he did the piercings so it became a normal look for him. The only times he would willingly put on his piercings were when he was going to “S” or when the two of you were safe in the comfort of your own home, for research purposes.

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sweeethinny · 4 years ago

Text

Home (M)

Summary: Home is anywhere you are

AN: I just finished a story that I've been trying to finish for over two months

it's been a long time since the last time I wrote Smut, and I was very embarrassed to post it, but today I translated and edited it, and here it is :) no plot, just fluff and smut

AO3 or read bellow the cut

-----------

Harry was exhausted. He couldn't take any more training, listening to any complaints from Robards, let alone having to deal with co-workers.

When he joined the Aurors, no one said that everything would be so full of paperwork and bureaucracy to sort out, and that there would always be someone to test how far you went without freaking out. Harry felt almost cheated.

Sometimes, fighting Voldemort was less stressful than having to deal with the Auror Department bureaucracy that seemed to go on and on.

He thought all day about the time he was going to go home, from the moment he had to leave the bed warm and comfortable next to Ginny who slept what seemed like the best sleep of life. He thought about going home when Robards yelled at him, when he had to read ten pages of a Law just to come to the conclusion that the document was wrong, thought when he missed lunch and had to make do with pumpkin juice that Hermione had forgotten in his office, and thought about leaving when he received a letter from Ginny informing him that she would be arriving a little later.

He could plan something romantic for them, he could have made that fish stuffed with farofa that she likes so much, bought her favorite wine ... But no. Harry was stuck in the same office where Robards and Theo decided to fight and take out the anger on all the younger ones.

Harry snorted impatiently in the waiting line at Flu, completely ignoring politeness and ignoring anyone who wanted to talk to him, just wanting to get to his home, where there would be no angry boss, exhausting training and paperwork. Where there would be his girlfriend, silence and his bed for the next 3 days.

Training today hadn't even been the worst part, if it was true. Of course, Theo made them sweat a lot more than usual, and Harry even thought he would end up dying in the middle, but it was better to keep quiet and feel the pain in the muscles later than to complain and need to listen to Theo talking for hours and hours on how to train was important.

Harry just wanted to go home.

Ginny was so beautiful sleeping in his T-shirt, her hair all messed up and her cheeks red, mumbling a few words when he kissed her and said goodbye to go to work. He felt stuck with that image all day, meditating that he would have 2 days of it on the weekend, waking up next to his girlfriend and wasting hours just lying with her, completely ignoring the outside world, without caring about responsibilities or with eating. Harry would live happily with just Ginny in his arms, and that was what made him sane.

At the end of the day she would be there, with him, making him laugh at some thing that happened in the Harpy's locker rooms, and commenting on how much better he looks with his beard.

Harry hoped that Ginny didn't want to do something that involved leaving the house, honestly, Harry barely wanted to have to wear pants this weekend, let alone see other people. But as far as he knew the woman he lived with, Ginny was just as exhausted as he was, and was probably lying to keep them from going to some fancy and boring party, or some meeting of colleagues at the bar.

When he was finally able to use the Flu, Harry heard his name being called from afar by the Minister of Sport, accompanied by something that sounded like ''Mr Potter, we have great news.'' which made him hurry even further to travel to home security, because nothing would be good news from the guy who was in the Aurors' office all day complaining about drug use in the locker rooms - even after they went over three times the "clues" that Joe insisted he had.

The man more than quickly entered the Flu, throwing the dust and going to home right after, seeing nothing more than a blur of Joe and his frog face, falling safely in his own fireplace, seeing the decoration of the apartment that he and Ginny had chosen together.

‘Home sweet home.’ He said to himself, wiping the soot from his shoulders and taking off his cloak and shoes, ready to take a bath and prepare to make dinner. Harry knew that Ginny would still be late, the clock still indicated that she was at work, which gave him some time to think of some food that would be quick and easy.

But just from being at home, Harry was already happier.

Going up the stairs wearing only his underwear - he levitated the filthy clothes for the laundry - he started to prepare the bath.

He started doing that for Ginny, after training and with pain in her arms, he always prepared a good bath for her and gave her a massage, but then, he started to feel a lot of pain and tiredness, and started to benefit from the various salts and soaps that they contained. It was always very relaxing to lie there in the hot water covered by the bubbles and the feeling of peace that reached him, relaxing even the most tense of muscles.

The bathtub was not always used to relax, now and then Ginny and he would warm the weather there, intertwined, after drinking a little wine and talking a little about each other's day. Ginny would climb onto Harry's lap and kiss him until none had more breath, kissing him provocatively as he squeezed her waist, ass and breasts, traveling his hand to all her curves, delighting in the strong body she came from acquiring on account of training.

When his tired foot touched the warm water, Harry almost groaned in satisfaction, entering the water even before the bath was completely filled, the salts all mixed together to form bubbles and scent the bathroom. His shoulder blades hurt, as did his biceps, triceps and abdomen, thinking how much repetition they had to do in strength and endurance training, and how his palms had become callused from hanging on the iron bar

Ginny always said that she loved watching Harry train. They trained together a few mornings at the gym on the corner where they lived, and every time Harry lifted weights, Ginny stopped doing whatever she was doing to watch him for a few minutes - and he always tried hard to look attractive, even though he was feeling like he was going to die.

He also loved watching her train. Ginny was almost as strong as Harry, and watching her lift weights and do squats was one of his pleasures, always ready to help her straighten her spine and get a privileged view of her ass.

‘You are a bastard,’ she would say, as they walked back to their home. ‘I saw how you looked at me.’

‘Ginny, of course I looked.’ Harry would respond, sweating like never before, wanting to miss work just to enjoy his free time with his girlfriend. ‘Seeing you lifting weights is the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.’

‘One day I’ll end up getting stronger than you, if you just keep looking at me and don’t train as you should.’ She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, opening the front door of the apartment and taking off the hood of the sweatshirt she wore.

‘And I’ll come in my pants.’ He would slap her ass and smile, ready for a shower and a quickie with her, before he had to face the paperwork that was waiting for him at work.

The Harry of now, immersed up to his neck in the bathtub with hot, fragrant water, sighed, smiling at the memories, thinking how it was possible for someone to love as much as someone as he loved Ginny. He just wanted her to get home soon so they could get lost in the hours and rest together.

Thinking about it, Harry also remembered the diamond ring he saw at the jewelry store near the Ministry, shining in the window as if it were the most expensive jewel - it wasn't, but the most expensive was too ugly - and making him wonder how it would fit perfectly on Ginny's long, thin fingers. Was it the right time to do it? And did it have the right time for that? Harry didn't know, but he thought that if there was, they might be close.

[...]

'Starting without me?' A voice woke him from the sleep that was already taking him, making him open his eyes and see a smiling Ginny with her arms crossed leaning on the door, barefoot, with the tank top she used to train in and her shorts black, looking, as always, beautiful. ‘I thought you were going to wait for me.’ She said, starting to undress.

‘I thought it would take longer.’ Harry splashed water on his face, trying to wake up and go back to Earth, not even remembering how he managed to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. 'Hi.'

‘Hello.’ Ginny smiled, stepping into the bathtub and already going to his lap, laying her warm and slightly sweaty body on top of Harry’s, who was much more rested than he was minutes ago. ‘It took me a while, but I think you dozed off while you waited for me.’

‘Sorry, it was a rough day.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping them close enough for him to feel every bit of her, looking into the brown eyes he liked so much, feeling a lot more awake now. 'I missed you.'

'Me too,' Ginny kissed him, seeming to taste him as if it were one of the lollipops she usually kept in her mouth, playing with his tongue and making a point of brushing her naked body with Harry's, which was beginning to show signs. ‘I thought all day about what we were going to do for our weekend’’ She rocked her hips on top of his, delightfully making him feel her on his dick.

'What was the conclusion?' Harry grabbed her hair with his free hand and pulled back, forcing Ginny to let go of his mouth and let him stroll around her delicious neck, traveling through that sea of freckles and reddish skin that made Harry delirious. The smell, the softness, her reaction, everything was the meaning of perfection in his eyes.

The sound of her moaning as she leaned back, raising her pink breasts from the hot water and brushing their pelvis even closer together, made Harry squeeze his hand on her hip and bend his toes to avoid lifting his hip and succumb to her teasing.

‘I thought we would enjoy it a little, after so many days that we barely managed to spend more than ten minutes together.’ Her red nails marked the skin on Harry's shoulder when he kissed that exact spot that Ginny liked, just below the ear, smiling when he heard her almost purring on his lap, moving her hips back and forth without even seeming to feel.

Harry needed a lot of strength to keep his stil, knowing that he would not be able to resist much temptation after he felt her fully under his member.

‘It really has been a bad day.’ He released his hand from her soft hair, feeling her shiver where he was passing, reaching his hand to her breasts and lowering his mouth to one of them, feeling drunk by the perfume that Ginny exhaled. Harry would never know how to punctuate the exact smell, but it was a mixture of flowers, something sweet and Ginny, which didn't make much sense, but it was what Harry felt. That had been the smell of his Amortentia for years now.

Her thighs tensed next to Harry's hip when he started kissing her nipples, and it seemed like it wasn't that important anymore to talk about the weekend's plans or how they hadn't had much time, not when Ginny she started pulling his hair and arching under him as she always did when she started to get excited.

Using all his willpower, Harry let go of her breasts and pinned her even more in his lap, groaning at the sensation of being completely touching, then rising from the bathtub. Ginny's scream of fright made him laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck to keep her balance and her beautiful brown eyes even darker, staring at him.

‘Someone trained well today.’ She smiled, not even caring about the trail of water left behind, the pink body of the hot water getting goosebumps with the temperature, and Harry almost dropped them when he saw her nipples reacting too.

‘Theo made us sweat today.’

‘Now I understand why the bathtub.’ Harry nodded, taking the wand just enough to dry them superficially before dropping that tantalizingly beautiful redhead in the middle of their bed.

It was like facing one of those works of art about Aphrodite that they had seen in the Muggle Museum they visited; the red hair, the dark eyes shining with excitement, the naughty smile he loved so much, that sculptural body that literally put Harry on his knees on the floor, all naked on the bed. But Aphrodite wouldn't be able to be as beautiful as Ginny was.

At that moment, Harry thought it was a good time to propose.

He did not imagine himself seeing anyone there but her, he did not imagine himself waking up or going to sleep with someone else, and besides, he did not want anyone else. It was she, and only she, that Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Seeing her wear white, imagining their children in the future, thinking about what their house would be like, family vacations, everything... It had always been, and always would be, with her.

‘Never seen a naked woman before, Potter?’ She joked, poking him in the waist with her foot, looking even more tempting that way. The silky leg stretched out and invited him to come even closer.

‘All I thought about today was you naked.’ He smiled, grabbing her foot and bending down to kiss all the way he reached; her foot, her ankle, her calf, everything he was capable of kissing, Harry kissed, numb with pleasure. ‘I couldn’t help thinking about coming home just to see you.’

'This is very romantic.' Ginny pulled him so that he lay on her, then immediately turned them over and stood on top, in one of the positions that the two liked the most. ‘I really like when you’re romantic.’ She ran a hand through her red hair and naturally, pinned it in a bun, her eyes dark with pleasure. ‘I also thought about you during the day.’

'Yes? What was I doing in your thoughts?' His hands almost automatically went to her hips, trying hard to keep his eyes on hers, but the middle of her legs was getting closer and closer and Harry didn't have much control over himself in those moments.

‘Oh, a lot, we would waste a lot of time just for me to list everything, and we don't want that, right?’ Ginny would come closer and he could do what he loved to do so much. ‘My eyes are up here.’

‘I know,’ Harry shifted on the bed, a little uncomfortable with the erection that hurt between his legs. ‘Let me make some of your fantasies come true, then.’ He squeezed his hands again on her hips, pulling her into his face, ready to take on that position he liked so much. Fortunately, Ginny was willing.

Harry was happy that he had been doing it for some time to know exactly how to do it and how to make her squirm in that specific way, which he always thought he was away from her for a few days.

It was almost like a drug, he felt a little sick when he or Ginny traveled and needed to stay away from each other, because it was always something that left him looking forward to having her in his arms again. Not only sexually, Harry obviously also missed the simple moments, like lying on the couch and talking to her while they drink good wine, or watching a muggle movie, knowing that she will sleep in less than half an hour, hugging him like a sloth on the tree trunk.

Harry loved her with all his heart.

The first moan filled him with joy, needing to use his free hand to try to relieve the pressure he already felt, dedicating himself to getting her lost in emotions, as Ginny always did with him.

All the stress of the day felt like nothing now, nothing being more important than Ginny's pussy on his face, her thick, strong thighs squeezing him in place and almost suffocating him. It would be a delightful death.

Her hands, so delicate and small, tugged at his hair as if trying to break his head in two, moaning louder and louder and moving her hips almost automatically, seeming to lose her balance as she trembled.

It was a real paradise, he could do that for hours, it was almost as good as when she was kneeling in front of him. Almost. But still, seeing her on her knees would always make him shiver.

Harry increased the pressure of his thumb on her clitoris, knowing that Ginny didn't seem to be able to hold on much longer, straddling his face as if it were going to make her live, and it was he who almost came when he opened his eyes and saw her. Head to the sky, hands resting on his chest, while she moved her hips furiously and arrived in that state where she was quite noisy, almost worrying him that maybe the neighbors would complain. As they did a few months ago.

It didn't take long for him to hear his name coming out as a plea, her face falling and looking him in the eye as she came, mouth open but no noise coming out, looking like a Goddess, a little disheveled and sweaty. It was one of the most beautiful views of all time.

‘Fuck.’ She fell on the bed next to him, her head close to his thigh, her eyes closed and her legs stretched out. ‘You’re good at this, Potter.’

‘I’ve improved my technique.’ Harry smiled, wiping the traces of her arousal from his chin, a little lost too, it was always hard not to come along with Ginny at those times. ‘Was that what you were thinking during the day?’

‘Don’t touch me!’ Ginny patted his hand when Harry tried to caress her leg, with no ulterior motives, just because he liked the softness. ‘And yes, that was it, but you always outdo yourself.’

‘Thanks, I try.’

‘Great, I don’t mind being used as an experiment.’ She sighed, her freckled, red chest rising and falling, her breasts still pointing upwards gloriously. 'You said you had a hard day...' Ginny opened her eyes, her delicate hand resting on Harry's thigh, dangerously close to his dick.

‘I did, and all I could do was think about you.’

‘Have I said I love it when you’re romantic?’ She blushed, smiling lovingly and winking at him, which made Harry laugh and feel at peace, nodding.

'You say every now and then.' He kept his hands away from her body, even though Ginny's fingers drummed on the inside of his thigh and almost made him sweat with desire. Merlin, all he wanted to do was come, it was almost stressful and painful.

‘You didn’t specify your thoughts for me.’ Like a sly cat she was, Ginny moved, returning to his lap, but this time, sitting on his thighs.

'You know, the same old thing, you and me naked and a creaking bed, nothing much--' Harry swallowed the words, closing his eyes and arching against the bed, feeling in the clouds when her hand came around his penis.

It was a delicious sensation, her palm warm and soft, rising and falling slowly as if she wanted to kill him, while the other massaged his balls in the way that Ginny knew was driving him crazy.

Harry didn't even have to look to know what was coming next, but he wanted to have the privileged vision of seeing her putting him inside her mouth. And the redhead seemed to guess, smirking and winking as she moved to slide down his legs, making Harry move to sit more on the edge of the bed, almost coming when he saw her kneeling, as in the various erotic dreams he had when he was a teenager, but much better.

‘I’ll take care of you, babe,’ Ginny whispered, hands surrounding him and then putting him inside her mouth, causing him to fall from heaven to hell.

There were no words to describe the sensations he felt, losing strength in his forearms and falling on the bed, one hand gripping the sheet tightly while the other was on Ginny's head, which went up and down at a tortuous speed. The feel of her cheeks and tongue around him, the low moans she made, the moans he made, were all Harry needed.

The tension in his body was no longer because he needed to worry about paperwork, training, or reporters who were invasive, the tension now was because Harry was holding himself back from coming like a teenager who never got a blowjob, feeling the sweat settling on the base of the spine, Ginny's speed gradually increasing and how much she swallowed from him too. Harry was ready to die.

If the sight of her coming was beautiful, he didn't even know what to feel when he saw her with her eyes closed, concentrated, her cheeks drawn in while his cock disappeared and appeared inside her delicate mouth.

‘If you want to continue with this,’ He said, after a lot of effort. ‘Stop now before I ruin our night.’ Ginny opened her eyes, smiling as she could, slowly taking his dick out of her mouth, seeming to admire how much it affected him.

‘Are you so needy?’ Her brown eyes mesmerized him, as well as her fingers wiping the corners of her pink mouth.

'You have no idea'

[...]

