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ninyard · 3 years ago

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more stefan/andrew au? the last one was fucking amazing

(following on from pt 2 kinda following canon a lil bit but imagining their relationship panning out earlier than it did in the series? Fab)

Part 1 / part 2

“Andrew?” Neil was woken up by Seth’s pissed-off, tired moan. “Get the fuck out of here, you fuckin’ freak.” Neil heard the rustling of covers and Andrew’s footsteps coming into the room. “Yo, hey, are you deaf?!” It’d been a couple days since the incident in Columbia, and Andrew and Neil hadn’t really spoken since then. Coach had tried to get them to make up when Neil came back to his apartment, but his attempts futile. They’d only had a short conversation before Andrew got bored and left. All Neil got from Andrew’s lot since then was hostility and cold shoulders. Now, in the middle of the night, Andrew was breaking into the room of the three people he actively seemed to hate the most. Neil pretended to sleep, until he felt weight on the rungs of the ladder on his bed, and hands on the back of his T-shirt. Andrew practically pulled him off the bed, immediately waking him up from any bit of sleep he had left in him.

“Car. Ten minutes.” Andrew didn’t lower his voice for Neil’s half-asleep roommates. “I don’t like waiting.”

“I don’t care.” Neil retorted back in a hushed voice. “Leave me alone and let me sleep.” Andrew got real close to Neil’s face. The dim light of the moon outside the window showed Andrew unsmiling face. He was presumably sober, and Andrew sober was a much scarier sight than him being medicated and violent.

“Ten minutes.” He repeated again, matching Neil’s volume, hazel eyes burning a hole through Neil’s natural blue. Andrew put a finger to his lips and switched to German. “This is the only chance you’ll get.”

Neil had almost forgotten he’d spoken to Andrew in German in Coach’s apartment. He was startled at the sudden language change, and obliged when Andrew finally left the room. He got dressed underneath his covers as best he could, and decided against putting in his contacts, before jumping down off the top bunk.

“Bring that monster around here one more time and you’re moving out.” Seth groaned, but fully meant what he said. He turned around to face the wall and through the muffle of a pillow, Neil heard him say, “Now fuck off.” Matt, sleeping like a rock, was snoring on the other side of the room, totally unphased and undisturbed by Andrew’s swift entrance and exit.

Andrew was alone at his car when Neil pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands in a desperate attempt to stay warm, the door of the dorm building shutting behind him. It was freezing outside, and Neil hadn’t realised it was literally the middle of the night until he saw a clock in the hallway reading an early 3:54am. The wind blew leaves across the parking lot with a whistle and a rustle, the dry fall leaves swirling around like tiny twisters on the tarmac. The campus was silent, on the night of a weekday, so Neil didn’t expect anyone to be out. Yet here Andrew was, leaning on the bonnet of his car with a cigarette between his lips, smoke quickly disappearing in the biting wind.

“You never answered my question on our little night out.” He spoke through the smoke, as Neil approached closer. “We’re going for a drive.”

“Do you ever sleep?” Neil’s voice was groggy from his own interrupted sleep. Andrew didn’t answer, instead flicking away his cigarette and sitting into the drivers seat. Neil walked around to the passenger side and sat in. When he tried to warm his hands on the hot air Andrew had blowing through the air-con, Andrew turned the heat off. Neil was sure if Andrew was medicated he would’ve laughed, but he instead opted for watching the road as they drove in silence. Neil sat back and tried his best not to fall asleep. His head bumped about on the headrest as they drove, and every time his eyes started to close, his sleep cycle begging him to come back to rest, Andrew would snap his fingers in his face or lay a punch down on his thigh. After a short drive, they pulled up into the empty lot of some National Park Neil didn’t know the name of. He was too tired to pay attention to the signs, but figured Andrew wouldn’t bring him to a park to kill him or let him go. Andrew was a man of truth when he wanted to be; He wanted to know why he was on the run and Neil didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Why are we here?” Neil asked at the same time Andrew said “What brought a runaway to Oakland?”They both paused for a moment, but Neil knew Andrew wasn’t going to answer his question until Neil answered his.

“It was the first place she wanted to stop.” Neil spoke through a yawn. “The others before there made her too paranoid. It was the first time she felt like she could close her eyes and actually sleep without feeling like she was…” He thought about his words for a moment. The last conversation they’d had, he told him he was on the run, but Andrew already knew that. Neil thought he’d got through to him by giving him half-honesty, telling him his parents were dead. He never brought up Riko, or his family, instead choosing the option of trying to appeal to Andrew’s inner child, who remembered Stefan. It was a stupid choice, and Neil knew that the second he chose it. “She could sleep without feeling like she had a target on her back.”

“Did you kill her?” Andrew said it so casually it felt like murder was something so normal, like eating lunch or going for a walk. Like asking if he killed his mother was just like asking if he liked the taste of garlic, or if he was having a good day.

“No,” Neil answered. He’d been thinking about what he would tell Andrew about his life since he seen him in Arizona. Who was he before Oakland? Where did they go? Who was he running from? “Riko’s family did.”

And suddenly Andrew was interested. His face was a mixture of disbelief and boredom. Neil told him his manufactured version of the story; that his parents were killed by the Moriyama family, and that they’d been on the run since the execution of his Father. He kept out the part about the Butcher of Baltimore, or the fact that he was actually still alive, but Andrew’s mind was at work as Neil told the story. If he didn’t look awake before, he did now. Neil spoke for an hour, maybe less, maybe more, flowing from story to anecdote to answering questions that Andrew slipped in whenever he wanted. Neil answered it all with mostly-truths, redacting the stuff Andrew simply didn’t need to know. Neil was a runaway, his family were in some bad business, but Neil was the only one left.

“I really didn’t think you could get any more stupid, yet I am constantly surprised.” Andrew tutted as he shook a cigarette out of the packet, into his hand. He rolled down the window on his side and smoked out of it, seemingly unbothered by the wind that just blew the smoke back into his face. “You knew who I was, but you knew Kevin too? How forgetful do you think people are?”

“I don’t know,” Neil told him honestly. “I just- We were so young. I met Kevin years before I met you. I just didn’t think I was important to anyone.” Andrew laughed a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. It was the sound of dismissal, as though he didn’t believe a word that spilled from Neil’s tired lips. “I didn’t think I’d ever be particularly memorable or mean anything to anyone. That was the most important thing to my mom.”

“What, being unimportant?” Andrew didn’t look at Neil as he spoke.

“Being forgettable.” Neil sighed, thinking about his mother’s words that had been drilled into his head. If you’re too interesting, you’re asking to be killed. Be boring. Be normal. Be forgettable. “You fucked that up for me.”

“See, you keep blaming me,” Andrew shook his head as he took a drag from the cigarette that had been half-smoked by the wind. “I didn’t fuck up your life, Abagnale, you did.” Neil didn’t get the reference, but he didn’t ask either.

“I don’t mean it’s your fault. You didn’t do anything,” Neil tried correcting himself. “I couldn’t help it when I was around you. And all I could do every second of my days after Oakland was blame you because I couldn’t deal with the fact that I let you in. Everything I learned, everything I’d done, you came along and turned the place upside down because I just had to know you. I had to.”

“Why?” Andrew looked at him with that same uninterested look he usually had, when a medically-induced smile wasn’t spread across his cheeks. “What made me any different to the hundreds of other kids I’m sure you met on your travels, hmm?”

“You were real.” Andrew scoffed. Neil frowned at that and shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve been through this. Don’t waste my time getting to know me if you just want me to run. You want me to get lost in the park, is it? Is that why you brought me here?”

“Nothing better than some honesty with a view.” Andrew tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “How do you expect me to trust you when you’ve spent your whole life a liar? Be mad if you want, but I’m much less gullible now, you see. Once a liar, always a liar.” Neil sent Andrew a look as he hovered his hand over Andrew’s. When he just stared at it, Neil brought Andrew’s hand up to his collarbone where was a small, raised, pink scar sitting just above it.

“The motels phone.” Neil spoke quietly, as if Mary would hear, as if she was waiting to jump out from behind the car to take him and beat him again for letting his guard down, for being unforgettable. “It was the first thing she could grab when we got into our room. I never told her your name, and she beat me harder for it. I never wanted to let her anger ruin your name.” Andrew dropped his hand from Neil’s grip.

“Pretty unintelligent to take hits for someone you thought you’d never see again.”

Then Neil said, “I knew I’d never forget you.” Andrew tensed up at the almost-promise, and the memories came flooding back for Neil like a tsunami sweeping over every other thought he had. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” Neil almost reached out to touch Andrew before he remembered the boundary Andrew had set that night in Columbia. Neil didn’t have a right to touch him anymore, and he knew Andrew noticed as Neil’s hand lifted and then hesitantly fell. “Tell me something I don’t know about this Andrew. I’ve told you my life, tell me yours.” He gestured to Andrew, sat across from him with an almost-frown on his face and a thinking mind hard at work.

“This Andrew doesn’t give a shit about what answers you think you deserve.” He looked Neil up and down. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Why doesn’t Nicky know you’re gay?” Neil asked, instead of waiting for him to come up with something himself, it was much easier to get honesty from Andrew by prompting him. Neil watched as his jaw tensed for a second, thinking about the answer.

“Nicky is too involved in being the gay cousin to un-assume.” Andrew barely lifted his shoulders in the form of a shrug. “He hasn’t asked.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“I don’t ‘come out’,” He brushed off the thought with the flick of his wrist and a roll of his eyes. “I don’t fuck women in my spare time. Who cares?”

“Yeah, sure, but-” Neil had started to speak when Andrew cut across.

“At least I’m out to myself,” He nodded towards him. “You, on the other hand? Was it just Stefan who was into it or is the unnamed you just in denial?”

“I’m not, like…” Neil hated the sexuality question. It was confusing and messy and Andrew and Andrew and Andrew. “There was no one after you. It’s only been you.”

“By choice or by mothers hands?”

“Neither. Both?” He wasn’t sure how to answer. “The foxes are the first people I’ve let get somewhat close since then. That’s the truth. I haven’t wanted to. I’m just not interested in anyone.” The except for you part was silent, but he knew Andrew had somewhat heard it when he sat back, one hand on the steering wheel, the other arm resting on the door, as he took a deep breath that he tried to hide. Neil wasn’t even sure he was still into Andrew like that, because they were so young, after all. Andrew was still experimenting, and they never spoke about those kinds of feelings. They were friends who kissed each other because they wanted to know what it felt like. They kissed each other because maybe they thought they liked it. Maybe they’d have to do it again just to be sure. But that was so long ago, and so much had changed. Neil had had a crush on that Andrew, but this one? He wasn’t so sure. This one was harsh and mean, angry and unmoving. This one had been hard-boiled by life and wasn’t going to crack any time soon. He didn’t know if he felt things anymore. He didn’t know if Andrew was capable of a crush, or a kiss, or a simple, electric touch of fingers to skin.

Without a word, Andrew had switched on the ignition and idled the engine for a moment before pulling out and starting on the drive back to campus. Neil didn’t say anything else, he only rested his head on the window and watched as the morning sun slowly lit up the night sky, the dark navy blue taking over the black sky so slowly it was hardly noticeable.

He had pulled into his usual parking spot not long later, still not looking at Neil or speaking at all. He stayed still in the drivers seat after switching the engine off. Neil took that as his cue to leave. Matching Andrew’s silent treatment, he got up and shut the door without a word. Andrew had rolled down his window again, another cigarette already stuck between his lips. He watched as Neil walked around the car before he tapped the outside of his door twice to catch his attention. Neil spoke before he could.

“Give me a chance.” The wind blew his hair off his face, reminding him how cold it was, and why he should’ve worn a jacket. “Let me stay. I don’t have anything else.”

“Don’t be fooled into thinking I trust you.” He hung his hand out the window finally looking Neil in the eyes again. “It’s a matter of time before your egg timer runs out. Make use of it while you can.”

“I’ll bury Stefan forever, if you ask.” Neil offered in payment for the sudden change of heart in letting him stay, in cleaning his hands of the idea that Neil was after Kevin, or that he was a threat. “Say the word and we start fresh from today.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew took a long drag, one that felt like it was centuries long, like the sun would be up by the time he finished. He blew it out and raised his hands. “Kill what wasn’t real. Prove to me what was.”

Neil wasn’t sure what that invitation meant, but he didn’t ask Andrew to keep speaking. When they broke eye contact, he knew then Andrew wanted him to leave. Neil didn’t look back, heart racing, practically ready to burst out of his chest by the time he reached his dorm room. He opened the door as quietly as he could, careful not to disturb his peacefully sleeping roommates, and he crawled back into bed to try get some sleep before the practice scheduled for the morning. Instead of counting sheep, battling restlessness like a fight for his life, he thought of Stefan. He thought of the heart of Nathaniel that had gotten wrapped up in his blond hair and tiny frame. Neil fell asleep thinking about who he used to be, and what parts of that were real. What parts could he keep? His mind spent its last morsels of energy on dissecting Neil Josten, to make him feel a little more real.

The next time they saw each other outside of practice was when Kevin started coming to find him late at night to go to the court and practice together. Neil realised quickly he was going to become a night owl as a Fox, but it still took him a while to adjust to the late nights and early starts. But him and Andrew kept their distance; they didn’t speak if they didn’t have to, and their conversations were kept to a line or two each. They played their first match of the season, and Andrew had sent out shots for Neil like they were capable of working together. Then there was Kathy Ferdinand’s show, at which Andrew had hands all over him, holding him back from killing Riko on live TV. He had made a deal to protect Kevin, and then he was being psychically held back from doing so. Neil did what he couldn’t, and stood up to Riko, a conscious effort to gain his trust, to prove he was on the side of the foxes. Then there was that touch, that simple, light, barely-there touch, and Neil knew he’d won. He’d earned Andrew’s trust, at least for a moment, but that was all that mattered.

When Andrew ever-so-kindly reminded Neil later that Riko would find out about him, the original “Neil”, as easily as he’d strolled onto that stage to sit across from Kevin, there was no choice but to run. He couldn’t imagine any other option. His entire body went into fight or flight, and he struggled to sit still as Andrew held his collar and told him to stay.

“Why?” Neil asked, throat dry, hands shaking, after Andrew offered him protection for the year if he promised to stay. It was funny to imagine, as if there was anything he could do against the actual, guns-blazing, internationally dominating mafia. “Why would you help me?” Andrew laughed, and just about caressed Neil’s jaw in the most non-affectionate way possible. Neil felt his touch leave blood on his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Andrew was manic, and didn’t care. He looked as if he didn’t even feel the pain of a glass-shattering punch, and was actively enjoying the chaos that the morning had brought with it.

Andrew didn’t give him any sort of an answer until later that night, when he stepped into Neil’s space and told him to remember the feeling; Neil couldn’t run anymore. He had given his word to Andrew that he would stay, and as much as he had started to hate the Present-Day-Andrew-Minyard, he trusted him as a man of his word. Neil had killed the parts of Stefan that were untrue; all that was left was the real emotion he felt when he looked at Andrew. He was an asshole, but he was Andrew, and Neil trusted this five foot blond boy with his life. Perhaps it was crazy, perhaps he was officially, undeniable, finally signing his name on his death wish, ticking down the hours until his past caught up. Whereas running was his old line of defence, his current one was Andrew. Andrew was an unlit fire suddenly gaining embers, and Neil knew it was dangerous to let that fire grow. Especially when Andrew leaned over in Eden’s, crackers on his tongue, a drink in his hands, and whispered in German;

“Mommy’s not here to hurt you anymore.” Neil snapped his gaze towards Andrew, who was coming up on his high, speaking to Neil but watching the crowd on the dancefloor. His breath at Neil’s ear sent shivers up his spine, goosebumps on his arms. “My hands are open to have your back. Give it to me this time.”

#idk if this is bad #I can’t be subjective about my own content anymore #straight up I’ll delete it if someone tells me it’s bad lmao #andreil #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil au #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg fic #tfc fic #as per usual send an ask if u want more/have a specific Andrewstefan prompt

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inkedtae · 4 years ago

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fountain of fantasies ⇾ jjk. [M]

⟶ from the eros universe; you do not need to read eros to read this one shot

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ god!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2l, greek mythology au, circa. 1800 au, historical au, light fluff, angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you rather be engaging in heart racing activities than in heart breaking ones

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 15.6k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!jungkook, bigdick!jungkook, buff!jungkook, winged!jungkook, longhair!jungkook, ponytail!jungkook, sub!reader, slightly insecure!reader, shy!reader, mentions and consumption of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, playful-ish sex, semi-public sex, fountain sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, slight degradation, overstimulation, exhibition, a lil voyeurism, praise kink, anal, edging, squirting, choking, hair pulling, bodyworshipping, a lil motorboating, a lil begging, water play, a lil spit play, a lil breast play, ass play, a fountain of filth :)

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m too much of a hoe for greek god guk not to turn this into a mini-series...

⤜ banner by ↠ @thebannershop (thank you dearie~)

⤜ beta’d by ↠ @moonmintrails (my soulmate~)

⤜ le playlist ↠

Plump plum juices leak from your violet stained lips. You watch the storm rage through the balcony windows. Flashes of lightning, streaks of raindrops and the wall-rattling thunder only stares back at you. The noise of the world around you would be just the perfect cover for all the sounds he draws out of you. Teeth sinking into the fruit’s flesh, you take another bite and fix your stockings. Topless, you lean back in your plush seat and cross your legs.

You know he’s not coming. It’s been a week since his last visit, a week of staying up late only to fall asleep and wake up to a new toy. You glance at your bed. The collection of gifts under it do not compensate for his absence. You don’t want the ruby dildos or golden anal plugs. You can live without the silver tit-clamps and sapphire pearled whips. It’s him you won’t do without.

But tonight would be a perfect night of fun. You swallow your bite before taking another one as your mind circles every dirty thought you’ve been wanting to entertain for the last seven days. Staring out the rain stained windows, the one that appeals to you the most for tonight would be on that balcony, where it started all those months ago. The thought of being drenched in rainwater while he bends you over the railing makes you squeeze your crossed legs together. And the fluttering flap of his wings as they shake out the storm prickles your skin with goosebumps. Wet hands tangled in your wet hair. Loud moans blended in the loud thunder.

An urgent knock raps on your door. You sit up, letting out a shaky breath from the remnants of that fantasy. As you set your plum down by some grapes on the side table, you shoot to your feet to grab your robe.

“Bunny,” Mary, your sister, whispers from the other side.

The little childhood nickname brings a smile to your face. The two of you would play Wonderland in the garden as children and Mary would have you, Bunny, guide her down the right path. Now, she only ever calls you that when she’s nervous and struggling to admit it.

Tying the robe around your waist, you eagerly let her in. “What is it, Mary?” You smile as she rushes past you.

She doesn’t take a moment to properly greet you, darting to your little library instead. “Do you have that book about Mount Olympus?” She asks. Her freshly painted nails scrape over the spines of each book as you part your lips to reply. “Oh! Here it is!”

Returning to your seat, you watch your older sister skim through the pages. “Why the sudden interest in Greek gods?”

“Michael mentioned something about Hera and I just wanted to- I knew it!”

Chewing on another bite, you raise a brow at her. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that tomorrow,” you chuckle around your food.

Mary pauses. Her eyes, previously gleaming with excitement, diminish into indifference. She clears her throat and shuts the book. “Mama says to never correct a man.”

You stuff your mouth with a big bite and avoid your sister’s gaze. There’s lots you have to say about your mother’s philosophy on love, but you know better than to voice those opinions.

Mary continues talking, despite knowing your reservations about your mother. She holds the book to her chest and tentatively sits on your bed. “Mama wants me to talk to you about something.”

Slowly chewing, you glance at her. You already know where this is going. It’s another desperate attempt on your mother’s part to make sure you don’t wear the dress he had gifted you. She knows full well how much it reveals and how well it’s designed. You don’t care for your mother’s opinion though; you haven’t for months. It’s Mary’s opinion on the subject that matters to you.

“But, I told her that I don’t want to lie to you.” She takes a moment to sigh then meets your gaze once more. “You’ll look gorgeous in that dress, Bunny,” she smiles. “And I have the perfect shoes for them too.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat and you almost choke on your food. Mary laughs at your struggling state. “Oh, can we get ready for your party together?” You ask, perking up in your seat once you properly swallow your food.

Mary’s excited gaze wavers. She glances back at the book before hesitantly nodding. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing…”

You give her a pointed look. Flopping down on the bed, Mary groans and stares up at the ceiling. “What do you think of Michael?” You part your lips to reply, but she continues, “I mean I know he’s from a good family, and can take care of me, and he’s so handsome.”

You bite your lip at the last comment. Michael is not exactly your type of heartthrob. But, then again, your senses have been obscured by a god, so now not a single person can look as handsome, as beautiful, as heavenly as your Eros.

“But, he says and does things I’m not exactly…” She trails off. “And I think his previous courtship with Linette ended horribly.”

Her half-sentence rings some warning in your gut. However, by the way she avoids eye contact to stare at your crystal chandelier, you decide not to address it. “What makes you think so?” you ask instead.

“Well, that’s what he told me.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, you simply quirk a brow. Mary may be a couple of years older, but she still hasn’t grown out of her naive tendencies. You’re about to tell her that everything will be okay when you catch a familiar silhouette on your balcony.

He’s here.

Mary shoots up off your bed. You fear for a second that she may have seen him, but then she asks, “So? What do you think?”

Gulping, you take a moment to collect your thoughts. Erasing the fact that he’s finally here from your mind, you try to remain focused on your sister. You want the best for her. You want her to be excited about who she marries and for the life she will spend with that person. And that’s why it takes you a world of restraint not to tell her that if she isn’t a hundred percent sure about marrying Michael, then maybe she shouldn’t.

“Do you love him, Mary?” You ask. “And I don’t mean that ‘nobility’ love. I mean that, ‘makes you cry just thinking about losing him’ love.”

Mary hesitates.Your eyes flicker to the balcony where he continues to stand. Inhaling deeply, you silently ask him to wait just a second longer.

“I think I do,” she smiles.

Your heart shatters at her phrasing. I think. Where is the room for thinking when true love is at your door? You want to tell her that there shouldn’t be any of this ‘thinking’ nonsense. You either do or you don’t, you want to say. But her smile is so pure and eyes light up just enough that you don’t have the heart to take it all away. Besides, maybe she really does love him.

“Then, I think he’s perfect for you.”

Mary grabs the book and jumps to her feet. “Let’s meet in my room at seven,” she smiles, ruffling through your hair on her way to the door. “Have a good night, Bunny.”

“You too,” you smile as she shuts the door with a wink. The gesture is unusual but you suppose she’s just excited about the party tomorrow. You’re not exactly sure why she did it and with a winged god at your door, you can’t find it in you to care for too long.

Darting to the balcony, you pull open the doors to be greeted by empty winds and heavy raindrops. Those wings are gone, balcony vacant of anything but despair. Not even a gift replaces his presence. You hold your tears back and swallow the growing lump in your throat. Your time is not one of his toys, nor is it free. You’ve run out of patience. You’re empty of reason, thriving on broken feelings.

Shakily sighing, you bury the hurt in your voice and whisper, “if you can’t stay, don’t come at all.”

Sparkling diamonds, glasses, and wine circle the ballroom. Sipping on your drink, you take in the gleaming marble floors and the arches of the grand windows. The Barbury Estate is twice the size of yours. You want to believe that your mother’s delight in Mary’s proposal has more to do with her happiness than the fact that her fiancé is riddled with more wealth than he knows what to do with. But, you know that your mother has a special bond with money. It’s the same relationship she has with social standards. Her philosophy is simple; the more, the better. Now, if only your mother felt that way about you.

No, wait. This night is not about you. An evening lost in a grand room of people only appeals to you when the occasion for such torture is your sister’s engagement party. Your chest swells with pride as you watch Mary dance with her fiancé. Michael Barbury is not exactly what you would call ‘prince charming.’ His jokes border on racism and thoughts are somewhat insipid, but he makes Mary happy. That’s all that matters to you. Her relapse in judgement last night does worry you. But you know that she’ll be happy with Michael. With Eros gone, you wonder how soon you’ll find a love like that too.

Mary’s graceful giggles cut you out of your trance. You blink once, twice until your senses fully return to you. Even the smallest thought of him throws you out of your consciousness. Settling your eyes back on your sister, watching as she basks in Michael’s unwavering attention and dotting devotion, you’re greeted with a sense of comfort. The guilt of not speaking your truth disappears and the fear of never finding love dissipates to the back of your mind.

“Miss (Y/N)?” Lee Kyon asks, waving his hand in front of you.

Right, you forgot he was there. Turning to face him once more, you flash Kyon a somewhat kind smile. “Yes, Mr. Lee?”

He furrows his brows. “Is everything alright?”

Perhaps everything would be alright if your mother didn’t constantly feel the need to set you up with the first poor man that accidently looks your way. Yes, you’re well aware of your mother’s behaviour and the fact that Kyon has no real interest in getting to know you. Judging by the way he continues to loop back to the same dull topic about the history of wine, you can tell that he is merely trying to keep the conversation short enough to be polite, but not long enough to be courting you.

It’s not as though you care for his company either. Kyon has half of Michael’s intelligence. Even though you were only half-listening to his rant, you already pick out the few historical inaccuracies in his unprompted explanation. Of course, the worst thing you can do to a man is attack his wits and pride; that’s what your mother tells you anyway. It’s what worried Mary last night too. And you’ve tested that theory enough to know how true it is and how fun it can be. Watching them grapple for the right words, flare their nostrils in frustration and demand you apologize will always be just as humorous as when they try to “teach” you about language or art or, in Kyon’s case, history.

Biting back a sigh, you nod and silently pray for a way out of this boring conversation and into something a bit more exciting.

Clearing his throat, Kyon searches for a way to fill the silence. He then half-heartedly mutters, “You look darling this evening.”

Glancing down at your dress, your face heats up. The tiger lily-peach layers of satin and tulle fall down to your ankles. The pleated skirt mirrors the petals of a flower. Cleavage on display, the long flowy sleeves fall off your shoulders. Finished with a green ribbon around your waist and gleaming pink jewels, this is possibly the best dress he has gifted you.

Your Eros left it, no wait- he’s not yours anymore. A friend left it hanging in your closet one morning after another passionate night in his embrace. It was a beautiful surprise to be woken up to and a manageable struggle to explain how it came into your possession. You can’t help but find it a bit ironic how your mother is desperate to set you up with the first man she sees, but hesitant to dress you up for the occasion. He must have known, must have felt your frustration towards your mistreatment.

It takes everything in you to fight off the smile playing on your lips. You glance back up at Kyon, parting your lips to thank him when he continues, “And how brave of you to wear such a dress.”

You pause. “Brave?”

Kyon smiles and nods.

Is he really telling you what you think he is? Is he really undermining your confidence, undermining the beauty you know you have by commending your ‘bravery?’ No, you mustn’t judge too quickly. Perhaps he’s admiring your choice to go against expectations of covering up with a shawl.

You swallow back your initial assumptions, and decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Lee?”

“Well,” Kyon starts. He looks off to the side and raises both his brows before looking to you once more. His hazel eyes scan your figure, jaw clenching as he clears his throat. “A dress like this is traditionally worn by a woman that looks more like…” he trails off, eyes wandering as well. “Like Miss (L/N).”

A stinging chorus of hushed laughter strikes your pride. Your gut boils with shame and humiliation as your eyes bounce between the partygoers near you. You hadn’t realized they were eavesdropping. As a desperate attempt to ignore their maliciously amused looks, you follow Kyon’s gaze to Mary. Chewing on your lip, you ignore the urge to roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time someone has compared you to her, and you know very well that it won’t be the last. Even the utter disrespect of referring to you by your first name and your sister by your last name further displays their lack of recognition for you. In their eyes, you will forever remain as Miss (Y/N), the spinster-destined sister of Miss (L/N). And though you are certain that the twinge of pain and anger festering in your chest is for Kyon, you can’t help but be a little annoyed with your sister as well.

But then she laughs, smiling so bright and wide. She looks up at Michael and rests her chin on his bicep, reveling in his attention and embrace. You realize, in her moment of happiness, that you can’t find it in you to hold this grudge against her. Your love for her is greater than your pride. Besides, she plays no part in your insecurities. And, you decide as you turn back to Kyon, neither will this privileged upperclassman.