'Would you marry me?' Harry asked, lying face down on the bed, tired, still a little damp from the bath they had taken, feeling his muscles relaxed on top of the soft mattress.

'Is it a propose?' Ginny smiled, also looking tired, her eyes almost closing, but still trying to stay awake.

'No, just a question.' He said. 'I never asked you if you wanted to get married.'

'Of course I want.' Ginny approached, wrapping an arm around Harry's back and sticking them together as she could, noses almost touching, and her floral scent filled his nostrils like a drug, cradling him even more to sleep, making him feel at peace.

'With me?' Harry asked just to hear her laugh, which worked, her smile flashed on her face.

'Who else would it be with?' They stared at each other, it was almost a total gloom if it weren't for the side of the curtain that let in a yellow street light, illuminating one side of Gin's face and the wall beside the bed. Harry could see her brown eyes sparkle, her red eyebrows rising, and her lips curl in that mischievous smile that she always gave when she was trying to keep from laughing.

'You have a long line of admirers.' Harry shrugged, raising his hand to undo her bun and stroke the red hair.

'You also have a long line,' she said, but she didn't look jealous, just amused.

'But it's you I want to marry,' said Harry, kissing her nose, smiling like a fool.

'Great, because you are my chosen one.' Ginny gave him a quick peck, the smile still on her face. 'And only mine.'

'Only yours.' He nodded, closing his eyes, feeling at peace.

'Not that I had any doubts, I mean, you grabbed me in the middle of a room with 50 people, and you don't even like attention.' They both laughed, the memory making him feel a little more silly in love with her.

'It is your effect on me. I already said, for you I would declare myself in front of a crowd.’

'And I already told you not to do that.' Ginny kissed him again, this time, taking a little longer. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' He sighed, feeling at home with her in his arms.

#hinny #harry x ginny #this story has been stored for a long time #the ending is a little bad but i like it #ahahaha

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thebrochtuarachs · 4 years ago

Text

Something in the Rain - “Interruptions”

A/N: I hope you like it. As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3 / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground : C6: Situations

XXXXX

“What should I wear tomorrow?” Claire texted Jamie on the eve of their first official date. She wanted to have an extra time to shop should the need there be.

“What do ye mean?” he replied.

“I want to dress appropriately to wherever you’re taking me, James Fraser.”

“I see. Smart casual would do. :) Sorry, I dinna thought of informing ye earlier but wouldn’t it be hilarious if you dressed to the nines and we’re going to some sort of cattle farm”

“Exactly.” Claire replied with the eye roll and laughing emoji. “Can I know where we’re going?”

“Don’t ye want to be surprised?” Jamie messaged back and saw three dots typing afterwards.

“Hmm, thinking about it, yes. I’m excited to see the Jamie Fraser Date Experience.”

“Hope it doesna disappoint. I, too, am excited to see the Claire Beauchamp Date Experience. ;)” he replied, knowing the use of emoji will make her smile as he rarely uses one.

“I hope it doesn’t disappoint, too.” she replied with a winky face too. “Are you back in Edinburgh?”

“Just about to arrive home. I might just wash and then hit the sack.”

“Rest then, Jamie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Sassenach. I’ll message ye tomorrow when I’m on my way”

----

It has been four weeks since their accidental meeting at the sidewalk. After countless run-ins, lunches, and an absurd amount of consumed soy chicken, the day of their date has arrived.

When Claire accepted his invitation three days earlier, Jamie went into a slight overdrive trying to plan what to do. He meant to ask her out when he got back - but when he found out that she met Laoghaire, something pushed him to go for it before Claire had any wrong idea about his connection with Mrs. Fitz's granddaughter.

His first idea was to go all out - book the fanciest rooftop restaurant in the city, get the best chef he knew, and plan a private dinner for them. Fancy and exclusive seemed like a safe choice and a sure hit.

Then he thought about Claire and all their interactions so far - hole in the wall kitchens, asian street food, very light and casual. Jamie pondered on the idea and realized that jumping from that to an uber private dinner might not be the best, so he kept that card to play for later.

It was then he decided to just take their casual lunch to a casual dinner. He’ll just exchange one-hour savory chicken meetings for a comfortable, popular city restaurant and longer conversations. He also decided on wearing more casual clothes, opting out of his office suits that she’d seen him often in for a navy turtleneck, khaki pants and white sneakers.

Arriving at her front door, Jamie took one last stock of himself, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness, and knocked on her door.

What he saw next knocked him out.

Claire opened the door wearing a burgundy sleeveless jumpsuit that was both modest and sexy, yet casual enough. Pairing the ensemble with black heels, the garment hugged Claire’s curves in just the right places that left Jamie staring for a hot minute.

“Hi” Claire broke through his thoughts and he remembered his manners.

“Hi, Claire. Wow, ye look beautiful”

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. Going to stop traffic pairing blue on blue like that”

“Ye ready to go?”

“Yeah. Are we going to walk?” She asked as she locked the door to her place.

“Yes, I hope ye dinna mind. Ye live close by all the nice places to eat.”

“No, I don’t mind and also, very true.”

It was a short 10-minute walk before they arrived at Howie’s Restaurant.

“Howie’s. Interesting choice.” Claire commented as they walked to the hostess.

“We can go somewhere if ye dinna like it here.” Jamie offered.

“No, I actually quite like it here” she had to stifle a laugh at how adorable she found his tenseness was.

The hostess pointed them to the bar to wait for their table. Claire excused herself to the bathroom and Jamie ordered a light whisky for some liquid courage.

When the bartender served his drink, a familiar bloke sat beside him and greeted him.

“Jamie Fraser, hello!”

Jamie gulped the drink and turned to the man beside him. “Joe! It’s good to see ye, man!”

The two shook hands and exchanged more pleasantries.

“I’m actually meeting my wife.” He looked at his watch and then to the front door. “Oh, good, she just arrived!” Joe quickly waved her in and introduced her.

“Jamie Fraser, meet Gail Abernathy. Gail, Jamie.” he paused when Jamie extended a hand to her. “He was the guy who volunteered at our center two weeks ago. All the kids were just drawn to him.”

“No wonder.” Gail observed, her comment earning a jokey sigh from her husband. “So, Jamie, what brings you to this side of town on a Saturday evening?”

Jamie was about to share that he was on a date, but then right on cue, Claire arrives to greet the trio.

“Hello, everyone!”

“Claire!” Gail squealed as she gave her friend a tight hug.

“Lady Jane, you clean up good!” Joe remarked.

As they finished their greetings, Jamie quietly whispered to Claire to order any drink she’d like. The husband-and-wife duo caught on and couldn’t resist to pry.

“You guys on a date?” Joe asked frankly.

“First one, actually.” Jamie replied as Gail raised an eyebrow while Claire returned to his side, drink in tow.

Joe leaned closer to Jamie and pretended to whisper in his ear, “My date advice is don’t challenge her or don’t allow her to challenge you to a drinking game. You will lose”

Claire groaned while the rest laughed at her expense.

Just then, the hostess approached the pairs and told them their tables were ready. They exchanged their goodbyes and were led to their areas.

---

Jamie had been a perfect gentleman.

He opened her seat, allowed her to order and choose whatever she wanted from the menu (They both went to the steak and fries!), and is making just the right amount of banter.

Claire actually liked this dining choice - Howie’s comfort food really brought out the easy ambiance and conversation to their date. She didn’t mind going to a fancier place but she knew that if they were there, things would be too formal, delicate and shy. This was much better and she’d Jamie props for this.

Moreover, what made this official first date a little bit more fun is much of the first date awkwardness is gone. They’ve covered much of the basics about their life during their lunches - their families (both their parents are alive and have retired away from the city, Claire’s an only child while Jamie had an older sister), how they chose their careers and where they went to school (Jamie is Oxford Law while Claire is Cambridge Med, the school rivalry something they joke about), their current or main interests (horses for Jamie, herbs for Claire) and many other things.

So the evening was more or less less a continuation on what they’ve normally done - catching up on their days, sharing an interesting story at work or a photo they found on the web, asking more random questions - the only difference now is, there’s a more clear and intentional purpose for knowing these things and whole lot of shameless flirting in between.

Forty-five minutes in and halfway through their steak, a man approached their table. “Dr. Beauchamp, it’s nice to see you here!”

Jamie and Claire looked up and saw a slender man, not much older than they are with grey eyes.

“Tom, hi!” Claire swallowed a fry and grabbed a cloth to clean her mouth.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your evening but I saw you from the bar and just had to pass by and greet you. I mean at least, this time, not at the hospital or during check ups”

Claire smiled and made the introductions. “Oh, I’m sorry. Tom Christie, this is Jamie Fraser. Jamie, Tom. He is a teacher at the public elementary school. We met when I did the annual medical checkup for the kids. Also, I’m the peds of his kids, Allan and Malva.”

The mention of the word kids made Jamie release the tight fist he didn’t know he held beneath the table. He didna like the way the man eyed Claire but it was not his place - not yet at least.

Jamie gave the man a nod but ultimately wished he’d go. When neither said or did anything, Tom said his farewells and confirmed his kids check-up schedule in two weeks.

---

They decided to share a slice of chocolate cake and one last glass of wine each to cap off their dinner.

As they waited for their order to arrive, they got startled with a loud noise.

“Jamie, is that ye?!” one man said.

“Oh, heavens, tis!” another man replied.

Jamie could not hide the embarrassment he felt as the two blokes approached their table. Once they noticed Claire, they did not waste time introducing themselves.

“Hello, I havena seen ye before. My name is Angus” the thin, beardly man extended his hand. “And ye are?”

“Hi, I’m Claire.” she reached out but eyeing Jamie for confirmation that he knew these people.

“I’m Rupert.” the other man said. “We’re Jamie’s cousins”

“Distant cousins” Jamie retorted back. “What brings ye here?” he asked while glaring at them to leave.

“We have a double date” Angus shared, pointing to the table where two ladies were indeed waiting for them.

“Then I suggest you return to your dates then.” Jamie replied then proceeded to converse with the two men in Gaelic.

When the conversation was apparently over, Rupert sighed and turned to Claire. “It was nice meeting ye, lass. Please ask Jamie here to bring around one of our office events and meet the rest of the clan. I’m sure they’d love to get to know ye as well.”

Jamie stood up quickly and had to push the two back to their table before they said anything else that may ruin the evening.

“I’m sorry about them, Claire. They are quite the more, erm, rowdy members of my family.” he said as he sat down again.

“It’s alright. They seem really nice” Claire said, smiling. “So, clan huh? Just how big is that family of yours really?” She brought the conversation back up again hoping it would ease his discomfort.

Jamie visibly relaxed and then, they were back in their bubble, “How many generations back?”

---

Desert went by swimmingly with the chocolate cake and red wine proving to be a winning combo. After an almost three-hour dinner, Jamie asked for the check and insisted on paying for the meal.

They were one their way out of the restaurant then Claire was greeted by incoming guests.

“Dr. Beauchamp!”

Claire turned to look who called her. “Oh, please call me Claire. It’s nice seeing you here”

“Likewise. Please call me Meredith.” she quickly signaled to the man beside her. “This is my husband, Derek.”

“Of course, Dr. Shepherd.” Claire politely acknowledged him with the man insisting to be called casually as well.

“Anyway, I’d just like to say that I just read your latest paper in the Journal of Pediatrics. I look forward to hearing all about it in your visit to Seattle.”

Claire graciously accepted the complement with a smile and bow. “Thank you. We’ll catch up in Seattle in a few weeks, then.” Remembering her companion, she turned to her back where Jamie was patiently waiting for her. “Oh my, where are my manners. Meredith, Derek, this is Jamie Fraser. Jamie, this is Meredith and Derek Shepherd. They’re visiting doctors from Grey Sloan Memorial in Seattle.”

Jamie returned the pleasantries and shook hands with the doctors.

“Alright, I’ll let you guys go on with your evening. Sorry for the sudden call out” Meredith said.

“It’s no problem at all. A good night to you both as well.” Claire replied as she looked at Jamie and motioned for them to head out.

Once they we're out of the restaurant, Jamie lets out a light laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“I was just thinking that I’d never unexpectedly run into that many acquaintances in one evening, let alone in a date!” he shared, chuckling more as the thought further sank in his mind and Claire joined him in his mood. “It isna exactly part of the Jamie Fraser Date Experience”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be, there’s nothing to apologize for. I mean, who would’ve thought, right?” Jamie retorted, his humor infectious.

She was touched by his honesty, not just with the situation but the entire night. He was caring, makes great conversation, and is always authentic with who and how he carries himself. She cannot make a full judgement of his character yet, as that is something she is still getting to know, but she likes what she is seeing so far.

Taking a bold step, she wrapped her arm around his as they started walking side by side back to her place.

Jamie looked at her hand, smiled and hoped it conveyed to Claire the joy he felt at the moment. “Is this part of the Claire Beauchamp Date Experience?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Only to a rare few” she said as she slightly tugged him closer.

The walk back seemed shorter than the one they did earlier. Before they knew it, they were already standing in front of Claire’s building.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jamie exclaimed as he fished out his car keys and a grey miata lit up open beside them. He pulled out an exquisite posey bouquet of red roses and handed it to her. “These are for you.”

Claire took them and smelt it, “The flowers are beautiful”

“I hope ye had a good time, Sassenach”

“I had a great time, Jamie. Thank you”

After a beat, Jamie took a deep breath, gathering strength to what he was about to say next. “Claire, we’ve known each other for about a month now, became unexpected friends in a short amount of time, had our lunches and now, our first date. I hope ye dinna think this is too forward of me but...I like you and I would like to see you again or keep seeing you, I guess.“ They we’re holding each other’s gazes as he laid out his intentions and waited for her reply.

Claire sighed and was just amazed by him. Her previous encounters are usually with male friends who constantly hang out with her then a few months down, asks her “what they are” as if she had to know or feel that something was happening from the get go. So, Jamie's forthrightness and old-fashionedness was truly refreshing and she was more than willing to give it a go.

As a final check to their chemistry, she stepped closer, tilted her head and leaned in to him. Quickly responding to her actions, he held her face on one hand and placed the other on her hips to pull her closer. He followed her lead until their lips crashed into each other in a single deep kiss.

In that moment, both Jamie and Claire knew something big shifted in the dynamic of their relationship.

This was not usual.

This is different.

And oh so good.

They felt each other smile against their lips just as they pulled apart for air.

“I like you too, Jamie and yes”

A/N: Maybe not the first date you might've thought of but hope you liked it! As always, thank you for reading! Your comments, suggestions, and questions are always welcome. If there's a story or scene you'd like to know, feel free to drop it! :)This was my original idea for the date but as I was writing it, I was going back and forth about scraping the entire thing and think about something else. But the original thought kept developing in my mind so I went back and stuck with it and cross-fingers, hoped it worked and made sense. I knew she had doctor friends but adding the Greys Anatomy characters just came about since I've been binging the show and thought it'd be fun to crossover. Hope you're keeping safe and in line to get vaccinated for the COVID-19 shot! See you all in the next one!

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goldenmazzello · 4 years ago

Text

Never should have let you go.

Warning: Full of angst, swearing?, and more angst.

Word count: 2.5k

As the door opened, the loudest of noises Joe could hear was silence. The sound of silence wasn't the lack of noise but the lack of your pressence. It was an unnerving silence, a constant companion of his thoughts. His thoughts were destroying him. He tried not to think but the silence was a killer.

His head was spinning on the memories the two of you had. The day you met, the day you kissed for the first time, the day you moved together and of course, the day you left. All the things he took for granted now became moments gone, forever wasted. He had to accept the damaged was done and it was obvious that you could never go back to the way it used to be. At least not now.

Even though that you were gone for weeks, coming home to an empty room was just as hard as the first day. The days feet like years now that he was alone. He felt that another day without you was like a blade cutting right through him. Joe hasn't been the same since you've been gone. Everytime he came back home from work he hoped everything was just a bad dream and that he would wake up and see your face again. He remembered those times in which you waited for him with his favorite supper. Or when you picked him up at the airport. Those little details meant the world to him.

You were always there with a big bright smile, you were like a shining light that made him forget all of his problems. You were there to guide him on his darkest days. You were always there and he took it for granted. And now you were gone.

At night, after a long day at work, Joe lay in bed thinking about you and would burst into tears. The bed was made up on your side, as if you were about to enter the room.

The thing he missed the most was waking up next to you and looking into your eyes, those beautiful eyes he loved and he would give everything he had in the world to see them again. After all these wasted nights he couldn't pretend he was doing fine because that feeling was getting stronger everyday. He just couldn't take it anymore. He wondered if you thought about him when you couldn't fall asleep just like he did. You were always on his mind.

He has played your words back in his head a thousand times. I'm leaving. And there wasn't anything else that he could do. He felt helpless. He had to face the fact that he couldn't walk away from this, but it was hard when every little thing in the world reminded him of you.

Life was far different when you both decided it was time to live together. And things seemed to get better and better. You got a job promotion and as soon as he directed his first movie, Joe had an amazing opportinity that was life changing: another promising movie. But of course for every plus there is a minus, Joe was going to be away from you for a long time since he had to work in London. It was a challenge you had to face.

And that wasn't an easy time. You didn't tell him because you didn't want to worry him while he was working, but you couldn't stop crying. You would come back from work and cry because you missed him so much, but you knew it was going to happen, you knew it from the very beginning. And you were willing to tolerate it, he was the love of your life.

You tried to visit Joe once a month and he tried flying home during vacation. But in one of the most special days, Joe wasn't there. You spent your birthday alone and even though you told him it was okay, it really wasn't. You really wished he was there, but he was away. It was his job and you understood.

When Joe came back after being in London for six months, it felt like time didn't pass. He was back and all yours. You felt on cloud nine. After a few months, Bohemian Rhapsody was released and you were Joe's date for the premiere. And then, press tour began and everything started to feel like a mess. Joe had to fly around the world and wasn't going to spend much time at home.

Award season arrived and he had to fly from New York to Los Angeles, from Los Angeles to London and again, you were alone at home. You wished you could go with him but it was impossible, you weren't famous like him and after all, it was his job, again.

And there wasn’t anything wrong about it, since day one you knew his life was like this and you accepted. The problem was that Joe was absolutely focused on his job and started to care less about you. The small notes with "I love you" or even his messages during breakfast or at night became scarce, almost non-existent. He didn't have time to FaceTime like he did before. He didn't even ask you to pick him up at the airport anymore. Everything was different now.

You could sense your relationship was falling apart but you didn’t want to give up on it. Just because you were in hot water it didn't necessarily mean you needed to throw in the towel, at least not now.

You decided to talk to Joe about this. This was making you feel totally miserable and you really wanted to fix it. After all, communication is the key in every relationship.

At first, he said he was sorry about it and he felt absolutely terrible for hurting you. He promised he was going to change and he said he was going to spend more time with you like before. You were in this together. And you felt relieved, as if you took a great weight off your shoulders. You really loved Joe and you would do everything in the world for him.

As weeks passed by, you felt you were trying to fix your relationship all by yourself. Lack of daily communication with him was something you were getting used to. Movie nights, dinner dates or even intimate moments were all distant memories. There were much less moments of cuddling, sweet kisses, hand holding, and walking arm-in-arm, they all had been replaced by distance. You thought it was maybe a temporary reaction to stress, but it's been going on for some time now. It was getting worse. Even the words "sweetheart,” “honey,” and “love" were gone. And your self-esteem was already affected. You felt heartbroken and hurt every day.

It was time.

It was time to leave.

You had an escape plan in your head for months. Your subconscious was sending you strong messages that it was time to get out. You tried not to think about it but every day you considered putting your plan into action. And the day finally came.

You got up in the morning and started packing your belongings. As you were taking your things out of your wardrobe, you felt a shiver down your spine. It felt odd, but you couldn't take it anymore. It was absolutely painful.

Three hours passed and Joe entered home. He let the door fall to with a thud that made you jump. You gulped and closed your eyes as you heard his steps were becoming closer. When Joe finally set foot in your shared room, his eyes were as big as plates. His face expression changed.

"W-What are you doing?" He was shoocked.

You grabbed your things quickly and got out of the room and he followed you. "I'm leaving, I can't put up with your fucking job anymore." You said as you tried to walk downstairs with your heavy suitcase. You had decided to leave since it was Joe's house and there was no way you would stay.

"Please, I'm begging you." Joe grabbed your hands while crying. Your words cut deeper than a knife.

"Joe, I'm being serious, don't make it even harder." You told him with a broken voice while trying to walk.

"You don't have to leave, th-th-this is your house too." He put himself in your way.

"This is your house, you paid for it with your work. Now please, move." You tried to move him but you couldn't since he was taller and bigger than you. "I'm gonna fall and get hurt, move!" At this point, you were already annoyed.

"No, I'm gonna protect you. You aren't gonna get hurt." He said while resting his hands on your waist.

You rolled your eyes. "Guess what? I'm already hurt and it's because of you! I tried to get things better but it seems you don't want to. I feel we've been living as roomates!" You left out a frustrated sigh. He moved his gaze to the floor.

"I promise I'll do my best this time. Let's go on a road trip." He suggested, trying to smile.

"There is not going to be any road trip or whatever. I'm leaving and there is nothing you can do about it. I feel like we're as close as strangers, you don't care about me anymore!" You screamed those words to Joe.

He didn't say anything but cried. He knew it was his fault. "Please, think about it. Don't take spur-of-the-moment decisions."

"It isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision, I've been thinking about it for months."

You don't know why, but he finally moved and helped you with your suitcase. "Where are you going?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"It's none of your business." You looked for your coat, took out your keys and opened the door. "Here you have." You gave him the keys and got out of the house.

Joe couldn't stop the tears running down his face. "Sorry, sorry sorry sorry." He covered his eyes with his hands.

It's been a week that you were gone and Joe didn't know what to do. You blocked him from social media and he didn’t have a way of communicating with you.

As he turned on his computer, he noticed you left your e-mail opened. He hesitated but then decided to open it.

You had an e-mail from an airline. Everything indicated you were in London now. "What is she doing in London?" He thought. "What about her job?"

As soon as he read that, he called Rami. He had moved to London with Lucy and maybe knew something about your whereabouts.

Rami told Joe that Lucy visited you in London but she wasn't going to give him your adress because she knew Rami would tell Joe about it. Joe promised not to visit you, he knew you didn't want to see him. After a few days of asking about you, Lucy finally spoke. You were living in an apartment -a flat, as British people call it-. Joe asked her how were you and Lucy said you were completely heartbroken.

"Can you please tell me her adress?" Joe asked her while they were on a FaceTime call. Lucy was drinking a tea and almost choke as she heard his words.

"What?" Lucy asked confused. "Joe, she needs to be own her own, she needs time."

"I know, I'm not flying to London. I wanna send her a letter."

"A letter? Well, maybe I can write it and give it to her." She offered.

"Thank you but...it's private. I'd rather send it to her."

"Promise me you're not going to show up at her apartment or she'll never speak to me again and you'll never hear from her."

"I promise."

You were trying to get used to living in London. It wasn't like New York but you knew that eventually you were going to feel like you were home.

As you opened the door, there was a letter on the floor. You bend over and pick it up. Your heart stopped as you read Joseph Mazzello, New York, United States of America.

"How did he kno...Lucy!"

She must have told him, you were almost sure about it.

You sat on the couch and stared the letter for like 5 minutes, thinking if you should open it or not. You sighed and decided to open it and read it.

“Dear (Y/N)

First of all, don’t be mad at Lucy for giving me your adress, I promised her I won’t show up at your apartment.

Since I don’t have any way of talking with you, I thought writing this letter was a good idea. If you are reading this, I wanna let you know that everything was my fault. I took everything for granted and I wish things would be different now. This time away from you felt like forever, I guess it’s the price I gotta pay for being such a stupid boyfriend.

You have no idea how much I miss you. Every night I think and dream about you. I love you so much honey, I really do. I don’t know why I was so stupid and ruined everything, but I’m really sorry, I mean it. I wish that I could find a way to turn back time because my life hasn’t been the same since you’ve been gone. I can’t stop thinking about you and all the memories we have together. Getting through the night is the hardest thing to do, I miss feeling your body next to mine, I miss your touching and kissing, I miss everything about you. I try to get a grip but I just can’t put my life back into place, I feel so unprotected without you. I can’t stand the pain, I can’t make it go away. It hurts so much. I know I can’t erase the things that I’ve done, but from the buttom of my heart, I want you to give me a second chance. I know I’ve made more mistakes than I can even count and deep inside I know I don’t deserve another chance to make it work, but I’ll try my best, I’ll try for you. I promise this time I won’t make up excuses, I don’t wanna lose you.

If you can give me half a chance I’ll show how much I can fix myself for you. One thing I know for sure, is that I never should have let you go.”

MASTERLIST

#borhap boys #borhap cast #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello #joe mazzello angst #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello blurb #joe mazzello headcanon #joe mazzello x reader #goldenmazzello

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yeojaa · 5 years ago

Text

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch. tags are hard. :(

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~2750

part ii.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 15 March, 2020. 2:01 AM.

He falls for you in between the tireless teasing, the laughter that sinks into his ears and replays like a highlight reel. It happens when he leasts expects it, when he's got his face pressed into the velvet of Yeontan's fur and you're cooing over voice chat, whispering sweet nothings to the manic panic pup. It comes in the moments he's not expecting it to, when he's frustrated and unbearable and you're as sunny as always, spilling yellow paint across the doors he tries to keep shut.

Bit by bit, day by day, he finds himself thinking of you more.

First, it's wondering what you're doing while he's half-asleep and on his way to the studio. Do you look as tired as you sound? What colour is your hair and how does it stick up when you've just rolled out of bed? When you yawn, do you stretch like a cat? He thinks you do, if the sounds you make are any indication.

Then it's asking himself whether you might like the same things he does, from horror movies to carnival rides. Would you hold his hand as you made the drop, stomachs leaping into your throats? Would you scream? Would it sound anything like that terrified pterodactyl noise you make when you're spawn camped by a Roadhog? He doesn't consider the fact that he doesn't even know if you're in the same city and you'll likely never meet - bound to the servers of Overwatch only.

He thinks about all the things he'd like to do with you. Video game nights filled with butter-tipped fingers and spilled popcorn. Walks with your family dog - Natto - you'd told him about, all fluffy white fur and dark teddy bear eyes. Sunrises on the rooftop of his building, because you had the worst insomnia he'd ever seen and what better way to spend your endless waking hours than with him.

Jeon Jungkook knows he'll probably never get any of these things, but he lets himself daydream anyway.

Like now, for instance, as the two of you sit in another queue at 2 AM. You just woke up and you've got that tell-tale rattle in your lungs, words sluggish and lacking any real intent. He imagines you look the way you sound - tired and a little out of it, with barely opened eyes and sleep-loosened limbs.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks softly, crossing his legs beneath him and raising his arms high above his head in the same instance. The bones of his body realign, ridges of his spine clicking into place when he knots his fingers together and pulls taut.

"You know - the usual," you muse, apathetic. It's always the same.

He doesn't question it any further. He had once or twice, when you'd first started talking and he'd noticed the way you were always up at inhuman times. One grumbling response had told him enough - your schedule was what it was and no amount of remedying could fix it.

There's a beat of silence before he hears rustling and then the loud, inescapable sound of an electric toothbrush. You don't bother to mute your microphone, not that he minds. He simply sits quietly, scrolling through his phone as you go about your "morning" routine.

"How was your day?" You're settled back at your computer, he thinks. The acoustics sound far less like that of a bathroom.

"I had the day off, actually." He'd used it to edit some footage and record a cover. He hasn't posted it to Twitter yet - there were certain times he was supposed to, to maximize visibility - but he's excited for when he does. It's a song that's been stuck in his head for weeks, all thanks to you.

"Woah - you didn't work today?" There's genuine surprise in your question, rounded syllables that pop off your tongue in an explosion of shock.

“Right?” He laughs a little, short and sweet.

Despite his carefully crafted facade, there were certain plot points that just stuck, intrinsically weaved into his day-to-day whether he liked it or not.

His jam packed schedule, for instance.

To you, it’s the result of stretching himself too thin between teaching at his friend’s dance studio (where he also apparently moonlights as a personal trainer) and working as a videographer for his media-involved friends. Not that you know any of them. No, no. All the work he does is for the little guys - none of those big companies like BigHit or JYP. Jungkook’s just your average Joe behind the camera.

“What did you do all day then?” You’re still in awe, little flecks of wonder threaded throughout like glittering gold yarn.

“Hung out. Did some editing. I’m kind of behind.” That was an understatement. He’s working on footage from six months ago, trying to get it out before they head on tour and he won’t have the kind of time he has now.

“Probably spending too much time gaming.”

“Yeah, probably.” Not that he minds, or that he’d change it. He savours the time you spend together, even if it has kind of messed up his sleep schedule.

“Sorry not sorry,” you quip, seemingly reading his mind.

“You should be,” he retorts with laughter that builds in his stomach and echoes out of his chest. “I don’t think I’ve had a good night's sleep in weeks.”

If you hadn’t had this conversation a handful of times before, he thinks you might be offended. Instead, he can practically hear you roll your eyes - imagines your optic nerve nearly severs with the intensity of it - and grins.

“Don’t kid yourself - you know I’m the best thing about your nights!”

You’re not wrong. “You’ve been lied to.”

“I’m suing!”

“I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer.”

“Wait, what?”

The two of you have done what you always do - talked yourself into a tizzy that has you both laughing, sound crackling across the airwaves. It’s nonsensical and silly but it feels good. Your bond shines with it, glitters prettily between you.

Thank god for Overwatch.

You return the conversation to a semblance of normalcy first. “Did you listen to that song I sent?”

“Yeah.” The briefest pause. “It was terrible. Hated it.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I’m kidding. It was really good.” Jungkook doesn’t tell you that he’s had it on repeat for the past few days, saved to the private playlist that’s filled with the rest of your song recommendations.

“I know!” You’re preening as if he’d just complimented you, clearly pleased by the praise. He supposes it’s a pretty good endorsement regardless.

“Got any more for me?”

“I should just make you a playlist.”

He ignores the way his heart skips a very real beat, mimics the erratic rhythm of his fingers on his keyboard. Because he’d absolutely love that.

“You should.”

“Really?” You sound uncertain but maybe - just maybe - a little hopeful. He might also just be imagining things, as he so often does with you.

“Yeah. Why not?” It comes nonchalantly despite the rushing in his ears, the wave that threatens to drown him. He can feel emotion in his chest - winged and distracting. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering away.

You’re quiet for another second. It feels like an eon. “Okay, yeah. I’ll start one and we can just add to it together.”

BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT’S GYM Thursday, 26 March, 2020. 6:30 PM.

“You sound like a meathead,” you say, off-hand and disinterested.

He loathes the grunt that squeaks past his teeth as he gently returns the dumbbells to the floor. Cue a generous chug of water and a near death experience when the liquid goes down the wrong pipe.

Loud coughing crackles through his airpods before he’s addressing you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re grunting like a caveman.”

If your first comment hadn’t offended him, this one does. Jungkook scoffs, tonguing the interior of his cheek as his brow furrows. Weights are returned to his hands, rotated above each shoulder as he resumes another set of presses.

“Do you even workout anything other than your fingers?” He’s making a conscious effort not to make a sound, breath exhaled sharply through his nose. It’s harder than he cares to admit but he’s also not about to give you an excuse to tease him further. You already had way too much material.

“Don’t shame me!” You really don’t sound that indignant.

“So, I’m right? You’re a big couch potato who’s just jealous of my hot body?”

Now you’re incredulous. It’s one of his favourite sounds because it comes draped in laughter, dancing around his head in the form of cartoon hearts.

“Did you just say ‘hot body’, Jay?”

“Maybe I did. What of it?” He sniffs - he’s picked it up from you over the months - and your amusement doubles, giggles crashing into each other in their haste.

“You are so, so weird.” There’s a tenderness in your voice that he’d like to live in. It wraps him up like a hug, tugging at his feeble little heartstrings.

“Weird and hot.”

“You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?” If anything, you’re the one person he can say it to. With you, it’s the funniest joke he’s ever made. It’s playful and silly, with no rhyme or reason. He doesn’t have to worry about it being misconstrued or held against him.

“You just can’t! Only other people can say it.” You sigh dramatically, from your chest. “Do I have to teach you everything?”

“Everything but being healthy, probably.”

“Har har har.”

He can tell by how the words roll off your tongue, muffled and lacking clarity, that you’re eating. He wonders if you’ve made pancakes - you’d been complaining about craving them just two days ago. There are no tell-tale crunching or slurping, so he knows it isn’t your usual double whammy combo of ramyeon and Choco Boys.

“I’ll have you know I used to run.” Something about the way you say it makes him believe you, even though he wants to mock you a little more.

“In gym class doesn’t count.”

“I used to run with Natto, you ass!” Okay - so that actually sounded legitimate.

“Why don’t you still then?”

“There was an incident once.” You’re sipping on something - likely coffee with oat milk and two pumps of hazelnut syrup. It doesn’t matter that it’s dinner time and most people would be winding down for the evening. “Because of my insomnia, I’d run at odd hours. One day, some weirdo stopped me while I was running along the river. He didn’t hurt me or anything—” A part of him thinks you’re downplaying it but he says nothing, only waiting for you to continue. “—but he followed me home. I made the mistake of telling my parents and they freaked out so…”

“So no more running by yourself.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I’d run with you.” It doesn’t mean much, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks, Jay.”