“How brave,” you sigh with a single shouldered shrug.

“What is, Miss (Y/N)?”

“How brave of you to believe anyone cares for your opinion.”

Kyon chokes on his drink. The partygoers, previously humoured by your embarrassment, relish in your courage to upstage Kyon. Gasping a giggle, you step back to avoid being spit on. He glares at you as he wipes his chin. You don’t hesitate to return that hard, hateful look in his eye. Raising a challenging brow, you dare him to attempt to embarrass you again.

He takes one step towards you, looking as though he’s about to grab at your arm when his stride is redirected. Kyon walks away without another word. You stare after him in confusion as he mutters an apology under his breath.

You’re not sure what caused this sudden change in his angry course, but you’re all too happy to be rid of him to dwell on the thought of his motives much longer. He must’ve known how offensive his words were. True, most people compare you to your sister, but at least they have the decency to do it behind your back. You rather be physically absent from a conversation like that. It makes it easier to ignore and avoid the negativity.

Confidence restored, you feel comfortable in your skin again. The dress is a perfect fit, the struggle to breath nowhere to be found, and sits well on your frame- despite what others think. However, you have very little time to revel in your victory as your mother stalks towards you.

“What have you done?” she hisses over your shoulder. Before you even have a chance to look back at her, she drags you by your arm to the edge of the room. “What did you say this time?”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you clasp your hands before you and reply, “He insulted me.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “And?” She questions as if waiting for a more substantial argument.

“And?” You echo in confusion. “And he insulted me. I don’t see why that’s not enough of a reason to insult him back.”

She shakes her head and inhales deeply. You brace yourself for the disparaging rant you know is coming. Nothing good ever comes from a head shake and heavy sigh. But, instead of her usual ‘stay in your place’ harangue, your mother cuts to the chase this time. “Do you realize that might just be your only chance for happiness?”

Suppressing a dry chuckle, you lower your gaze to the floor. You know your mother is well aware of how her question sounds; you know she doesn’t care. Still, you ask, “Is that really what happiness looks like, mother?”

She falls silent. After a beat, you dare to peek up at her. Those once hard eyes soften as her gaze locks on Mary and Michael, locks on how they gaze upon one another with such adoration. Blinking repeatedly, she turns to you and sighs, “Yes, to some people that,” she pauses to glance at Kyon, “is what happiness looks like.”

A wicked pang of sad, lonely anger twists in your chest then tumbles to the pit of your stomach. Your gaze falls to the ground and heart shatters with that last shred of hope that your mother perhaps did want the best for you. Up until now, you truly believed that in some twisted way, she was just looking out for you, making sure you have someone by your side long after she’s gone. Her words now and that shameless look that matches that shameless confession only point to the painfully obvious fact you have tried so hard to ignore. Your mother’s need to make you look a certain way and throw you at any breathing man has never been for your well-being, but rather the well-being of her reputation.

“Go to Mr. Lee, (Y/N),” she orders. “Offer to freshen his drink, wipe down his shirt, and then apologize. Beg for his forgiveness if you have to; just make this right.”

With a deep breath, you trail your eyes back up and try to collect yourself. Your eyes flicker between the exit and where Kyon stands.Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention back on her.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

She returns to her friends, that gleeful smile plastered on her face once more. Your eyes fall back on Kyon with every intention of following through your mother’s orders. However, he only greets your gaze with malice. A wave of nausea overwhelms you.

With a shake of your head, you tear yourself away from his threatening demeanour and turn towards the exit. You just need to get out of his line of sight, out of that pretentious atmosphere. Something within you can’t seem to stop telling you that one more moment near that passive-aggressive punk will only make you feel worse. So, you lengthen your strides out of the ballroom and down the hall to put as much distance between you and them.

The pressure of their expectations suffocates you like no corset ever has. All you can think is how desperately you need some fresh air. It takes you a moment, but you navigate your way around the manor well enough to find the back entrance.

Cold air engulfs you the moment you step outside. A relieved giggle slips past your lips and you throw your head back to relish in the cool spring breeze. The sky reflects a swirl of silvery indigo. It lures you into its constellations and wonders with every other glance. Lowering your gaze, you scan the garden before you. A cobblestone path leads all the way down to a hedged maze. You can never resist a good garden. In fact, you had helped design the one back home. You hope that when your husband-to-be comes along, he’d have a garden too and maybe you can design it together.

Realizing you can maybe hold on to a few more moments of peace if they can’t find you, you decide to follow the path and hide away within the walls of the maze. You’re halfway down the cobblestone trail when you sense a strong pull dragging your soul closer to the hedges. Picking up your pace, you follow that tug faster, soon weaving through the maze like you’ve been through it before. It’s not long before you reach the centre.

It’s a large clearing, decorated with a variety of blooming flowers. In the middle stands a grand marble fountain. Three tiered, the fountain sprouts fresh water through the mouths of singing angels. A little smile plays on your lips as you click-clack your way towards it. The tranquil rush of the stream calms your previously erratic heart. You take a seat on the edge and stare down at the pool. It’s empty of floating flowers or little fish like the one you have at home, but still beautiful all the same.

“Miss (L/N).”

Your eyes well up the moment his sweet voice greets your ears. A shaky breath escapes you and you turn to find him. Did he not hear your words last night? Does he not care? Or is he here to stay this time?

Sitting atop the hedges of the garden maze and out of the moon’s light, he looks just as heavenly as always. Most details of his beauty are hidden, but you can make out his long hair and the way it’s pulled back into a ponytail, leaving loose, short strands to frame his face. And those soft wings are out, spread wide behind him as he stares back at you. Shirtless, he smirks.

You can’t help the smile stretching upon your lips at the sight of him. It’s an uncontrollable reflex, as is the wetness of your core when he’s around. He usually doesn’t arrive this early when he does show up. How long has he been there?

Clearing your throat, however, you subside the urge to smile upon his presence. “Mr. Jeon.” His name leaves your lips in a trembling breath as your heart’s aflush with desire. You have to remind yourself that you’re upset with his disappearances.

A sweet smile takes over his features. “I’ve upset you,” he notes.

Is this a joke to him? How many nights does he expect you to wait around for a maybe? You both know your time is worth more than that. And though you want to tell him that he’s done more than upset you, that he’s disappointed you, you confess something else instead. “I’ve missed you.”

“You know I miss you too,” he replies.

You resist the urge to scoff. “Are you working tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I just got off actually.”

Without me? You mentally scold yourself for your dirty thought. You can’t even hold onto your anger for more than thirty seconds without having the urge to spread your legs for him. “Lucky me,” you sarcastically reply.

“Do you like the dress?”

“I’d like it more with the gift from last night,” you glare at him. “If there was a gift from last night, that is.”

Hopping off the edge, his wings fan out to guide him down before you with ease. Your face falls as he stands in the moonlight. Thick mud coats his muscular body and those once white wings are stained with dirt and grim. His sharp face is scratched with little scabs as well. He looks like he fell from the sky.

“Jungkook,” you whisper as you reach out to caress his wounded cheek.

But Jungkook can’t be any less interested in his current state. His attention does not waver off you. Those kind eyes of his scan your frame, lingering around your breasts. “It looks even better than I imagined.”

You feel as though you have to ask him if this really is a joke to him this time. He leaves you for a week with very little behind and returns only to be caked in mud and peppered with wounds and has the audacity to pretend it’s not an issue. Now, you’re upset.

You blink back your tears, quietly asking, “What happened?”

Maybe it was the hurt in your tone or the worry flashing in your eyes but his usually cocky demeanor trembles just enough to comfort you. “It’s just been a long night, baby. I missed a couple of shots and it took a little more effort than usual to fix everything.”

Fidgeting fingers trail up the exposed side of his thick thigh under the stained toga-like skirt he wears. He shudders under your touch as your hands make their way up to his buff chest where they stay. You inhale deeply to settle your erratic heart. The earthy grim of the mud invades your senses. He doesn’t even smell like himself anymore.

Knitting your brows together, you ask, “Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s entire expression softens. Shaking his head, he goes to cradle your body closer to his but stops before his hands reach your waist. You can feel his desire though, to touch and be touched. It’s raw and real, and purely Jungkook. This shared desire the two of you have roots deep within your souls. It breaks your heart to think that he’s not yours anymore, and maybe you made that decision rashly, in a moment of anger. But, you both know it’s not how you feel right now.

“I need to know your schedule,” you say in a quiet voice. He tongues his cheek, erupting your heart with a surge of want. You ignore the feeling long enough to continue, “I can’t just sit and wait, Jungkook.”

He stares down at you, eyes unreadable. You can tell that he’s mulling over your words, but have no clue how he feels about them. Finally, he cups your cheeks, staining them with dirt, and says “I need you to trust me when I say that I’m doing my best to get to you as quickly as I can, darling.”

Your heart cannot deny him when his gaze reflects such sincerity and honesty. Every ounce of trust, of belief is in him and only him. And maybe you are being selfish, but to be stranded without an explanation is heartbreaking. You know he knows that, or at least feels it in you when you think of him and pray.

“Just tell me I’m yours again,” he whispers, “and I’ll prove to you how much I’ve missed you too.”

Is that why he’s here? He’s afraid of losing you? Biting your lip, you can’t help but lean into his touch. It was mean of you to punish him like this and make him think that you were really upset with him when in actuality, all you wanted was a little more attention. You give him an innocent look through your lashes. He does his best not to swoon, but you know him well enough now to know that the little quiver in his lips means he’s on the verge of getting on his knees.

“No man of mine is this dirty,” you smirk, echoing the words of your first encounter.

Jungkook smiles and this time you have to keep yourself from swooning at the sight of his dimples. “I thought that’s exactly how you like them,” he purrs as he walks you back towards the fountain.

Heat rushes to your face. The marble edge of the fountain hits the bend of your knees but you refuse to sit down with Jungkook only inches away. His hands may still be on your face, rubbing that dirt into your cheeks, but his body is still too far away from yours. You move to take a step forward, desperate to have your body against his. However, Jungkook is quicker, most likely having read your mind, and moves back before you can even get half a step in.

Your eyes harden at the action. Pushing his hands off your face, you quirk a brow.

“I don’t want to ruin your dress.”

“A dress like this is meant to be ruined.”

He smirks. You can tell by the amusement dancing in his eyes that he’s enjoying the sight of you this needy and possessive. He decides to further test the limits of your composure, asking, “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”

He’s teasing. The mockery riddled in his features is enough of a hint, but the playful tone in his voice is still something you bask in. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you let out a deep sigh and look up to the clouds. “A flight back home might do us both some good,” you suggest instead. “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me at the party anyways.”

“Not even your sister?”

You shake your head.

“Mother?”

Face folding, you suppress the urge to groan and whisper, “Oh, gods no.”

Jungkook chuckles as he circles around the fountain. He dips his hand in the clear water, before asking, “What about Lee Kyon?”

Now, what would Jeon Jungkook know of Lee Kyon? A quick scan of his features doesn’t let you in on much besides the fact that he’s trying to draw a reaction out of you. However, what reaction is he hoping for? Is he looking for an explanation? He knows all about your mother’s habits and your relationships, or lack thereof, with mortal men. You never even have to say it; Jungkook knows there’s no one else for you but him.

“Mr. Lee is fragile,” you sigh.

His wings twitch. He likes what he hears. You curl in your lips to keep from smiling. Could he, Eros the god of love, lust and desire, really be jealous of an imbecile? Setting your visual tastes aside for a moment, you and Jungkook both know that Kyon, bless him, knows less than the very fountain you’re sitting on… The very fountain Jungkook is climbing into.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shooting to your feet as Jungkook makes himself comfortable. A giggle tumbles out of you, even though you tried to bite it back, at the sight of him washing himself like a bird.

Jungkook stops for a moment, that playful gaze meeting yours. This one look is enough for you to know he’s heard, and he’s most likely still hearing your thoughts. You wish you could dip in and out of his mind too. It might put an end to all the guessing on your end.

Continuing to splash his torso clean, he replies, “You’re sending me some mixed messages, baby. I thought you didn’t like me dirty.”

He has a point. Making your way over to him, you sit by his submerged frame on the edge of the fountain. Jungkook rubs his lips as he watches your jeweled fingers trace the curves of your cleavage. Your hand stops in the centre, just above the tied strings of your corset. You begin unlacing it when Jungkook tsks. Snapping your gaze to his, you wait for further instructions.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to get in with you.”

“So, get in.”

You move to unlace your corset once more, but Jungkook grabs onto your wrist. Catching his darkening gaze, you furrow your brows at his tilting head. He’s gesturing for you to get in, but won’t let you take off your dress. He can’t serious think you’d get in wearing it the water is filthy with his-

Glancing at the clear water, your thoughts are overtaken by confusion. You expected it to be tinted a dark brown from all the mud but it only reflects the marble bowl of the fountain, Jungkook’s legs, and that growing erection between them. You probably should question him on when he took that skirt off and why the water is so clean even after he went into it with layers of dirt coating his skin, but the heat between your legs is slowly growing more and more insufferable.

Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook’s to find him already staring at you, a smirk painted on his handsome face. He pushes his tongue against his cheek once more, knowing how much you love that move, then quirks a cocky brow. Kicking off your heels, you lift your dress enough to dip each stocking covered foot into the fountain. You hiss at the sensation of the soggy socks against your feet, but power through knowing how much Jungkook loves the way they look on you.

Your dress puffs up to the surface and you have to push it down and back to put as little space between you and Jungkook. “Your hair’s filthy,” you pout as you finally straddle his lap.

Jungkook lets out a little sigh. You first think it’s because his cock stands right in front of your pussy, but soon realize how wrong you are. His dazed gaze wanders over your features, unsure where to stop and what to admire first. Those large hands instinctively find your thick thighs. He rubs and massages them as you untie his hair and wet your hands enough to wash some of the dirt away. You tilt his head back and lick your lips. It’s a habit you have when concentrating. Jungkook knows it well.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he suddenly purrs. His voice is thick, saturated with lust and adoration. “Honestly, you don’t have to do anything, darling, just let me look at you for a little bit.”

You freeze, hands half tangled in his mud slick hair, and gaze back down at him. Dipping your head down, your lips catch his. You’re obsessed with the lack of hesitation between the two of you. Never has Jungkook thought twice about taking you as his when the two of you are this close. No matter how long he’s gone or how upset you may feel about that, when you find each other again, it’s almost like he never left. Your souls rapture in harmony and bodies tangle indefinitely. Eternity lies in the palms of your hands every second you're together.

“I’ve got to clean your hair,” you mutter against his lips. He only hums before kissing you again. Inhaling sharply, you let him have another sip of your breath before pulling away completely. And you realize, as you glance at his wings, that they could probably use a good scrub down too before the two of you indulge in the good fun you’ve been dying to have all week.

Before you can vocalize this, however, Jungkook is already readjusting your shared position. He tucks his wings tight behind him and shifts the two of you around so that the stream of the fountain washes down his back. “Hurry,” he orders. There’s very little room for negotiation in his tone. His appetite for a fun night is growing too and you can’t help but smile at the eagerness you’ve triggered.

Sticking your tongue out, you hook it under his chin and tilt his head back. Jungkook continues to gaze down at you as he gives into your gesture. “That’s hot,” he mutters.

This is new. He never talks this much when things start to heat up. Most of the time, you’re tossed looks and expected to decipher his mood, but you’re all too caught up in how gorgeous he is, you can barely understand what he means. Everything is always based on feelings and going with your instincts. But this time, Jungkook’s more vocal. It’s almost as if he’s thinking out loud.

His wings twitch again. You snap your gaze from his hair to his eyes and find he’s raising a brow. Didn’t you wish you could hear his thoughts too? Could this be his way of granting it to you?

“You know what I like most about you?” He asks as you continue to wash the mud from his hair. Grazing your nails through his scalp, you hum in reply. “You’re incredibly intelligent.”

Your fingers shudder against his head. The guilt of last night returns. Your sister should be with someone who isn’t afraid of her intelligence either. You should’ve told her not to follow through with this, not to marry Michael.

Jungkook’s hands trail up to your ass, gripping onto the plump flesh. The harsh gesture snaps you back into the moment. You jump a bit and let out a little squeal as your gaze meets his. “I much rather you don’t think of other men when you’re with me,” he groans.

Fighting off the proud smile tempting your lips, you nod. “Sorry; it won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” he mutters and that smile finally settles on your lips. “And don’t worry about your sister. She’ll be fine.”

A part of you wants to question him more about how he knows that, but the death grip he has on your ass and the way he’s looking at you does not leave much room for a sexless conversation. You rather your family stay out of conversations like this with Jungkook. His desire to be the only one in your thoughts makes a bit more sense to you now.

Smiling, Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose. “You figure things out faster than most people,” he says.

You kiss the little freckle under his lip to let him know you’re done cleaning his hair. “You spend too much time in my head,” you tease. Instead of in my… The rest of the sentence twirls in your mind for him to find it.

As you move to clean his right wing he chuckles and continues, “I’m serious, baby.” He kisses your neck as you stand on your knees and reach for his wing to properly clean it off. “Your mind amazes me. That’s why I spend so much time there.”

Barriers of the mind fall. They were trembling before but now, with every whispered thought Jungkook voices, you can feel those walls of distance crumble around your inseparable bodies. You’ve always melded perfectly physically and stroked the other’s spirit by caressing your souls, but mental barriers have always halted any real conversation between you and Jungkook. He’s always been able to know your next move, your every thought because of his immortality. And to have the chance to do the same only makes you feel that much closer to him. For this reason, you hope he doesn’t regret opening up to you and giving you a little peek inside his mind.

Your physical senses shock you back to the moment. His fingers soften their grip on your ass, rubbing it instead and your pussy reactively clenches at that pet name you love so much. Unsteadily inhaling deeply, you move to clean his other wing in silence. You decide you won’t talk this time. Your mind is open to him if he’s looking for your opinion, but tonight you just want to hear his thoughts and be the one tossing unreadable looks.

Jungkook chuckles against your neck, rolling his shoulders back as you brush your fingers through his wings. His lips trail down to your collarbone. He kisses his way down to your breasts and buries his face between them. Breathing in your scent, he sighs happily and mutters, “This is my favourite thing.”

Your breasts? By the way his hands always settle on your ass and the fact that his first hand-delivered toy was an anal plug, you always just assumed that his favourite feature of yours must be your ass. But you suppose if your breasts-

“Actually, I was talking about the way you smell.”

“It’s called soap,” you tease, earning yourself a light spank. He then bites on your right tit, sucking on the skin just because he can. You giggle and settle yourself back on his lap. Your ass, plush and plump, all but melts over his muscular thighs.

Jungkook stares at you. His brown eyes are vacant and lost in thought. He quiets under your gaze, only just shifting to pull you closer than you already are. Your pussy frames the length of his cock and you find it increasingly hard to stay still. Trying to read that dazed expression on his face, you wonder what happened with his devotion to thinking out loud.

Licking his lips, Jungkook finally breaks the silence. “Twenty-three.” He leans towards you turning the two of you back around so his back is against the fountain’s edge again. “I want you in twenty-three different ways, but I don’t think we have time to do all of them.”

You swallow thickly. Grinding your hips into his, you rub your needy pussy against his throbbing erection. Jungkook’s eyes slightly roll back and he has to hold your hips down only to look at you properly again. “Can we make time?” You ask. The desperate cry for more is evident in your voice and you know that, by the quirk of his brow and the shudder of his wings, he’s having trouble saying no.

“I wish,” he confesses. “My favourite ones take time.”

His fingers dig into your ass again, hinting at what his favourite positions might be. It’s no surprise that it has to do with your ass, you’re just worried that he’s going to ask for more than you’re ready for. Yes, you may have gotten used to anal plugs over time since he knows how to prep you for them, but his cock is an entirely different game. You are constantly reminded of how those other toys really are just toys because his cock is that uncomparable.

Jungkook relaxes back against the marble wall and watches you as you salivate over the size of his cock. He doesn’t need to read your mind to know you're terrified of whatever pain may come with it but excited because you’re just that much of a whore for him.

“You know you don’t have to do it. I have lots of other favourites,” he smirks.

As your thoughts trail off, he bucks his hips into yours. You breathe moan and clutch onto his shoulders. Every little movement makes you ache for more. A week without a single bit of sexual stimulation, even by yourself, is too long. He never told you that you couldn’t play around alone anymore, but when you have him, why the hell would you play with yourself? You know he’s going to come every night, or at least you hope he is. And the truth is, one he must already know judging by the pleased look in his eyes, even if he had told you he wasn’t coming, you still wouldn’t have touched yourself. Nothing can compare to his touch; you don’t need to try anything else to know this.

A shaky breath escapes Jungkook at your next mental confession. You don't think you were ever really mad at him. You just knew that acting out would get him to come tonight. Jungkook scoffs, looking up at the darkening sky as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Are you even really sorry? His eyes dart to yours as if wanting to see for himself if your thoughts are true. You don't know if you can answer this question with his eyes on you like that. But, that conclusion seems to be enough of an answer for him.

He shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist. Pouting, he asks, “Do you know how worried I was?”

You mirror his expression, drawing a pout in your features as well, and press your chest against his. His breath hitches and body melts into yours, betraying his intentions. Noticing his struggle to stay upset with you, you pepper wet kisses under his chin and along his jawline.

Jungkook can’t resist you for much longer. He whimpers as his hips grind into yours. Bending at your every touch, he unravels beneath you. A giddy smile breaks your pouty features and it’s only then that he seems to realize how much he’s let himself go in front of you. His grip on your hips hardens. As you kiss up his face, you find his lust-stuck eyes dark with dominance. He hates being vulnerable to your touch this much.

“No, baby,” he rasps. You quirk a brow. “I hate how drunk you get off the power.”

A proud smirk twitches on the corner of your lips, confirming his words. You’ve barely had taste for the power he’s accusing you of getting drunk off of. However, the fact that you’re able to control him so well with such a small dose fills your heart with pride.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I am?”

There’s a certain cocky pitch in your tone that rings sharply to his ears. His brows twitch, wings flutter, and gaze wavers. He may have been able to look past your exaggerations of dismissal and the way you tease him, but to speak to him with very little regard for his power unleashes something primal within him. You can always tell you’ve really pissed him off when he pouts, clenches his jaw, and breathes so steadily, you can barely hear him.

Jungkook watches you carefully. “One week without my dick and suddenly you think you own it?”

“Don’t I?”

A sharp smack lands on your ass. The slow draft of the water does not slow his hands down. In fact, it only increases the sting and accuracy. You gasp and fall forward against him only to be spanked again. Another moan leaves you, this time with your lips hovering over his. Exchanging breathes, a dangerous thought occurs to you. Your lips are over his. What’s to stop you from spit-

He growls. You tremble against him. The purely thunderous rumble in his chest rattles your soul. “I fucking dare you,” he hisses.

Though you want to heed his warning, you can’t help but notice how he keeps his mouth open despite his disapproval. You gather what you have in your mouth and pause for a moment, knowing that he knows what you’re about to do. His mouth remains open. You drop the wad of spit it without a second thought.

Jungkook swallows it almost immediately. “You’re going to regret that,” he breathes.

“I highly doubt that,” you smirk.

The cocky persona you seemed to have picked up from him crumbles when his middle finger pushes between your cheeks and circles your tightest hole. His words about his favourite ways to fuck you return to you in distant echoes. You arch your back and push your ass into his hand. His finger threatens to slip in.

“You’re barely ready,” he scoffs.

Do you harbour reservations based on fears that he just might be too big to fit in your ass? Of course you do; he’s huge. A fact of which he can’t help but always smirk at when you point it out. But, you’re hungry for him and you know that he would never do anything to hurt you. Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, “I can take it.”

“You aren’t wet enough.”

“Then, change that.”

The continuous authority that drips in your tone has tested his patience for the last time. Reaching a hand out of the fountain, Jungkook grabs for something on the ground. You try to lean over him and sneak a peek at what he’s looking for, but the friction of your clit against his length has you shuddering back in place.

A little smile breaks Jungkook’s previously callous expression. He pecks your neck and laughs quietly against your skin as he mutters, “You’re adorable.”

Heat rushes down to your core instead of your face at the little praise. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips when you catch a glimpse of something gold in your peripherals. Glancing up, you find him clutching onto his bow. Before you have the chance to ask what he’s planning, Jungkook only just drops the tip of his bow in to break the surface of the water. A misty rose gold tints the clarity. Little flicks of sparkling gold twinkle back at you as you watch the fountain filter the essence all around you.

You cautiously meet gaze. He always confirms new things with you before acting on anything, no matter how mad or horny he is. His rash decision to spike the fountain with an unknown substance chills your blood for a second. You start to shift back from him a bit when he breaks the silence.

“It’s just a lubricant,” he quickly explains. A relieved breath, you didn’t realize you were holding, leaves you. Shifting back against him, you nudge your nose against his. “Sex is a bit different underwater, baby, and I don’t have time to get you as ready as you need to be.”

A gentle nibble on his lip is all it takes for the rush of the fountain to be the only sound in the silence that settles upon you. His hands guide your hips against his, the fiction much smoother now with that hint of lubrication swirling around. You run a hand through his hand and tug his head back to be greeted with the sweet rumble of his laughter. You can’t help but giggle with him as you place soft kisses along the side of his neck.

Jungkook quietly moans in little whines and breathless gasps. Every shudder of his wings and furrow of his brows makes you want to rip your dress off and be just as naked and against him. But, then again, there’s something powerful to the taste of being fully clothed and still destroying a man’s composure. You barely have to do anything and Jungkook bends to your every will. You can now understand why he believes you’re so drunk on power, but the truth is you always had this power. He knows this, most likely wanting you to realize it too if he’s the one that suggested you stay clothed. The only difference now is that he’s openly displaying the ways you unravel him rather than keeping it to himself.

“Do you see what I mean now?” He asks in a breathless whisper. You trail your kiss up to his cheek and moan against it as he continues, “You’re so smart and beautiful and precious.”

Jungkook pauses, stilling your hips and pulling his face away from yours to look into your eyes. He parts his lips to speak but his words keep falling short somehow.

His words so far have already ignited an untamable fire not only between your legs, but within your bones as well. He is drenched in every part of you. Shifting to a softer touch, you untangle your fingers from his damp hair and cup his cheeks the same way he had done to you not too long ago. “Go on,” you tease, tossing him a playful look.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk. His eyes, though hinted with amusement, continue to be lost in some sort of trance. He knows you’re curious, but keeps this little bit of thought to himself. Lifting your hips, he hovers your entrance over his erection and finally smirks.

“Beg a little,” he orders. Though his voice barely carries to the other side of the fountain, the authority in his tone is still as clear and hard as it always is.

Your power trip must have really messed with him if he’s having you beg without giving you a good reason to. An annoyed sigh fans against your collarbone as your body continues to hover over his. “Don’t play,” he rasps, “You know that’s not it. I can hear the truth before the lie, darling.”

That’s an unfair advantage but one you don’t mind too much if it means he talks to you like this all the time. He’s right too. You know that’s not what’s got him eager to hear you beg. It’s the way you beg that’s got him eager to fuck you. Clenching around emptiness, needy to be filled and ruined, you whine a tiny “please,” then a string of profanities as his tip strokes its way to your entrance from your clit.

“Again.”

Back arched, breasts against his bare chest, and hands clutched onto his biceps, you place your lips on the shell of his ear and blow a gentle breeze against it. “Please,” you mewl.

Jungkook’s hands tremble and he all but drops you on his cock. Pussy in an instant stretch, with very little room to adjust, you cry out in his ear. Though your voice may be broken and pitchy, Jungkook doesn’t flinch. When it comes to you, the usual results never qualify. You are one of a kind, as unique as him.

His muscles flex under your palms. Hands finding their place on your ass again, Jungkook guides your thrusts. He can practically feel your weakening body with every bounce and grind against him. You know he can. He shows it in every tightening grip on your ass and grunt in his moans.

The knot in your stomach is already twisting, conspiring against your better judgement on how long you think you can last. You’ve never been able to outlast him, cumming twice before he finally reaches his first orgasm of the night. He’s just so big and hits those right places way before the rest of him can catch up. How he manages to brush up against your softest spots within the first three thrusts will always be beyond your comprehension. He’s just that good.