Not for the first time, he wishes he could hear his name - his real name. Just once.

“JUNGKOOOOOOOOOOK.” It eats up every ounce of space of the gym, filling the room with the resounding boom of it. How it manages to be so loud, he’s not sure. He wishes it weren’t. There’s no way you haven’t heard it.

Especially not when it comes again, deafening even to his occupied ears.

“JUNGKOOOOK-AH!” Namjoon now, right as the double doors fly open.

Jimin’s barreling toward the alarmed maknae as he shouts. “WE’RE DOING A VLIVE!”

Jungkook feels like his insides are melting - his internal temperature spiking with embarrassment and worry and something that chants oh no! over and over in his head. The tops of his ears are burning, as is the column of his throat. A quick glance in the mirror confirms his suspicion that he is, indeed, bright tomato red.

“Jay?” You repeat once, twice, when he doesn’t immediately answer. “Everything okay?”

He moves with a speed he doesn’t expect, weights unceremoniously dropped on either side of him before he’s tearing his AirPods out. “I’ve got to go. Sorry!”

He doesn’t end the Discord call a moment too soon, Jimin upon him in the next instant. The smaller dancer is draping himself across Jungkook’s shoulders, the widest shit-eating grin on his pretty face.

“Want to join us for a VLive?”

“No. I’m busy.”

“Busy with your girlfriend?” Jimin’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He only stops when Jungkook shifts aggressively, tearing himself out from underneath the other.

“Not my girlfriend!”

“But you wish she was!”

He can’t deny that, so he doesn’t bother, instead seizing his discarded weights with an embarrassed scowl permanently etched into the planes of his face. He’s reracking them - because god, he’s not an animal - when he notices Jimin making his departure, that teasing smile replaced with something soft and edging on concern.

“What’re you going to do when we’re on tour?”

Jungkook blanches then. You’d become such an undeniable part of his everyday life that he hadn’t even considered what it’d mean when he was busier than now, unable to spend late nights gaming with you.

But Jimn’s already gone, leaving him and his thoughts alone.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Friday, 27 March, 2020. 12:05 AM.

It’s close to midnight by the team he logs on. Realistically, he should go to sleep. He’s clean and worn out and his bed is calling to him like a siren at sea. But you’re sitting alone in the channel, streaming Overwatch for no one to see, and he can’t just leave it at that.

He needs to say goodnight, like he always does.

“Coming for my title as Headshot God?” The quip’s off his tongue before you have a chance to acknowledge him, your laughter the first thing he hears once he’s connected.

“I’ve been waiting in this queue for seven minutes. Seven!”

It’s really not that bad. The rare times you’d both queue for DPS were nearly double that.

“Patience is key,” he teases, slumping into his chair as he watches you click through your Hero Gallery. You’re cruising seemingly aimlessly, roving through the different skins for your mains (Mercy, Ana, Genji, Ashe). The silence between you is comfortable, interspersed only by the occasional munching he can only assume comes from the carrots you seem to inhale.

For all the junk you ate, you were somehow also weirdly into vegetables.

“Patience sucks,” you retort, matter-of-fact.

“You know what else sucks?”

It’s a rhetorical question and he knows you know, but because you’re you, you start listing things off just to get under his skin. “Spiders? Undercooked samgyupsal? Not having coffee? Your jokes?”

If he weren’t laughing so hard, he might’ve given you shit for making fun of his comedic genius. He really doesn’t understand how you think he’s the unfunny one when all you do is crack puns.

“I was actually going to say me,” he finally manages in between those high pitched cackles of his.

“Wait, why?” You’re used to him having witty comebacks.

Edge of enamel worries his bottom lip and Jungkook can taste cherry Chapstick and what would be bashfulness, if it had a flavour. “For earlier.”

You scoff, your own tinkling laughter tearing him out from inside his own head.

“It’s okay, goofball.”

He appreciates how laidback you are, never holding anything against him. Not even when he hangs up on you or accidentally spams you with memes when you’re trying (and failing) to sleep. “No. I’m sorry.” He says it earnestly, with all the meaning he can muster.

MATCH FOUND flickers across his and your screen and you’re loading into hero selection. He knows you’ll be too distracted once the game starts, so he’s grateful when you laugh again, sweet as summer.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Just tell me everything’s okay and we’re even.”

Inhale, exhale. Try not to tell her you have the biggest, stupidest crush on her, he tells himself.

“Everything’s okay.” And he means it when he says it, though they aren’t the words he wishes he could say.

“Good.”

You’ve chosen Genji, He smiles to himself when you join voice chat and the rest follow, greetings filtering in from your team members.

“Good luck.” You don’t need it. He still likes to say it.

“You have an early day tomorrow, right?” Leave it to you to remember his schedule even when he doesn’t.

“Yeah, pretty early.”

“Then go to bed! I’ll still be awake when you’re up.”

He lingers on that fact - holds it tightly in his hands so it can’t slip away. You’d be there in the morning, just like you always were. Knowing that stirs those same butterflies in his chest, words stolen by the overzealous beating of their wings.

You read his silence like they’re your own thoughts, “I’m always here for you, Jay.”

“Goodnight.”

"Sleep sweet."

notes. this chapter is set four-ish months following the first, in case that’s not clear. :)

tag list. @teawithbucky

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archaneanscribe · 4 years ago

Text

A Fresh Brew Shared with You

(So I’ve been getting really into Trio of Towns, and spent about one in-game month throwing coffee at Wayne until he loved me, and I had a lot of time to imagine what was happening in game while I did sp, so enjoy the byproduct of that. I use my farmer’s name, farm name (Aime, and Bloom Farm) plus some animal names, but it’s pretty generic otherwise, as it’s focused on Wayne’s POV mostly.).

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

Bloom Farm hadn't always been the last stop on Wayne's postal route every morning.

When Aime had first moved in, she was solidly in the middle- he would work his way through the more local Westown residents, then mosey on down to Bloom, before taking the long way around to reach Tsuyukusa and Lulukoko. Back in those days, he would often catch a glimpse of her toiling away in her fields, maybe even snagging her attention long enough for them to exchange a wave. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then the main bridges reopened, and during the ensuing reshuffling, he and Ethan had worked out that it would be best for him to stop at her farm at the very end to complete his loop of the crossroads.

And he stopped seeing her.

Well, that wasn't nearly accurate- he saw her throughout the day, running about like the busy bee she always was, and they might pass each other by at his other stops. But he no longer ran into her on her own property. By the time he arrived, she was inside her barns, milking the cows.

(He still remembers the taste of that glass of milk, so sweet, but not nearly as sweet as his host.)

It was simply how it panned out, but he couldn't help but feel a little pang of regret at losing those glimpses of her in her element, working the land like she dreamed for half her life.

And then Aime had to surprise him, as she always did.

It was an ordinary fall morning, the red dawn melting away to make room for the blue midday sky while he crunched fiery leaves beneath his boots. She only had one letter that day, which looked like nothing more than a materials invoice from Ludus. In and out, easy as pie. But when he got to her mailbox, he found a curious sight sitting right on it's flat wooden top.

A cup of steaming hot coffee.

He looked to both his sides, then around the box, then behind him, and finally at every which angle he could, resulting in him spinning around like a fool. Shrugging, he dismissed it as her forgetting her beverage in a rush. He pulled open the hatch-

-to find a note, with his name in large letters at the top.

DEAR WAYNE,

I know you walk your whole route and my farm is pretty out of the way. That made me start feeling badly about how much mail I get everyday, which gave me an idea: Since you like coffee, I'd start leaving you a cup! Please write on the bottom of this note how it tastes, and how you most like your coffee so I can try and make that for you.

LOVE, AIME

I'll be darned, he thought, unable to suppress a wide smile, Does that gal ever run out of ways to make my day?

He shook his head, gently placing the note back down like it was made of priceless crystal instead of hastily written on a torn piece of journal paper, and picked up the mug, still hot as all get out. That means he probably only misses her by a few minutes at most... Sniffing it, he took a tentative sip, smile instantly morphing into an ecstatic grin the moment his throat finished the first swallow.

"Delicious..." he said to no one in particular, punctuating it with another sip. It was your standard black coffee, straight from a packet, but this was brewed by Aime, for him, and she planned to do it every morning. There was no way it was going to be anything less than the best cup he ever had. Before he knew it, he had downed the whole thing, uncaring of the temperature, and was licking his lips to make sure he got every last drop.

Westown's famous playboy slobbering over his own face for any splashes of his crush's coffee. If only the town's gossip hounds could see him at that moment.

After his euphoria passed, he finally realized he was just standing outside her mailbox, letter in one hand and empty mug in the other. With no better solution in mind, he placed the cup back where he found it, before pulling a pencil out from his bag.

DEAR AIME,

Thank you kindly for the coffee, it was divine. My favorite has got to be mocha, but it's hard to get a hold of in these parts, so no need to trouble yourself. It's more than enough for me to know you're thinking of me.

- WAYNE

Content with his reply, he placed the note back in the box, covering it with her letter. He was mighty tempted to stay and wait for her, but his grumbling stomach had other plans. Oh well, he'd simply have to be satisfied with her coffee for now.

As he made his way back to his room at the Postio, the grin on his face was enough to make the birds in the treetops swoon.

----

Despite what he had written, the very next day, he found a mug full of Cafe Mocha sitting on top of the mailbox. This time, the note was held down by the mug itself, penned on much nicer stationary.

DEAR WAYNE

I know you said don't worry about it, but Caolila recently had a large shipment of cocoa, so I couldn't help myself! Especially after remembering how much you enjoyed Vivi's milk. I have a cup myself every morning, so I don't mind doing it at all. I hope you have a great day today.

LOVE AIME

One again he was no match for this lass' tenacity, it seemed. He was going to be on the receiving end of her kindness no matter what he said.

Well, there was no use resisting now. Fully reconciled with the idea of this being a daily occurance (not that he needed much convincing), he decided to savor the beverage today, taking slow, luxurious sips. It would have been a good cup 'o Joe, even if he wasn't steadily falling for the woman who made it. Smooth and creamy, it was the perfect intersection of sweet and bitter.

Despite trying to take his time with it, the experience was over before he knew it. He always enjoyed a good coffee, but he had never felt such a pain when it was over before.

...maybe he had it worse than he thought.

----

Two weeks into their caffeinated ritual, Miranda asked him a question that stopped him in his tracks.

"Thanks for the package as always, Wayne!" she paused, looking down at the box in her hands, before back up at the mailman, "Say... you never come by to buy coffee these days. Is somethin' the matter?"

"W-What? There's- Nothin's wrong, don't you worry."

Unfortunately, the fact that Wayne the Suave Postman tripped over his words was enough to tip just about anyone off that something was up.

She put her hands on her hips, and spoke in a tone that he was certain Noel had heard many a time in her short life, "Well I don't believe that for one hot second mister! Tell me what's eatin' you right now or I won't stop hounding you for the next week."

He knew she meant it.

"I've jus' been having coffee with Aime lately, is all. She makes too much, so she offers me a cup every mornin'," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't particularly fond of lying, but if you told Miranda something worthy of gossip, it'd make the rounds by sundown, so he couldn't risk exposing his true feelings quite yet. Amie had to be the first to hear about them.

"Oh, is that so?"

...she seemed to know already, but at least had the decency not to make any accusations.

"I see now, but remember we've always got some in stock! Aime buys in bulk, so I always make sure I've got enough," she punctuated her statement with a wink. She definitely knew.

"...I'll keep it in mind, ma'am. See ya' later."

"Bye bye!"

Even if he wasn't totally convinced she was onto him from her words, by this point she definitely had to be, considering his face was as red as a rose right about now.

----

Another week after that, as he made his way down the slope that led into Bloom Farm, ready and eager for that day's mocha, it wasn't only a mug that he found sitting by the mailbox- it was Aime herself.

"Heya, Wayne!" she greeted him cheerfully, waving her arm in a large arc. He managed to successfully stifle his shock, though not so much his joy.

"Well, howdy there Aime. Shouldn't you be in that there barn by now?"

She smiled bashfully, "Normally I would, but Betsy the sheep is pregnant, so I've started doing it earlier in the day when I go to check up on her. Which means I've got some free time in the morning for awhile," she held up her own half empty mug, "So I thought I'd wait up for you. A hot drink is best shared with a good friend, after all."

"My grandma used to say the same thing," he replied, expression soft. Deciding to make himself comfortable, he pulled his bag over his head to place off to the side, laid his hat on a nearby fence post, grabbed the mug, and sat beside her on the porch steps. At first, not much was said, the pair instead choosing to mutually enjoy the warmth of the coffee in the crisp, chilly morning air.

"You talk about your grandparents a lot," she asked, cracking the silence like an egg, "What were they like?"

This took him aback briefly- it was his own fault, really, for keeping his past so close to his chest, but that was a rare question for him to hear.

"What were they like...?" he pondered aloud, blowing away the last wisps of steam from the steadily cooling mocha, "Well I'd reckon as nice as you could imagine. They weren't perfect people, nobody is, but they always tried their best to do right by each other, and everyone around 'em. Can't remember anyone ever having an unkind word to say when they were involved."

She giggled into the lip of her cup, shaking her head as she did so, "That sounds a lot like someone I know. You really take after them, if they were really like that."

"Shucks, that's mighty kind of you to say. I try and live like they taught me as best I can. Seems the only way I can repay 'em for all those years takin' care of me."

"Hmmm..." she brought her mug down to her lap, face pensive, "I'm sorry if this is too far, but... do you ever wonder if your life would have been different? If your parents stuck around, or even took you with them?"

He blinked blankly at her for a moment, at a rare loss for words, before quickly regaining his composure and shaking his head, "I can't lie and say I never have, but not for a very, very long time. I made my peace with it years ago. Maybe it wasn't the 'right' choice to leave me with grandad and grandma, but I couldn't imagine being very happy relocatin' all the time either."

That statement made her go quiet, and sent her gaze down to her feet, "It isn't very fun, you've got that right."

Shoot.

"I'm real sorry for being insensitive like that," he pulled the brim of his hat down in embarrassment, "I should have chosen my words more carefully."

"No no! You're fine!" she denied, frantically waving her free hand, "Our circumstances are totally different. We only moved every couple years, it wasn't constant travel or anything."

"Still, it couldn't have been easy on ya' if it was enough to make you decide striking out on your own was better than movin' again."

"That wasn't the only reason," she corrected, "It was just... what really spurred me to take to plunge. I figured the longer I was used to never settling down, the harder it would be when I was eventually able to follow my dreams. I was finally given my 'now or never' moment."

"Well," he knocked back his final sip of coffee, wiping his lips with his sleeve in exaggerated satisfaction, "Pardon me for sayin' so, but I'm glad it happened. You were the breath of fresh air these here towns needed."

She breathed out a quiet laugh, bumping her shoulder into his, the warmth of the contact even through cloth sending a pleasant tingle down his body, "You really are quite the charmer, Wayne. I'll admit to being a little slow on the uptake, so I didn't really get what everyone was tittering about you at first. But I definitely get it now."

If he were a lesser man, he would have tossed his hat into the air and hollered at that statement, but managed to resist.

But it was a close battle with himself.

"That so? Funny thing is, I feel like I'm at my clumsiest talkin' to you. You don't want pretty words or flattery like most folk. There's nothin' wrong with any of that, mind you, it's just easier than deep conversation."

"That's what I mean, silly," she replied with a dazzling smile, "Smooth talking Wayne is nice and all, you can't get to know everyone on a deeper level, but I definitely like the Wayne I know a lot better."

"What's this Wayne like?" he asked, dropping how voice down to his real flirtatious octave, "I'm mighty curious."

"He's earnest, very sweet, just a little bit silly, aaaaaand..." she dragged out the word, smiling growing to face splitting levels, before quick as a flash poking the tip of his nose, "...very cute."

Before he could reply, a nearly ear splitting BAAAAAAA arose from the nearby barn.

"Betsy!" she cried out, rising to her feet immediately, taking off in a run towards the sound, tossing only a single glance back at him, "Just leave the mugs there, I'll clean them up later! Goodbye!"

And with that, she was gone.

His hand rose to cover his nose like he hoped to trap the sensation there forever. His heart had thumped in his chest plenty of times for his other paramours, but it had never raced like a thoroughbred horse before he met her.

"Well I'll be," he said quietly to himself, "I'm in love with her."

----

The next time he was making his way to Bloom Farm, he had a very precious pendant hanging down from his neck which he could barely keep himself from fiddling with every few seconds.

Maybe it had been pretty obvious that their trajectories were in line for a crash, but he still felt like a million bucks knowing that she felt the same, enough so that it was her who had reached out to him.

The familiar fields came into view, and he immediately started searching the horizon for a glimpse of her, finally finding her dusting off her porch.

"Aime!" he called out, ditching any pretense of composure and sprinting towards her at full speed, which was worth it to see the joy on her face as he approached, "Mornin', darlin'."

"G'morning, Wayne," her grin had an edge of mischief, "Any mail today, or is this just a social call?"

"The only thing I have to deliver is myself today, I'm afraid to say."

"I think I'll be quite alright," her face softened, putting the broom aside and gesturing for him to come up with her, "Come on in, coffee's already brewing, and I tried my hand at making some cookies with Vivi's milk and Patty's eggs."

He nodded, following her with an expression he knew must have been downright lovesick.

Maybe Bloom Farm hadn't always been the last stop on Wayne's postal route, but from now on, it would always be the last stop for his heart.•

#sos 3ot #3ot #finally found out what tag ppl were using lol #3ot wayne #wayne 3ot #trio of towns #story of seasons #story of seasons trio of towns #sos wayne #wayne sos #wayne trio of towns #wayne x farmer #long post #3k words #its just shy of that lol #fanfic #inaugural post is smth so niche no one will give a shit lol

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

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5 Simple Rules for a Successful Relationship: Blurb

This wasn’t requested by anyone but the idea has been kicking around my head basically since I wrote the Ben POV chapter

Warnings for fluff and smut but it’s all very soft

5 Simple Rules Series Masterlist

Blurb Advent Day 1

Taglist since it’s part of a series: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless @friccinfricks

Ben had it all planned out. He’d known how he was going to ask for a while, before he’d even picked out the ring. But, so far, he hadn’t been able to put his plan into action. As much as he wanted to ask it never quite felt like the right time. There was always something going on, somewhere to be – work or dinner with friends or general errands to sort out. But he knew how he wanted it to happen. He’d cook dinner, your favourite meal of course, followed by dessert made from scratch, really bring out the big guns. Afterwards he’d put on some music, a playlist of love songs he’d been adding to for months now, maybe ask you to dance. It was a little corny but sometimes corny was okay. Later on he’d pop into the kitchen and pull out your two mugs and place the ring in the bottom of yours before returning to the couch to sit with you. And then, at the usual time, he’d say he could really go with a hot drink before bed. He knew you’d volunteer to make them since he’d made dinner so he’d wait for you to leave the room before following. He’d listen for the gasp of surprise when you checked the mugs and saw the ring. That would be his cue to step into the room and get down on one knee and ask you to marry him. He had the speech ready to go too, knew what he wanted to say. How fast he’d fallen for you, how glad he was you were with him, how much he loved you.

Thinking about actually popping the question made Ben nervous. But the good kind of nervous. Of course the topic of weddings and marriage had come up before, abstractly. It was nearly unavoidable when his mum would not-so-subtly check for an engagement ring every time you visited, and then even less so when Gwilym got engaged and invited you both to the party. So he’d asked you about it, whether you had ever considered the whole settling down thing – marriage, kids, white picket fence, the lot. He was pleased to find out you liked the idea, had even imagined what the future might be like with him. The only thing you didn’t want was a public proposal which Ben fully supported. After all the attention you’d received as a result of the relationship, all the magazine articles and snapped photos while you were just trying to buy milk and bread, it felt wrong to voluntarily make such a private situation public. Ben was sure you’d be asked about it in future interviews and on social media and he wouldn’t mind sharing the story then, after he was sure you’d say yes. He had no reason to believe you wouldn’t but there was always that slight uncertainty, that intrusive doubt that made him wonder if you’d just tell him to bugger off instead. He found comfort in the plan though. Knowing exactly what he would do was reassuring. But even the best laid plans weren’t guaranteed.

Ben’s actual proposal caught him off guard as much as it did you. It was early on a Saturday, sometime between two and three. Usually you’d both be fast asleep but instead you were stumbling into the house, lit only by the grey light of the morning. You hadn’t meant to stay at the afterparty for so long but people kept handing you drinks and drawing you into conversations and music was still pumping through the speakers and before you knew it five more minutes had become a couple of extra hours. Ben emptied his pockets onto the hall stand as he watched you lean against the front door and kick off your shoes. He couldn’t resist catching you in a quick kiss before he wrapped his arm around you with a soft, “C’mon cuddle bunny,” and lead you towards the bathroom. Both of you set about brushing teeth and washing faces and changing into pyjamas. He chuckled as he watched you extract an almost obscene amount of bobby pins from your hair before you retied it to sleep in. But, even after everything was done and you’d both climbed under the covers, sleep didn’t come. Ben, eyes closed in an attempt to trick sleep into taking him, felt you move under his arm and peeked through his lashes to find you facing him.

“You okay?” His voice was hushed though there was no real need and when you responded yours was too.“Yeah just not really tired,” “Me neither,” “Do you wanna…?” “Now?” “Well just lying here waiting to drop off is a bit boring but I also don’t really feel like getting up,” “Alright then, why not.” “If you fall asleep half way through I won’t hold it against you,” “Shut up and take your pants off,” Ben laughed, already wriggling out of his. “You just didn’t sound very enthusiastic,” “I am always enthusiastic about this,” Ben forgot everything else he might have said as you pulled him into a kiss.

The sex itself was okay. Nothing special really. You’d had better sex plenty of other times, though you’d also had worse. The best way to describe it was fine. It wasn’t mind blowing but it was comfortable and reliable and fine. Ben felt a little clumsy as he kissed you back, his hand roaming over your side and down to your arse. He supposed the dark of the room and the drinks you’d both put down over the course of the night were having an impact, but, by the way you giggled against his lips, it seemed you found it cute more than anything else. To compensate for his inelegant fingers, Ben moved slowly, enjoying kissing you as much as he could. He hummed when you slid your hand down between your bodies and found his dick, stroking it unhurriedly. There wasn’t a need to go faster, no built up passion to release. The sex was a way to kill some time. Even when you hooked your leg over his and he sank into you, nothing really changed. But Ben knew what you liked and did his best to hit those spots as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you again. He decided he must be doing something right based off the small keening noises you made. All the same he didn’t expect your next outburst, said softly right against his lips.

“God Ben, I want you inside me forever,” It slipped out before he could second guess himself, “Then marry me,” “What?” Ben paused his movement, not totally sure he’d actually said it until he drew back enough to look at you and saw the stunned expression you wore. His heart pounded as he realised this was it, this was the moment, “Might be easier to do that if we’re married is all. So, will you? Will you marry me?” It took a few moments for the question to sink in but once it had you nodded in agreement. You felt the same. “Yes?” “Yes.” “Yeah? You’ll marry me?” “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” Ben broke out into a grin and swept you into another kiss though he cut it off abruptly, “Wait, hold on,” somewhat ungracefully Ben pulled out of you and rolled out of the bed, switching on a lamp and heading over to his chest of draws. He dug around in one for a moment before he pulled out a small box which he brought back to the bed. Kneeling in front of you, he popped the box open to show you the ring before taking it and sliding it onto your finger.

You couldn’t help but stare, holding you hand out in front of you to see how it looked. It was beautiful, not too over the top but not exactly understated either, and it fit perfectly. When you raised you eyes back to Ben’s face you noticed his eyes glistening. “I love it Ben, I love you,” “I love you too Y/N,” he whispered back, kissing you again and laying you back down.

As Ben sank back into you, you placed your hand on his chest, picking up his body heat except where the cool metal of the ring lay. You could feel his heart beating under your palm as he rolled his hips against you, trying to finish what you’d started. It took a little while longer, though things moved less slowly than they had before the interruption of the proposal. Ben dropped his fingers to your clit as he felt you getting closer, drawing gentle circles until the warm wave rolled through you, pulling a soft sigh from your lips. He kept his fingers there as if to try to give you another orgasm, maybe one not quite so soft, but you pulled his hand away, linking his fingers with yours as you kissed his throat and encouraged him to finish too. It didn’t matter that your orgasm hadn’t been particularly powerful. All that mattered was that Ben was with you and he always would be.

Afterwards you curled up, leaning your head on Ben’s chest, his arm around you. He sighed contentedly and kissed the top of your head. “So much for sleeping,” he chuckled. “What we did was better than sleep,” “Definitely. And if we hold out for a little longer we could watch the sunrise,” “I don’t know if I’ll last that long,” “No, me neither. It’d be nice though,” You agreed and lapsed into a comfortable silence. And then a thought struck you, “You know, we’re going to need a cover story,” “What?” “People are going to want to hear the story of how you proposed. Felicity, Joe, Gwil, the rest of our friends, our families, not to mention paparazzi and the press, they’ll all ask.” “Fuck.” “So you don’t want to look your mother in the eye and explain it happened mid shag either? Good to know we’re on the same page,” Ben laughed, “Funnily enough, that was very unplanned. I had something much more romantic and better prepared in mind when I thought about how I’d do it. A whole big speech about you being the love of my life and how I want to spend every day of my life making you feel happy and safe and loved,” “Go on then, what was it,” Ben explained his original idea, about the dinner and the mugs, all the while playing with your fingers as if he didn’t want to break contact. “That does sound wonderful, but I have to admit, I really love how it actually happened,” “Me too,” he laughed, “But that’s good. Because now we have a story to tell everyone and a slightly more accurate story just for ourselves.”

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2020 #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy smut #smut blurb

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oldguardhc · 4 years ago

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Old Guard hc #36

Prompt number: 2 - “That’s the easy part?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

“That’s the easy part?” Nicky asked, mug raised halfway to his lips. Maybe he heard wrong, he hadn’t even finished his fourth cup of coffee yet. Sleep was still threatening to drag him back into its warm embrace and if Nicky didn’t finish this cup soon, he was going to be flinging himself into those arms again.

God, he was so tired. It was 10 a.m. and he was awake.

Nile frowned, her eyebrows drawing in. “You just have to spend the whole day with Joe. Then you bring him back when I text you!” He definitely heard her correctly the first time then. Nicky rubbed a tired hand over his face. Nile made some hand-waving motions in front of him, “What? I thought you’d be glad to be with Joe!”

“I am happy that I will spend the day with Joe,” Nicky responded and took a sip from his mug. The coffee was getting cold, edging towards lukewarm rather than hot. Nicky quickly finished the rest before it became unpalatable and licked his lips before continuing. “The only problem is Joe will know something is up.”

Nile grabbed the coffee pot and topped his mug with fresh, hot, delicious coffee before placing it back in the coffee machine. He hummed in gratitude, cradling the warm mug in his hands. “How could he possibly know something is up? There is nothing significant about this day as far as Joe is concerned.”

Nicky lifted his chin in concession. “That may be, but my Joe is not stupid. He’ll quickly catch on that I’m trying to stall him.”

“You’re telling me that you can’t act normal for one day?” Nicky raised an eyebrow and Nile huffed. “You know what I mean.” He did know what she meant. That didn’t make teasing her any less fun.

“We’ve been together for over 900 years, Nile. That man could probably tell you how many strands of hair I have on my head. He definitely knows when I’m purposely distracting someone.” This was putting aside the fact that half the tricks Nicky used all came from Joe. Joe had a gift for interacting and understanding people. It was something that used to infuriate Nicky. Here was this man who Nicky barely tolerated but made everyone he met practically fawn all over themselves for him.

“Come on, Nicky. Take him to the movies, a museum, the mall. Hell, have a quickie in the parking lot! Just distract him for a couple hours.” There was a desperate gleam in Nile’s eyes and Nicky sighed, hating himself just a tiny bit for being such a sucker. She definitely learned how to do that face from Joe.

Nicky took several gulps from his mug just to be an ass and make her believe that he was still pondering her request. He couldn’t let her think that he was that easily persuaded. At least, not yet. She’ll have plenty of time to learn just how easy he was for the people he loved. “Fine.” Nile let out a victorious crow, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes. “Yeah, yeah,” Nicky grumbled, noisily slurping his coffee.

“Alright, get your man out of the house. I’ll text you when to come back!”

Nicky protested as he was pushed out of the kitchen and into the hallway, slumping as he came face to face with his closed bedroom door where his other half remained sound asleep. Releasing a deep sigh, Nicky scratched the back of his head to buy himself a couple more seconds. He really didn’t know how he was going to keep Joe out of the house. It would’ve been so much easier if he had to keep Joe in, he thought wistfully.

Fearing that Nile would come and check in on him any second now, Nicky opened the door. As expected, Joe was still asleep, half covered by the down-comforter, head resting on two pillows, one arm hugging Pedro to his chest. Even 900 years later, Nicky stood in the doorway, frozen and completely helpless to the way his heart started to flutter with the amount of affection he held for this man.

It didn’t take long for Joe’s instincts to kick in. Sensing another presence, Joe stretched out on the bed, slow to blink the sleep out of his eyes. “Nicolò?” His voice was sleep-warm, slightly raspy and elongated vowels. It was music to Nicky’s ears. Nicky placed his mug on the nightstand and crawled into bed next to Joe. Still, Joe shuffled in closer until the only thing between them was Pedro. “What time is it?”

“10,” Nicky answered and Joe groaned, burying his face into the crook of Nicky’s neck. Nicky didn’t think they would have lasted as long as they did if one of them was an early riser. He brought a hand up to bury in the tight curls, using his fingernails to gently scratch at Joe’s scalp.

“Want to go get that new set of oil pastels today?” Nicky asked after several minutes of peace. Joe shook his head. “We can’t stay in here the whole day.” Joe let out a confused whine. “Because-because it’s rude to stay in bed all day. We have to at least last another year before Nile figures us out.” Joe didn’t move for a couple beats. Nicky was starting to feel the beginnings of a cold sweat when Joe finally sighed, nuzzling into his neck a little more before rolling away with a grumble.

Nicky had to resist the urge to close his eyes and sigh. So far, so good.

—

Okay, so maybe he was too optimistic. It took Joe 30 minutes for him to realize that something was up. Nicky had to beg him to play along, promising the new oil pastels and himself as a live model for the whole afternoon. It was an amazing deal and Joe knew it. The only time Nicky was still was in his sleep, on a mission and when reading a book. Having a whole afternoon to draw Nicky in whatever position and scenery? Truly a once in a lifetime offer.

By the time Nicky got the okay from Nile, he was beyond exhausted. Sitting in one position and being admired was hard work. But a deal was a deal and so Nicky had remained in whatever position Joe had arranged him in without a protest, sinking into that headspace he only ever used during missions.

“This surprise must be really good for you to have modeled the whole day,” Joe said, tangling their fingers over the center console. Nicky squeezed his hand, not taking his eyes off the blurred trees outside. They were almost home. He could keep the secret for a little longer. He just had to keep his mouth shut and it would still be a surprise. Sort of. Did it count as a surprise if the person knew that there was a surprise but didn’t know what the surprise was? Nicky decided that yes, it was still a surprise. The actual surprise was still unknown even if the entire event wasn’t.

“I hope you realize how nice I was today. I could’ve made you spill before we even got to the art supply store.” That was a bait. It was a bait. Nicky was confident that there were even studies about this kind of bait. Even with that knowledge, Nicky had to bite his tongue to remain silent, focusing on the sharp pain. “Fine, keep quiet. Don’t think there won’t be payback for keeping me in the dark.” It was a weak threat since Joe brought their joined hands to his lips not a second later.

It took 15 minutes to get home. It was the longest 15 minutes of Nicky’s life. He swore that entire generations lived and died in those 15 minutes. He had endured torture that felt shorter than those 15 minutes.

As soon as the car was put in park, Nicky hopped out of the car and ran to the other side to open the door for Joe. “Come,” Nicky said, extending his hand.

“Now you want me to pay attention to you,” Joe teased but took his hand with a fond smile. With Joe’s hand in a tight grip, Nicky led him inside the house and into the dark living room.

“Uhh, I’m a little confused-“ Joe started.

The lights flicked on.

“SURPRISE!” Nile yelled, followed by Andy and Booker’s weaker attempt. Nicky wouldn’t be surprised if they had spent the whole day practicing and this was their best one yet.

Joe frowned and turned to Nicky, looking utterly adorable with that little furrow and pout. “I’m still confused.”

It was Nicky’s turn to smile and bring their joined hands to his lips. “This was Nile’s idea,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Nile clapped her hands together, drawing their attention back to her. “Remember when we were talking about birthdays?” Joe slowly nodded. “Right! Well, you said you never had a birthday party. So…” She motioned to the balloons taped to every piece of furniture in the living room, the dozens of party streamers, the platters of food on the dining room table.

“It’s not my birthday,” Joe said, still confused.

“Do you even know your birthday?” Nile asked and Joe slowly shook his head. “Exactly. So there’s a .003% chance that today is your birthday and we are celebrating! We got presents, cake, balloons and your favorite foods!”

Joe opened and closed his mouth several times as he took everything in, rendered completely speechless for the first time in what had to be decades. Nicky squeezed his hand, a silent are you okay? It took a moment for Joe to respond yes, a watery smile tugging on his lips. “Thank you, Nile.” Joe sniffed and swallowed the lump that had swelled in his throat. “This is amazing.”