The choked moan that leaves him resembles a chuckle. A frustrated whine escapes you. Is he still listening to your thoughts? It’s not like you’re thinking anything he already hasn’t heard you say, or rather scream, but it still somewhat embrassasses you to know that he will always hear how whipped you are for him.

“Tell me,” you plead with your lips pressed just under his ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The sparkling water around you begins to splash out of the fountain bowl as Jungkook speeds up the pace of your bounces. Deciding your ass seems to be too much of a distraction to him, you pause mid-thrust and move his hands up to your hips. A shuddering gasp escapes him as you carry on with the bounces at his same pace. Your ass claps in and out of the water, thrashing water all around the ground.

Jungkook digs his short nails into the flesh of your hips, growling every time you whine at his tightening grip. Forehead against his, you catch his gaze and offer an innocent one. “I’m-” he cuts himself off, realizing how breathless and dazed he sounds. You nuzzle your face into his as a silent attempt to encourage him to continue. “Kiss me,” he begs.

If you weren’t stuffed full of his cock and extremely enchanted by the way he pretends to sound composed, you would’ve refused to kiss him and insisted that he finish that sentence. And that knot in the pit of your gut only tightens with the grip of your pussy. Pressing your lips against his, you slip your tongue in and let him swallow your moans.

The moment his tongue tackles yours, your legs quake. Thrusts hesitating, your body begins to spasm against his. Your hands grapple at his shoulder just to ensure you stay a float as your threatening orgasm continues to build.

“Jungk-” You break the kiss to tell him, to ask as he has taught you over and over again.

But Jungkook only latches his lips onto yours once more. You gulp down a moan or two of his before he hisses against your lips, “Just fucking cum. Now, kiss me.”

You may have been drunk off power not too long ago, but as you kiss him again, you realize that he is drunk off you. And that’s all it takes for your ograsm to finally rush over you. Jungkook lifts his hips up to meet your stuttering ones. Your lips fall off his. Face buried in the crook of his neck, you cry out his name and cream all over his cock.

“I’m thinking you’re such a good girl for cumming like this,” he suddenly whispers as you ride out your orgasm. Even with your ears ringing and mind shuddering from the second wave of cum gushing all over his hard, huge cock, you can still hear every dirty praise clearly. “My whore got herself off so well.”

The whine that escapes you from his words alone is borderline pornographic. Jungkook even feels it, arching his back so his chest collides with yours as well. “You’re so sexy,” he whimpers as you babble fountain water by his shoulder from exhaustion.

Wet, wet, wet; everything is wet. You’re both drenched in lube tinted waters, cum, and your desires. You can’t revel in it though, as the skirts of your dress float the surface and corset clings to your chest all too tightly. You can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone tell him that you need a quick break.

“No,” he groans, settling you on his thighs. Circling his hips into yours, Jungkook grips onto the nape of your neck to peel you off him.

Your heart stumbles as your mind races to figure out what you’ve done that was so wrong, he’s wanting to stop the night here. “I’m sorr-”

“You don’t need a break,” he sighs between moans. He sits himself up, his wings extending only to drape over the lip of the fountain’s bowl. All movements underwater cease as he digs his fingers into the bust of your corset. In one swift motion, Jungkook tears the first few laces apart, instantly sending a full batch of oxygen to your lungs.

Gasping, you gaze down at your torn dress before glaring at him. Maybe with just a wet dress, you could have explained your way out of whatever mess this is going to get you in when you attempt to return to the party. However, a torn dress will not be that easy to explain. You want to glare at him and tell him off but he shoves his face between your now exposed breasts and moans before you’re able to.

He moves your hands up his shoulders so your arms drape over them, then settles them on his favourite place; your ass. Two of his fingers push between your cheeks and stroke your hole. His touch there is much smoother than before and you suspect that it must be the bow-tipped lube.

You moan quietly, resting your chin atop his damp head as he kisses and bites at your breasts. Your pussy still hasn’t recovered from your orgasm seconds ago. In fact, truth be told, your entire body is having trouble recuperating after cumming that hard in a week. But you want more of him and he still hasn’t filled you of his godly load yet. And with his fingers circling around your asshole, you can’t deny him the second ride he’s patiently waiting for.

A slow grind of hips into hips is a good start, you tell yourself. You’ve never really had to deal with this before, since Jungkook would usually just keep pounding into you despite the fact that he knows your limbs are exhausted from one orgasm already. Clenching your jaw, you start to bounce again, ass clapping against his thighs in suppressed thumps underwater. The overstimulated pleasure brings tears to your eyes. You cry out his name and hold onto his wings.

He groans against your right breast from the contact. You’re about to apologize, knowing his wings are sensitive, when he shoves his fingers into your tightest hole. You freeze and throw your head back from how easily he slipped in and how fucking good it feels. Jungkook scissors his fingers within you, peeking a glance up from between your breasts.

“Are you okay, baby?” he slurs. He licks up the valley of your breasts, holding your gaze shamelessly.

“Mhm,” you mewl.

Resuming your thrusts, you feel your tears run down your face freely. You don’t even have it in you to wipe them away. Your hands, instead, centre around his back. You scratch at it for a bit until you feel him add a finger. Moans tumble into his wet hair as your fingers trail up the length of his spine.

Jungkook stiffens. A choked groan tears from his throat and he hides his face further into your breasts. They bounce around his cheeks with each hop on his cock. Too consumed by your own overstimulated pleasure to dwell much thought on his movements, or lack thereof, you mindlessly repeat the action. You stroke his spine once more and then you hear it.

He sobs a moan.

You still your hips, looking down at him. As you run a hand through his hair, you’re about to ask if he’s okay when the whooshing flutter of wings obscures your vision. One second, you’re straddling his lap with his fingers in your ass. The next, you’re the one submerged in the water with him hovering over you. Wings fully extended, face stained with tears, Jungkook makes sure your arms are resting over his shoulders like before then takes up a deadly speed of thrusts into you.

His speed defies the laws of physics, hips moving much faster than they should underwater. Half the fountain is on the ground from the force of his movement. All you can do is sob with him as your body becomes his only source of pleasure.

What’s gotten into him? He doesn’t even have an interest in your ass anymore, hands locked in a death-like grip on your hips. In a moment of pure animalistic pleasure, you just wish you knew what’s running through his head.

“You,” he growls in a pout. “You’re all I think about, you fucking whore. You’re all I can ever think about.” He swallows thickly before continuing, “You can’t go one second without thinking of me and now all I can hear is your voice. All the time; it’s you, you, you.”

You don’t know if you should apologize or cum from the simple confession alone. His voice, his words, his entire fucking attitude has you aching to cum all over again.

Jungkook stumbles over his chuckles. “You just love seeing me like this, huh? You love seeing me worship you, baby?”

Worship. Does he want you to cum that badly that he’s willing to lie? You both know he doesn’t worshi-

A sharp thrust derails your thoughts. Your eyes roll back as you moan out his name.

“You’re my goddess,” he confesses. “You’re my only goddess.”

He repeats the phrase over and over again until that’s all that rings in your ear, in your heart, in your soul. His release paints your tightening walls. The knots within your gut have unraveled long ago and it’s only when your blurred vision somewhat clears and convulsing body trickles into tremors do you realize that you’ve both cum together to the words he’s still repeating.

Voice a tiny, gruff whisper, Jungkook whispers, “My goddess.”

He’s serious. He must be. He truly worships you. The tears in his eyes, the break in his voice, the truth is clear and just as starkly bare as he is between your legs. His eyes suddenly flash with worry, almost as if he’s recognized what he’s said. He meant what he said, you realize, but he never meant to say it.

Jungkook gingerly pulls out of you as you try to seat yourself up. You pull your legs into your chest and watch him take a seat beside you. He leans his head back against the rim of the fountain and gazes up at the sky. You follow his gaze, noticing it’s gotten much darker out, the silver stream of stars piercing an indigo backdrop no more. A midnight black cloaks the world above you, a crescent moon lighting up your night and an array of stars twinkling down at you. Though your mind is still foggy from your recent orgasms, body still shuddering, you can’t help but think about his words. What makes him think you belong up there, amongst true gods and goddesses?

His wings twitch as they tuck themselves behind him. You know that combination well. He’s hiding something. Usually, you don’t ask, knowing he will only deflect the topic and shower you with attention and praises instead. But, his spoken thoughts are now looping around your mind, begging to be answered.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, shifting closer to him. Face still stained with tears, he forces himself to look at you. The questions are on the tip of your tongue; what, why, when? However, as you part your lips all you can bring yourself to say is, “I didn’t hear anything.”

You’re my goddess.

The words return with ten times the force they previously held. It’s almost like denying their existence is just as blasphemous as saying them. You swallow thickly and try to extract the words from your mind, but it's too late. They are as entrenched in your bones as your affection for him is. There is no undoing what has been done.

You bring a hand up to his face and wipe away the stray tears. He melts into you almost immediately. Maybe it’s best if you return to the party now. You can make up some excuse as to why you’re drenched and torn on your way there. Jungkook’s state is all but worrying and you feel as though you shouldn’t be witnessing this.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he finally says. His voice has regained composure and tone controlled. No more does he choke on his words or laughter. The authority he indirectly bestowed upon you has been returned to him.

You should tell him you’re done, that he shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean to. You should tell him that he shouldn’t play with your feelings or your heart like this. But, again, the words wither away the moment you part your lips to voice them. And, instead, you ask, “How do you want me?”

Jungkook smirks. His hands snake around your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Back to his chest, you make yourself comfortable, leaning into him. He pushes the excess fabric of your dress aside just to get you as close as possible. Then, you feel it against your ass, pushing its way between your cheeks. His erection is just as hard as when you started. It’s no wonder why he’s not done with you yet. You suppose he didn’t just confess something he can’t take back only to still leave with a full hard-on.

“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” he whispers in your ear as his hands cup the underside of your thighs.

You nervously look at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t.”

He chews on your earlobe, warm tongue caressing your jaw. “I should stop thinking about it,” he whimpers against your skin. “I should stop thinking about you.”

I’m not a goddess, you want to tell him. But, by the way he sucks in a sharp breath, you can tell he’s heard and isn’t impressed. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe to scold you for degrading yourself, or to correct you. The words never arrive.

Jungkook shakily exhales. No more trips into his thoughts it would seem. He remains silent as he spreads your legs and swiftly lifts you up. You expect another harsh round into your pussy but his tip shoves its way through your asshole instead. Throwing your head back, you try to suppress your scream by holding your breath.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does during the first initial thrust of a toy. Whatever he tinted the water with must be the result of a smooth entrance, and a deliciously blissful stretch. You let out a breath you held, along with a loud, high-pitched squeal. Jungkook folds you up well, holding the bend of each knee into your chest as he continues to slowly lower you onto him.

Once you finally take him all in, you settle your entire body back into him. Shuddering breaths, drifting eyes, you hold him deep within you and try not to completely lose yourself in a fit of moans and pleads. You don’t even know what you’d be begging for, just that a string of “pleases” will leave you.

Are you getting bigger, you mentally ask.

He chuckles and shakes his head as his nose nuzzles into your cheeks. He can’t get enough. Inhaling you deeply, you realize that he can’t get enough of you. He even said so in so many words. And you don’t have much of a problem with that considering you can’t ever get enough of him either. You’ve consumed all of his thoughts it would seem and he’s even lost himself to you so much so that he’s declared you his one and only god-

“Fuck!”

The stream of the fountain rushes down on your clit. He holds you straight beneath it as his hips move up and down against your ass. You’re at his total mercy, every thought of ever being in control a complete joke. You rest your head against his shoulders, trembling hands placed over his as a desperate attempt to control yourself.

Your first water wave induced orgasm hits you within seconds. You don’t know for sure, but you’re all but certain that you’re cumming. Your eyes have been screwed shut for a while, and body shaking since this endeavor in the fountain began. Only when you try to close your legs do you confirm that you indeed came.

Jungkook keeps them open though. He ignores your pathetic scratches on his knuckles as you try to explain to him that it’s all just too fucking much for you to take. “Just let me cum,” he tries to soothe between little hushes and murmurs about how good you’re taking his cock.

But then your second orgasm from the fountain hits and you can’t stop squirming in his hold. He keeps you folded and under the water’s subjection nonetheless, somehow even cooling the temperature down. As you shiver under the cold rush, Jungkook positions you higher against him so that the water pours into you instead. You realize, pussy clean of his cum now, that you’re getting fucked by a fountain; a fountain that he controls. And you fucking love it.

Then, there’s the fullness of your ass. Every inch of you is his. If you’re his goddess, he must know that he’s your god. Your one and only.

“Careful,” he warns against your thoughts.

You have an assful of his cock in you, getting off more times than you can both count in a fountain that does not belong to either of you; when have the two of you ever been careful? In fact, your recklessness is what brought you together. Had he not seen you on your balcony every night, he might not be here at all. Carelessness runs in your veins, laced in your tone as you cry out, “You’re my god!”

The clouds rumble above you. The heavens can warn all they want. Interrupting sexual endeavors would do them more harm than it would do you.

“If you want to cum, you’ll behave,” Jungkook hisses. His thrusts suddenly snap into something primal.

Your body bounces every time, water rushing down your clit once more. This time you feel your orgasm build, and fast. Toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you hold onto every twisting, clenching knot at the pit of your stomach.

“Ask!”

“Please?”

A particular ram into your ass lets you know that half-hearted plea won’t get you very far. He doesn’t deign to repeat himself. Instead, he lets his harsh movements and bone-rattling growls speak for him.

“Please let me cum, Jungkook, please.”

“Again.”

“Please, please, please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say it. But you feel it. You feel the approval in the form of a gentle kiss against your ear. Hips a craze, rolling against the wave, you clench your jaw and try to channel all your pleasure in a high-pitched moan rather than the cry your lungs are desperate to let out. Your cum gushes then, juices squirt seconds later. Entire body on fire, under the scrutiny of the stream as you try and fail to recollect yourself. You’re shattered, ruined, obliterated by his cock and this fountain of fantasies.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “That’s my good girl.”

His. His. Gods, the things you would do to be his always, not just under the cover of the night. Jungkook releases your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he grounds your ass over his hips. Load after load shoots within you, making your giggle and shake with ecstasy at the filling sensation of being stuffed so well.

“Ah-yah, baby,” he groans in a scowl against your jawline. “You’ve got the tightest little hole for me, hmm? If you weren’t so exhausted, I’d have us do this all over again.”

Exhaustion. Yes, that’s what you’re feeling. With your mind foggy and broken from the countless orgasms he’s sent through you, you can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone think to go for another round. Your body’s only excuse for staying afloat is the winged god behind you. He clutches onto you as if his only reason for surviving is you. And judging by his previous confession, that very well might be the case.

Jungkook rests back against the fountain’s edge once he’s done. Gasping for air, he continues to hold onto you, kissing your shoulder mindlessly. “I never really know how much I miss you until I have you,” he whispers. His teeth graze your supple skin.

Body limp, you can’t find it in you to reply. All you can think is after he pulls out, he’s going to fly back to Gods know where and leave you to hobble back to the party alone. After all, isn’t that how every night ends? You two share a passionate few moments, both have out of body experiences when orgasming, then you fall asleep and he sneaks away. What’s to say this night won’t be any different?

“I thought I told you to trust me?”

“I do.”

He scoffs. You don’t blame him. Your words are hardly convincing. It has nothing to do with the fact that you just came five or six different times. It’s the lack of commitment in your tone that tips him off. You hear it too. You really do trust him. He’s just let you down too many times to count.

“What more do I need to do? I’m with you every chance I get.”

Exhaustion. It’s not a physical one, not the one you’re still recovering from. It’s one of the mind. He’s exhausted with this back and forth. You are too. This isn’t exactly what you thought your first relationship would look like.

He pauses, body freezing beneath you.

Oh, right. He’s in your mind. He heard that. Is that not what this is, though? Isn’t this a relationship?

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it,” You repeat, looking at him over your shoulder.

Jungkook starts to soften in you. You’ve really set him off now. He lifts you up and off his cock, sitting you on his thigh and ignoring the way you hiss and whine at the discomfort. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder only to find him already glaring at you.

“Do you want me to come back?”

Is he threatening you? “Do I have to remind you who came here begging-”

“You lied!” He cuts you off with a shout.

“You knew that, though. You knew I was lying,” you point out, a pout starting to overtake your features. “You came because you missed me.”

“That’s never been a secret.”

��Say it then, Jungkook. Say this is a relationship.”

He falls silent. His once annoyed eyes can’t even meet yours.

“I know you’re jealous of Lee Ky-”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffs. Shaking his head, he forces himself to meet your gaze.

Sad tears vary drastically from blissful ones. Tears of bliss soothe the pleasure and make it bearable. Tears of sadness sting your eyes, pierce your heart and shed any part of you that can make such a situation bearable. Sad tears only remind you of your pain.

Your eyes sting with despair as he regards you with such frustration. Emptying your mind, discarding all thoughts, you ask, “Are you coming tomorrow?”

Jungkook sighs, but not a beat of hesitance affects his answer. “Of course.”

You raise a brow. See?

“Fine. This is a relationship,” he mutters. “What does that change?”

Nothing. It hasn’t changed a thing. You don’t even feel any different, any better. Maybe it’s because you forced it out of him? You don’t know. The tears only fall faster though, and you can’t bear to look at him. Your heart’s conflicted, shattered and replaced all at once because, though he is the cause of your tears, his presence is also the only thing soothing them. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your temple over his.

You can at least relish in his company for a few moments longer. And his scent, that intoxicating waft of creamy coconut and sweet peony orchards returns now that all that mud and grime has been washed off. The scent is comforting enough for you to relax in his arms and forget your pain for a second.

“That’s not what I smell like,” he whispers. You tilt your head away to get a better look at him. A little smirk tugs on the corner of his lip as he says, “It’s what you smell like.”

Impossible. He’s always smelled like at the end of every night. You’d cuddle into his chest and inhale a breathful of the tropical scent. How could that be what you smell like if he reeks of it? The knowing look in his eyes is enough of a hint for you to realize you know the answer. He’s dripping with your essence every night because he spent the night in you. You wonder if you smell like him too.

He sighs, circling his arms lazily around your waist. He deeply inhales your skin, smiling against it, but doesn’t answer your mentally posed question. Damp hair clinging to the sides of your faces, you settle in the other’s company. One of his hands rises from the water and wipes away your tears. As you sniffle, he whispers, “I promise I’m-”

“Doing the best you can,” you croak, finishing his sentence with him.

Yes, yes. You’ve heard it all before. You don’t think he’s lying, your Eros is no liar. You do believe that he is, in fact, doing the best he can. But if his best is only a few hours every night, you’re not sure you can accept that. And, yet, you also can’t find it in you to truly, with all your heart, reject it as well.

He needs to prove his devotion to you in another way. A risky thought then tiptoes into your mind. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath and ask, “Could you do me a tiny favour?”

Jungkook’s hesitant to meet your gaze. He glances at you through his peripherals, otherwise keeping his gaze locked on your breasts. Whether he’s trying to distract himself or not, you still push them out a bit in hopes that they will grant you the “yes” you’re hoping to hear.

He nods.

With a little kiss upon his cheek, you stroke his shoulder with the soft tips of your fingers and ask, “Would you please escort me to my sister’s wedding?”

He turns his head away from you. Staring across at the other side of the garden, Jungkook withdraws from you. His hands fall off your frame as he heavily sighs. You press yourself against him, trying to regain his attention but he only shakes his head.

“Acting cute won’t make this any easier,” he grumbles.

You huff and slouch against him. “How about just the rehearsal dinner?” You try to negotiate. When he rolls his eyes, you quickly add, “I’ll be stuck with Kyon and honestly I don’t think I handle another minute of his incorrect reilieration about history.”

Jungkook snaps his head towards you at the mention of another man. You cock a brow to which he only scoffs at. “You’re being obnoxious,” he seethes. “And unbelievably selfish.”

“So?” you question before you can stop yourself. His words sting, slicing through your confidence all too easily. There isn’t much room for thinking and even if there was, he would be listening to them anyways. So, you might as well say what you want out loud. “Was it not selfish of you to make me wait-”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m not going to repeat myself, (Y/N). You can’t keep telling me that you trust me only to keep bringing this up. I was busy. You had to wait. It didn’t kill you.”

Your tears have returned. He rolls his eyes at the sight. Whatever remnants of your heart you thought you had has been obliviated. “You make me feel so loved,” you whisper as your hands retract from his body.

Jungkook’s expression disarms all hostility. His eyes reflect regret but you’ve heard, seen all you need to.

“But why do you only make me feel this way when we’re naked?”

“You’re not naked,” he’s quick to reply.

It’s your turn to scoff. How can a god be this dense? “Aren’t I, though? Tell me, Jeon Jungkook, whose thoughts are open for the other to hear? Who is the one waiting, praying for the other’s attention? Who has been bare since first glance on the stupid balcony you left last night?”

Before he couldn’t meet your eye out of disinterest, but now he avoids your gaze out of guilt. Yes, you’ve been obnoxious, selfish, maybe even a little entitled. However, you’ve had a god to yourself for months. You’ve had endless moments of ecstasy that only end in soft cuddles and whispered sweet nothings into the night. Is wanting that attention when the sun hasn’t set yet too much to ask?

Jungkook parts his lips to reply when his eyes suddenly shoot up. He sits up, almost knocking you off his lap and snaps his head towards the very pathway you came from.

“(Y/N)!”

You gasp upon hearing your mother’s voice. The clicks of her heels draw further towards you and before you can look at Jungkook and ask what you should do, what you should say, you’re thrown into the fountain.

Ice cold waves engulf you as you inhale a good chunk of the fountain. Your lungs burn from the accidental intake of water. You only just get your hands under you and sit yourself up and out of the water as quickly as you can. Familiar shouts ring in the distance. Coughing up the fountain, you push your hair back and look around the garden.

Your mother is staring at you in utter shock, screaming at you to come out but refusing to help you herself. As you try to lift yourself up, you find the water has returned to its usual clarity and that Jungkook is nowhere to be found. He seriously left you to almost drown in the fountain by yourself? He’d be lucky to get more than a kiss from your tomorrow night. You can’t believe he has the audacity to yell at you then let you there like that. In a fit of anger, you send a lashing string after lashing string of profanities to him in the form of a prayer.

“Miss (L/N)!”

Your blood chills. Hands on the lip of the fountain, you turn towards his voice. Fully dressed in a dark blue suit, his wings nowhere to be found, and dry hair pulled back a neat ponytail, Jungkook rushes over to you. His strong hands settle on your waist before he effortlessly scoops you out.

All you can do is stare. Mouth agape, eyes vacant, you try to figure out why the hell he made himself all presentable and left you looking like a mess. You want to whisper your profanities and swear that he will never touch your ass for leaving you in such a mess, but all you can find yourself saying is, “Mr. Jeon.”

His eyes shoot to the sky as your mother rushes towards you. Nothing is making sense and you only wish you can read his mind to know what to do next.

“Goodness, (Y/N),” your mother hisses as she rushes towards you. “Cover yourself!”

Looking down at your bust, you gasp. Oh, right, he tore it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you look up at him and glare. But Jungkook only takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s only when you feel your mother’s arms around you do you realize that you’re shivering.

“What have you done to yourself now?” she whispers in your ear.

Her eyes then settle on Jungkook. That look graces her face. That look of assessment. She’s scanning the unknown god up and down, looking for signs of wealth, status, and reliability. It doesn’t take her long to innocently smile and fall victim to his beauty, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Jeon.”

He bows his head then turns to you and says, “I told you not to sit on the edge.” Jungkook fakes a polished chuckle. He shakes his head at you when your eyes narrow at him. “I told her, Mrs. (L/N), I told her the marble is slippery. But, Miss (L/N) just had to get a better look at those flowers.”

You glance back at the fountain with your mother, finding an array of tiger lilies floating in the bowl. All this trouble to explain why you’re wet? You look back at him cautiously and wonder what the end of this conversation is meant to look like.

“Yes, she loves flowers,” your mother sighs. She then sets her sights on Jungkook once more and asks, “Jeon… I’m not sure I know of the Jeons. Are you from out of town?”

Jungkook charms your mother instantly with that kind, toothy smile of his. He nods and compliments her quick wits, to which she laughs, then explains, “I’m visiting for the wedding.”

The wedding? Does that mean?

“Miss (L/N) invited me. I’m rather glad to have run into you, Mrs. (L/N) as I was hoping to ask permission to escort your daughter to the wedding.”

One of your hands, previously covering your right breast, shoots up to cover your mouth out of utter shock. Did he orchestrate all this just to agree to your favour? You hope you haven’t guilted him into it. You’ve done that to get him here and admit to your relationship; you already regret doing that. You just hope he’s acting on his own accord right now.

Jungkook shoots you a wink as your mother fixes the jacket so that your uncovered breast is concealed once more. Sighing of relief, you offer him a grateful smile.

“Are you sure?” Your mother suddenly asks, looking back to Jungkook. “(Y/N) is the one you want to escort?”

He glances at you and smiles. “Miss (L/N) the one and only thing I’m always sure about.”

Your mother raises a brow at you. She smells something fishy, knows something is off about this entire encounter. You watch her carefully as she looks between you and Jungkook. And when you expect her to refuse, to lecture you in front of him, your mother adopts an opposite approach. She smiles upon the two of you and shifts you closer to Jungkook.

“I would be delighted to have you escort my daughter, Mr. Jeon,” she beams. “Do you mind walking (Y/N) to the carriages? I cannot let her go back and drip all over the Barbury’s rugs.”

Jungkook offers you his elbow, returning your mother’s smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

You stumble towards Jungkook, your mother practically pushing you into him. With a shaky hand, you take his arm and let him guide you out of the maze. After a turn or two within the tall hedges, you part your lips to ask him what he thinks he’s doing.

However, Jungkook fills the silence before you can. “I’ll buy you an entire bouquet of lilies, darling. Just promise me to never fall into a fountain again,” he laughs, exaggerating the volume of his voice.

This time, you pick up on his hints and realize that your mother must still be close by if he’s still putting up such an act. “I promise it won’t happen again, Mr. Jeon,” you innocently reply.

A smirk, you know is real, graces his features. He walks you around the manor and to the front of the house before breaking out of this noble character of his. “I think she bought it. Your mother is a very suspicious woman.”

You scoff. “That’s just one of many titles she holds,” you mumble under your breath. As you walk towards your family’s carriage, you can’t help but ask, “Why did you do that?”

Jungkook stops you before the door and takes both your hands in his. Those amused eyes linger around your exposed breasts. He chuckles a bit at the way you arch your back to keep them there, making you giggle along with him.

“Are you happy?”

You pause. Is that why he did this? To make you happy?

“Are you?”

He gives you a pointed look. “Answer the question, (Y/N).”

“Are you just doing this to make me happy, Jungkook?” You ask instead. “Because I will go back to her and tell her that we were both in that fountain and-”

“So what if I am?” He cuts you off. “I want you to be happy, (Y/N). Why is that so wrong?”

It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting you to be happy. But you want him to be happy with his decision. You’ve forced him into admitting things and meeting you. You don’t want to force him into this too. You want him to want to take you, to want to be with you. That is what true happiness is to you. It’s Jungkook unconditionally wanting you the way you unconditionally want him.

Jungkook cups your face. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “I’m sorry I make you think I don’t want you just as much as you want me.” His nose brushes against yours, hitching your breath as he presses himself against you and continues in a breathy whisper, “Watching you cry breaks me in ways I can’t describe. And being the reason for your tears just destroys me, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to see you smile again.”

Then, he presses his lips upon yours, reaching for the carriage door behind you. When he pulls away, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, ushering you into your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby,” he smiles.

You’ve misjudged him for the third time tonight. Thinking he doesn’t care for you, thinking he left you, and thinking he doesn’t want you. All you can do now is pray that he forgives you for all the curses you’ve hurled his way.

He chuckles and places kisses on both your hands. “It was very amusing actually.”

You nod. “I’m sure.” But, you’re still sorry.

With one last round of kisses over your knuckles, Jungkook promises, “I won’t be late.”

“I’ll be waiting regardless,” you immediately reply.

The next three words are on the tip of your tongue. He can almost hear them, judging by the twitch of his brows. You don’t have a chance to say them though as he clears his throat and shuts the door. You watch him from the window, shakily exhaling.

Jungkook calls the coachmen. The carriage jerks forward. The lasting image of his smirk, those sweet eyes and that muscular frame is all you try to see. However, in seconds, he’s pulled from view. The only memory you have of him remains with that sacrilegious confession in a fountain of fantasies.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#networkbangtan #btsguild #btswritingcafe #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanhq #goldenclosetnet #btsgoldnet #magicshopnet #jungkook smut #greek god au #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fluff #bts smut

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rodeo-boots · 3 years ago

Note

Hi there! Im not sure if I've requested from you before have I?

So I was wondering if I could have a one-shot Sadie/F!ChubbyReader? Something sweet that gets steamy.

I was thinking that it could be the readers having a rough time because she thinks she's unworthy of love and the fact that she's into women makes it even harder.

Take your time, no need to rush~

Feel free to message me if you cant/won't do this I understand Xx

You hadn't requested from me before, btw. BUT I really loved writing this one for you! I hope it's what you've been looking for <3 (I also hope there are no more errors left, I only proofread this once)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2679

Warnings: NSFW, Low Self-Esteem Reader (Body-Image issues)

AO3

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It was one of the rare occasions when camp was quiet, most gang-members fast asleep as darkness spread over Clemens Point.

You had missed the silence, already used to the rambunctious songs, to the laughter and chatter of the others. Even if those good times never were to last.

These days, it was hard to achieve happiness, to feel even remotely safe, your travels East having shaken the entire group to the core.

And sometimes, you wished you had stayed in the West, had bought land and settled down like you've planned, even if that might not have changed a thing.

When it was quiet, like now, your mind often wandered, drifted along with the sounds of rippling water.

It was nice here, better than it had been up at Colter, but you still felt out of place. And no amount of fresh air or crisp water could change that.

With a sigh, you leaned further against the log behind you, your arms crossed in front of your chest where you sat.

At least in the darkness, no one had to stare at you. Had to see you.

You could just be, with no obligations to be appealing to anyone at all.

Never before had Dutch sent you out to distract any targets, to use your good looks on unsuspecting fools like the other women at camp often did. Because you had none. Or so you told yourself.

Of course it was harsh, of course you had other things to offer. But with a couple pounds too many, with chub around your cheeks and your hips, you didn't feel as attractive as you wished you would be.

You envied Abigail, Mary-Beth, Karen, Tilly... if not for their appearance then for their confidence. And Sadie? Sometimes you wished you could walk a day in her shoes, that you could stop caring about what other people thought and put on some pants.

Though you feared you'd only get stared at more like that.

Time went by without you noticing. Maybe you've nodded off somewhere down the line, the sight of the water gleaming beneath the moonlight oddly tranquil and soothing to you.

Your thoughts continued to roam, continued to shift and flow like the water in front of you.

Occasionally, you'd see a fish jump out of the lake, would hear a nocturnal bird taking flight within the nearby trees. And you yearned to be free like them; free of judgment, of society's standards, and your own low self-esteem.

You wondered if they perceived beauty like humans did, if they stared down at the two-legged, wingless creatures, saw long and flowing hair idly whipping in the breeze, or a freckled face and bright eyes and fell in love.

It would be a loss if they didn't, if they were unable to see what you did – and you decided that maybe, being a human might not be all that bad.

Sure, all you could do was behold the beauty around you. You knew you would never get a chance of something more; knew you couldn't compliment the way Sadie's yellow blouse flattered her figure and receive more than a simple "thank you".

It had always been like that – you, finding beauty in another woman, finding beauty in her voice, the sparkle in her eyes and the way she strutted and sauntered along the way. You knew you couldn't change that, knew that you would never be 'normal', but hell, you didn't want to be. If there even was such a thing as normal.

In the past, and even up to the current day, you've struggled with it. With your sexuality.

You had come to terms with it, of course, but you knew that you only stood out more with your chosen way of life. If your body wasn't enough to keep people away, your orientation might just be, and it worried you, what the others might think should you ever come out to them.

It hadn't been your intention to grow upset, your brain doing it to yourself no matter what you tried to do about it.

So you sat and stared out onto the lake, gaze blank as you simply beheld the beauty all around. Watching, and doing nothing, as always.

The sound of boots upon sand drew you out of your thoughts, your head turning to see a familiar figure approaching.

She was tall, slim, her hair braided beneath her hat. A few strands hung loose, though that only held it's special charm.

"What're you doin' out here?" Sadie asked, sitting down on the fallen tree behind you. She kept a bit of a polite distance, crossing her legs as her elbows rested upon her propped up knee.

You swallowed softly, looked back ahead and out onto the wide lake. "Just thinking," you explained, unable to come up with anything else that might explain you being restless and awake at this time of day.

The other woman hummed, her own gaze trailing over the water in front of her.

It appeared black in the dark of night, only little light reflexes showing the movement of the soft waves.

"Did someone say somethin' again?"

Her sudden words brought you back to reality, the silence between you having stretched for a couple minutes before. It wasn't rare that the less pleasant people at camp upset you over your insecurities, pointed out facets of yourself that didn't need to be addressed.

You shook your head, anyhow. Today, that hadn't been the case. Besides, you never knew Sadie paid any attention to the treatment you received. "It's me," you mumbled after a moment of consideration. "Me who made me feel like crap."

And while you huffed at the words you spoke, they were genuine. Oftentimes, it was you who made your life harder than it had to be.

Sadie pushed herself off the log, plopped down into the slightly moist sand by your side. You watched her from the corners of your eyes, unsure what she was intending to do.

But she didn't do anything, merely sat with you and stared out into the water, thinking about what you had said before.

"I did that a lot," she eventually spoke up, turning to face you. "Guess it ain't the same, but I– sat and thought a lot, too. That never seemed to help." She chuckled, but the sound was rather mirthless, her tone more serious than anything.

You had seen her in the past, had seen her sitting outside of camp, far from anyone else. She's had a broken heart to nurse, had a terrible loss to get over, and in the end she had come out stronger than ever.

"You don't gotta tell me, if you don't want. Maybe it'd make you feel better, though."

Inhaling, you thought about her words, wondered if you would even be able to put your innermost thoughts and feelings into words.

Never before had someone asked you to share them, no one ever having as much of an interest in you as that.

"It's nothing," you tried to deflect, tried to invalidate your troubles in order to not burden Sadie with them here and now.

The woman snorted, however, raised a brow as she looked at you. "Don't look like nothin' to me," she pointed out, not impolitely.

"How about this–" she sat up, her back against the log as she gestured for you to come closer, to lean back against her chest.

For a moment you could only stare in disbelief, though you took the chance now that it was offered to you. It had been a while since you've last been physically close to anyone, after all.

"Comfortable?" Sadie asked. You gave her a nod, your heart racing in your chest and beating within your ears.

Holy Shit. That hadn't been how you'd imagined this night would go.

Sadie wrapped her arms around you loosely, rested her chin atop your head. She seemed content herself, seemed like she had wanted to do that for a long while. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

"I know you think you're worse than you are," Sadie spoke up again, keeping her voice low while speaking to you. It was oddly soothing, her usual rough tone sounding more than just pleasant to your ears. "But you ain't bad. Truth be told, I admire you."

That made you pause, your breath catching in the back of your throat. "Me? For what?"

She chuckled kindly, brushing through your hair to tuck a few strands behind your ear. "For knowin' who you are, and what you want. For stayin' true to yourself no matter what anyone says."

Yet again, you hadn't expected her to be all that perceptive, hadn't expected her to know much about you at all. For as long as you've known her, your conversations had been brief, cut short by your occasional shyness and nervosity. Sadie seemed to have read you better than you ever could've thought.

"I..." you weren't sure what to say, or if you should say anything at all. The woman's arms around you were soothing, almost soporific, though the warmth pooling within you made it hard to consider dozing off.

"I always wanted t'know more about you," Sadie continued, nuzzling the top of your head, her lips brushing over your strands of hair. "Wanted to know more 'bout the beautiful woman who's stolen my heart."

You were sure this had to be a dream, that you had passed out after all and your mind was playing tricks on you by now.

But Sadie felt as real as could be, her hot breath in the nape of your neck, her arms around your waist, thighs left and right of your hips. Whatever you had thought of before, all your insecurities and doubts, it all seemed far away by now.

"Me– Me, too," you brought out, confessing to your feelings without directly doing so. Sadie was more bold and confident than you were, was more brave and straight-forward in your eyes. And just like she had said before, you admired her just as well. But most importantly, you were sure you loved her.

Feeling enlivened by her words, empowered by the warmth swelling within your heart, you turned around, straddled her lap and properly looked her in the face. "I think I love you," you properly confessed, cupping her freckled cheeks like you've wished to do for so long already.

She smiled up at you, keeping her hands on your waist for now as she leaned in, and captured your lips with her own.

The kiss didn't last as long as you've wanted it to, but upon pulling away, Sadie spoke up again; "I know I love you." Her smile grew, your forehead resting on hers when you returned the gesture.

Once your lips had met the first time, you couldn't stop yourself from going in for a second kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut, fingertips gliding along Sadie's sides and down to the hem of her shirt. Now that you knew of her feelings towards you, and were fully certain as those within yourself, you only wanted more.

She reacted in kind, teased your tongue with hers when her lips parted ever so slightly, a moan slipping into the kiss. You weren't sure if it had come from you or her, but that didn't matter much, not when your hands soon met bare skin, fingers gripping her sides while her own ran along your thighs.

"You wanna do this right here?" She asked, leaning back a little to capture your stare.

Slightly out of breath, you nodded. Hell, you didn't care where you'd do this, as long as you could feel her skin on yours.

Without missing a beat, Sadie worked on helping you out of your dress, glancing back, only to make sure camp was as quiet as it had been before.

Even if a few drunkards were still milling about, you couldn't care less, your fingers working on her buttons to relieve her off her top layer, before climbing off her lap to get her pants off her hips.

Naked, you laid back in the sand, invited her to follow you only for her lips to meet yours again. She placed her hat on top of your head, gave you a small smirk as her lips wandered lower, over your collarbone and down to your chest.

Moving boldly, her mouth latched onto one nipple right away, one hand kneading the other breast while she suckled and licked your sensitive bud.

Your breath hitched, spine curving to get closer to her heavenly mouth, your head already swimming without her having done too much just yet.

Soon enough, she had stimulated your other nipple to full hardness as well, laying down on her side next to you, and pulling you in for another kiss. "Let's keep this quiet," she muttered, her fingeres wandering once again until they reached your sex, a hum leaving her lips when she discovered the hot wetness there.

She caressed your folds, encouraged you to hitch one leg up and around her hip while coating her fingers within your slick. Slowly, her fingers circled your clit, made your hips jerk sporadically and your muscles tense here and there.

"Can I?" You had only pulled away from the kiss for a second, glancing at her while your fingers slid down her flat stomach.

"Be my guest," she grumbled, trailing lovebites along your collarbone and up to your shoulder, the small motions of her fingers on your clit steadily driving you insane.

To offer her the same kind of pleasure, your hand soon found the spot between her legs, met with an equal wetness as that between your own. You groaned, teasingly gliding your fingers through her folds before your thumb focused solely on her nub.

She gasped, almost sounding surprised, like she hadn't been touched there in a while, though that only spurred you on more. You wanted her to feel as good as possible, pulling away after another few moments only to propose another idea.

"I wanna taste you," you muttered, fingers disappearing from her soaked cunt as you laid back. Seemingly catching on right away, Sadie climbed on top, straddling your face while hers was right in front of your own crotch.

With the new position, you dove in without a moment's hesitation, held onto her hips and pulled her close as your tongue licked through her folds and up to her nub.

She moaned out, had to have bitten down on her lip to keep more sounds from surfacing before she leaned down herself, and focused on your clit right away.

Besides the sounds of your actions, the occasional slurping, squelching and your labored breaths, it was still mostly quiet, the area belonging solely to you in this moment.

You rolled your hips upwards, chased more of the heavenly feeling of her mouth on you as you felt yourself getting close.

Clearly, Sadie wasn't all that far, either, her abdominal muscles flexing while her thighs tried to squeeze your head, the motions of her tongue growing more desperate the closer she got to her climax.

It was over much too quickly, had been too long for you to hold back at all, your body tensing for a moment before releasing in a rush of endorphins that was better than anything you've had before.

You pulled back for air, slipped two fingers into Sadie's tight cunt to grant her a satisfying release as well, and watched, when she shook and trembled through her very own orgasm.

She rolled off of you after a moment, cursing under her breath as she did so.

It wasn't long before she crawled back up to you, however, before her lips met yours and you could taste yourselves upon each other's tongue.

"You fancy a midnight swim?" She asked when she pulled away, sitting back on her knees and helping you up when you agreed.

#Sadie Adler #Sadie Adler x female Reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #nsft #my writing #rdr2 requests #tw body negativity #anarchist-lolita

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lesbian-peanut-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Peach Blossoms

Hey there my Little Rogues! Guess what, it’s time for another Collab! I took part in another Collab run by the Bnharem Discord Server, this time we were given the topic of Pen Pals and left to our own imaginations. I didn’t reblog the masterlist this time as I was busy writing and didn’t get the chance but head on over and check out the Masterlist, give these wonderful writers the love they deserve and enjoy the stories! I decided to go with our lovely Miss Momo Yaoyorozu this time around and you know what, the rest explains itself.

I just want to say thank you to @mari-writes-smut for bouncing ideas for the story back and forth with me. Thanks to @heyybrittannia for helping this clueless person work out what Momo would smell like and find a fragrance that as befitting her. Last but not least thank you to @villain-hotline for giving me the name of this Fic when my brain was too fried to think of one for myself.

~Lesbian Peanut

Word Count: 7634

“(Name), there's a letter here for you.”

You perked up at the sound of your mother’s voice calling to you from your doorway, your head snapping around instantly to stare at the thin object hanging precariously from between her fingers. “Is it from her?” Your voice cracking from the pure excitement you couldn’t contain as you vaulted over your bed and bound across your bedroom; heading directly for the sole object of your desires.

Your mother couldn’t help but to laugh at how eager and cute she thought you were being, seeing your eyes alight with anticipation was more than she could handle. She passed the envelope containing the letter over into your hands, watching as you turned it this way and that while inspecting the paper closely. “It has come all the way from Japan, I certainly don’t know anyone else it could be. Do you?” She teased as she pressed a hand to her lips, suppressing the giggles that were threatening to spill from her lips at any moment but unable to stop them causing her body to shake.

“It took awhile for her to respond this time, I wonder if there was a reason for that.” You remarked thoughtfully as you drifted away from your mother and towards your desk where your writing implements awaited your attention.

“You must remember darling; she would be in school around this time.” Your mother chimed a gentle reminder to you as she moved to sit on the end of your bed. “Perhaps one day when we move back to Japan, it won’t be quite so difficult for you to keep in touch with one another.”

“I eagerly wait for that day to make its arrival; it would be most splendid to finally see her!” You turned to beam over at your mother, your excitement evident on your face as you clutched the envelope to your chest securely.

It was mesmerising, the boundless and innocent joy of a child; it never ceased to amaze your mother. Without fail you would become elated with excitement each time a letter arrived at the house for you, seeing your beautiful smile was something your mother looked forward to each time. It had been years since you started exchanging letters and despite being twelve now, you still held the simplistic excitement of a child as you did when the first letter arrived. A tender smile crossed her lips as she watched you turn to open your delivery, your fingers gentle as ever as you slit the letter opener through the top of the envelope. She expected no less, you always took such care when opening the letters you received; she just wished you’d be as careful once they were open.

You smiled as butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, whizzing about as your fingers slipped into the envelope to retrieve your letter. It hit you like a warm breeze, the scent wafting from the papers and enveloping your every sense. You expected it each time and yet it never failed in managing to take your breath away, the sweet but warming scent that came with the papers. You took the papers from their restricting prison, unfolding them fully before lifting them to your nose and breathing deep.

“Shall we get started then??” Your mother’s voice snapped you from your trance and you peered over to her sheepishly as your cheeks heated, flooding with colour. “It’s best not to keep her waiting.”

You nodded eagerly at your mother before taking up your seat at your desk, placing your letter atop it as you pulled out your own paper in preparation for a response before staring down at your letter. The words scrawled across the paper looking more delicate and elegant with each passing year, you could still remember how messy the first one you’d received from her had been; it had taken your mother several hours to decipher the poor handwriting. You shook your head quickly, clearing away the old memories as you focused in on the words before you.

Dear Miss (Last Name),

I’d like to foremost apologise for my tardiness in replying to you so late after you have sent me your last letter. I assure you it was in no means meant to disrespect you; I have just been busy of late with studies. I will be frank with you though; I feel as though my abilities when compared to those of my peers are severely lacking. Many of my fellow students are more academically inclined than what I am capable of, it feels as though I am falling behind and quickly. I have lost on several occasions with one of my peers when it comes to spelling competitions, the latest word to stump me was one I had never come across before; iridocyclitis.

I do apologise for my ramblings of my academics; it must bother you for me to write about it as such.

In regards to your question from your previous letter, you asked me if I had any success with the Peach Blossom this year. I regret to say, despite my best efforts to keep the beautiful tree alive; it has withered down to nothing this year. Mother is looking at having it removed from the garden soon and starting over with her design.

I must enquire about Bast, is your adorable kitten doing well? You said she was perplexed over being in a new environment, has she since adjusted to her surroundings? I would very much love to see what she looks like one day; I imagine she’s quite beautiful to have you so enamoured with her. Don’t forget being a Sphynx you must keep her ears cleaned regularly and bathe her to remove the build up of oils on her skin.

I hope that your family and yourself are doing well. I can’t wait for the day when we may be chanced with seeing one another, for now though I look forward to your forthcoming letters.

Sincerely

Momo Yaoyorozu

You smiled as you sat back in your chair, your finger tracing over the paper as you read over her words one more time. That familiar scent wafting through the air towards you, it was something you had yet to figure out the exact fragrance of but it made you feel safe. Your smile turned quickly into a pout as you thought about what you could respond to her letter with, the words just didn’t seem to be coming together as easily as they usually did. You tapped your fingers against the page, Miss Yaoyorozu was rather disheartened by her studies and felt as though she we’re falling behind her peers. You had always felt as though she was one of the brightest people you had ever been given the opportunity to converse with and to read that she was being so hard on herself; it made you sad. You sighed as you read through the paragraph over and over, trying desperately to find the right words that might aid in putting her mind to ease and comforting her.

“Mother, what does this word here say?” You turned your attention to your mother where she sat behind you on your bed.

She blinked rapidly; she had been lost in thought when your sudden words had startled her. She lifted herself up off your bed and moved over to stand beside you at your desk, her small frame leaning down over you as she peered down at your page. “Iridocyclitis, if I remember correctly it’s a word of medical origins. It’s been quite some time since I’ve heard that word myself actually.” Your mother confessed as she tapped her forefinger against her bottom lip thoughtfully, her eyes skimming over the sentence that preluded the word. “It doesn’t surprise me Miss Yaoyorozu got it wrong, I failed to spell that word when I first heard it too.”

“You did?” Your eyes lit up as you looked up to your mother’s face, a smile stretching across your face as she gave a small nod of affirmation. “Thank you, mother. I know now what to say.”

“You’re welcome, (Name).” She smiled as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving to leave the room and give you the space you often desired to respond to your letters.

Dear Miss Yaoyorozu,

I find no need for you to apologise for the length of time it took you in responding to my previous letter. There was no disrespect felt or conveyed in any manner and I quite understand the importance of being able to devote oneself to their studies. It saddens me to hear that you feel as such about your academics, it would be my desire to give you a hug if I were there with you now. I’m sure that your fears of falling behind your fellow peers is nothing short of being afraid of failing. My mother informed me that she too failed in being able to spell iridocyclitis as well when she was a girl. I’m positive that with practice and patience, you will overcome the spelling of such difficult words in the future. Perhaps you could reach out towards your fellow peers, invite them to study with you and discover new ways of learning with them.

I am saddened to hear about the Peach Blossom tree, the photo you sent to me of it when it was in bloom in previous years was extraordinarily breathtaking. You shall have to keep me informed on the decisions your mother makes in regards to the garden, its serenity is something that rather appeals to myself.

Bast is doing quite fine now, thank you for asking about her. She has adjusted rather well to her new surroundings now and is instead proving to be quite adventurous of her environment. She is becoming somewhat of a sook and often opts for never leaving my side. I shall enclose a photo of my darling kitten with this letter so you may see for yourself how beautiful she is. I have been cleaning her ears regularly as well as making sure that her skin does not incur a build-up of oils.

My family is doing well, father is as busy as ever and mother is finding new things to keep herself entertained each day. I hope your family is doing just as well, I’m sure they are proud of you. Perhaps when I return home to Japan in the future the two of us can meet then, until then I too look forward to your forthcoming letters.

Sincerely

(First Name) (Last Name)

You smiled happily as you lay your pen down next to your paper, scanning over the words you had scrawled out in reply. You were content for now to communicate with Miss Yaoyorozu through these letters but you would much rather have been happy seeing her in person.

“One day! I will see you one day without fail, Miss Yaoyorozu.” You declared before rising from your desk to embark on the task of locating Bast for her photo.

Delicate fingers ruffled the battered edges of pages in disrepair and diminished over the years. You smiled wistfully as the pad of your forefinger danced gracefully over the indents in the pages where words were scrawled, etched into the depth of the pages by a hand unknowing of its own force. You couldn’t contain the way your smile spread further as you looked down at the all too familiar pages you were holding in your hands, the contents of those pages childish and yet invigorating. The once white pages now discoloured a murky yellow with stains littering them from childish hands that knew no better. These weren’t just any pages you held so lovingly; these were penned to you over the course of several years by one you now considered to own your heart.

You felt almost giddy as you lifted the papers towards your nose, your heart fluttering with elation as you breathed in deep the sweet aroma that even now lingered on those pages. The scent had faded over the years but unlike in your years of childish knowledge, you could now identify exactly what the fragrance was that assaulted your senses. It was an intoxication scent, a mixture of floral with a hint of amber and spices mixed into it. Oh, how you longed to be able to smell that scent anew after all these years and finally see the one of whom it belonged to.

Momo Yaoyorozu, the two of you had exchanged many letters over the years and each one had been as cherished as the next. As the years passed though and things became busier for the both of you, your means of communication had been forced to change in order to better suit your lifestyles. The letters became non-existent and were replaced with daily texts between one another. You had enjoyed the occasional phone call but the hours you got to spend texting with her, were some of your happiest hours of each day.

You were pulled away from your thoughts by the sound of a phone ringing, your eyes falling to the office phone that sat huddled on the corner of your desk. You sighed longingly as you shook your head, retrieving the phone from its cradle before lifting it to your ear. “Good evening, (Name) speaking. How may I help you?”

“My Lady, your car is awaiting you out the front. You need to leave now or you’ll be late to the event tonight.” You blinked as your secretary’s voice came over the line, looking down at the watch wrapped around your wrist and cursing yourself as you realised the time.

“Thank you Uraraka, I seem to have lost track of time up here. Please inform the driver I will be down shortly.” You responded as you opened a drawer, slipping the letters into its depths before returning the drawer to its closed state.

“Of course, My Lady.” Uraraka chimed as she started to hum on the other end of the phone. You were just about to put the phone down when you heard her sudden intake of breath and her scream come through the speaker.

“Yes, Miss Uraraka?” You smiled as you flicked your eyes over to the back of your door, looking at the onyx garment that was hanging there.

“I almost forgot to say, remember your dress is hanging on the back of your door and I brought the shoes you requested from your house over; they’re stored just next to the bookshelf to the right of your door.” She blurted out quickly, as though she were trying to beat someone else to inform you of these things.

“Yes, thank you. I can see the dress on my door and I will find the shoes. Thank you Uraraka, I’ll get changed and head down.” You informed her before placing the phone back down onto the cradle and leaning back in your chair.

You felt as though this night was just going to drag on forever, you wanted nothing more than to already be at this event. You sighed heavily as you pushed yourself forward out of your chair, pressing your hands down onto your desk before hoisting your body up into a standing position. You couldn’t help but to smile as you stalked your way around your desk, your eyes never leaving the garment that hung in the bag. Oh, how you knew this dress well, you hadn’t worn it since you had designed it but now was the time for it to make its debut. You snatched the bag off the door, pulling the plastic away from the hanger before letting it slide down the silky material inside. You smiled happily as you thumbed at the material, your eyes skimming over the garment quickly in search of any flaws that may have revealed themselves.

Satisfied with the quality and integrity of the clothing, you moved quickly to remove the clothes you’d been wearing all day. You couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down your spine as you slipped into the clothing article, smirking as you moved to retrieve your shoes from their hiding place near the bookshelf. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror that stood alone in the corner of your office, your eyes flicking up to your hair where it sat pulled into a tight bun atop your head. You hummed to yourself for a moment, contemplating leaving it as it was before deciding to let it down and watched as it cascaded over your shoulders.

“I think this will about do it.” You whispered to yourself as you ran a hand over your thigh, content with your look before moving to leave your office. It was a quick trip down to the ground floor from your office thanks to the elevator, lord knows you’d have never made it down all those stairs without face planting it at least once.

“Oh… Wow, don’t you look gorgeous?” Uraraka gushed as she leaned against the service desk, her hands clasped over her chest as she stood waiting for your arrival.

“Thank you Uraraka, you look rather stunning yourself.” You returned as you ran your eyes over the dress she was wearing. “Shall we get going then?”

Uraraka nodded as she spun on the spot before moving to grab the front door for you, holding it open as she waited for you to pass through. She trailed behind you as you approached the car, your stride graceful as she watched you walk and only realising you were waiting for her when she almost walked into you. “Ah, sorry My Lady. You just look so beautiful tonight.” She admitted sheepishly as she rubbed at the back of her neck. “I’m certain you’re going to catch a lot of eyes tonight.”

“Is that so?” You murmured softly as you slid into the backseat of the car, propping your elbow up against the window on the other side as you cradled your chin in your hand.

You didn’t hear whatever it was that Uraraka replied to you with, your mind had already drifted off in thought of her comment. You didn’t care for all of the eyes that would be on you tonight, there was only one set that you wished to meet with and that was something you could only hope for. You were pulled from your thoughts when Uraraka tapped your shoulder, realising the car was moving as buildings flashed past the window and you turned to face your companion.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she won’t be able to take her eyes off of you.” Uraraka giggled as she beamed over at you.

Your skin heated as you flushed violently, your eyes lingering on her face as she giggled harder at your reaction. There were days you wished you had never confided in her about your crush on Miss Yaoyorozu, then again you wouldn’t be where you were tonight without her knowing those details. You sighed heavily as you turned your attention back to the buildings out the window, watching as people moved about on the streets. There was something about the bustle of the nightlife in Japan that always managed to capture your attention, you were unused to so much activity during the night.

You had finally returned home to Japan a little over a month ago, Uraraka or Ochaco as she often preferred to have you call her, was one of the first people you had the luxury of meeting. She had taken on the roll as your Secretary when you had offered her the job and the paycheck had been the main thing to hook her. You didn’t blame her; she wanted the money to help her parents with their business and that honestly made you happy to hear. Ochaco was actually the reason you had the chance to see Momo tonight, if it hadn’t been for her then you probably would have had to wait longer. It just so happened that Ochaco ran in the same circle as Momo, her father owning one of the main construction companies that Momo relied on for her work.

Momo Yaoyorozu, she had made quite the name for herself here in Japan and you couldn’t be prouder of her. She had become a leading Architect and was now one of the most highly sought-after people in the whole of Japan, with the occasional job that would have her called overseas on important jobs. She was the one people turned to when they wanted plans and designs for a building, often being the one appointed to oversee the construction of the buildings as well.

“How much longer?” You piped up as you turned to peek over at Ochaco.

“Not too much longer. The opening celebration shouldn’t start until after we get there.” Ochaco responded as she fiddles with the ends of her dress, the several layers scrunched together in her tiny hands. “How do you think YaoMomo will react?”

You smiled at the nickname your friend had given to Momo over the course of the years they had known each other. “Not sure, she doesn’t even know I’m in Japan at the moment.” You whispered thoughtfully as you looked back out the window.