Nile beamed, looking like sunshine personified. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Everyone deserves to have a birthday party.”

Joe turned to the other two occupants in the room. They were definitely a little tipsy already and Nicky couldn’t blame them. He probably would’ve drank too if he had to tie as many balloons as they did. It was going to take forever to clean all of this party stuff up. “Thank you to you two as well. I know Nile probably bullied you two into helping,” Joe said and Nile let out an indignant, “Hey!”. Both Andy and Booker rolled their eyes in tandem, reluctant smiles gracing their faces and really? They were able to get that down but not the surprise?

“We love you too,” Booker said, pulling out a flask from the inside of his jacket pocket. He took a sip and passed it to Andy.

Andy pointed to Booker with the flask. “What he said,” she said and tipped the flask into her mouth.

Joe tugged on his hand and Nicky turned to look at him, one eyebrow cocked. “Nile said presents. What’d you get me?”

Nicky couldn’t help the baffled laugh. “Who do you think bought you the oil pastels and modeled the whole afternoon?”

Joe’s cheeks dimpled with how wide he smiled. “That doesn’t count,” he declared, lightly clapping Nicky’s hand. “Come on,” he whined, “Present.”

There will be a day where Nicky will finally be able to resist that smile. Where he’ll be able to look at those dimples, the small wrinkles at the corners of those warm brown eyes and not fold faster than wet paper. Today wasn’t that day.

Nicky let out a deep sigh, pursing his lips in feigned annoyance as he reached into his pocket to pull out a small box. Joe snatched it out of his hand with a giddy whoop, tearing through the wrapping paper and throwing the lid to the floor. He pulled out a thick platinum ring, his eyes gleaming similar to what Nicky had always imagined a dragon looking at its treasure would look like.

Joe twisted the ring to look at the inside. “My everything,” Joe read aloud and Nicky wrapped his arms around him.

“Happy birthday, amore.”

#joe x nicky #the old guard #nile freeman #fictober20 #hc

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oranges8hands · 4 years ago

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It's Not Your Life to Give: Booker Edition

I'm assuming somewhere out there is already meta for why the exile wasn’t wrong, but fuck if you can find shit on tumblr anymore, so here's mine:

I'm not denying Booker needs help; he's suicidal, he's depressed, he's tangled in his own grief and loneliness, he’s got survivor’s guilt, he's likely got complex-ptsd along with his alcoholism and probably some other stuff. I admit, the shorthand of "fuck Booker" is not nuanced to that. That said, I am really not a fan of this fandom narrative that his depression, grief, etc, is a good reason for his actions [1], that his victims owe him enough immediate forgiveness to continue to help him in the aftermath of his actions, that he is the only hurting person in this situation, or that his (self)-destruction - obviously a common symptom - didn't blow up a very basic foundation between him and the others that doesn't just get waived away by an apology. (Which... he never actually offers? Fandom posits he apologizes and feels bad for what he does in the aftermath, but that's one interpretation, and canon can just as easily be read that he gets a little bit of a rude awakening when Andy is mortal, but frankly he comes across as someone who is sorry it didn't work out and he ended up in a worse place, not for what he did.)

Plus, I think a lot of fandom mindset works under what happened [2] and not on what he either planned or did not see the obvious pathway was going to happen [3], as well as ignoring some of the context he put into the situation (his resentment of Joe and Nicky didn't just magically disappear after they escaped), and are looking at his end result (even less familial support than before, in the apartment getting drunk - and shit knows loneliness/isolation is an esp hot button for people right now) and not on the fact he just sold out his family to experience their worst nightmares (a fact he's reminded of again in the middle of his betrayal) and that they can't trust him.

THEY CAN'T TRUST HIM. They had no way to see this coming because it would never have occurred to them, but that barn door is open now. What keeps him from calling in their new safe house? maybe finding a different kind of partner, leading them to another trap on a job? hell, maybe contact Kozak again [4] and see if she made any progress. share their secrets with someone new. do they have to hope Andy's mortality (which is the only thing that made him pause) will reach him enough when apparently their love and affection didn't before? what happens when she dies? what sign are they supposed to somehow intuit if he tips from bad mental health to making actionable decisions to try to die and dragging everyone else into it with him again? if someone picks up this trail of breadcrumbs Copley and Merrick left, is he going to help clean up or go with it? Basically, what stops him from doing this to them again? Like, I can arguably make a list for reasons I don't think they should have 100 year exiled him (though again, time works on a different scale for them [5]), but at this point I am definitely pushing back on the dominant fandom idea that the exile in and of itself was wrong [6], or that it was only a punishment. They are going to feel guilty for what they did/didn't do to help him, for not seeing how bad it got [7], (in Andy's case esp) for helping him lean into the bad coping mechanisms, and yeah some of that does need to be owned, but they should not feel guilty for him betraying them or needing time away to deal with that betrayal. It's funny, cause my immediate response after seeing the movie was that the betrayal story line did not work for me, but it's canon and the response that they should put aside their reaction to help him definitely feels like it ignores the severity of what he actually did to them and how long it could take to (emotionally, mentally) recover from it. That they owe Booker to put it aside to help him. That the others are wrong for the choice they made because of a situation he put them in. [8] He didn't mind them being tortured, being separated, or being dead; if they want a 100 years to figure out how to continue to love and welcome someone who would do that to them, how to trust someone like that again, they get a 100 years. And at the end of the day, even Booker understood that.

____________ [1] mental illness does not cause you to try to murder someone (and it is very clear that even if he thinks Andy wanted to die, he knows Joe and Nicky do not, not to mention Nile), and that's frankly a very harmful myth used to dismiss larger violent patterns irl

[2] 2 days of medical experiments, Andy being (luckily!) non-lethally shot, I'd add Nile's general mental well-being but lbr that doesn't tend to factor into it for fandom

[3] Joe, Nicky, Andy, and later Nile be taken and medically experimented on/tortured until... well, forever, cause honestly it's a big assumption they'd let them go or kill them even if they discovered the secret to their death; earlier on, Nile either being left alone - yanno, the thing he said was his reason for doing this (even if it's obviously just a part of the tangled reaction for why he did it) with no answers and forever dreaming about their torture and/or more specifically Nile being left at the mercy of the us military/govt with no answers and forever dreaming about their torture while experiencing her own.

[4] them not killing Kozak or destroying the lab was hollywood-sloppy - even though I totally love the hc that either a) their spilled body parts disintegrate after a bit or b) there is absolutely nothing in their system that shows their immortality - but it does mean there's a little more clean-up needed than Copley erasing some tapes.

[5] which is not an excuse to infantilize him? he's a grown man. he may be young compared to the others, but he's not actually a "teenager" and he's esp not too young to realize the ramifications of his actions (aka that his family won’t react well to him selling them out)

[6] maybe not the smartest choice in terms of safety since they'd have even less ability to see if he betrays them or himself again, and being split up makes them more vulnerable, but also not wrong; it's basically a load of shitty choices and that's the one they picked. cause like he said, what else can they do? frankly, now or in a 100 years, Booker is the one that needs to rebuild trust, but at least 100 years gives the rest of them some time to deal with their own trauma before having to deal with him either trying (or not) to fix what he broke, leaves them possibly more open and receptive to changes he’s made.

[7] though as someone whose been on both sides of it, the idea you should be able to just tell how bad it actually is for someone (or even tell that it is bad) is frankly not actually that realistic or fair; people are very often good at hiding and/or downgrading how bad it is

[8] and specifically that Joe is wrong for the choice they made. like the fact Andy and Nicky both want to get him out the building or that Nicky isn't vocal in his reaction means they didn't reach this decision together, that Joe is the only angry one, that Joe is the only one to aggressively pursue this course of action. like, come on, the pattern of this definitely comes from fandom's racism

#this is both a) a response to a comment of a comment on someone's fic and b) something I've been thinking about for awhile #I feel like this is less anti-Booker and more anti-fandom's prioritization of Booker's pain (which is what I am) but ymmv #I am back on my footnote bs #haha just kidding I never left it #cross the street #fandom repeat fight #in a very real way they kind of have to forgive him #or at least learn to live with it #a kind of preordained forgiveness #how fucking galling is that #to not get to decide forgiveness #to not get to decide how to *give* that forgiveness #and he knows it too #what are they gonna do kill me?

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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Okay well then!!!! I am very glad and excited to share my most recent idea I had while rereading Yeti Hunting again!! And the new Incubus one too!! They're almost exactly the same idea, just different flavors I suppose. Also Joe is trans in both the ideas but that's less to do with the ideas themself and more to do with just me projecting on him sgfjgsjfhsjdh

Okay so it's like a reverse au so Stern is some kind of cryptid, but as far as Barclay knows they're just two good human friends (but maybe they wanna be a little more than friends...). And then one day Joseph goes into heat and tells Barclay he's sick to try to keep him away, but Barclay being the sweetest man alive goes to his house with fresh soup to take care of him and Joe seems really panicked about Bar being there and tries to make him leave but he is CLEARLY unwell and Barclay is very stubborn when it comes to helping people he cares about and so he plants himself down on the couch and says he's not leaving until Joe tells him what's wrong and Stern tries to hold onto his human form but it's taking too much focus and energy and whoops Barclay finds out his friend not human and currently in distress and so horny it hurts and if he can help his friend and fuck him at the same time, well then that's just a win all around (bonus points if at the end Barclay is kinda sad because he thinks Joe just needed somone to fuck him, not nessacarry Barclay, but Joe frantically assures him that he is SUPER into him and if it were anyone else he would have kicked them the hell out and probably skipped town bc he couldn't trust anyone else with a secret like this).

Or!! (This is where the incubus part comes in) Joe is an incubus and currently hiding out in his human disguise at the Amnesty lodge and it's going fine for a while, but then he starts talking to and getting to know the really hot chef. And they slowly start growing closer and closer. And maybe in this world, the power an Incubus gets from sex depends just as much on their desires as it does the human's. And this has never been an issue for Stern before, but now he's falling for Barclay and wants him and no one else so he's getting less and less energy from his encounters and Barclay is worried about him because he doesn't seem like himself anymore. Almost as if he's... dulled? When Barclay looks at him the blue of his eyes seem muted and his general aura seems... gray. And it all comes to ahead when Joe finally stops insisting he's fine and after dinner one night he asks if he can speak to Barclay privately, and he comes clean about everything and Barclay, while a little shocked, rolls with it very well and cups Joe's face in his hands and kisses him softly and it like,,, you should have come to me sooner, I'd do anything for you,,, and yeah it's really tender,,,,

Okay that's it I'm sorry it's so long and probably incoherent. I tried to use at least little formatting to make it better but it's a tumblr mobile ask, I'm not sure even the new paragraphs will translate over. The general idea is that they're close friends and Stern is Not Human and Barclay finds out under less than ideal circumstances :3 I know these are far from original or unique but I just wanted to share my ideas with you bc you're the inspiration for a good 70% of my private writings, but if you like them enough and ever feel like doing something with them that'd be cool ;3

Here you go! I went with scenario one. Content Note: some “mating” talk and mild subdrop at the end (which is, of course, taken care of)

The two canvas bags are ready to burst. Barclay peers into them, contemplating the addition of another box of tea, in case Joseph doesn’t like the other two. Mama was cagey when he asked, he doesn’t know what’s ailing the other man, only that he’s sick.

Joseph manages Amnesty Lodge, where Barclays’ been a cook for the last six months. Barclay was initially wary of him; his cosmopolitan bearing and clean-cut appearance is so out of place in the rustic mountain town of Kepler that the logical explanation is he’s one of those city types who fell on hard times and got stuck here.

It took less than forty-eight hours for him to prove Barclay wrong. Polite and polished, efficient and stunningly good in a crisis, Joseph handles the day to day chaos of the lodge while Mama, the owner, took care of the big picture stuff. His friendly greetings and consistent compliments about Barclays cooking gradually turned to afternoons spent at a table with his work so they could talk during lulls in business.

When Joseph leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up, laughing as he helped Barclay tidy the kitchen, the cook rushed headlong into his crush and never looked back. He regularly dreams of blue eyes and a movie-star face, finds his day doesn’t really start until Joseph pokes his head in to say good morning.

He’s been without that greeting for two days now. Joseph never misses work, and his sudden absence worried Barclay enough that he checked with Mama to be sure the manager was okay.

“Joe’s fine big fella, just under the weather is all.”

The one time Barclay got sick, Joseph brought him tea and soup himself, checked in on him every hour, and--if Barclay’s fever addled brain is to be trusted--fluffed his pillows. It’s the least Barclay can do to drop off snacks and be sure his friend is okay.

It’s a short drive to cabin Joseph calls home; he used to live at the Lodge, but as it got more crowded, he moved to his own space so those who needed a cheap, safe place to stay could have one.

His knock on the door is answered by a brisk, “Who is it?”

“Barclay. I, uh, I brought you a get-well gift.”

Joseph opens the door to the cabin and to an entire new universe of fantasies. His normally slicked-back hair falls, relaxed, across his forehead, his loosely tied blue robe shows a tantalizing V of skin, and the dreamy-sleepy expression makes his face even more kissable.

“Hi.” Joseph takes a step forward, taking the bags and bringing his face achingly close to Barclays’. Then he freezes, reversing into the house, “I, um, it was very sweet of you to bring all this. But you need to go.” He takes another step back, then doubles over with a groan.

Barclay hurries across the threshold, setting the bags on the floor and steadying him over to the couch.

“Fuck, do you need me to get you like a heat pack, or a puke bucket?”

“No, no I just need to lay down, and for you to g-” he shudders, curling in on himself and tipping sideways.

“Joseph, you’re really sick, I’m not gonna just leave you here. I mean, fuck, what if it’s your appendix or something?” He sits down next to the shaking man, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“It’s not, I promise. Oh lord” he whines, looks at Barclay with frantic eyes, “I hope you can keep a secret.”

“Of course I can. Whatever I can do to help, I want to.”

“Careful with those promises, big guy.” The nickname comes out in a growl as Joseph stands, undoing his wristwatch.

“Oh FUCK!” Barclay scrambles back, almost falling over the arm of the couch.

There’s a monster where Joseph just was. Years ago Barclay saw a Maned Wolf in a zoo, and he’d swear that’s what he’s looking at now were it not for several glaring issues. First, it’s standing comfortably on two legs. It’s paws are more like hands, able to hold the watch and adjust the collar of its shirt. And he’s never seen a wolf, maned or otherwise, with spines down its back and a whip-like tail.

The creature runs a clawed hand through the fur at the top of it’s head, the way Joseph does when he’s nervous, “So. I can’t tell you everything, at least not right now. What I can tell you is that this is the form I was born into, somewhere far away from earth.”

“Okay.” Barclays brain grinds like a broken ice machine as a familiar voice speaks to him from a fanged mouth.

“I, um, I’m what humans call a Chupacabra. To answer the usual questions: no, I’ve never been to Puerto Rico. No, I don’t eat goats. And no, I’m not going to eat you.”

“Okay.” His heart is still racing, but not from fear, which is the most confusing was this could have gone.

Pointed ears flick, worried, “Are you in shock?”

“Kinda, yeah.” He nods as Joseph sits next to him with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I took the next few days off to avoid this exact scenario. I figured I wouldn’t see you, but forgot how thoughtful and caring you are.” Claws gently stroke Barclays hair, “my wonderful Barclay.”

He’s about to bring his hand up, cup those strange fingers to his cheek and whisper “always”, when Joseph pulls away.

“I, I’m sorry. Again. I always get too handsy when I’m in heat. That’s the second worst side-effect, after the fact that being in my disguise is untenable when I’m in the thick of it. It’s like wearing a wet, wool sweater made of nausea.”

“....Hold on, you had to take time off work because you’re horny?”

“Almost. Heat doesn’t come that often for me, which means whenever it happens, it’s intense. I have a hard time eating or sleeping, I can’t focus, and I spend most of the week masturbating. Which is not as fun as it sounds; I’m not even at the height of the damn thing and last night I humped a pillow on the kitchen floor while dinner reheated.”

Barclay groans, tries to hide it when the ears swivel his way, “Uh, guess I’m glad I brought you lots of food so you remember to eat. Shoulda, uh, put some lube or something in there as well, huh?”

Joseph chuckles, “My nose tells me you put molasses cookies in there, so I’ll let it slide.”

“There anything else I can do to help?”

“Well…” he shakes his head, “never mind, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“My heat is more manageable when I have a partner. Fucking someone relieves things more effectively than masturbation does. But I can’t-”

“I can help with that.” The offer is out before his brain catches up with his mouth.

“Barclay, my kind have a very, um, involved mode of, um, well, I guess you foreplay. As, as much as I’d love for you to be my mate” he winces, “see, that’s what I mean. I say things like that, most of them not even possible given the fact you and I can’t reproduce.”

“Uh, does it help if I say hearing you call me that is really hot?”