“Wait, what?” Ochaco squeaked as she turned in her seat fully to stare at you. “I thought she knew! I thought you were just surprising her by turning up tonight. You mean to tell me, you’re surprising YaoMomo with being in Japan altogether?”

You nodded as you closed your eyes, pressing your temple up against the cool glass of the window and allowing it to ease some of the tension there. “I just hope she got the package I sent her.”

“Package…” Ochaco frowned before popping her eyes wide as she grabbed a hold of your arm. “That was you? Tell me that’s a joke, you sent her that expensive package the other day?” She squeaked in disbelief.

You giggled as you moved your hand to release her hands from around your arm. “Ochaco, just what exactly do I do for work?”

“You’re a fashion de… oh!” She giggled as she moved to sit properly in her seat. “I see, well played (Name), well played.”

“My Lady, we’ve arrived at your destination.”

The two of you were pulled from the childishness of the moment by the announcement from the driver, your head snapping up instantly to look out at the building outside. It was a magnificent building, a Science Hub built for the youth of Japan to make use of in order to help further their studies and achieve high in their academics. Momo had been the one to spearhead the entire operation and tonight was the Grand Opening of the Hub, not to mention a huge thank you party for the woman herself.

You felt the butterflies spring to life in your stomach as you stared out at the building, suddenly the weight of the situation was suddenly all too real. Somewhere, in the depths of that building was the woman you had spent years exchanging words with and spent endless hours longing to see. Your heart felt as though it was in your throat, beating rapidly as you realised the only thing standing between you and Momo was a set of doors.

You yelped as the door disappeared from in front of you and you suddenly toppled forwards out of the car, thankful for the fact Ochaco was quick on her feet; catching you before you could hit the ground. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you were still leaning against the door.” She apologised profusely as she sat you back up in the car properly.

“It’s fine, probably just the distraction I needed just now.” You smiled as you took her hand, accepting her help as you got out of the car and smoothed out your clothes properly. You turned promptly to thank your driver, bowing to him respectfully before stepping away from the car. You watched as he drove off, turning to face the building as he disappeared and moved off for the entrance.

Your breath was baited as you walked inside the building, your eyes scanning the crowd within as you sought out one person in particular. You watched as Ochaco detached herself from your side and disappeared within the mass of people, one would think you’d be used to this many people with your line of work; truth was you really weren’t! You took a deep breath as you stepped away from the entrance, taking your time to weave through the close-knit crowds and avoid bumping into people along the way. You were beginning to get overwhelmed with the crowds of people as you moved further into the building, feeling as though you’d never be able to locate Momo.

A flash of red. A giggle comparable to wind-chimes. You snapped your head to the right as your eyes locked on to the vibrant red that stood out amongst the crowd, complemented by the dark hair that fell in waves half way down the back of its owner. Your heart raced as you stood there, your teeth pinching your bottom lip between them and chewing on it anxiously. She was splendid, the sight of her standing there in all her elegance was more than your poor heart could handle. You moved without thinking, your feet carrying you across the room until you were standing just behind the woman of your desires. You watched as she bowed respectfully to her company, of whom departed from her and left her standing to herself.

There it was, washing over you in a thick and refreshing wave; the scent of your childhood. “Freesia mixed with sheer Jasmine and a hint of Amber. It’s a rather warm scent, Miss Yaoyorozu.” Your voice was loud enough to reach her ears and you watched as her body stiffened, her hands falling slack to her sides just moments before her body spun in your direction.

“(Name)…”

Your name was but a whisper as it fell from her lips, only for your ears and enough to send your heart into a chaotic flutter. You smiled as you stepped in closer to her, extending your right hand out towards her as you locked eyes with hers. “You didn’t think I would miss this now, did you?” You teased as you tilted your head to the side and awaited her response.

Momo smiled as she moved, forgoing your hand and pulling you in tight against her body in a crushing hug. “What are you doing here? You’re not due back for another month.” She questioned as she nuzzled into the side of your neck.

You blinked as you wrapped your arms around her slender form, your face pressing into her shoulder as you closed your eyes. “I wanted to surprise you.” You confessed as you breathed in, her perfume assaulting your senses as you tightened your grip around her. “I’ve waited so long for this day to present itself.”

“So too have I.” Momo admitted as she placed a tender kiss in the crook of your neck, causing your breath to hitch as you stiffened in her hold. “I want nothing more than to leave this place and head home with you.” She whispered against your ear.

You smiled as your cheeks heated, nuzzling into her shoulder as you hid your face from prying eyes. “We can’t, this is your night Momo.” You reminded her gently as you ran your fingers up along her back tenderly.

“And, it is now complete thanks to your being here.” She declared as she pulled back away from you and looked down into your eyes. Momo blinked as she looked into your eyes, her eyebrows knitting together out of confusion as she released you from her grip. “How did you know about tonight?”

You smiled as you scanned the crowd, your eyes landing on the frilly pink dress and the bob of brunette hair. “I have my ways.” You relucted as you turned your attention back to the woman in front of you.

Momo watched as you stepped back from her, tilting her head as you looked her up and down. “Do I pass your inspection, (Name)?” She asked as a giggle bubbled to life in her chest.

“I have to say, my dress looks much better on you than I had anticipated for it to.” You confessed as you moved to circle around her, taking in the way the gown adorned her body.

The dress she was wearing was one you had made specifically for her and by lords did it work magic when she wore it, or perhaps she was the one working the magic. It was the perfect fit for her figure, hugging her curves in all the right ways while still having enough give so as not to hinder her movements or suffocate her. If you had to describe the image she gave you in that moment, you would compare her to a flame standing proud and elegant in all its glory. The floor length vermilion gown complimented perfectly by the black waves that flowed elegantly over her shoulders. You couldn’t help but to let your eyes slip down to the slits that ran up the sides of the dress, stopping at her hips and exposing the beautiful expanse of her powerful long legs.

“My eyes are up here, (Name).”

“Oh, trust me, I’m well aware where your eyes are my love.” You retorted as you circled her once more before coming to a stop in front of her. “My dress is perfect when worn by you.”

“I was right about it being from you then.” Momo smiled as she skimmed her hand over the fabric covering the front of her thigh. “I had a feeling that might have been the case when I saw the design along the hem of the dress. Peach Blossoms, just like the ones I used to have.”

“I told you, I liked those Peach Blossoms.” You admitted as you peeked down to the blossoms that seemed to be swirling to life with each slight movement Momo made.

“We match, don’t we?” Momo asked as she motioned to your dress and quirked an eyebrow in question.

You nodded in affirmation of her question, flicking your eyes up to her face in time to catch a smile gracing her features. “Beside the colour, our dresses are twins. I designed them myself.”

“Of course.” Momo whispered thoughtfully as she squatted down in front of you, her hand coming out to catch the hem of your dress as she traced her thumb over one of the blossoms. “No-one else could ever capture the true beauty of the blossoms as you could.”

Heat flooded your cheeks as you peered down at Momo, she looked so serene as she was but her current positioning was garnering quite a few unwanted stares from the crowd. You opened your mouth in preparation to say something to her but snapped it shut when you caught sight of a man heading towards the two of you.

“Miss Yaoyorozu, your presence is required at the stage please?” The man stated curtly as he motioned towards a temporary stage that had been set up within the area of the building.

“Yes, I shall be there shortly.” She quipped as she stood from her position and looked straight into your eyes. “Meet me here when this is all over, ok?” You nodded in submission to her request and watched as she was led off by the man.

You stood amongst the crowd as the guests were welcomed and thanked for being there for the grand opening. Your eyes quickly wandered over to where Momo was standing off to the side, blushing when you realised her attention wasn’t on the speaker either but focused solely on you. You smiled, suppressing a giggle as you pointed towards the speaker and Momo reluctantly turned her head back to focus on the man. He thanked her for her dedication and effort that she had put into the project and presented her with an award for her efforts. The crowd applauded her for her achievement and you couldn’t help but to clap along with them; you were so proud of her after all. You listened closely as she thanked the speaker before turning to thank those in the crowd for having attended the opening ceremony tonight.

Before you could register what was happening the crowd erupted into incessant chatter and started to break off into the smaller groups from before. You jolted as your hand was grabbed from nowhere but you were instantly calmed as you locked with onyx orbs staring down at you. A singular tug of your hand was more than enough of a message to let you know what it was Momo wanted from you. You smiled and nodded as she pulled you along after her, only stopping to thank people for their murmurs of congratulations as she made a beeline for the entrance. You shuddered as you stepped out into the cold of the night, the air washing over your skin and you stepped in closer to Momo in order to shield yourself from it.

“(Name)!” You blinked as you peeked up at Momo, her eyes flicking down to your lips as she bit her own bottom lip. “Kiss me!”

The drive to Momo’s house had been nothing but a blur for you, after giving in to her request for a kiss the two of you had hardly been able to keep your hands off one another. It had been a slow and tender kiss but it had quickly turned fevered as you had managed to thread your fingers up into her long hair. The two of you only breaking apart after her driver had cleared his throat several times in order to gain your attention. You’d been snuggled into her side for the entire drive, your mind focused solely on her left hand which she had slipped inside the slit of your dress and allowed to sit atop your thigh.

You giggled as Momo pulled you inside her house, bumping the front door closed with her arse before flicking the lock into place and turning the security system on. You were lost in admiring her hallway and the delicate designs around the awnings when suddenly her hands were on your hips and she was spinning you in place. You squealed as she pushed you, your back pressing up against the cold wall as her thigh slipped between your own and she pinned you beneath her heated gaze. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, pulling on the sensitive flesh as you watched her longingly. Her lips pulled up into a smile as she dipped her head, pressing her lips along your jaw and making her way up towards your ear before biting down behind your ear.

You gasped and mewled as you arched your body in response to her action, your fingers flexing where she held your hands above your head as you rolled your hips forwards. Soft moans left your lips as she chewed on the spot, rolling her tongue over it as she pushed her thigh further between yours. Your breath hitched as her thigh pressed against your folds giving you the pressure, you desperately needed as you rocked your hips forwards. Whimpers and moans left your lips as you shamelessly moved your hips, grinding against her thigh as she littered your neck in a barrage of kisses.

“(Name).” Momo whispered heatedly as she released your arms, her hands coming down to trace over your sides as she pulled at the edges of your dress. “I want you.”

If only this woman knew what those words would do to you. You whimpered as you moved your hands to grasp her shoulders, pushing her back and pinning her against the opposite wall as you looked up into her eyes. “I’ve waited so damn long to hear those words, Momo!” You confessed as you let her go, moving to undo the back of your dress as you kept your eyes on her.

Momo smirked as she pushed off the wall, tucking her fingers beneath the straps of your dress before sliding them down off your shoulders. You shuddered as her fingers ghosted over your skin, only to be followed by her lips as she planted kisses over your exposed skin. You stumbled backwards with her as she urged you down the hallway, kicking her shoes off as she went and continuing to push your dress down your arms. You giggled as you kicked off your shoes, discarding them individually down the hallway as she pushed you further into the depths of her house. Momo stopped as she peered down at you heatedly, releasing your dress and watching as it skimmed over your skin to pool at your feet.

“Perfect.” Her voice was soft as she whispered that singular word and her hands were on your skin. You’d spent years dreaming of having her hands over your skin, of having her mouth and teeth leaving marks over your body.

You slipped your hands up under her hair, searching for the zipper in her dress as you sought to see her body. Momo giggled as her hand came up to replace your own, pulling the zipper of her dress down as she nudged you further down the hallway, her eyes never leaving your body as she greedily drank up your beauty. You watched in awe as she shimmied her dress off her shoulders before letting it fall from her shoulders, only needing to push it down over her hips before it pooled on the floor beneath her. You stood there staring at her as you abused your bottom lip feverishly, your eyes drinking in every bit of her body hungrily. You were so lost in her beauty; you didn’t register that she was getting closer to you until the moment her hands gripped your hips and she lifted you off the ground. You squealed as she moved your body so easily, shivering violently as your arse came into contact with a cold surface and you realised you were now on the counter in her kitchen.

“Momo…” You raised an eyebrow as you looked into her eyes, her lips pulled into a breathtaking smile as she closed the distance between you.

You moaned as she latched her mouth onto your breast, her teeth ghosting over your skin as she teased at the possibilities. You whined as her hands gripped your thighs roughly, her tongue dancing over your chest as she pressed the crown of her head against your throat. You squirmed against her hips as you wrapped your legs around her waist and threaded your fingers into her hair securely. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips parted, her mouth moving lower over your body as she slipped her hands beneath your thighs and started to push them apart. You purred low in pleasure as her teeth sunk into your stomach and hips as she unhooked your legs from around her waist. Your eyes shot open as her hand pressed against your chest and she pushed you down onto the counter. You looked down at her in time to watch her head disappear between your thighs.

Momo smiled as she spread your thighs wide, hooking your legs over her shoulders as she dipped her head in close to your heat. She nuzzled her nose against the lacy material, soaked by the juices leaking from your needy pussy. She flicked her eyes up to your face, watching you as she flicked her tongue out and pressed it flat against your panties. Momo closed her eyes as a soft moan left your lips and she pushed her tongue against your pussy firmer, pressing the material and her tongue between your folds ever so slightly. She hummed low in appreciation as she moved her tongue along your folds, the lacy material of your panties an odd sensation against her tongue as she took in the taste of your juices.

You moaned and squirmed as you tangled a hand further into her hair as you arched your back, you wanted more from her but you knew she was enjoying herself. You gasped and bucked your hips as she located your clitoris, pulling it between her teeth and rolling it delicately between them. A wanton moan left your lips as you curled your toes, the fabric of your panties only adding to the sensation against your clitoris.

“Momo… Please?” You pleaded as you rolled your hips desperately and pulled on her hair.

Momo giggled as she lifted her head from between your thighs, looking down at your face as she pulled your panties down along your legs before throwing them out of the kitchen. “As you wish, (Name). Such a pretty voice when you beg.”

You blushed violently as you looked up at Momo, watching as she flicked her tongue out over her lips before diving back down between your thighs. You were about to argue with her when she lapped her tongue along your pussy, cleaning up your juices as they flowed. You moaned as she hooked your thighs over her shoulders and pushed her hot tongue into your pussy. You bucked your hips as you tightened your grip on her hair, her tongue pushing deep within your pussy as she wriggled it about.

Momo smiled as she closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but to be enticed by your taste as she pushed her tongue deeper into your heat. She moved her tongue about, pressing it against your walls roughly as she savoured your flavour. She smirked as she flicked her tongue about, satisfied when she heard your breath hitch and your body arched off the counter. Your hand pulled on her hair roughly as your hips rolled down to press against her face as she found that spot inside of you. Momo hummed low as she licked feverishly, lapping up your juices as she rubbed her tongue against your spot. She snaked a hand around your thigh, pressing her thumb against your clitoris before rubbing it in a tight circle and causing you to cry out her name.

You threw your head back as your body arched off the counter, a rush of pleasure coursing through your body as Momo assaulted your senses from inside and out. You curled your toes against her back as you moaned, whimpering her name as you moved your free hand to grip the counter. You cried out as you bucked your hips, Momo’s tongue relentlessly pushing against your walls before rubbing over your spot in a disorientating cycle. Wait, what was that?

“Holy fuck!” You cursed as a metal ball pressed against the walls of your quivering pussy; Momo had a friggen tongue piercing! Fuck you loved this woman, she seemed to be full of surprises but by the gods was she damn good with her tongue.

You let your head loll back over the edge of the counter, your hand tightening in her hair as you slowly let your eyes slip open. Red. That was the first thing that registered in your mind, red orbs filled with distaste as they glared at you from across the room. You gasped and moaned as you blinked desperately trying to clear your vision of its lust filled haze. You stiffened as your eyes locked with crimson eyes set in a scowl and your body instantly seized up. You flicked your eyes over the occupant on the other side of the room and realisation suddenly set in to your fogged brain. You screamed as you sat upright on the bench, pulling Momo’s head up from between your thighs as you blushed furiously.

“You fucking done now?” The gruff voice came from behind you as the sound of shuffling feet could be heard approaching you both.

“Hardly even, we were just getting started.” Momo quipped up as she stood in front of you and wrapped her arms around your form, her lips pressing against your ear.

“Yeah, on my fucking counter!” He growled as he moved, coming into your vision as he walked around the counter and went to what you presumed to be the fridge.

“It’s not like you’ve never fucked anyone on this counter.” She shot back quickly as she looked over her shoulder at the blonde man behind her. “Need I name a particular brunette I keep finding on your counter?”

“MY COUNTER, damn it Ponytail!” He snarled as he slammed the fridge shut and took a long gulp from the bottle of water he’d retrieved from its depths.

“Very well Bakugou, I shall take her to my bedroom.” Momo relucted as she nuzzled into your neck and opted for ignoring her housemate. Somehow it had managed to slip your mind that Momo shared her house with the one and only Katsuki Bakugou, a well-known lawyer who was yet to lose a case and was her own legal representative.

“Good.” He huffed out before moving to head back across the room. “And pick up the damn peach blossoms in the fucking hallway!” He growled before disappearing into a different part of the house.

You blinked as you peeked around Momo’s shoulder and peered back down the hallway, it did indeed look like scattered Peach Blossoms with your belongings scattered the way they were. You smiled despite the situation and burst into laughter as you pressed your forehead against her shoulder. “What now?” You asked softly as you kissed her neck tenderly.

“I finish my meal!” She declared before sinking back down between your thighs.

#momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #momo yaoyorozu x reader #yaoyorozu momo x reader #quirkless!au #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #scenario #lemon #pen pal collab #collab #bnha imagines #mha imagines #boku no hero academia imagines #my hero academia imagines #lesbian peanut writer

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

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Clarity

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 18: Miner Complications, Pt 1

"So...what's the point of this thing again?" Emma asked, as she walked along the sidewalk with her son. He shrugged.

"I don't know really...just curse stuff I guess. It's to celebrate the town's founding by the miners, but that didn't really happen," Henry replied.

"You know, there are mines under the town. You fell into one," Emma reminded him.

"Those are dwarf mines," he countered.

"Dwarf mines...right," Emma said stiffly.

"You know it's true now," he said.

"Henry," she started to protest.

"But you're still in denial," he added. She huffed.

"Okay fine...then if I'm supposed to break the curse, how do I do that?" Emma asked. He shrugged.

"I don't know...it just says that you do. Even Mr. Gold can't see how," Henry replied.

"Which makes no sense...and why me?" Emma asked. He sighed.

"Because you're the product of true love and true love can break any curse, just like Gramps broke the sleeping curse on Grams," he explained.

"Well...then why can't they break it? Sounds like they've done it before," Emma said. He shook his head.

"It doesn't work that way. That was a sleeping curse and this curse was designed so only the Savior can break it," Gold interjected, as he approached with Neal. She sighed.

"Yeah and besides, Grams and Gramps kiss all the time so it would have broken already if they were the ones that could do it," Henry added.

"He definitely has a point," David said, chuckling, as he and Snow approached as well. Emma refused to meet eyes with Mary Margaret and instead focused on her son.

"Well...then I'm about to be a huge disappointment to everyone, because I don't know how to break the curse and I'm not sure I even want to," she said, as she stalked off, but not before almost colliding with Tamara.

"Sorry," he said, as she blew past her.

"Is she okay?" Tamara asked, as she sided up to Neal.

"Uh yeah...we just disagree about some things, but she'll come around," Neal replied.

"Is this about custody arrangements?" Tamara asked.

"Uh no...we're on the same page when it comes to custody," Neal replied.

"Then Emma is going to move to New York?" Tamara asked.

"Move to New York?" Mary Margaret interjected.

"Uh no...Emma's not moving to New York," Neal assured her.

"But baby...this is a nice town, but we're going to eventually have to go home," Tamara said.

"Yeah...can we talk for a minute?" he asked, as he prodded her off to the side, leaving Snow, David, and Gold with Henry.

"She's trouble," Snow muttered.

"Agreed," Gold said.

"We don't know that yet...I mean, it's natural for her to not get why Neal might want to stay here now," David reasoned.

"Trust me dearie...she knows more than she's letting on. I know people and that one needs to find her way out of town as soon as possible," Gold said.

"I agree...but she is engaged to your son. This could be messy," Snow replied.

"Probably...but Neal's not leaving. He won't do that to Henry. He knows that they both belong here," David assured her.

"I hope you're right," Gold said.

~*~

Regina seethed, as she watched her son with them. She couldn't believe that she had no choice but to let them have visitation. Henry had always spent Miner's Day with her, but things had drastically changed. There were now outsiders in her town, Mary Margaret was no longer alone and miserable, and her son's biological family now surrounded him. And it had to be them...the two idiots and her former mentor. His grandparents. It made her sick thinking about it.

"Regina…" Kathryn said, as she approached.

"Hello Kathryn...this must be hard for you, seeing them here together," Regina replied.

"Actually...it's not that bad," Kathryn said. Regina's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

"Well…I've had a lot of time to think and I mean, look at them. Even in our best days, David never looked at me the way he does her. And I deserve to be looked at like that," Kathryn said.

"Of course you do...that's why we have to fix this. They don't belong together. He belongs with you," Regina insisted.

"No...he doesn't. Look at them," Kathryn said again, as they saw the pair with wide smiles for each other. They were practically dancing in the middle of the street in their own little world. It made her want to vomit.

"I'd rather not," she seethed.

"If you knew about David being in a coma at the hospital...why didn't you tell me sooner than you did?" Kathryn asked. Regina's brows furrowed again.

"What? I did...I called you as soon as I found out," she insisted.

"But you were his emergency contact. You would have known the moment he was brought in and yet he was labeled a John Doe. He was there for years," Kathryn said. Her eyes narrowed.

"Who told you this?" Regina asked.

"David and Mary Margaret pointed it out," Kathryn replied. She clenched her teeth.

"Of course they did...they are putting lies in your head," Regina said.

"Or maybe you are. I'm letting David go...why can't you let it go too? They're happy and I'm going to find happiness now too. David and I aren't right for each other," Kathryn replied.

"But you are," Regina insisted.

"No...the whole reason he was in the accident is that he was leaving me after a huge fight! Why are you insisting that we should be together when he wants her. They're happy," Kathryn said.

"Well, she shouldn't be!" Regina snapped and Kathryn recoiled.

"She's a monster…" she hissed, as she glared at her step-daughter.

"She's the tramp that stole your husband and gave my little boy that book that filled his head with delusions. She needs to pay and you're going to help me make her," Regina insisted. But Kathryn shook her head.

"No…I'm not," the blonde said, as she walked away.

"Kathryn…" Regina called, but her call wasn't yielded. She had lost complete control now. Her plan to frame Mary Margaret for Kathryn's murder was now no longer a viable or believable plan. But this wouldn't stand and she would come up with another way to destroy her. She had not come this far, only to have everything unravel. She turned and nearly bumped into a blonde woman. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

"Who the hell are you?" Regina asked. She couldn't believe it...this woman was not a part of her curse either. Another outsider and she was at a loss as to explain it. The woman smirked.

"Someone who hates that little retch as much as you," the woman cooed, as she walked away. Regina watched her go, reeling from her answer. She had no idea what to make of this, but if this mysterious woman hated Snow too...then she was an ally.

~*~

"What did you want to talk about?" Tamara asked, as they found a quiet place.

"Listen…I know that all of this is really new and out of the blue…" he started to say. Tamara smiled and squeezed his hand.

"It's okay Neal, I get that you have to hang around this town until the trial is over and if you're worried about not getting custody, don't be. I think your chances are very good," she replied.

"Thanks...but that's not everything," he said, as he took a deep breath.

"The thing is...I need to move here. For good," he said. She blanched.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I know this is sudden...but this is Henry's home and he doesn't want to leave it," Neal replied.

"Neal...I get that it will be a difficult transition for Henry, but we have a life in New York! And I'm sure once he gets adjusted, it will be fine, you'll see that," she insisted.

"It's a lot more complicated than that. My Dad is here...and Emma has family here too," he said.

"You told me that Emma was an orphan; that she had been abandoned as a baby," Tamara recalled. He stared at her with wide eyes. Crap...he had told her that.

"Yeah...but Mary Margaret is like family to her and I know she doesn't want to leave her," Neal explained.

"Emma can barely look at Mary Margaret lately. She doesn't approve of her torrid relationship with a married man," Tamara pointed out.

"It's not torrid and David is divorced now. Believe me, Emma will mend her relationship with her...Mary Margaret and Henry adores them too. They're family to him as well," he said. She shook her head.

"I don't understand any of this," she refuted.

"I know...it's hard, but staying here in Storybrooke is absolutely what's best for my son," he said.

"And...things are slowly mending between my father and me," he added.

"You told me that you hated your father! Tamara said.

"Things change!" he exclaimed. She huffed.

"Well...then I guess you have a choice to make, because I'm not moving here, Neal. We can have a good life in New York...with your son. Emma can either come or not, I don't care. But if you win custody...then you need to move back to New York with me, because I'll be going with or without you," she said, as she stormed off. He sighed and put on a brave face, as Henry waved him over excitedly. He joined his son and didn't let on that anything was amiss.

~*~

Many Years Ago

Queen Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust, as her carriage rode through one of the poor villages in her Kingdom. The royal coffers were nearly empty, yet she continued her lavish spending on frivolity. Her court was urging her to marry so there could be a merger, but none of the suitors appealed to her. They were either handsome and vain like her, which meant they would be focused on themselves instead of her. And the ones willing to shower her with everything were usually old and or ugly.

Add to that, her sister's due date grew closer and the more it did, the more unhinged she became. The moment her niece drew breath, she would become the fairest in the land and it was driving Narcissa insane. Everyday since she had found out, she asked her mirror the same question, now sometimes two or three times a day, hoping for a different answer. But the mirror's answer remained unchanged. She was the fairest in all the lands, but her niece would soon usurp her. So today, she had set out to do something about it.

Her carriage arrived at its destination and she emerged, causing gasps among the peasants. Queen Narcissa rarely left the comforts and safety of her castle, so it was a rare occurrence when she did.

"Where is she, footman? Where is this witch you promised could help me?" she demanded of him.

"Her message assured me she would be here, My Queen. As long as we provided the gold for her trip. She is coming from Dunbroch, after all," he said.

"She'll have her gold," Narcissa snapped, as there was a cackle from one of the traveling stands at the edge of the marketplace.

"I'd rather have some of those baubles you're wearing," the witch said.

"My diamonds?" the Queen asked.

"You do want a solution to your problem, do you not?" the witch questioned. Narcissa reluctantly parted with two of her large diamond rings.

"My magic mirror insists that once my niece is born...that I will no longer be the fairest in all the land," Narcissa confessed.

"How troubling…" the witch said, though by her tone, it was easy to tell that she meant that snidely.

"She must never be born!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"My, my...such hatred for a child and all because she might be prettier than you?" the witch asked.

"I am the fairest of all!" Narcissa shouted.

"No one can take that from me...can you help me or not?" she asked. The witch took a long pause and then produced a vial of sickly green liquid.

"See that this makes it into your sister's tea on her next visit...and it will cause her to miscarry," the witch said. Narcissa smirked deviously and looked at the vial.

"But be warned...killing a child will darken your heart beyond repair," the witch warned.

"I'm not killing a child...I'm killing a little mongrel," Narcissa insisted, as she got back into her carriage and was off again with a satisfied smirk. Once her sister drank her tea laced with this potion...her place as fairest in the land would be secure once again...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Emma Swan #Neal Cassidy #Henry Mills #Mr. Gold #Regina Mills #OC #A 7x15 am AU #romance #adventure #family #drama #clarity #AU

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connorspiracy · 4 years ago

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Amulet You Finish || Connor, Ariana & Agatha

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @connorspiracy @detective-keen @letsbenditlikebennett CONTENT: Death SUMMARY: Ariana and Connor are out for a walk in the woods looking for something to film when they stumble upon a crime scene.

Despite Connor’s affinity toward the supernatural and loving catching it on film, Ariana found she was able to just be a young adult around him. Like she didn’t have to think of the worries and planning that had been plaguing her for too long now. That would all come to an end soon enough, but for this afternoon, they were just a pair of friends enjoying walking through one of White Crest’s many trails in hopes of finding something cool for Connor to film. While it wasn’t necessarily the safest of hangouts, Ariana knew the woods well enough to be confident against anything they may come across. The path they walked today wasn’t one that could be found on the internet. She discovered it almost entirely by chance on a run one day and it had quickly become her favorite. There was a certain serenity that came with the less traveled trails. It allowed her to relax a bit more when her senses weren’t firing off at some new sound or smell quite so frequently. It was nice to be able to share it with Connor. “I’m sure there’s bound to be something out here. Since the full moon just passed, I think I can rely on brute strength alone without becoming furry if it comes to it. I’d rather not be werewolf public enemy number one on the internet and all.”

Connor had come to White Crest just looking for content. He'd expected to find it everywhere, and he hadn't been disappointed. There was always something happening, and his main problem seemed to be that most of it was too outlandish for anyone to believe could be anything but special effects. He hadn't expected to actually find friends. At least not like this. It was kind of strange having people he liked hanging out with, filming or not, but he was even luckier they didn't have objections to his video-camera shenanigans.

He had a chest mount with one of his lighter cameras attached so he'd be able to leave his hands free for balance, but even still, it was clear Ari was much more comfortable on the trails than he was. "You're like a proper woodsie person, right? I can tell. I suppose it comes with the wolf territory." Made sense to be familiar with the woods around here so you had a good place to transform away from everyone else. "What do you usually do on the full moon?" he asked, curious.

To say she was a woodsy person was a bit of an understatement. In more ways than not, Ariana was a wolf and the woods were where she felt most at ease though her own home was starting to rival that feeling. She laughed a bit as she leaped off one of the steeper parts of the trail with ease. “You could say that. I actually lived in a tent for a while. Wolf things don’t hurt with that either. I spend a lot of time here whether it’s the full moon or not. It just feels right.” She shrugged a bit. She supposed it would be hard for a human to totally understand, but it seemed like Connor wanted to understand which was nice. It didn’t seem like he had a judgmental bone in his body which was always refreshing. “Oh, I usually go very deep out into the forest where there aren’t trails or anything. No chance of anyone showing up. Just me and the forest animals… which are admittedly delicious.” She laughed a bit and hoped her answer sufficed. This full moon had been different, but that was not of her own design. “I wouldn’t recommend going into any part of the woods on a full moon though. There’s not much in the way of control to be found for myself and other wolves.” She scaled another dip in the trail and kept a close ear out for their surroundings. Nothing smelled off either. “Filmed anything good recently?”

The woods felt as if they were becoming darker, perhaps the canopy of leaves growing thicker as they made their way deeper into the forest. It was obvious just how at home Ari seemed. Sometimes it struck Connor just how different their worlds were. There were things about Ariana he'd probably never quite understand, but that just made her interesting company. "I've done plenty of filming campouts, but I can't imagine living in a tent," Connor murmured, shaking his head in disbelief with a good-natured little laugh. "The posh London boy in me is mortified at the idea."

He nodded with interest as she spoke about her full moon habits. The camera wasn't turned on yet, so nothing was being picked up, no risk of her being outed to the world. Connor wasn't opposed to taking advantage of a situation to get the shot, but there were some things that were off-limits, even to him. He shuddered slightly and laughed at the mention of the animals. "Rabbit and venison are great, but raw? You must have a fucking strong stomach." The conversation turned back to him, and he gave a noncommittal shrug. "Rio and I did a haunted cabin. We should be editing it soon. I kinda didn't film too much during the whole Bloody Mary shit." He ducked under a branch, using the trunk of the tree as leverage to help him balance as he made his way around a particularly nasty root, knotted like ropes. "Was there something in particular you were hoping to show me out here, or are you just looking to make a wilderness boy outta me?"

While Ariana did love the coziness of her warm bed, especially considering it had been warmer as of late, the comforts most considered necessities had never been so much so for her. She shrugged and said, “It was a bit out of necessity. We were on the run most of my life, but I never really minded. Out here feels like home in its own way.” She laughed a bit at the mention of being posh. “So you’re more of a glamping kind of guy?” If she hadn’t been leading the way and sniffing out what was ahead, she would have given him a playful nudge.

It was evident to her that Connor was curious about werewolf life. To her, it had never been that fascinating. It was just who she was. Ingrained in every cell of her body. “I wouldn’t recommend it for you. I mean, even when I look like this I cook them. When I look more like a wolf, well-- Wolves are kind of meant to hunt and eat fresh. Needless to say, all around I have a strong stomach.” She perked up at the mention of a haunted cabin. While she dreamed of a cabin, she could live without the haunted part, but she assumed it was no more. “That’s pretty dope. I can’t wait to see it. Probably a good idea though. Bloody Mary was kind of a nightmare and dangerous.” As soon as he asked the question, she raised a hand to quiet him. Something off in the distance caught her ear. While she didn’t smell anything that seemed like a beast, it sounded like there was some sort of struggle. She whispered, “I hear something. Didn’t have anything planned, but figured I’d sniff something out for you to film.” She motioned for him to stick close. “Move quietly and stay behind me.” She looped through the trees, following the sound of a fight ahead. They were still too far away to tell whether it was more of the supernatural or human variety.

“Give me a fancy RV any day of the week mate,” Connor said, pulling his vape out of his pocket as they walked because he had a feeling Ariana wouldn’t exactly be keen on him dumping cigarette butts in the woods. “At least have it parked nearby so I can get in there if I need to take a shower or something.” Something about washing his balls in a cold creek just didn’t really appeal to him. “It’s cool that it’s like a home to you, though. It is pretty nice out here. I just like my creature comforts too much,” he snickered. Slightly lower chance of being eaten by some kind of monster back at home, too. But only slightly.

He would have happily kept chatting away about the woods and hunting game all afternoon if not for the sudden change in Ariana’s entire body. Connor didn’t hear anything, but he practically felt the hairs on the back of her arms standing on end. He nodded, saying nothing as he made himself smaller, crouching and trying not to break an excessively loud twig under the weight of his boots as he moved through the golden and red carpet of autumn leaves on the forest floor. “What is it?” he finally whispered, quiet as he could muster. Everything seemed completely normal to him, but he supposed those were the perks of having a werewolf friend.

Ariana enjoyed the comforts her home offered her as much as the next person, but she found humans needed it far more than she did. She saw little issue with hopping into the creek the way she did the morning after the full moon to clean off. A patch of grass was just as much home as her bed was... Though maybe as of late that wasn’t entirely true. Her ideal would be a nice little secluded cabin in the woods. Those little daydreams quickly faded as she followed where her nose and ears led her. She was light on her feet and conscious of their surroundings. She paused briefly, picking the way to go and answering Connor’s question. “It sounds like there’s some sort of fight breaking out. You may want to stay a good deal back. You can still film. I’ll try not to get all ‘grr’,” she said with a little claw like hand motion.

“This way,” Ariana directed as they made their way to a small clearing. There were two men in ski masks beating up on an elderly man. The coppery smell of blood coated the air as she got close and her eyes settled on the knife. Shit. By the smell of it, it seemed everyone was human. Not that she could really discern other non-shifting species from humans all that easily. She quietly snuck through the brush and let out a low growl to distract the men. It was purposefully intimidating and she stayed out of their line of sight. One of the men’s heads shot up and looked terrified. “What the shit was that?” The other man scanned the area and responded, “I don’t know, but we’ll leave him to whatever it is. He’s bleeding out anyway.”

Another snarl resonated through the cleared area and the two men went running, not keen on seeing where the sound came from. Once Ariana could tell they were far enough away, she emerged from the brush, pulling her first aid kit out of her bag as she moved. “Where are you hurt? Who were those men?” She questioned the older man, who could only point to the stab wound on his torso.

Connor’s eyes widened at the mention of a fight. Keen as he might be to get some good footage, getting in the middle of a physical altercation was rarely his idea of a good time. “Wait, okay--I’m turning the camera on.” He didn’t want her to accidentally wolf out mid-frame, but he knew how important it might be to have the incident on film if something happened. The sounds of a scuffle were growing clearer as they grew closer, and Connor called to Ari in an urgent whisper. “Shit. Maybe you shouldn’t--just be careful.” Most of Connor’s confidence and charm went right out the window as soon as a fight became part of the equation, but he edged closer to the sounds, keeping his body low to the ground. He could see a gathering of what looked to be men, surrounding someone who was clearly in pain. The words ‘bleeding out’ stuck out like a sore thumb.

He ducked behind a bush, heart beating so loudly he was sure the camera would pick it up. He was certain they were going to come find them, to kill them just like they had killed the poor man who was lying prone on the ground, apparently, bleeding out. Once they were gone, he finally breathed again, following Ari out of the bush, the camera falling on the ground as he rushed to the man’s side. “Shit, there’s blood everywhere. Bloody hell--we’ve gotta call an ambulance.” But how the hell was an ambulance supposed to find them out here? It was no use. He’d be dead by the time anyone made it through the woods. Connor was holding his phone, hands trembling as he dialled anyway, but a pair of white hands, quickly growing colder, gripped his. “Keep it safe,” the man whispered, pushing an amulet that seemed to appear from nothingness into Connor’s sweaty palm, and then his eyes fell shut. “Ari-- Ari, I think he’s dead…” Without thinking he stuffed the amulet into his pocket, calling 911.

There was a certain panic that rose in Ariana when she saw just how bad his injuries were. Her hands gravitated toward the stab wound on his stomach and she grabbed a wad of gauze and pressed down on it to slow the bleeding. She could attempt to stitch it up here, but she had no concept of whether any of his internal organs were damaged. Would she just be doing more harm than good. There was no time for doubt, she applied pressure to the wound to help it clot, but her hands just ended up covered in more and more blood. “Focus on me,” she told the man, “We’re going to get you out of here, okay?” The more blood that soaked through the gauze as Connor spoke of calling 911, the less hope she had. This man was older and this was a lot of trauma for his body to go through. “I’m Ariana, and that’s Connor. We’re going to get you help, okay?” Her voice managed to sound much calmer than she felt and for a brief moment, she felt as if maybe she embraced some of Celeste’s essence. An alarmed look crossed her face when an amulet appeared out of seemingly nowhere and was placed in Connor’s hands. “Keep it safe? What is it?” Before she could get answers to her questions, she felt him sputter underneath her hands. “Wait, no!” She raised a hand up to quiet Connor for a moment as she tried to hear the elderly man’s heartbeat. Nothing. “He is- He’s dead. There’s no heartbeat. We need the police, not an ambulance.” At least Regan couldn’t give her shit for not reporting this one right away.

“I know, I know--” It was tough to say what was trembling more; Connor’s hands, or his voice. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from crying. Jesus, was he in shock? He didn’t know what this was supposed to feel like, but it hadn’t been what he had in mind when Ari told him they could go look for something to film in the woods. When dispatch answered, he struggled to get the words out. “H-hello? I need-- police. They stabbed him. He’s dead. I--it’s in the woods, I don’t even know where we are…” After some back and forth questions, Connor struggling to explain what trails they’d been on and Ariana needing to stop in to help him, they finally hung up and told the two of them to wait right there and not to touch anything. Connor stepped back, hands and clothes covered in blood. “What… what do we do?”

Ariana stood there silently looking at the body with a look of horror on her face. Why had this happened and why was it that she always seemed to be too late when it came to saving others? The tremble in Connor’s voice as he spoke to law enforcement on the phone didn’t go unnoticed, so she stood a little taller and put on her brave face. She could do this though she needed to keep reminding herself of it. “We have to wait until they get here. Other things out here might smell the blood. I’ll be on lookout duty.” With the anxiety that was coursing through her, every sound picked up in a near grating way. As she remembered he handed Connor something, she turned to him and asked, “What was it that he wanted you to keep safe?”

Connor reached in his pocket, feeling for the amulet. He didn’t really want to touch it, and yet in the same vein, he never wanted to let it go. Something about it activated a sixth sense in him. It felt normal. It looked normal. But it wasn’t normal. He held it up for Ariana to see, almost reluctantly, but then his eyes caught sight of the black and silver object on the ground. “Fuck, my camera--” He tried to remember if they’d said anything incriminating, about Ari being a wolf. They hadn’t, right? They hadn’t talked about it on camera because he knew he wouldn’t be able to use any of that footage. “I don’t think I’m supposed to touch it.” He was normally all too happy to break the law, but trespassing and interfering in a murder investigation were on completely different levels. “How long do you think it’ll take them to get here?”

Agatha, along with two police officers strode through the woods. It had been 10 minutes already since she responded to the call on her radio. With only a rough idea of where to find these people, they moved carefully. Here was their dilemma. Whoever had done this was still around, and if they were noisy, they would miss them, but if they did not hurry, they would miss them too. On top of that, they had to take into account this very simple fact: the woods were a dangerous place. Agatha, of all people knew this much, having lost her father to the woods. Looking at the two other police officers, she wondered if they felt anguish, being stuck with a Keen in the woods. The detective took a deep breath, stopping to gain her composure and calm back. She did not need those insecurities now, or ever, and yet, after all these years, all the good work she had done, she still asked herself if she was doing enough, good enough. Minutes passed, silent, lonely. No wind, no deer, nothing. “Well, I hope that kid didn’t get his trails wrong,” she checked her map and took out her compass, sighing. “What would you say? We must be around here?” She pointed to a spot on the map and scratched at her ear. “We have to split to find them,” she didn’t like that idea, but what choice did they have? They nodded in agreement, and each one went their separate way, circling around the same spot.

Each minute felt entirely too long as the pair sat in silence waiting for the police to arrive. Ariana couldn’t stop staring at her blood covered hands that had tried so hard to stop the man’s bleeding. Just like Sammy, she couldn’t save him despite her efforts. It left her limbs feeling numb as she slumped against a tree. Moments ago, she’d wanted to be brave for Connor and the old man, but she found it was quickly fading now that there was no longer an action for her to take. There had to be something to do here, but they weren’t supposed to touch anything. Even if she started pacing, she’d risk covering the track the murderers left behind. She heard the police approaching and trying to find their spot. For a moment, she stayed quiet knowing they were too far away to hear her even if she were to call out. Once the light patter of footsteps was closer, she called out, “We’re over here.” She stood up and started to wave them over.

It was rarely a good thing when Connor was exposed to the police. He’d been lucky most of the time, not getting in too much trouble over his trespassing and filming, his white privilege and family money certainly not hurting the situation. This was different though. He’d witnessed a fucking murder, and though they had the murder on film, no reason for either himself or Ariana to be suspected, he couldn’t help but be afraid. “Hey,” he called, joining in with Ariana. “This way! The body’s over here.”

“The body’s over here,” Agatha muttered to herself, blinking and shaking her head in surprise. If only it were usually so easy. Approaching the voices, she kept her weapon in her hand, wondering who she might land on. The sight of those two college kids did seem to ease her tension, and she approached the pair, and the deceased man with caution. “Did you see what happened?” She squatted down. Her hand went to the man’s wrist, trying and failing to catch a pulse. By the state of the wounds, there was not much she could have done to help him anyway. Looking up at the pair, she frowned, and her expression did not soften as she caught sight of the camera, “you wouldn’t have happened to film this, would you?” If they did, then this might have been her easiest case for this whole year.

A detective she didn’t recognize approached them, but this was a seemingly normal crime. Minus the weird amulet at least. There was nothing to hide here. By all indication, everything was incredibly human. Ariana finally took her eyes off the body and looked at the cop that was speaking to them. “There were two men in masks, I don’t know why they--” she couldn’t think of what could possibly drive this. She looked down at her own bloody hands and mumbled, “I tried to help-- I know a decent amount of first aid and how to do-- He was dead before I could do anything.” Now that she didn’t have to be the one on guard, she felt her composure slipping. She wanted to go home and pretend like none of this had ever happened. Her eyes glazed over as she found herself staring at the body, Agatha’s next question not quite registering.

Connor tried to keep his cool, reminding himself that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Ari was covered in blood. So was he, but less so. His eyes fell on the camera that had caught the entire thing, pointing to it, his hand trembling ever so slightly. “We were just filming the woods, and each other, making a video for YouTube. I dropped the camera when we saw them. I don’t know how much it caught.” But given the position compared to the body, he figured it had caught a fair amount. Too much to risk lying. “He gave me this,” Connor said, holding out the amulet. “I don’t know why. I don’t think he wanted whoever killed him to take it.”

“That’s alright, you did the best you could. You could have never saved him,” Agatha assured the young woman, wiping her hands clean. With a pen, she pushed open the dead man’s jacket, to check for a wallet, a phone, anything that might help identifying him, and reaching his relatives. “You did your best,” she repeated, her expression softer. The boy started speaking, and she gave him a look. He did not seem too comfortable, and while she couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else behind it, witnessing a murder did tend to do this to people, and she decided to drop that thought for now. “I’ll need to take your camera. We’ll give it back to you, don’t worry,” she added before he could try protesting. “He wanted you to take it, then? Did he say something?” She reached out to Connor with a plastic pouch. “Drop it in there, please,” whatever this thing was, it had to be the key.

Ariana had heard the sentiment too many times to really let it resonate. Sure, it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t kill the man. There wasn’t much she could have done to save him either, but the fact didn’t change that she and death were becoming far too closely acquainted. She nodded her head and mumbled, “I know, I just… I don’t know.” There was a spaced out look on her face as Agatha continued to speak and ask questions. She remembered the man dropping the amulet into Connor’s hand and wanting them to keep it safe. But why? What was so important about a necklace that it needed to be kept safe. It’d be safe with the police at least. The idea of helping guard some amulet on top of everything else made her head spin. It was good the cops would have it. At least she hoped. She could ask Jane to make sure it didn’t do anything sketchy to the other cops. “He said to keep it safe, I think. Right, Connor?” She rubbed her hands on her arms to warm herself and became acutely aware of just how much blood was on her. Her hands dropped back to her side and she asked, “Do we need to come with you?” Everything in her hoped it was a no. She wanted to jump in the creek and rid herself of the old man’s blood that was now fogging up her senses.

Connor really didn't want to hand over either his camera or the amulet, but this bloody mess (literally and figuratively) of a situation hadn't left him with much of a choice. He swallowed, nodding. "I know. Just be careful with it, yeah? It's an expensive model." He didn't want it to go missing in police custody. "He just said to keep it safe? I think whoever killed him was looking for it, but they didn't find it on him. I..." It had been hidden in some way, by supernatural means, but he couldn't exactly say that. "I don't know why he gave it to us. I suppose because we tried to help him. He trusted us." And the question he doubted the police could ever answer was what was it, and what did those people want with it? Connor reluctantly handed everything over. They headed to the station to have his clothes taken for evidence and give a statement, and on the car ride, he looked at Ariana, silently communicating. We need to get that thing back.

#paras #with: ari #with: agatha

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donteattheappleshook · 5 years ago

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Of Cars and Bars Chapter 14/14

Here it is, after three years, the epilogue to Of Cars and Bars. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and commented and sent kudos/liked or reblogged here or on Ao3 or Fanfiction.net. Every single one brought me so much joy and made me keep writing even when I didn't think I could. I hope you like the ending I gave these two idiots.

Also, as always, thank you to @kmomof4 for all your amazing help and support writing this story <3 Dedicating it to you for the last time :’(

Also thanks to @artistic-writer for helping me start this freaking epilogue when I was tearing my hair out!

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Epilogue - Heal Me

I wasn't looking for you / But I think maybe I was and didn't know / Oh this is love like wildness / Coursing through you like a drug

The trial had dragged on for another month. Another month of long nights and exhausting days at the end of which Killian came home to the tiny apartment he shared with his brother and his sister-in-law drained and worn out both emotionally and physically. But it was different now than it had been. Because Emma was there. She’d stayed. She’d joined them in their cramped little two bedroom until all of the drama was over and they were finally able to go back to New York.

It had been fun if he was honest. Sure, the four of them had been practically living on top of each other, but he felt supported, surrounded by love. He and Emma spent that month sneaking around like teenagers, occasionally waking up to disapproving looks from Liam and Belle, but they didn’t hold any real venom. He could tell that they were happy he had Emma.

Emma had been worried that Liam wouldn’t forgive her. She’d told him the whole story, about how she’d promised Liam back when they were on tour that she wouldn’t break his heart and when she had, Liam had called her out on it. While he was annoyed with his brother for meddling in his life, it was also another reminder that he had a family who would always look out for him.

Liam had forgiven her. Easily, to everyone’s surprise. He’d said that he understood that sometimes it took time for people to realise their mistakes and do the right thing. Killian was shocked to hear those words come from his brother’s mouth. He was always so black and white. Perhaps Belle was rubbing off on him. But maybe it was because she had come back and Liam realized that the present and future were what mattered, not the past. Whatever the reason was, he was glad that the two most important people in his life had made peace.

Gold had been denied probation, had been denied a mistrial and he was sent back to prison. He would likely have another chance at parole, another chance to appeal the decision, but they would deal with that when they came to it. For now, justice had been served and Killian could finally rest, feeling that Milah had been avenged in some way.

When the dust had settled, they’d headed back to the States. Originally, they had wanted to start their tour right away but had decided that it was better to wait until the next summer. Besides, the Ugly Ducklings were in the middle of recording an album and Robin wanted them to finish it - wanted to have it drop while there was still some summer left. He also suggested that it would be better for them to tour after the record had been released so that people would know their songs and buy more tickets.

There had been negotiations about that. About whether or not it was a good idea to have double headlining acts or if the Ugly Ducklings should still open for Abandon Ship! since they were still lesser known. That decision had been made for them however, when the girls’ album went platinum two weeks after it was released.

Emma had been shocked. She didn’t understand what the hell had happened but somehow, overnight, they were famous. They couldn’t go out on the streets without being recognized, without constant demands for photos and autographs. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with requests for interviews and appearances on talk shows and morning shows.

That had been another reason the tour was delayed. Between the success of the two groups, there was barely time left to schedule one, hardly any time that they were both available. Belle, as both of their managers now, had wanted them to ride the success of the album, to go on tour right away. But it hadn’t been possible. So it had been delayed until the new year.

A sort of competition had started between the two bands as both their albums continued to have songs rivaling for the number one song in the country over the months that followed. Killian particularly enjoyed it because whenever Emma would brag that her song had beat his, he could brag that he still won because the song was about him. In fairness, she could claim the same.

Emma was convinced that their sudden popularity had more to do with the very public display of affection between her and Killian that day in London. She was sure that people had looked her up and found the album that way. Killian was convinced that it was the video of their last encore that had gone viral. She’d created a one-time, exclusive song that had no other recording apart from one enthusiastic cameraman who had leaked it online and the throngs of cellphone videos.

She’d given them that one taste of what she could do and then had finally released it a few months later with a whole album of equally fantastic songs. Besides, Killian had said, Why did it matter? People were listening to her music. They heard it and they liked it and she touched people with her lyrics and her melodies. Did it matter how they had gotten there?

Despite how busy they were, Emma and Killian still managed to find time to write together. They’d started in London whenever Killian had a particularly rough time with the case and needed to vent, needed an outlet for his pain. They’d continued when they moved back to New York - Emma with Ruby and Mary Margaret, and Killian with Graham and David. It was all of three months before their friends demanded that they move out of their apartments and in with each other, sick of the constant displays of affection.

Emma felt bad - kind of. She kept expecting it to stop. Kept expecting to want him less, for the pull between them to relax, to slow. She thought she’d eventually stop wanting to touch him all the time, to make love to him all the time. But she didn’t. She couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t keep her hands to herself, nor could he keep his to himself.

She couldn't help it. She loved being around him, loved the way he made her feel and laugh and think and the way he brought out the music in her. She liked talking to him, listening to him talk, liked being vulnerable with him and seeing him open up to her. Maybe this was just love, she thought. Maybe she really hadn’t felt it before him.

One of their songs, however, had blown up in a way she never expected. Most times, when they wrote, it was one helping the other work through a bit they were stuck on, helping them fix the chord or the lyric that sounded wrong. But this one they'd written together. The lyrics, the melody, and the feelings that inspired it were equally his and hers.

They hadn’t even meant for it to be released. Ruby had overheard it when she’d come over when they were in the middle of a writing session. Her exact words had been ‘holy fuck’. She’d had them play it for Belle and the guys and Mary Margaret, all of whom insisted that the song needed to be recorded, not by either group but by the two of them, released as a stand alone single.

Belle had insisted they release it on social media first. On twitter and instagram and others Emma hadn’t heard of. They’d released it under Killian Jones from Abandon Ship! and Emma Swan from the Ugly Ducklings, and they’d recorded it in their apartment, both of them sitting on a pair of kitchen chairs in their living room with a few mics set up. Just them and their guitars playing together and to each other, two of the biggest new faces in music, one of the most talked about and gossiped about couples in the industry (and drooled over as Killian liked to remind everyone), singing a love song to and about each other.

They went viral in an hour. The song was constantly talked about online and on talk shows and in press interviews - as was their relationship. They were asked dozens and dozens of times to confirm that they were in fact a couple. Killian was thrilled that he could say yes, that he could tell the whole world that he loved Emma Swan and that she loved him too. He was even more thrilled when she was the one to say it.

It didn’t scare her anymore. She was still a private person, still didn’t like anyone knowing anything about her personal life really, but he knew that she didn’t care that the whole world knew she was in love with him. And that thought made his heart soar every time.

And then the really crazy thing happened. They were nominated. For a Grammy. They hadn’t believed it at first when they’d gotten the call, had thought it was a prank orchestrated by Graham and David. But when it turned out to be true, and it really sunk in, he’d pulled her into his arms, laughing into her neck, unable to stop smiling. He’d known that they wrote good music together, knew that she made him better and that he made her better. But he’d never imagined this.

Arrangements had been made quickly, Belle determined to ride the wave of their Grammy win - nomination, Belle, Emma kept reminding her only to receive a dismissive wave. They managed to find a way to book a tour, to move enough things around so that they could start the day after the awards from Los Angeles and then make their way across the country. And then the UK. And then the rest of Europe.

That was where they were now, in a hotel room in L.A. the day of the Grammys. Emma was supposed to be getting ready for the awards tonight. She should have left a little while ago really. But while she was excited to go back on tour, was honoured and humbled that they’d been nominated for best song, the idea of leaving the hotel room, leaving the hotel room bed where she was currently tangled up with a very attractive and very naked rockstar made spending hours being gussied up sound like a far less appealing option.

“We need to get going, Swan,” Killian said detangling himself from her arms despite her best efforts and stepping off the side of the bed. Emma pouted.

“No, we don’t,” she whined, reaching for him again but he danced out of her reach. He laughed. He always laughed when she was this frustrated, and a little needy for him too, honestly. It wasn’t her fault. He was standing there next to the bed in all his God-given glory, miles of bare arms and legs and chest and ass on display. It was really just cruel of him.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t have to get going. You do.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, not happy with the reminder of what the rest of her day and night was going to look like. “Do we have to go? Why don’t we just stay here?” she asked, reaching for his hand and trying to coax him back into bed with her. He was really doing his best to resist, she could tell, but his resolve was weakening. She saw the smirk pulling at his lips, saw the way his eyebrow ticked up. He didn’t pull his hand away.

“Emma, it’s the Grammys. We’re nominated. We can’t just not go.” She couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince her or himself.

She dropped his hand, rolled over onto her back and let out another, long-suffering groan. She knew she had to go but there were so many other fun things she’d rather do instead. The fact that they’d just done them was irrelevant. He sat on the bed next to her, laughing again.

“I know that,” she said. “But you get to just throw on a suit and head out the door. I have to go let myself be poked and prodded by a bunch of strangers trying to fit me into some ridiculous dress that Mary Margaret picked out.”

“Don’t you want to go and be pampered by people whose only job is to dote on you?”

“I’d rather you pamper and dote on me,” she said, running her arm up his forearm.

“Oh, really?” he asked, eyebrows raised, leaning in just a little.

“Mhm. Poked and prodded sounds good too.”

He grinned. “And how exactly would you like to be pampered, Swan?” he asked, his own hand finding her wrist, trailing up the inside of her arm to her elbow, up to her shoulder and across her collarbone.

“You know exactly how I like it,” she told him, trying to keep her breathing steady as his hand ghosted down between her breasts, over her stomach and across her hips.

He hummed. “But I want you to tell me.” Fucking hell.