Blue eyes widen, and a tail traces up Barclays leg, “Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

A narrow, long tongue flicks into the air, “In that case, big guy, how about we have a little planning session over dinner?”

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

Barclay parks in the driveway, next to Josephs’ sedan. He heads past the house and down a short slope to a creek, the twilight sky casting the forest in eerie grey-blue. There’s a tire swing leftover from a previous resident, and he idly pushes it back and forth as he waits for the game to start.

“It’s like hide and seek” Joseph wipes his mouth, cleans cookie crumbs from the table, “We start outside, move inside, and you go as long as you can without me catching you. After all, I want a mate who can hold his own.”

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket to warm them. A yip bounces out from the trees behind him. When he turns, he quickly spots glinting eyes and bared fangs hidden in the undergrowth.

Sprinting towards the cabin, he realizes Joseph laid a trap for him from the start; by asking him to begin at the creek, he’s forcing him to run uphill to safety, slowing him down. He lets his lizard-brain, concerned only with the fact that something dangerous is chasing him, take over and drive his legs as fast as they’ll go. The back door is locked, he double-checked that on the way down, so he doesn’t waste his time trying it, races to the front of the cabin and slams the door shut just as something huge rounds the corner after him.

The nob jiggles, his pursuer testing the lock and discovering the thrown deadbolt. Barclay uses those few seconds to secure the windows on the first floor, throws his jacket down into the cellar as a failsafe, and bolts up to the bedroom. His hammering heart insists that locking that door is not enough, so he crawls into the closet and shuts himself up among the meticulously organized shirts and slacks. It’s not enough space for him to stand, so he tucks his knees to his chest and waits.

“What happens if I, like, completely outsmart you.”

A toothy smile, “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”

Each of the downstairs windows rattle in turn. Then the scratching starts, claws on wood coming closer with each breath. Joseph is climbing the wall up to the bedroom window that Barclay knows for a motherfucking fact he did not secure.

A shuff as the window slides open, the cryptid landing with remarkable stealth on the bedroom floor. Barclay tracks him by the light coming under the closet door, his mouth covered so his breathing won’t give him away. The shadow pauses, sniffs, and then the bedroom door opens and shuts. Barclay’s not moving until he hears the front door do the same.

Just as his legs start to protest being smushed up against his chest, the door reopens. Snuffling signals Joseph closing in, and an instant later the only light coming in is from the far ends of the door. Slowly, his last line of defense rolls to the right, revealing the creature crouching on the other side.

“Not a bad effort, big guy. You actually confused me for a minute with the scent trail of your coat downstairs.” Joseph reaches for him and Barclay, remembering that he’s not supposed to give up until he’s pinned, leans away.

“That’s how my mate wants to play?”

“J-just following your instructions, babe.”

An intrigued purr, “I guess you are. All the more reason you’re the perfect partner for me.”

The words Barclays dreamed of hearing for months distract from the claws closing around his ankles. He lets out an undignified yelp when Joseph pulls his legs straight out and drags him out of the closet. Once he’s free of the forest of clothing, the cryptid picks him up and drops him on the bed. He moans and Joseph snickers, joining him on the bedspread.

“Fuck, Joseph, no one’s ever been able to do that before and it’s so, so fucking hot.” He arches his back and shifts his limbs to help Joseph undress him.

“It’s because you’re the perfect size; big and strong, large enough to give me a decent cuddle when I’m human, but still small enough to be an easily subdued mate.” He gets the humans’ jeans and boxers off, hesitates, and then tosses them on the floor with a pained expression, “I’ll fold those later.”

“Gonna hold you to that. Also, wanna point out that it wasn’t that easy to subdue me.”

Joseph nuzzles his cheek, claws caressing his thighs, “Barclay, I was jogging while you were sprinting.”

“You coulda caught me right awaAAy ohwhatthefuck.” Tingling heat glides down his throat as Joseph licks a stripe along the skin, “fuck, it, it feels like the time I tried hot wax.”

The cryptid sits up slightly to look at him, “Is that a...good thing?”

“Fuck yeah. I really fucking liked it but it was fucking murder with the chest hair.”

Joseph runs his claws through the hair in question, “I like it.”

“I know, I saw you eyeing me that one time I used the springs at the lodge.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Joseph leans back down, curling his tongue around Barclays left nipple. The sensation makes him buck his hips, which Joseph correctly takes as a signal for more. He moves to the other side, takes his time teasing it and licking down the sensitive center of Barclays chest. Noses his stomach, nips his sides, and slides the alien heat of his tongue into the crease of his thighs.

“Y’know I, ohfuck, I assumed from all that talk yesterday you’d get right to fucking me.”

Joseph kisses the inside of one thigh, “I, um, I thought about it, almost ripped your jeans to shreds and took you on the floor. But I wanted to be sure you were turned on. You’re not just a warm body, Barclay. You’re my mate. That means your pleasure matters as much as mine.” He licks up Barclays’ cock, hardened from rubbing against the soft fur of his belly, and sighs, “and what a mate.”

“Fuck” he squeezes his eyes closed because if we watches that mouth saying everything he wants to hear in between sucking his dick, he’ll cum in ten seconds flat.

A final lick to the tip and then Joseph hops off the bed, “Did you prep the way I told you?”

“Uhhuh.”

“Good.” Joseph returns, sets several items he can’t see by his feet, “that’ll make things easier. First things first” he produces a cock cage, sliding it into place, “these are a few things I smuggled over from my original home. This is enchanted, so it can go on an erect cock but still prevent the wearer from cumming until it’s removed.”

“That’s just cruel, babe.” He sits up on his elbows to kiss Josephs snout, earning him a pleased yip.

“If you cum too fast, I won’t be able to properly breed you.” He winces again, “sorry, I sound like one of Indrids romance novels.”

“Again, gorgeous, I find it really fucking hot.”

The spines on Joseph’s back ripple, “You think I’m gorgeous? Like this?”

“I do. Also kinda scary, but in a hot way.” Now it’s his turn to cringe, “see? I sound like cheap porn written by an eighth grader when I’m horny. The way you sound is fine.”

Joseph lovebites his ear, then retrieves the other two items from the end of the bed.

“And how does this look, big guy?”

“Like it’s either going to kill me or make me cum like a dozen times.” He furrows his brow at the strap-on. It’s narrower than the average human dick, with a pointed, slightly up-curved tip. What’s worrying him are the spikes.

The entire shaft is coated in short protrusions. They don’t end in points, thank god, but if they’re at all stiff this is going to be miserable.

“Here” Joseph waves him over, “touch it.” He guides his fingers along one side and the spines bend fluidly under his touch, and now all he wants to know is how they feel inside him. Joseph also moans, bucking his hips so the toy slides along Barclays palm.

“It’s, ohlord, also enchanted so that the wearer feels it as an extension of their body and can cum with it. Also, please decide in the next thirty seconds whether you want to be on your back or your stomach.” Amber pre-cum drips down Barclay’s fingers.

“Stomach is better for meWHOAH, ohfuck, okay we’re doing this.” Now flipped on his belly, he raises his ass. The cryptid kneads it appreciatively before holding it open and sliding his cock in with once, graceful thrust.

He bottoms out with a groan, which is more articulate than Barclay is managing to be as the spines rub and glide inside him, finding every patch of nerves, every angle to drag against in just the right way. Joseph hauls him onto his knees and then he’s off, growls and yips filling the as he fucks him. Barclay only just registers the bed banging into the wall so forcefully the headboard is cracking when claws sink into his hips and Joseph pulls him all the way onto his cock and pulses into him.

“Holy fuck that was fast.”

“I, I didn’t jack off once today. Didn’t want to waste it, wanted to save it all for my perfect mate.” He’s thrusting again, not as hard but twice as fast, “shit, you feel so good, big guy, please tell me Mama okayed your time off for tomorrow.”

“Wh-why are we talkingAHnnn, about this now?”

Hot breath tickles his ear, “Because now that I know what’s like to cum in you, I don’t plan on cumming anywhere else for the next day and a half.”

“Ohfuckme” Barclay groans happily into the pillows as Joseph empties into him, cries out when his tail whips across his calf.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, no it felt good, fucking-A babe every fucking part of you is amazing.”

The cryptid whines, pleased, and wiggles his hips, giving Barclay an idea.

“That’s, uh, that’s why I want you for my mate, because you’re so fucking goo-mmph” his face presses harder into the pillows as Joseph pins his shoulders down and fucks into him, snarling “yes” over and over again. When he finishes this time he hunches over, nipping Barclay’ shoulders and neck.

“You catch on quick, big guy.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, are we gonna switch it up at any point or am I staying like this until tomorrow night?”

“No, we can fuck however we want. After” a fuzzy hand rubs circles on Barclay’s abdomen, “I’ve cum in you enough times that I can feel it from out here.”

Barclay moans, tightening around him as his hips snap once more, already imagining being full and fucked out. Maybe it’ll take all night. He’ll be limp if it does, but right now nothing sounds better than melting into the bed while Joseph fucks his ass like it belongs to him.

After forty-five minutes, his cock is aching, his mind holds only thoughts of how good it feels to do as Joseph tells him, and he’s been cum in so many times that wet, obscene sounds accompany the cryptids thrusts. Said sounds pale in comparison to Josephs’ voice, which is spinning increasingly impossible scenarios the longer they’re in bed.

“I hope they take after you.” Joseph murmurs.

Barclay just manages to turn his head, “Who?”

A muzzle playfully nudges his cheek, “Our kids.”

His heart seizes and shakes at the words; they both know that’s not what will happen. Joseph warned him he might say things like this, said he could tell him to knock it off if need be.

“Maybe they’ll, ahnn, they’ll have big, beautiful brown eyes and bigger hearts, just like you.”

He doesn’t want him to stop. Every thrust hits deeper, every point where their skin meets buzzes brighter when he talks like this.

“H-hope at least one looks like you, blue eyes.”

A guttural whine, tingling heat as Joseph laps tenderly at the back of his neck, “We’ll just have to see, usually we’re born in threes so, soOH, oh I’m close, shitshit”

“That’s it babe, fill me up, c’mon, c’mon I want it so bad, Joseph, baby, please.”

There’s a howltrill as cum spurts into him, Joseph panting as he smooths his hand around Barclays side.

“There, that’s done it.”

Barclay whimpers as he pulls out, his mind and body pulled tight, certain that if he doesn’t cum soon he’ll propose marriage instead and that’ll be a fucking disaster.

Joseph carefully rolls him over and unlocks the cage, “Do you want to cum?”

“More than anything. Oh!” he’s unprepared for Joseph to sink down on his cock, “oh fuck, yeah, wanna cum so bad babe please, I’ll be so good, be such a good mate if you just let me cum in y-fuuuck” A trio of sensations levels him as he climaxes; his vision whites out, his hips jerk more violently than they ever have before, and a line of cum drips down his leg.

Somewhere far away, Joseph says, “I think we’ve earned a break.”

He nods, body limp as the cryptid climbs off him. Then he’s falling, spinning helplessly down in a pit of realizations.

Joseph didn’t mean any of those things he said. His friend needed a mate and Barclay, lovesick fool he is, was eager for a chance to play pretend that he didn’t think about what would happen when the game ended. Even if Joseph keeps him here through tomorrow, the next time they meet at the Lodge he’ll act like nothing happened.

Fuck, Barclay didn’t even get to kiss him during all this, and now he’ll never get the chance, never, nevernever-

“Shit, I should have put a towel or a spare blanket down. Now I’ll have to strip the bed before I can--Barclay? Oh, oh baby, what’s wrong?” A hand pets his face and he turns away from it, refusing to open his eyes. Joseph takes his hand instead, “it’s okay, I’m here, whatever you need I’ll-”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t give me what I need, it isn’t your fault I, I know I’m not really your partner and I, I…” he sniffles, wipes his palm under his eye.

“Barclay, look at me please.”

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes just in time to see Joseph dip down and kiss him. It’s awkward, their mouths not made to fit together, but he savors it all the same because it’s Joseph, his Joseph, kissing him like he hoped he would.

“My heat can make me say some ridiculous things. What it can’t do is make me feel affection where none exists. In fact, the reason I wasn’t able to keep my disguise on yesterday is because being near you meant being near the mate I wanted most in the world. I, um, suspected you might share my feelings, but I didn’t want our first interaction as boyfriend to be me asking if you wanted to spend a day or so with me while I was in a sex haze. But then you offered to help, and I wanted it so badly that I barreled ahead without making sure you understood that this was me declaring my feelings. I’m sorry.”

Barclay climbs into his lap, not caring about the mess he makes in the process. The cryptid laughs, hugs him close.

“I, I shoulda said something sooner too. Not that I regret how we spent our first date.” He kisses Josephs chin.

“Me neither, though I don’t think it quite counts.” He rubs their foreheads together, “can your boyfriend take you out to dinner on Friday?”

Barclay grins, looks into loving, blue eyes, “Yeah, he can.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #reverse!AU #reverse AU #monster march

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lovelikedestiny · 4 years ago

Text

Hold me when I shatter

With cold brutality and fierce determination, the scalpel cuts through his skin, severing muscles and tendons, digging mercilessly into his flesh until it hits bones and Joe wants to scream, but no sound comes out of his mouth. Out of his mouth, which opens in an excruciating, silent cry that no one can hear. Burning fire flows through his veins, setting his body in all-consuming flames that cannot be extinguished by any water in the world.