“Kiss me,” she said, still shy when it came to this sort of thing but the way he reacted whenever she told him what she wanted, when she talked when they were together like this spurred her on.

“Where?” he asked with a wicked grin. She rolled her eyes, grabbed hold of the back of his neck and pulled him down to her lips. He went willingly, his mouth sliding over hers, lips parting when she licked at them, stroking her tongue with his. She really really thought she’d get over the way he kissed some day, that she’d get used to it, that it wouldn’t turn her on as much as if his mouth was moving between her legs. But god the man could kiss. She was already squirming under him, caged between his arms that were braced on either side of her, decidedly not on her body.

“Touch me,” she whined against his lips. She felt him smile against her.

“Where?” he asked before kissing her again. She took hold of his hand, lowered it to the ache between her thighs.

“Here,” she breathed.

She felt his breath catch, puffed against her lips as his fingers met her wet heat. “Always so wet for me, Swan,” he mumbled.

“Always,” she said. “Please, Killian,” she asked and he obliged, slipping one finger inside of her, sliding in easily and pumping slowly. She arched her back, pushing up against his hand. “More,” she begged and he slid in a second finger.

“Like that?” he asked, increasing the speed of his thrusts. It felt amazing but not enough. She looked up at him, saw him watching her with that same hint of the wicked smile from before, but his eyes were darker now, hooded as she writhed beneath him. But he waited. She knew she would have to tell him what she wanted. Fine. If he was going to make her beg for it then she was going to make sure he paid for it.

She grabbed his hair, pulled his head down. “Kiss my neck,” she told him, frowning when he began pressing soft, slow brushes of his lips down the column of her throat. “No,” she told him, tightening her hold, his fingers were still moving inside of her and she canted her hips, trying to increase his rhythm. “Properly. Bite me. Lick me,” she demanded.

She gasped as his mouth opened against her skin, his tongue dragging and flicking as his lips sucked at her flesh, finding the spots he knew drove her crazy. She canted her hips again and he took pity on her, flattening his palm against her so she could grind her clit against the heel. His teeth found the spot where her shoulder met her neck, biting down, just the right side of painful. She moaned and his lips curled against her shoulder.

“Lower,” she insisted, voice cracking as she dragged his face down to her breast. He waited. “Fuck, Killian, are you gonna make me ask you to suck my tits?” she growled, getting really annoyed at this game he seemed to be having so much fun with.

“That will do, Love,” he said before shifting on the bed so that he was laying next to her, hovering over her, steadying himself on an elbow. He put a knee between her legs, kept up the slow, torturous movement of his fingers as he took her breast into his mouth, rolling his tongue over her nipple before sucking at the sensitive bud.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Use your tongue again,” she demanded and he groaned against her before dragging his tongue over her nipple, flicking at it. “More,” she demanded, not even really sure what she was asking for but when he bit down on the tip she practically screamed in pleasure. Thank God he knew what she was asking for.

“Both of them,” she begged, not realising until his fingers slipped out of her heat that she’d made a mistake. “Wait, no,” she started but he only chuckled against her breast, his hand coming to the other, cupping it, wet fingers drawing lazy circles around her nipple before he dragged his thumb over it.

Her head fell back against the pillows, a small cry drawn from her lips as she arched her back into his touch. She needed more though, missed the friction between her legs and she grabbed at his hips, trying to nudge him over so she could press his thigh against her core. He didn’t move easily though and she cried out in frustration.

“Fuck, Killian! Give me something to ride!” She felt him stiffen, felt the way his fingers pinched at her nipple in a way that didn’t seem intentional. Good. She was getting to him too. She really only had the chance to feel smug for a second before he lowered himself into the cradle of her thighs, the rough hair below his navel pressing down on her clit as he let her grind her hips against him.

Emma was reeling, unable to think of anything besides the feel of his mouth and his fingers on her nipples and the pressure between her legs that was growing with every grind of her hips against him. She was lightheaded, lost to the sensations, pretty sure she was going to come from this alone. She let out a desperate moan and felt his answering growl against her skin, felt him press his hips further into her. She wanted more. She wanted -

“I want your mouth,” she gasped. “I want your tongue inside me and your fingers. I want you to lick me, suck my clit.” She grabbed at his hair again, pulled sharply. “Eat me out,” she demanded. The words felt crass coming out of her mouth but she couldn't think of another way to say it. That was exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to lick and suck at her like a starving man. She wanted him to devour her.

He growled again, giving her nipple a harsh flick before sliding down her body, pressing fast, hot kisses across her belly on his way down. She cried out, doubling over when he began his assault, his tongue dragging through her folds once, twice, before pushing inside of her, curling and licking at the wetness there. She felt his groan vibrating through her core, sending shivers down her spine.

She moaned, called out his name, and he did it again. And then again before pulling back and sliding his fingers back in, reaching deeper, stretching her wider. He curled them the same way he had his tongue, dragging against that spot that made her see stars. She could feel his breath on her but not his mouth and she writhed in frustration.

“What's wrong, Swan?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice but it was obscured by the rough tenor that betrayed his desire. “Is that not what you want?”

“I already told you what I want!” she snapped, lifting her hips towards his face but he pulled back.

“Tell me again,” he rasped. Asshole, she thought, she glanced down at him and saw the darkness in his eyes, the blue almost completely swallowed by black, his lips swollen and damp. He was pleading, looking nearly as on edge as she was.

“I want your mouth on me, Killian. I want you to make me come on your tongue. And then again on your cock.”

“Because I’m the only one who can make you fall apart every time, aren’t I? The only one who's ever been able to.” She never should have told him that.

“Then prove it!”

She saw the challenge in his eyes as they narrowed. His free hand grabbed hold of her thigh, wrapping around it and pulling her roughly against his mouth as he dove in, finding her clit with his tongue, flicking and circling and toying with it before pulling it into his mouth. He added a finger, thrusting faster, stretching her, filling her so perfectly as he continued to lick at her most sensitive spot.

“Yes!” she cried. “Oh, fuck, Killian, yes! Don’t stop.” She was grinding against his face, against his fingers, riding him faster and faster to her climax. He was relentless, pressing down on her hips to hold her steady as he pulled harder at her clit, curled his fingers, dragging them against her walls on every pass. The coil tightened in her belly, in her spine, every nerve in her body burning hotter until she was sure she would burst into flames.

“Make me come,” she gasped between moans and he rolled his tongue, pulling her clit harder into his mouth, sucking deeper and she broke, her back arching off the bed, toes curling into the mattress as her fingers gripped the pillow under her head.

It felt like ages before she had enough control of her limbs, enough of her senses back to look up at him - to even open her eyes. When she did, he was kneeling at the end of the bed, eyes hooded and hand stroking lightly at his cock, smearing her wetness over it as he watched her.

“I love watching you come,” he said, voice low and strained. He moved to fall over her but she stopped him, putting her foot on his chest. He raised an eyebrow and she smirked.

“You’re not the only one who likes to watch,” she told him and felt the heat of his desire wash over her as he gripped himself tighter, his hand pumping over his generous length.

Emma cocked her head as she took him in, the clenching of his jaw, the tauntness of his neck and shoulders, and the way the muscles flexed in his forearm as he brought himself closer to the edge. His head fell back for a moment as his hand sped up and she bit her lip. Fuck, he looked hot like this, lost in his own pleasure, mouth hanging open as small, desperate sounds escaped him.

His eyes found her again, raking over her from head to toe as he increased his pace, biting his lip. She rubbed her legs together, trying to soothe the ache that was already building between them. She saw his eyes flare and zero in on her center.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he groaned. “Please.”

“Please what?” she asked and she smirked as his eyes darkened. “Tell me what you want,” she taunted, turning his own game against him.

He growled before crawling up the bed, pulling her legs apart and pushing himself between them. She gasped when she felt the tip of him brush through her folds. He leaned over her, caging her in with his arms as he brought his face within breathing distance of her own, speaking his next words against her lips.

“I want to bury myself inside you. Push my cock deep into your cunt until you cry out like you always do when I fill you up just the way you like.” She gasped into his mouth, back arching with every teasing, shallow thrust of his hips, his cock nudging at her clit and sending shockwaves coursing through her. He brought his hand to her breast, palming it, rolling her nipple under it until it was hard, craving more. Fuck. Why did she think she could beat him at this game? “Is that what you want to hear?” he asked, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and dragging them slowly over it before moving to her jaw.

“Yes,” she moaned, grabbing hold of his hip, pulling him closer. “Fucking do it already,” she demanded and he didn’t even laugh, didn’t revel in his victory which told her that he was just as desperate as she was. He took himself in hand, finding her entrance and slid in with one firm stroke.

“So wet,” he gasped, head falling to her chest. “So tight.”

She pushed her hips up against him, letting him slip even deeper and he took the hint, pulling back only to thrust back in hard and fast and so fucking deep. She held on to his shoulders as he rutted against her, a series of grunts and gasps leaving him as he moved inside of her, his pace fast, rough, almost sloppy. She revelled in it, in his desperation and naked want for her.

She could tell he was close, the cries falling from his lips coming faster, his thrusts matching them. She felt the sweat on his back, the strain of his muscles as he raced towards that edge. She was close too. The deep, powerful thrusts hitting a spot inside of her that always sent her careening towards her peak. She brought her hand down between them, circling at her clit in time with the pounding of his hips.

“Fuck,” he breathed against her and she didn’t know if it was because of his own pleasure or the thought of her touching herself. She didn’t care though as he increased his pace, arm sliding around her back, hand gripping her shoulder so hard she was sure he’d leave bruises - wouldn’t that be fun to explain on the red carpet - and she could tell he was nearly there.

He pushed her hand away, his own fingers taking over, his thumb pressing and circling so hard it was almost painful. She let out a shocked cry as she felt herself racing towards her orgasm, no longer in control, the sensation overwhelming. She gasped into his ear, her words choking on her cries. “I want you to come.”

He groaned, hand snapping to the mattress beside her, fisting in the sheets as he drove into her at a breakneck pace before crying out against her neck. He pressed down on her clit, scraping at it as he spilled himself inside of her and she jerked, scream catching in her throat as her body convulsed, her orgasm crashing over her hard and fast and sudden. He kept his hand there and the pressure, the sting of it kept the waves coursing through her, aftershocks pulsing through her endlessly until he finally released her, stroking her gently, soothingly as he eased her down.

His arms shook with the strain of holding his weight off of her and he slowly rolled over, collapsing on his side. Still trembling, she turned her head so she could look at him, always loving the way his face looked after he came, eyes closed, brow pulled up, mouth open - an expression of blissful anguish. She reached out, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand and then brushing her thumb over his bottom lip.

He caught her hand, kissed her palm though panting breaths. His eyes fluttered open, smiling at her sweetly at first and then with increasing smugness.

“What?”

He reached out, traced her jaw with his thumb. “Darling you are going to look thoroughly fucked walking down that red carpet.”

Right on cue, there was a banging at their door. “Emma! You’re late! You have two seconds to get your ass dressed and out this door before I come in and drag you out,” Mary Margaret warned. Emma groaned and Killian laughed.

“Well, at least she’s started asking before using her key,” he shrugged. Yes, she’d only made that mistake once and she’d gotten more of an eyeful of Killian than she’d ever wanted. Emma rolled out of bed, Killian’s laughter still following her as she pulled on a bra and underwear before throwing her sweats on. She went to open the door, Killian throwing the sheet over his hips.

Mary Margaret stood on the other side, eyes raised to the ceiling before she looked down, making sure she wouldn’t be seeing a naked Killian again. She looked Emma over from head to toe and then glanced back at where Killian was laying in the bed behind her.

“Oh, for God's sake,” she groaned. “You do realise we need to be at the Staples Center in three hours and we were supposed to be at hair and makeup twenty minutes ago.”

“Can’t I just do that on my own?” she whined. “Just throw on some mascara and some lipstick and maybe a dress I can actually move in?”

Mary Margaret took a deep, centering yoga breath. “Emma. You are going to walk on stage in front of thousands of people. This will be broadcast world wide. You are not going to slap some makeup on your face and wear your damn jeans.”

“I didn’t say my jeans.”

“This is serious,” she said, taking her hands, her tone softer now. “Emma, your music has reached so many people, touched so many lives. And now people want to thank you for it, want to congratulate you for it with the biggest honour you can recieve in this business.”

Emma looked down, a bit abashed. “Okay.”

“Good. So show some goddamn respect and let’s go doll you up!” Emma’s mouth fell open, eyes snapping to her friend. Had she been tricked? She’d been tricked. Damn Mary Margaret.

After hours of being poked and prodded in a much less pleasant way than earlier, Emma was released from the studio. She had to admit, she looked pretty damn good. Her dress was a dark, midnight blue that brought out her skin tone and hugged her shape (probably enhanced it if she was being honest). Her makeup was flawless but thankfully not heavy and overdone like she’d feared. Her hair, however, had refused to lose that slight madness, that slight wildness that screamed that she had been completely and thoroughly fucked. She smiled a little secret smile at the idea.

“I told you,” Mary Margaret said as she, Ruby and Belle all took a moment to complete a few finishing touches before heading out the door. There were limos waiting outside, the guys already dressed and ready to go. They probably even had time for a nap, Emma begrudged them. And a snack, she thought as her stomach growled.

Belle had planned out the limos strategically. Graham, David, Liam and herself were in one, Ruby and Mary Margaret in another. Emma and Killian had been specifically instructed to show up in a third limo, last of the three to arrive. Belle said they needed to play up their relationship for the tour and the publicity. And they were nominated together.

Emma wasn’t thrilled about using her relationship for fame but she did like that she’d have Killian beside her all night, there holding her hand and making sure she didn’t panic and freeze up in front of everyone. Or trip in the stupid heels Belle had picked out.

Graham and David popped out of the car to say hello to Mary Margaret and Ruby. David took Mary Margaret’s hand, twirling her around like a princess as he showered her with compliments and she giggled like a schoolgirl. Graham, a man of few words, took one look at Ruby and his jaw dropped, a breathless ‘wow’ escaping him. Ruby smirked, grabbing him by his tie and pressing her lips to his. The dazed look on his face when she pulled away and wiped the lipstick off his face was priceless.

Killian stepped out, dressed in a dark blue suit that made his eyes look even brighter, as though that were even possible. His hair was combed neatly and his beard was trimmed. Emma’s jaw practically dropped when she saw him. In all the months they’d been together now, she’d never seen him dressed up like this. He looked good. She smirked as she watched his eyes rake over her, his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip.

“Swan,” he said, reaching his hand out for her. She took it, letting him help her into the car. She slid over and he followed her in. Before the door could be shut though, Belle stopped it, one hand on the frame. She shot Killian a death glare.

“If she shows up with even one hair out of place, one smudge of lipstick on either of you, I will murder you myself. Do you hear me?” It should have been funny, but both of them swallowed, nodding, worried she might follow through on her threat. “Good,” she said, her stare still hard. “See you there.”

The door shut and Killian turned to her as the car pulled away. He smiled at her, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I got you something,” he said. Emma cocked her head to see what it might be. He pulled out a little paper bag, the waxy kind. It had been folded at the end to keep it sealed. He handed it to her and Emma opened it, the smell hitting her first before she saw what was inside and her mouth watered.

“I love you,” she said and he laughed. He’d brought her a freaking bear claw. She took a bite, making sure not to spill any on her dress and chewed gratefully. She loved that he knew she’d be starving, that he’d thought to stop at a bakery somewhere to pick this up. She loved when he did this kind of thing, the little gestures to show he cared.

She slid across the seat, tucking herself under his arm and leaning against him as she munched on her snack, even offering him a bite at one point - that was how thankful she was. She liked these moments, the quiet ones. Sure, they were on their way to a huge, worldwide event, but for right now it was just the two of them.

It was rare now that they had the chance to just sit and cuddle and feel normal. Their lives had become so hectic, but through it all, Killian had been there, had kept her feeling safe, had kept her feeling human even when she thought the world would overwhelm her. She was happy. Despite the madness of her new life, she was happier than she’d ever been. Her family had grown, she had a man she loved and who loved her in a way she hadn’t believed she’d ever deserve. She lay her head back on his shoulder, looking at him and wondering how she’d gotten so lucky.

“What, Love?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Emma only smiled, reaching up with her non-bearclaw-occupied hand and cupping the back of his neck, pulling his lips down over her own. She didn’t know why it had taken her so long to let him in, but as he slanted his lips over hers, bearclaw forgotten, she was damn happy that he’d waited, happy that she’d seen the light before she let him slip through her fingers. She pulled him closer, holding on tighter. She didn’t plan on ever letting go.

Belle took one look at them when they stepped out of the limo and joined their friends on the carpet. Her eyes panned over the two of them before rolling skyward, a heavy sigh leaving her.

“Seriously?”

#of cars and bars #captain swan #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfiction #cs smut #captain swan smut #cs au #captain swan au #cs angst #captain swan angst #thank you everyone!

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everythingoesnk · 5 years ago

Text

Once in Rockfield Farm (1/5)

summary; you own Rockfield Farm and your bf Mary Austin asks you if you can help her friends with an enormous favour that will lead to a much bigger unprecedented change into your life. Thanks to a cute guy specifically.

word count; 6 126

disclaimers, PLEASE read them; don’t forget this is fiction. i’m using queen‘s 70s era as a base for the story but it won’t be historically accurate. the song mentioned towards the end of the chapter is from Taylor Swift, i don’t claim those lyrics as mine. sorry in advance if u find a f*cked up grammar mistake or whatever. feedback would mean everything, it’s the first time i’m posting something i’ve written it feels like i’m giving birth looool

warnings; minor violence at some point and mention of abuse

********

Mary didn’t stop until she convinced you to give green light to her proposal.

She called it like that, but it seemed more like an order. Both of you knew she wouldn’t let it pass until you agreed to.

Taken aback, you refused at first.

The idea of four strangers living in your house, coexisting with you in the only safe space you knew, wasn’t appealing whatsoever.

Even though all they needed was a studio to record, they’d have to stay until the album was finished. They could afford to rent a proper one, but Mary made it quite clear that getting out of town was crucial to avoid possible distractions.

You’d been fired from your job because the restaurant bankrupted, so the money they were going to pay for rent was welcomed.

Your grandfather passed Rockfield Farm on to you when he died.

It was a lovely place full of good memories, mainly concerning hours on end together in the studio he built in the attic throughout the years. The relationship you had with him had always been special, but ever since your nana passed away at the age of 70, your bond became stronger.

He also wasn’t there anymore, and you tried not to think too much about it, just were glad that you met someone like him. He was the main reason you loved making music so much.

Sadly, as you grew up, although your talent for writing songs and producing music was undeniable, you realized you needed to be realistic and pursue a more down-to-earth career.

Medicine was another thing you were slightly attracted to, it wasn’t your passion but it would have to do.

The music business was too complex and difficult to get in, and wasting your time wasn’t on your plans. It’s not like you were a prodigy or a diamond in the rough, anyway. That was your honest opinion.

But now and then you’d succumb and compose. It was an effective way to forget about the rest of the world and vent whenever something would make you sad, grumpy, anxious, angry… Rarely did you write about happy feelings.

What’s the fun in claiming how fulfilled you are with your life? Which you weren’t, but still.

Ballads and songs that’d leave you with your heart aching on the floor were your daily bread.

Mary was the only one allowed to hear your little creations. She’d try to get you to show them to the world, to step out of the comfort zone and perform them in public, to rush out of those same four walls.

You were quick to brush her comments off every time, content with her and your dog being the only ones to get to listen to your babies.

“How long they’re going to take?” you asked using a fake uninterested tone, pretending not to care whether they needed weeks, months or a year.

The truth was that you wished for the album to be done quite fast.

“Who knows,” Mary said. “When the album’s finished I’m the first to know, but in the meantime Freddie won’t give me any clues”

You nodded, unsatisfied with the answer.

“Thanks for agreeing to this. I owe you big” her eyes found yours and yours softened.

“If anything it’s them who do, don’t you think?”

Mary grinned and offered to cook something for tonight’s dinner.

She left you alone with your molecular pathology notes resting on your lap.

It was your last year in University, thank the Lord. One last effort and you would be a doctor.

After memorizing various concepts you found yourself staring at the horizon wondering how was Freddie Mercury like.

Obviously because of Mary you sort of formed this idea of him, but hadn’t had a face to face yet. About the other Queen members… yeah, Mary mentioned them sometimes, vaguely: she described John as a nice fella to have around, Brian as the only one with common sense, and last but not least, when it came to Roger’s personality, she told you hesitantly to judge him yourself.

You thanked her when she handed you the pen you forgot inside.

Mary gave you an encouraging smile, placing her hand on your shoulder and squeezing it.

As soon as she turned around to go back inside, you called her name, squinting your eyes to try and get a better sight of the vehicle that kept getting closer to your property.

“What?”

When she spotted the van she sighed happily.

“Finally”

Mary ran to wait for them in the parking area. She was over the moon, clapping and waving effusively to welcome them.

“Are you coming or not?” Mary shouted, gesturing you to go and stand next to her.

You took your time to get up from sitting upon the grass and do just that.

Not a single second since they pulled over went by and Mary was already imprisoning Freddie in her arms.

You chuckled, completely sure he would be dead in a matter of seconds if she wouldn’t loose her grip.

He lovingly wrapped her in his and stroked her hair.

All of a sudden, running from the backyard where he usually played in the mud (this time was no different), your dog appeared on scene. You asked him to remain quiet and by your side, which to your dismay he did not obey.

He went and greeted Queen, who pushed him away with no bad intentions, they just didn’t want to get dirt on their trousers.

John, nevertheless, got on his knees and began patting him. It did not take long for him to regret it when Sherlock seemed to be captivated by his face, licking it non-stop.

You cleared your throat. It would be nice of Mary to introduce you, being the one who organized this whole of a mess in the first place.

Apparently she read your mind. The next thing she did was link arms with you.

“This is (Y/N)” she spoke. “Freddie, come here”

“You have no idea how happy I am to finally meet you”

Freddie gave you two sweet kisses, one on each cheek.

“Same here” you nodded and mirrored his smile when you saw it reached his eyes.

In a heartbeat you were fascinated by him.

There was this intriguing strong aura he projected that made you feel like you were in the presence of someone from the royalty, someone important.

Freddie examined you from head to toe and fell in love immediately with your outfit, a pastel blue dress with tiny sunflowers printed all over it. He did spot your exposed feet and smiled pleasedly at your choice of painting your toenails with the colours of the rainbow.

“Boys, don’t be rude and come say hi” he gestured his bandmates, who were taking a rapid glimpse of their new temporary home, and stepped aside.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Brian”

“Nice to meet you too” you kindly responded, shaking his hand.

“Thank you very much for allowing us to record our album here. If we win a Grammy expect you to be the first one we address in the speech” he joked, face beaming with a heavenly smile.

Damn, you were so soft for him already. And you wanted to touch his curls.

“You’re welcome, Brian”

“Yes, we’re endlessly grateful” another gentle voice joined the conversation.

John stood now in front of you.

“Hi, I’m John Deacon”

“I know” you laughed, tilting your head to the side. “I hope your stay here is… productive”

“I hope so too” he smiled big, and it made your heart melt. He was so cute.

Roger was next.

He was wearing a black leather jacket that fit him like a glove. One silver bracelet hugging his right wrist, matching the necklace around the neck. What caught your attention the most was the glittery rosy shoes, though. He had long blond messy hair (like the others, except the colour part), and prominent sideburns.

They looked ridiculous, you thought, although every second you spent contemplating his face the less they bothered you.

He was gorgeous, what the hell?

You got somehow a little nervous.

“Productive it shall be. I’m Roger” he spoke, referring your words from before. He took your hand and held it to his lips. “We’ve come to the right place, guys. With such a pretty face like hers we’ll never run out of inspiration” he snorted when he heard John face-palming himself.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Sure Roger didn’t mean that at all, it was just his constant flirty mood Mary warned you about taking over him, you reasoned.

“Don’t get it started, Rog. We don’t want her to kick us out the very first day” Brian scolded him like a father would his children.

Roger laughed, his silly expression never fading away, and soon he was again observing you.

“I was joking, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he said, taking some of the heat out.

“It didn’t,” you said back, confident.

You followed the others when they headed to the house carrying their respective suitcases with Mary as the leader.

Roger was fast to grab his and catch up with you.

“You live alone?”

“I have Sherlock”

He was still in ecstasy, trying to get everyone’s attention.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it” you shrugged. “It’s not as tragic as it sounds. I enjoy my own company”

“Oh. Anyway. This is a farm, right? You do all the, huh… you know, farm work on your own?” he looked around, scanning a bit the surroundings. He pointed with his chin at one big rooster. “The guardian of the house, eh?”

You let out a vague chuckle that made Roger proud, already eager to make you like him.

The reason was obvious: you were so eyecatching he almost tripped when he missed one of Sherlock’s toys on one of the porch steps, too engrossed in how the sun made the freckles in your face stand out.

“My grandfather baptized this piece of land as Rockfield Farm, but it hasn’t been a proper farm for years. Now it’s just… my house”

“You know,” he began, digging deep around his mind to come up with something so the conversation wouldn’t end, “years ago I had this summer job in a much more immense place than this. I had to watch over 200 sheep every day”

“Was it as entertaining as it sounds?”

“Clearly not”

Roger extended his hand to stop the door from closing after John came in. He motioned you to go first and winked, but you didn’t notice the last part, which slightly bothered him.

“(Y/N), this place is precious!” you heard Freddie praise.

Mary interrupted you before you could thank him.

“Then you sure are going to love the studio even more! C’mon”

“How did your grandfather manage to get this studio together? It’s pretty impressive” Brian enthusiastically asked, taking a small sip of tea.

The six of you were now chilling in the living room. It was the perfect time for them to rest since the road trip had been long.

Moments before they finished unpacking and settling down, Mary and you gossiped in the kitchen. She remarked how attentive Roger acted towards you, and asked if you were into him.

“Are you stupid?” you couldn’t believe her. “We’ve known each other for what, ten minutes?”

“I was just wondering whether there was desire at first sight or something”

“Desire at first sight?” you repeated slowly, taking in every word.

“It was a softer way to ask if you’d give him a ride or not” she laughed watching you gesture her to lower it down. “I’m just asking because I can tell he would”

Before answering Brian, you looked over at Roger.

He’d taken off his jacket and was rolling up the sleeves of the white tee he wore underneath.

Your lips parted, finding that mundane action quite amusing and sexy on him.

You looked away, guilt taking over you for having stared too keenly. There was nothing wrong about it, and you couldn’t explain why you felt agitated. Maybe you were self-conscious about whether the others noticed.

Forcing yourself to remember Brian’s words and with a sense of pride, you smirked behind your cup, gazing at the wooden floor.

Your grandfather poured his soul into this studio, which he also referred to as a sanctuary. It made you happy to hear Brian acknowledging its value.

There were several electric and acoustic guitars, a generous collection of microphones your grandmother enjoyed saving, two trumpets, a synthesizer -to which Freddie and Roger scoffed loudly at-, a drumkit, one saxophone, and a bass.

Not to mention the tape machine that still worked perfectly plus the recording booth.

Mary told you that John Reid, who was looking after Queen at the moment, managed to convince the label to provide them with a significant amount of money. You assumed they’d brought enough tapes to record on, therefore yours would remain intact.

“He bought half of the instruments”

“The other half?” John inquired.

“He stole them” you answered, not much of a fan about it.

“Whew!” Roger whistled.

You took a short sip of the tea and turned slightly towards the window, presencing a flash of light.

“A piano?”

Freddie dropped the question with no high hopes.

“Pardon?” you turned your head and looked at him over your shoulder with your body still facing towards the window.

The head movement was so fast that a clip you wore to hold a fraction of hair in place loosened a bit, letting the lock to fell down your face.

Roger stared at you in awe.

The light illuminating the room had a warm cosy tone, which surely helped to make your skin look softer and smooth. He wasn’t aware of the heart eyes he was giving you, but Brian, John and Mary were.

When you batted your lashes, he looked away and saw Brian try and fail to hide a smile when they locked eyes. He’d been caught.

“Do you have a piano?” Freddie questioned again, eyebrows raised a little.

A tiny playful smile made its way to your lips.

“Of course I have a piano” you cockily answered.