Blood splatters, hot and red, the metallic smell impregnates the air and lets Joe suffocate, suffocate, suffocate. He cannot move, is trapped in his own body, which is now his grave: doomed for all eternity to die and come back to life to more horrific research...torture methods, never being able to find longed for peace. Nicky...Nicolo...Where's Nicolo? This question splits his mind like a scorching lightning bolt, sends electric shocks through his limbs and Joe is filled with panic that rises over him like a wave and crashes down on him with full force. He is whirled around by disgusting noises as the faceless doctor operates a bone saw. The electrical hum is replaced by the splintering sound of breaking ribs and the pain becomes overwhelming. Joe doesn't know what kind of noise is coming from his mouth, but he doesn't recognize his own voice in the suffering howl, the whimpering. It feels wrong, everything is wrong and artificial and dead. Dead like rotten wood, rotting meat that is being decomposed by maggots, rotten and withered. Nothing is immune to time, but now it is turning against them. How long must they endure this torment? Is there an escape from this cruel cycle of never-ending life? Where's Nicolo? P-Please. Despite the pain that showers down on him like caustic rain, eating its way through each of his cells and leaving behind chaos, which his body wants to repair, but cannot, because the saw cuts, cuts, cuts, his whole being is focused on Nicky. Where is his moon? The light that guides him? His safe haven? He doesn't know and that's even worse than the sight of his open rib cage, which he catches for seconds before black dots dance in his field of vision and pull him down. Lower and lower until nothing exists but darkness and his fear, his pain, his agony. Blood fills his lungs steadily like a rushing brook and finally Joe can scream, expressing the unspeakable pain as he gurgles and drowns in his own blood. Will this be their future? Doomed to drown like Quynh in her iron cage in the ocean, to taste their own blood instead of the salty water until they get used to breathing liquid metal and living red salt. “Yusuf,” the faceless doctor says, standing threatening over him, the saw in her hand still for a tiny moment. His full name is like a whiplash, snatches the little bit of himself from him that is left to him and he wants to lash out and roar how she knows his name. That she can't use his name. "Yusuf!" His blood is dripping from the saw and the doctor is faceless and cold, for her he is just an object and that for a long time. "-suf! Yusuf, habibi, wake up!” A choked scream breaks out of his narrow throat and at first, he wants to defend himself against the hands that reach for him, but his body is faster than his mind, recognizes the familiar touch and gives up any resistance while Joe still has to find his way back to reality. He has a metallic taste in his mouth, frantically feels his upper body with trembling hands, looking for wounds that have long been healed, for cuts by scalpels and needles, saws and other instruments, each more cruel than the other. Though immortal, his body has a memory too, echoes of excruciating pain make him tense, Nicky's painful screams in his ear. His eyes sting, streams of hot tears pour down his cheeks. “Joe, you are safe. You are fine, we are fine. I have you, tesoro. I've got you.” The gentle words slowly penetrate him, the Italian accent wraps itself around his heart like soothing balm and Joe suddenly loses all strength. He collapses in himself, finds comfort in the warmth of the chest at which he is pressed. A sobbing whimper cuts through the surrounding darkness like a knife and Joe only notices that the noise is coming from his throat when Nicky begins to rock him gently in his arms and hums an old melody that Joe still likes to hear. “Nobody will hurt you here, Yusuf. I promise." Like a drowning man for whom Nicky's arms are a saving wooden plank, he clings to his lover so tightly that marks would have appeared on his fair skin if immortality hadn't washed away all injuries. He continues to hear the horrific noises of the cutting saw, the dripping of blood that doesn't stop, but he trusts Nicky with his life and more, so his mind is gradually breaking away from the nightmare. "We're in Malta, Joe," Nicky continues, as if he wanted to calm a frightened child or animal and when Joe thinks that they were nothing more than guinea pigs for the doctor in the lab, his breath catches in his throat. Nicky feels his tension and holds him tighter, holds Joe together as he threatens to fall apart and does not allow the nightmare to pull him back into a world full of pain and agony. “We are in Malta and we ate apricots and pomegranates and dates and figs yesterday. You took my hand and laughed at how sticky it was and when we kissed, I could taste the sweet juice of the fruit, the sun and the salt of the sea on your lips.” Malta. Their place of retreat, their shelter, when everything around them threatens to be washed away in the rain. A few years ago, Joe painted the railing of their little terrace blue in an attempt to capture Nicky's eye color, but he can never get Nicky on canvas the way he deserves. He remembers that Nicky then painted yellow flowers on the blue, his tongue tucked concentrated between his teeth, and the beaming smile when Nicky turned to him after finishing his task. Nicky's open smile is what Joe now clings to because that smile is only meant for him. "You had charcoal on your cheek from sketching yesterday and I removed it with my thumb." Nicky presses his lips to Joe's forehead; his arms wrap around him securely and strong. The faded fabric of Nicky's sleep shirt under Joe's cheek is wonderfully soft and he buries his nose in it, inhales the warm, familiar smell of Nicky, but doesn't dare let go of him. “I made chicken with orange sauce while you read me the Iliad. After dinner we danced in the kitchen and you said you'd bring the stars and the moon out of the sky if you could, so that my eyes would be the only thing that would light up the night.” From Joe's position he cannot see Nicky's face, but he hears the slight amusement in his voice, as well as the overwhelming affection. "And I said that it would be pretty cruel for the rest of the world because my eyes shine only for you." Joe's panicked gasp turns into frantic breathing as last night takes shape in his head: Nicky's wiry, slender figure in his arms, the irrepressible warmth in his heart as the gaze of the bright eyes was fixed on him, a kiss sweet and mild as the orange sauce that became intense and endless and moved Joe to the depths of his bones. "Are you with me?" Nicky asks in a whisper, but makes no move to release Joe from his arms, although his grip is loose and not crushing. And Joe is so immensely grateful to him that he lets Joe decide for himself whether he wants to break away from Nicky or stay pressed against him. It takes a few long seconds before Joe is sure he can answer and all he gets out of his mouth is a gasping, barely audible: "Always." Nicky makes a soft sound as a sign that he heard him. "Should I turn on the light, my heart?" "No!" Joe rasps out, wanting to stay well hidden in the dark, hidden from the cold, unnatural light of the laboratory. "No! No light! No...no light." Nicky doesn't ask him what he's been dreaming about because he knows. He waits with the greatest patience for Joe to act of his own accord or to speak while he caresses his back, presses his nose into Joe's dark curls and Joe notices how the traces of the nightmare evaporate. Only when Joe no longer has the feeling of shattering into a thousand pieces when he lets go of his only anchor does he break away from Nicky. He seeks his gaze, despite the fact that his face must look terrible from crying and his hands, which reach for Nicky, are still shaking. Nicky's fingers, slender and sinewy, perfectly made for bows and sniper rifles, wrap tightly and securely around his, exerting a comfortable, grounding pressure. The Italian's eyes seem to glow, bright and warm, in the silvery moonlight falling through a gap between the curtains, although one could expect the color of his eyes would make his gaze feel cold. "I ..." He starts, suddenly not knowing what he wants to say. The words are too heavy for his tongue and he fears that he will suffocate on them. "Nicky, I...it...” "Don't," Nicky interrupts whispering the sentence, which Joe doesn't even know how to end. “Don't apologize for healing, Joe. Never for it and not for less." He lifts Joe's right hand, turns it and kisses the bared palm, then every fingertip. The touch of his lips is just gossamer like the flap of a butterfly's wings and Joe wants, needs more.

Continue reading on AO3 ;)

#the old guard #fanfic #ao3 #Yusuf al-Kaysani #Nicolo di Genova #healing time in Malta #hurt/comfort #hold me when I shatter

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years ago

Text

Born to Be Yours-Chapter 2

Series Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Chapter Summary: A second meeting and an awkward car ride

Find Chapter one here

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

About an hour later the men were all dressed and headed to the conference room to meet with the production team they would be working with for the next few days. Jin Walked over to Namjoon, “I hear you got some exciting news this morning.”

“It’s not exciting for me. Please don’t bring it up.” Namjoon said grumpily.

“You won’t hold out for long,” Jin grins, “Soon you’ll be like me.”

“Whatever,”

“Is your arm ok?” Jimin had been walking on Namjoon’s other side and noticed him holding his left wrist.

“It’s just a little sore. I probably hurt it when I shut the door too hard earlier.”

They arrived in the lobby looking for their Producer to introduce them to the Production Unit for this city.

“Excuse me, sir?” the hotel concierge called over.

They all looked over as the man walked towards them, “You sir, the one who came sprinting through earlier?”

Namjoon blushed and he could hear the other guys laughing at him, “Yes, that’s me.”

“A young woman dropped these off for you,” he handed him the pens he had dropped earlier in the day with a note attached. He was tempted to just toss it in the trash but instead, he held his breath as he opened it away from the prying eyes of his teammates.

TO MY SOULMATE (A haiku) You are an asshole.

You broke my wrist, you asshole

Here are your dumb pens.

---[Y/N]

Namjoon blushed furiously

“Is that from her? What does it say?” JHope appeared from nowhere over his shoulder.

“She says I’m an asshole,” Namjoon folded up the note and stuck it in his pocket and put the pens in his bag.

JHope cackles and claps his hands. “I love her. Seriously. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.”

Namjoon glares at him, “No dating my soulmate. No dating anybody.”

“Guys, knock it off,” they hear Jin say as they see their Producer walking in with the on-site unit.

“Oh God. Jin, stand in front of me,” Namjoon tries badly to hide behind the other tall man.

Jin looks perplexed as Namjoon acts like a crazy person.

The Big Hit Producer walks over, “Gentlemen, this is our production team here. We have our principal director, choreographer, assistant director, and videographer,” he gestures to the team of four he is standing with.

“Gina Roman,” the Principal director introduces herself. “Clearly Rafael is our videographer,” the guy holding the camera gives a small wave. “Xavier is our main choreographer and [Y/N] is the Assistant Director.” You and Xavier wave, a smirk crosses your face as you see the floppy hair and pouty lips of the asshole who knocked you down this morning. He is actually still trying to hide from you and is doing a terrible job. It is almost adorable. Almost. You were still very irritated and had told Xavier all about your fucked up morning. Huh. So your soulmate is in this band from another country. Interesting.

“Namjoon? Translate for us please.” Jimin politely requests. BTS usually had one with them, but they wouldn’t be arriving until after lunch. Namjoon pretended like he didn’t hear him. Jin shoved Namjoon out from behind him, “Translate you idiot”

Namjoon made eye contact with [Y/N], his cheeks flushing bright red. “Of course, sorry.” He translated the greeting for the team, “Let’s head to the conference room.”

“Why are you being so weird?” Suga asked on the walk to the conference room.

“It’s been a weird day, ok. It’s not every day you meet your soulmate.”

“And attack them. And run away from them.” Suga adds.

Namjoon sighs. Can he go back to this morning and wake up from this?

The two teams enter the conference room. Your cellphone rings, “Gina, it’s Robert, I’ll be in in just a minute.” you answer the phone and shut the door behind you.

“We are so excited to have you here!” Gina begins speaking. “Would you like us to wait on the translator?”

“No thank you, I don’t mind,” Namjoon replies instantly calmer now that you have left. His wrist is still very achy and he finds himself holding it.

"There's been a bit of a problem with the practice space we were supposed to use but we are working on sorting that out now."

"Oh?” The Big Hit producer makes a concerned sound. “We can’t practice in the performance space?”

“Not until tomorrow unfortunately. It turns out the venue was already double booked. The others are bigger names, no offence. We are working on getting a new space worked out for you. We took the backup dancers there this morning to see if it would work for them.”

The guys were very concerned at not being able to practice where they would be performing.

“Why did they fly us out here if they didn’t even have the practice space ready?” Yoongi asks flatly

“We’ll just have to make the most of it I guess.” Jimin says.

At this moment, you enter the room. Namjoon instantly notices you are wearing a wrist splint on your left hand. You take your phone and place it on the table.

“Alright. The backup dancers were good to go. Robert says we can use his studio all day today and tomorrow night.” you say, pleased that the back up plan has come through. “Also, the translator is here early. I asked him to wait just outside.”

“Excellent work, [y/n].” Gina compliments you. “And the space already blocked?”

“Yes, I walked it this morning. They just need Xavier and the guys to go over and check everything. After that we will get you guys all blocked and then we can rehearse. If you want, we can break for lunch and then head over there. Xavier and I should go and run it a few times before you guys get there,” you say.

“So to review the schedules: we are rehearsing at Robert’s tonight with just the group. I will run through it with back ups tomorrow while they do their press interviews. Then we will run it with them and backup dancers tomorrow night. We will have access to the awards venue Saturday at noon. Our practice time is 1-2 and then we can have them delivered to hair and make-up by 2:30 saturday.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gina says, “Does this work for you all?”

Namjoon takes a minute to summarize what’s going on. “Yes,” Namjoon responds for the group. “I’d like to head on over there as well.”

“Great, I’ll grab the translator. [Y/N] and Xavier please take RM over there with you”

Namjoon’s face grows pale as he realizes what he has inadvertently signed himself up for. Fuck. He can’t say anything now or he’ll seem unprofessional.

You are borderline irritated and also feeling almost sorry for this poor jackass who clearly wants to get the hell away from you and also do his job well.

“Great, let’s go,” you pick your phone up off the table, Xavier follows you and Namjoon brings up the rear.

Ride to the studio

“I’m driving.” Xavier declares as you all walk out to the parking garage.”RM right?” He asks.

“Yes sir, nice to meet you.”

“I love your guys’ music and dance moves. They are seriously amazing. I was so excited when I found out I was learning your choreography and getting to work with you. Thank you for this opportunity.” He gushes to RM.

You had done a basic amount of research on the group, but honestly you worked with so many music groups they started to run together for you. Some were well known, others less so. It was your job to coordinate on site back-up dancers, the choreographer, the venue, and make sure everything was where it was supposed to be when it was supposed to be. You quickly google “RM” on your cellphone for a quick overview and find “RM aka Kim Namjoon” and scan the info.

“[Y/N] I owe you big for picking me for this project.” Xavier smiles at you. “What’s wrong babe?”

You look up and sigh, there is no way you are telling him that this is the guy who literally ran into you this morning and caused you to sprain your wrist and who ran away from you. Xavier was super pissed on your behalf just an hour earlier. Now he was unknowingly smitten with the guy. You would wait and tell him after the show.

“I’m just tired and my wrist hurts,” you respond, holding up the splint. Namjoon looks away, is he blushing? “You can take the front seat,” you offer to him as you throw your bag and body into the back of the Prius.

“Are you sure that’s all? You are never tired. ” Xavier responds as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Yeah, I was up at 4 to try and negotiate the space with Robert, blocked the room at 5. Taught Pilates at 6 and 7. Ran the videography and sound check at 8:30 with Rafael. Went for a jog. Got my wrist smashed. Went to the clinic to get a splint, and then met you guys..” You finally breathe after listing out what a fucking day you’ve had. “And It’s only noon. Stop and get coffee on the way please,” you tell Xavier.

“Damn girl. I still can’t believe you literally ran into your soulmate and he ran away from you.” Xavier remarked with a grin on his face. Holy shit, things were about to get really awkward. Part of you wanted to see your soulmate uncomfortable. Acting like he was too cool for all this stuff. You still weren’t sure what his deal was. “It is kind of hilarious though,” he starts laughing.

“Is my life a joke to you?” you respond dramatically. Namjoon awkwardly chokes on his own spit.

“Oh please. I’m sure you’ll find him again. Was he hot?”

“Meh, he was ok looking,” you lie. This guy was super hot. “I mean, from what I could tell. He had a hat on and of course, it was very blurry as he was sprinting away from me.”

Xavier cackles.”Only you babe. When I met Joe it was like a romantic movie. Seriously. Yours is more of a romantic comedy.”

“No. I think it’s more a dark comedy or action movie based on this morning. Maybe a documentary on a dumpster fire” you respond, searching RM’s face. He has giant sunglasses on and is looking out the window pretending to not be listening.

“Sorry. This is super unprofessional. I apologize,” he directs this at RM. “[Y/N] and I have been working together for five years, I honestly don’t even think about what’s coming out of my mouth when I’m with her and she’s had a bananas day. Haven’t you honey? She met her soulmate this morning and he literally ran into her and then ran away.”

“Yeah. It’s been a rough day;" you indulge Xavier,"I mean, what kind of person shoves their soulmate to the ground and then sprints away?” you ask the car. Silence hangs in the air. You are having your desired effect.

Xavier says to you in spanish that he thinks you two are making RM uncomfortable and you should switch back to work. As much as you hate it, you agree. You two are technically at work. You switch back to English.

“How did you manage to snag the studio from Robert? Don’t they usually hold classes all day?” Xavier asks you.

“Two things: he and his wife take ballroom dance at our studio on Wednesday nights.”

“You don’t teach ballroom,” Xavier interrupts.

“No, but I do check on the clients to make sure their classes are going well. They are very happy with Clarissa.”

“Look at you, you little networker. Going for Gina’s job?” God Xavier was such a gossip.

“Nope. And don’t interrupt me you brat,” you jokingly fluff his hair from behind, “Part 2 his daughter is a huge fan. I told him they could stop by during rehearsal as long as they left their phones at the front desk.” you smile triumphantly.

“I think you accidentally already took Gina’s job but didn’t tell her and didn’t take the pay raise,” Xavier turns into the coffee shop parking lot. You shrug your shoulders. “I like my job. I have way more flexibility to still teach classes. GIna’s job is 9-5 AND hopefully we will get a tour bid this summer,”

“True true.” he parks. You hand him the company card,

“Grab me a fruit cup and the usual, iced. What would you like?” you ask Namjoon.

“Just some water is fine,”

“You got it,” Xavier takes the card and runs inside.

Namjoon sits stiffly trying to ignore the fact that he has been left in the car with his soulmate. He takes off his sunglasses and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was being serious earlier. What kind of person does the shit you did this morning?” you lean forward from the backseat.

“You already know. I’m an asshole.” he turns and gives you a cold glare. Damn.

“Huh. Ok. Awesome.” you respond. You really weren’t expecting that. You get back to your phone. “By the way you owe me like $900 asshole.”

“Pardon?” he responds.

“$200 for the clinic and $700 for the classes I’m having to sub out because you broke my fucking arm.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “You are dramatic. Nice poem by the way.”

“Thank you. It came so effortlessly as I was inspired by my muse,”

Namoon turns around irritated. “I just wanted to go out and buy pens!”

“I just wanted to go out for a jog. And by the way, I made sure you got those pens mister! Because I am NOT an asshole,”

Namjoon opened his mouth to respond but didn’t have anything to say to that because you were right. The car was silent for a few minutes. “Thanks for the pens.” he said quietly.

“Your wrist hurts.” you say, observing him cradling his left arm.

“It does. I shut a door too hard this morning,”

You click your tongue, “Is that why you think it hurts? Man you are deep in denial darling. Your wrist hurts because you hurt my wrist. That’s part of how this whole thing works.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, irritated.

“....are you serious right now? I googled you real quick and you’re supposed to be the smart one.” you scoff.

“Who’s the asshole now?” he retorts.

“Fair enough. That was a little mean. But, now that we have met, we are going to experience each other’s pain. Whenever Xavier is sick, Joe gets sick. When Xavier is sad, Joe can tell. Even when they’re not together. Were your parents soulmates?”

“Yes.” Namjoon thinks about this. He hadn’t asked his parents about any of this stuff because he didn’t care, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. “Shit.”

“Yeah. So I mean I’m glad your wrist hurts because Karma, but I just thought you should know. Please be careful with your body. I teach fitness classes as my main income and I need my job.”

Namjoon sits there for a minute taking all of this in. He had worked so hard for this to not happen. Dammit. He didn’t want anything like this.

Xavier came back to the car and distributed coffee and water. The rest of the ride to the studio was mostly silent other than Xavier randomly asking RM questions about the other band members. Apparently he was a huge fan. RM was super nice and friendly to Xavier, much to your annoyance. What had you done to deserve the asshole version? I mean, you had written him a mean haiku, but that was after he was rude to you. You sulk in the back seat while answering emails one handed. NEXT CHAPTER

#bts fics #rm x y/n #bts rm fanfic #bts rm x you #bts au fanfic #bts soulmate au #bts namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #rm x reader

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