When you saw Fred’s satisfied grin appear you instantly knew he liked you as much as you liked him. It wasn’t in the attic; you’d show it to him later.

To be honest, the piano was your favourite instrument to play. So delicate, so powerful and majestic.

“Excuse me for a second” you got up from your seat, everyone confused by your sudden urge to leave, but not alarmed.

That light from before wasn’t a bolt of lightning, you came to realize, it was a car that parked outside.

A little voice popped in your head guessing it could be him, but it couldn’t… right? There were approximately two hours from Cardiff to get there.

It sure was someone lost, or maybe they were stopping by to beg to use your bathroom because they couldn’t hold it in anymore. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“How about we start dinner? I’m starving” Mary added.

Their voices kept getting lower and lower as you crossed the corridor, oblivious to Roger’s eyes following your every move.

You stepped outside and closed the heavy door behind you, but not completely.

The silhouette of the last person you’d want to see in the entire world was leaning against a red car, one you did know very well because you lost your virginity in the backseat. He was humming to a tune you didn’t recognize, head facing downwards.

Picking at the fabric of the sweater you put on to forbid the cool air of the night from touching your skin, you opened your mouth.

“Leonardo!” you whisper shouted.

He definitely heard you, although he turned a deaf ear.

“Leo, what the fuck!”

“You’re a stupid whore”

Shit. He’s drunk? You prayed he wouldn’t make a scene, not now, with Mary and the guys around. The shame to have them complicit of whatever could possibly happen would be unbearable.

“You’re miserable” he went on with his speech, voice thick, which made it difficult for you to understand him.

You called it quits three months ago. Apparently he wasn’t any close to getting over the fact you ended it.

“Leave”

After what felt forever, he abruptly raised his head.

“What?” the expression on his face revealed he wasn’t happy.

What his eyes showed freaked the hell out of you: they revealed an intense desire, either with words or physically, to hurt you. He wasn’t sober, and you were aware that he had struggled with alcoholism when he was a teenager. It was fair to say Leonardo never put a finger on you in that way before, but alcohol was the push he needed to do it and his body was full of it now.

A lump formed in your throat.

“Get out of here”

“I just want to talk” lifting his hands up in an attempt to seem harmless, losing balance doing so, he took a few steps forward trying his best to sound convincing so you wouldn’t move and listen to him.

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say”

“How do you think I felt? Huh? When I saw you making out with that moron? You’re so selfish. A fucking slut, (Y/N). You disgust me”

That was the final straw. You promised you wouldn’t give in and start an argument, but he fucking did have to bring that up. He had the nerve to blame you for moving on and having some fun with a guy a few days ago at a party.

“Are you serious right now, Leo? How dare you?! We’re not together!” funny enough, this time it was you walking up to him not giving a damn anymore about the consequences.

When you raised your fist to punch him, even in his state, he managed to catch your wrist on time.

“How wrong you’ve done me” he hissed, tightening the grip. That’d leave marks for sure.

He pushed you against the car, causing your back to crack roughly. The situation was so tense not even the tears were brave to roll down your face, your vision blurry and unclear.

“Please, Leo!”

Mary’s voice never felt so good in your ears.

You totally forgot about them, that you could’ve screamed for help instead of dealing with Leo on your own, too absorbed in rage to be able to think things through.

“Do something, help her!” she pleaded the boys.

Four arms were fast to catch him and throw him to the ground.

Everything was happening so fast, almost as fast as your crazy heartbeats.

Brian came to you and held you by the shoulders, checking you out entirely, looking for bruises. He was asking repeatedly if you were alright, if that man dared to touch you. You could hear him, but it felt like he were miles away from you, his words echoing in the back of your mind.

Mary grabbed your arm and the two guided you, treating you like you had some kind of disability.

Before letting them drag you inside, you quickly turned your head to see what was going on, and saw a fuming Roger threatening Leo to disappear and never come back.

Freddie and John remained behind him in case he’d lose his temper. They looked at each other in astonishment; it was the first time they saw Roger like that.

“(Y/N)” Mary called you, once in the common room. “Fancy a glass of water?”

“I’ll be right back with it,” Brian said, his long legs taking him to the kitchen.

“Sit down, babe”

“I don’t want to. I’m fine”

She could perfectly see the tension in your shoulders.

“You’re not. But it’s fine, it’ll be fine” she sympathized, caressing your hair.

At this point you were lost for words. You were confused, angry, stunned.

“Here, take it. It’ll do you good, (Y/N). Is there anything else you n—” Brian began, offering you freshwater to maybe comfort you and make the knot you felt in your throat go away.

“For fuck’s sake!” you felt choleric. Maybe you were about to pass out.

Freddie, John and Roger came in and stopped dead in their tracks when they heard you complain.

Brian blinked a few times.

You were desperate for some time alone to process the last couple of minutes, but that wasn’t any excuse for you to take it out on Brian when all he wanted was for you to get better.

“I’m sorry” you lamented, ashamed at your behaviour, and took the glass not looking at anyone in the eye. That’s when you saw you were indeed shaking a little bit.

He smiled comprehensively, not giving too much attention to your outburst.

“Who the fuck was that?” Freddie wondered.

John elbowed him and mouthed “not now”.

“I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry you had to witness that” you sighed, choking back the agony.

“Don’t apologize. That piece of shit shouldn’t have treated you like that. He looked mad” Freddie condemned.

Another heavy sigh escaped your mouth when you saw everyone staring intently at you, hating the feeling of their unasked pity.

Roger hadn’t said a word. His muscles were tense, mind way too far from the scene recalling something from the past.

It’d been several weeks since Queen came to stay.

To your surprise you had no complaints. They helped you without hesitation with the housework and kept their rooms tidy. More or less. The only thing you could protest about was that after the sessions it seemed like the studio had been the target of a fateful hurricane.

However, they were too cute to stay mad at for more than ten seconds.

Coming out of your shell was easy because of them. It didn’t take you long to feel comfortable enough to show your true self instead of hiding in your room like you did the first three days.

Reading a book easily kept your mind busy, except now; it was unbearably hot outdoors and indoors. Without taking your eyes off the page, you held the Coca-Cola can against your neck seeking a refreshing sensation.

“Mind if I join?”

You lowered the sunglasses until they were fitted a little bit below the bridge of your nose. The sun was hiding behind a cloud now, making it easier to adjust your vision and get it focused on whoever that was.

A shirtless Roger stood before you, with a towel around his neck that he rushed to spread on the hammock next to yours.

His skin glowing due to the sweat made him look rather tempting.

Your brain lent a helping hand forcing you to smile and nod because you wouldn’t, couldn’t do that yourself.

A small grin tugged at his lips when he noticed your eyes on him longer than usual.

“You’re always studying, angel” he pointed out, lying down and crossing his arms above his head.

You let out a loud sigh you’d been holding in, cheeks red at the pet name he chose. Anytime he’d call you something sweet rather than by your name, it was always how you tended to react.

There was no denying that you’d sort of developed a small crush on him.

Nobody could blame you, though; the same thing would happen to any human being with feelings.

He always treated you as one of them, making sure you didn’t feel left out. His sense of humour was similar to yours, and you appreciated it when he included you in their plans even if he knew you were occupied with Uni and probably wouldn’t be able to join.

Also, he was hot as fuck. You swore you’d never seen a man so beautiful in your life so far.

“I have to if I want to pass my exams”

“Sure, but you’re always studying” he emphasized. “It cannot be healthy”

It couldn’t, but everything was so difficult and you were so lost at some points you thought the world as you knew it could end if you took the smallest break.

“(Y/N)”

“Tell me”

“Seeing you stressed out stresses me” he sat straight, took the book from you and shoved it away. “Fuck this. I suggest you have some fun before the pressure ages you”

“And what do you recommend, ay?” you questioned, crossing your arms across your chest.

“We could play Frisbee”

“Frisbee? Really?”

“Why not? I’m sure you’re not that bad” he teased, getting to his feet.

You faked a laugh and stood up.

“Don’t underestimate my skills”

He used his hand to mimic a mouth talking nonsense, and approached the pool since the frisbee was floating in the water. But he stopped when he felt he stepped on something, proceeding to lift his foot to see what it was.

Roger knelt down and picked a piece of paper up, which said in messy handwriting together with scribbles here and there: You tell me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me.

His brows cocked in surprise and your eyes widened. You grabbed it out of his hand and held it close to your heart reflexively, as if protecting it. It must have flown out from within the pages of the book when he first threw it away.

Roger watched you curiously, crouched down still, as you breathed slow and deep avoiding eye contact. You could feel your face getting hotter.

He got up with an unnoticeable smile.

“That’s yours? It’s decent”

You waited for something to get out of your mouth, but this time your brain didn’t find a way to help you out, speechless at the fact that he liked it.

“Do you have more? I’d love to hear” he continued, glancing at you.

“Oh, n-no” you forced a laughter. “I don’t”

“I’m glad you’re not as bad as a lyricist as you are as a liar”

You gave him a dirty look and the corners of his eyes crinkled at that. He puppy-eyed you.

“Please?”

“No, Roger”

“We don’t protest when you’re in our recording sessions, you could return the favour”

“Excuse me? You’re in my goddamn house. Watch your tone”

He giggled, fascinated by how cute you turned out to be when poked at.

“What do I have to do for you to say yes?”

“Nothing. It’s not happening”

“(Y/N)!” he pleaded. “I want to hear you sing”

You shook your head.

“And I want to own all the dogs on the planet. Guess we’re both stuck”

Roger groaned in defeat and turned around to get his hands on the frisbee.

For some odd reason, it made your heart dance in your chest knowing he was willing to sit down with you and listen.

A sense of enthusiasm and confidence moved you and shockingly enough you found yourself considering the idea.

Roger gave you a quick head nod.

“Ready?”

You didn’t know what the hell you were doing but you whispered a small “okay”. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Take a few steps back first, you’re too close”

You pulled a face at him but quickly shook your head.

“I said I’ll do it”

Roger wasn’t getting it.

“Do w—“ he stopped mid-sentence, his sapphire eyes widening in understanding this wasn’t about playing Frisbee anymore. “Yes!” he took you in his arms and spun you around.

Since he was shirtless you could feel how well built he was. Although he wasn’t the most athletic man out there, apparently drumming on and on was enough to keep him fit.

“Rog, Rog! Enough! I’m feeling dizzy”

You were wearing a mini skirt that had a tiny slit on one of the sides. Seeing it rolled itself up a little you adjusted its length, avoiding any extra space to anyone’s imagination. Too late for Roger though.

When satisfied with how your skirt fitted, you looked up and saw a subtle wink roaming his lips.

“I’m ready when you are” he announced, bending over to grab his shirt and put it on.

At first your legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Roger followed you closely.

He saw you toy with your hair, questioning yourself why you agreed to do this when you weren’t a hundred per cent sure about it. He placed his hands on your shoulders and slowly massaged the back of your neck with his thumbs, relieving some of the pressure.

Every single hair of your body stood on ends.

“Don’t be nervous, love. We can drop it whenever you want” he conceded, tossing an arm around your shoulders.

Opening the door to the studio you felt sick, already regretting your decision.

Roger took a sit on the couch, watching you like you were about to do a mind-blowing performance that’d change the meaning of his life forever.

Feeling like a rat in a laboratory with the doctors waiting to see if the experiment was successful or not, you shifted weight from one foot to the other, discomfort intensifying.

The piercing electric blue of his eyes triggered something in you when they met yours. You didn’t know how but it seemed like he was speaking to you through them, encouraging and imploring you to open up to him.

“Take it easy, (Y/N). It’s not a big deal”

“It is for me”

You sank down on one of the chairs next to the control room, poorly trying to hide how intimidated you were.

“You’re singing, then? Or reading the lyrics out loud?”

“Singing” you muttered. God knows if you went downstairs to pick up your notebook you wouldn’t come back.

A very cheeky expression overtook his face.

“Okay, go ahead” he gestured, rubbing his chin.

You clenched your jaw and snapped your eyes shut. It was easier to do it if you weren’t looking. You’d just imagine it was your grandfather in the room with you instead.

“Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it I’d like to be my old self again But I’m still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone”

Roger’s fingers fidgeted at the sight of you tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, silently wishing it was him doing it.

He saw how your angelic features relaxed along to every word you sang. When it comes to your voice... He had to remind himself he didn’t die nor was leaving a dream, because it felt like he were in the very gates of heaven.

His breathing quickened, well aware he was witnessing something intimate.

Leaning closer, elbows resting on his knees, he allowed your voice to transport him to the place and time you were describing.

“But you keep my old scarf From that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can’t get rid of it

'Cause you remember it all too well”

You swallowed before opening your eyes and speaking.

“There’s more but that’s the part I’m most proud of”

Roger’d fallen silent, his brain on fire.

He seemed to be absent, daydreaming probably.

Your heartbeat could make you go deaf any second, partly because you allowed him to have a peek at your heart partly because you were dying to know if he was any positive about it.

“You sounded like an angel” he stated in the softest voice, working on coming back to his senses.

There was nothing you could do apart from blushing and awkwardly shaking your head, yet on the inside you were saturated with a strong feeling that filled you completely: his opinion was relevant to you and the reaction he had was more than enough.

“You’re exaggerating. Thank you though, for your words. You’re very kind” you said, entwining ankles.

“Is it…” Roger was afraid this would ruin the mood. He decided to give it a shot and solve any doubt. More importantly, he wanted to make sure you were alright.

You weren’t stupid and knew where he was going.

“About Leonardo? Yes. Next question” you explained bitterly cutting him off, and pressed your lips together making an effort to not roll your eyes and appear rude.

He did ruin the mood.

Roger felt bad now.

“I’m sorry. Forget it”

“It’s fine” the flat tone you used before switched to a more delicate one.

It was overwhelming that he cared. He didn’t have to but he cared.

“I experienced something similar. I know how fucked up domestic abuse is” Roger confessed, bowing his head.

Wait, what? He what?

“Rog…” you got up and carefully sat next to him.

It shocked you how quick the atmosphere changed.

“It’s nothing, dear, it was a long time ago. She was… she was crazy” he laughed drily and cleared his throat. “You know what I mean”

“I do not. What you saw when Leonardo showed up was a one-time thing. He was drunk and barely himself, but I’m so terribly sorry you had to go through that”

“Ah, good for you then” he tapped you on the knee with a small smile on his face.

It broke your heart. How could anyone be so goddamn evil? You just couldn’t understand why they were people like that out there, willing to harm others deliberately.

Your mind drifted to Leonardo, did he become one of them?

Glancing at Roger, you hesitantly got closer to rest your cheek against his shoulder, letting him know mutely you were there in case he needed to vent more often. You intended to cuddle for just a few seconds before it turned out weird. That was until he wrapped an arm around you to keep you in position.

“Thank you” he whispered.

It sent shivers down your spine hearing for the first time his voice discreetly cracking up. You weren’t entirely sure about what he was thanking you for, though.

Roger didn’t quite understand why such information slipped out his mouth. Maybe he thought it was appropriate to share it since he contemplated you went through the same thing after what he saw. He just wanted to make sure you knew you could count on him as well.

The boys knew about the matter, obviously, but there was this thing about you he hadn’t figured out just yet that pushed him to speak to you about it.

That’s what his mind was saying, his heart on the other hand defended the idea that he felt comfortable with you and that since he presenced the incident with Leonardo he remembered his experience. Hence the fit of anger he had.

The thought alone of that scumbag hurting you made his head collapse. He was very sensitive about the subject.

“Better?” you wondered out loud after a while of snuggling, yet you didn’t move, finding the proximity significantly pleasant.

“Yeah, uh, sorry” he cleared his throat and released you.

“It’s more than okay”

He nodded, not really looking at you yet.

You tried to think of something that could distract him from those undeserved and heartrending memories.

There was no point of comparison to what Roger had struggled with, but every time you argued with Leo during the year your relationship lasted, you were grateful that your friends organized sporadic plans to help you forget about the fights.

You had to do that for Roger. You had to entertain him. To keep his mind occupied.

“Freddie explained to me drums are much more complicated than what they seem”

Roger glanced over the drumkit.

He was suspicious at first about the topic change, and looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“It can be very ambitious if you don’t do try for real, instead of goofing around. There’s too much going on. People believe it’s just hitting the drums and you’re good. Wankers”

It was unmissable how his face lit up, talking about his passion.

Crossing an ankle over your knee, you bent forward to get a better sight of his much more eased features.

“I’m sure it requires a lot of hard work, the coordination on hands and feet and all that stuff. Singing along as well must be tiring”

Roger’s eyes bored into yours, as if studying and reflecting upon your words. A corner of his mouth lifted.

“Yeah,” he replied amused, “physically it can be tough”

He knew what you were doing.

Just when he was about to ask you if you wanted him to teach you some basics, John came flying through the door.

“For God’s sake, there you are. Roger, I need you. Freddie and Brian are arguing again. Help me out spreading some peace before Freddie slaps him”

****

end of part one, lemme know what you think ! ♡

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thecorteztwins · 5 years ago

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These are all scenes from my longass ALT-MARAUDERS FIC PITCH and you don’t need to read the whole pitch because it’s huge and a fic in itself, but basically what’s going on is Xavier ordered Miss Sinister, Madelyne Pryor, Pyro, Haven, and the Shaws to work together as a crack team accomplishing bringing “home” mutants like the Marauders but probably also other stuff too. I don’t really care what their mission is though because it’s about their relationships. Also it looks like ALICE is now the adopted team baby, at least for Madelyne and Haven (maybe Pyro too, I like to think he looks out for her) sorry I don’t make the rules OH WAIT I DO AND I SAY SHE’S TEAM BABY honestly she really fits the theme/the team, given her history? So I’m down for it. Tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes since you showed interest in it and since it’s got YA BOY PYRO and @hexiva since you asked about it too, though no obligation to read it, or to read all of ‘em! I feel like you might like “Scientists” though, Hex. CONTENTS A Box Full of Darkness - Sebastian/Haven Canvas - Madelyne/Alice Scientists - Claudine/Haven Like An Old Married Couple - Group Parties, Pleas, and Promises - Pyro/Shinobi Sea & Sky - Madelyne/Haven Awkward - Pyro/Sebastian Stories - Madelyne/Pyro Out of the Frying Pan - Sebastian/Shinobi Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream - Pyro

*** A BOX FULL OF DARKNESS "Do you care at all for poetry, Mr. Shaw?” The ship had a small sitting room that also served as a library, shelves lining three of its walls. The wood, the carpet, the small chair, the atmosphere, all made one forget that one was at sea, and not in fact in the nook of some old college’s study. One had to wonder who had chosen the books. ”No, Ms. Dastoor, I can’t say it has ever appealed to me. Most of the arts do not, particularly the ones that are not visual in nature. I do not see the point of endless stanzas and pentameters to say in metaphor and allegory what could be said much more clearly and succinct in a single sentence of plain simple prose.” ”Then I hope you shall forgive me for sharing a bit---it reminded me of you, you see.” There was one in her hand. ”Ah, what was it? Something from the Decadent movement? Or perhaps some pretencious Bohemian lampooning the upper class from which he came himself? Dare I hope for Ozymandias, perhaps, and will it be Smith’s or Shelley’s?” He was smirking slightly. Perhaps he thought he was being funny. Or it might just be his face. ”You seem to know much about the subject despite a disinterest in it. I rather admire that you took the time to learn,” and she did sound genuinely approving, encouraging, “But, no---Mary Oliver, someone much more recent, and much more recently deceased. I am paraphrasing her here so that my meaning, my reason for seeing you in this, is not confused: Someone once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” He smiled wryly, “Is that how you see me, Ms. Dastoor, a box full of darkness?” “No,” she said, her gaze rising back up from the open pages to meet his, her large dark eyes unreadable as they drank him in, boxes of darkness in themselves, “And I do not agree that evil and suffering---if we must use ‘darkness’ to mean those things, which I also do not agree with, but is what I believe Ms. Oliver may have meant--is ever a gift, no matter what we may get out of it through our own power to come back from it...but I believe you see it this way, do you not?” There was no accusation in her tone, no disapproval. There seldom was. She was only asking, only observing. At least, Sebastian thought, that was what she wanted to seem like. He always suspected her motives were more, and that she was simply trying to disguise the fact she was trying to needle him, rather than making it pointedly obvious as, say, Emma, might. Coward---but then, he knew that of her. “Perhaps in less poetic terms, yes. I’m a practical man, Ms. Dastoor. I used to work in a steel mill. I saw how heat and pressure forged the worthless in the valuable, how the smelting process pulled the precious iron from the rest of the ore and shaped it through force into something useful. The same can be said of people---and I do indeed say it. You have heard me. Is that the darkness of which you speak?” ”The steel you speak of and the shapes it was forced into were valuable and useful...by the definitions of what the humans shaping it needed and wanted. But ore and iron and metal and stone, all these have no intrinsic value, or lack there of. There is no objective difference in the value between steel and granite, glass or diamond, gold or plastic. Thus, too, I believe that when it comes to people, you are deciding what is valuable according only to your standards. But is there objective worth to your perception of strength over your perception of weakness, beyond what is merely your perception?” And yet again, her voice was calm, not accusing, merely observing and asking. Sebastian returned, just as calm, if slightly smug, “Is there objective value in your perception of kindness and morality, Ms. Dastoor, beyond that it is merely your perception?” “I believe it has practical applications, but I have also never claimed an objective standpoint in our discussions, have I? Whereas you have, if I am recalling corrective,” Again, there was nothing aggressive in her tone. She was polite as could be. “I have and I do, but if I am to have it be put to a test of authenticity, I must require you to subject your own beliefs to the same scrutiny. It is not fair for the burden of proof to only fall on my shoulders.” Still also calm, still slightly smirking in his turning around on her. “That is quite true. I apologize,” she relented, ”But, to my original point---while I may disagree with Ms. Oliver’s sentiment, is it not one that appeals to you, one that you share?” Sebastian, too, relented with his smirk becoming a smile, “Yes.” The smile widened, knowing and amused,

“And despite your claim of not sharing the poem’s sentiments, I believe you see me as your box of darkness---and you are excavating me in search of some gift.” He put one hand in his suit pocket and began to depart, though he turned once, the smirk returned, and said, “Do let me know if you find it.” *** CANVAS “It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Alice, interrupting Madelyne’s angry rant, “I’m not real.” Madelyne Pryor had just explosively dragged the girl away from Claudine, insisting that the child shouldn’t have to see that...that...MONSTER...at any point on the voyage home. And if Haven hadn’t stopped her, she’d have ensured that Alice wouldn’t have a chance to, by KILLING the other woman, whom Madelyne now realized was aptly named “Miss Sinister” for fare more than her looks. She might still do it... But first--- “Don’t give me that!” Madelyne suddenly rounded on the girl she had just been comforting, been supporting, been swearing she’d never have to see her abuser---that was what it was to breed and clone someone just for the sake of their violation, abuse, beyond abuse!---again. But Alice had hit a nerve. And for the same reason Madelyne Pryor had so much empathy for her, she now had ire too. Madelyne’s snapping did, at least, stop Alice from crying. She’d been about to start, but the shock of Madelyne’s sudden change halted her in mid-tear. “You’re made of real flesh and blood, right?” Madelyne demanded rhetorically, “And you have thoughts and feelings right? Well you're real! The flesh being shared doesn't make it less real, just not unique. So you’re no less real than someone’s identical twin. And even they’re not really copies, because they have different personalities. So the only way you could be a copy---which you’re not---is if you had the first Alice’s same genes AND same thoughts and personality and everything! And you don’t, right” “Um,” Alice sniffled, a little afraid to correct the woman, who was so fierce whether she was defending Alice or berating her (or at least, it seemed like that was what she was doing...Alice wasn’t sure), “Actually...actually...I get all the memories of the previous Alices, so...so....I am a copy, actually...” “Oh,” Madelyne felt her argument just get ripped out from under like a trick rug someone had pulled. Her empathy came flooding back from the girl...and shame for shouting at her. Especially since she knew who she had REALLY been shouting at. “Well...” Shit, what did she do now? She’d just as good as told the girl she WAS a copy! How did she salvage this now? Come on Maddie, she told herself, What did you need somebody to say to you when you found out? “Listen, Alice,” she put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, firmly but gently. Her tone matched. “Yeah, you’re a copy. So am I. But we’re still real people, for all the reasons I said. No one gets to treat use like Claudine---or Colcord---treated you. No one should, anyway. It DOES matter. Being a clone, a copy, it doesn’t make you less alive. And so what if you’re a copy? You’re still YOU. You become more and more your own person with every moment you’re alive. Think of it like...like...” A Xerox. It was what she had compared herself to when she’d told Jean what she was. A Xerox that lost a lot in translation. What memories she’d had were either lies manufactured by Sinister...or worse, remnants from Jean that had bled into her mind when the Phoenix brought her to life. “Think of it like a Xerox machine, okay?” she said, more gentle than ever now, voice soft, and little tears of her own welling up, “When it first comes off the copy machine, yeah, it’s a duplicate...but then you can draw on it. You can write on it. You can crumple it up or throw it in the bin, or you can paint over it until it’s something new entirely on the paper. It’s up to you. It won’t stay a duplicate for long though. Either you can change it...or someone else will. But it’ll happen either way. And you know what?” Madelyne put a hand on Alice’s face, looking into her eyes, “I bet you can paint a real masterpiece.” *** SCIENTISTS “Are you alright, Claudine?” Madelyne had whisked Alice off. Haven had been going to do that originally, but since Madelyne had stepped in, Haven would leave it to her. She didn’t need to be the hero every time, and Madelyne...Madelyne had much in common with Alice. She might be better for Alice. And Alice might be good for her. But Haven’s next concern after Alice and Madelyne was Claudine. Claudine was the victimizer, yes. She had done awful things to Alice, to the Alices before her, to the other children. She had also been a victim too, and no one else here had pity for her now that they knew what she’d been besides that. No one else but Haven. “No moral outrage, Radha?” Claudine smirked slightly. She’d retreated to her lab, and it was hard to tell if she’d been expecting Haven to follow or not. “Of course,” said Haven calmly, “It horrifies and revolts me that those girls were bred only to be used as their hosts, their entire personalities, their souls, displaced for yours. Horrifies and disgusts me. Just as it horrifies and disgusts me, on just as deep a level, that the same was going to happen you if you did not escape in such a way.” “So because I was in danger of something terrible happening, you can excuse what I did?” Claudine sounded curious, mocking somehow, tapping one red-pink nail against a porcelain cheek. “Not excuses,” said Haven still calmly, “But I understand. And I still care if you were hurt just now.” “It’s more than that, isn’t it though?” said Claudine, still sounding amused, “You want to see if I’m wracked with guilt or not, if I hate myself. You want to see if I’m remorseful or tortured like you, like you want me to be maybe. Like you hope I am because it proves I must have some good in me, and you can comfort me and feel good about that. And if I’m not remorseful at all, you want to see why that is, if it’s because of Sinister or if it’s just me. And then if it’s just me...you want to figure me out too. Like you do with dear Sebastian.” Haven blinked, her sole sign of surprise, “That’s quite a lot of conjecture, Claudine. But...you are not incorrect, no. We do like to divide things neatly into victims who could do nothing, who had no power, and the victimizers who are wholly monsters...but that’s not wholly true, is it? Sometimes, the victims can do something. And sometimes, the only thing they can do is a monstrous thing. They’re caught in a Catch 22---either they don’t do the one thing they can, and thus will feel they are to blame for what happened. Or they do it, and they must live with the guilt. I can’t tell you if you were right or wrong Claudine, because---” “---sometimes there is no right or wrong, because the entire situation was wrong, and that’s not your fault.” Claudine finished, “I’ve heard how you talk with the kiddies, Haven. Like those little ones we pulled out of the fight pit. Or the one who pushed his friend forward at the flesh market so he’d get taken instead. You’re just oh so understanding, aren’t you? Seeing things from all sides.” “I would hope so. I certainly try to be. But, I admit, I’m not seeing something right now...why do you say that with what sounds, to me, as a mocking tone? Am I misinterpreting you, Claudine?” “A bit. I’m not mocking you, really I’m not---but I am teasing a little. It’s just so funny, you know?” Claudine’s index finger was next to her smiling mouth, “How you’re always thinking, always watching, and how I’m the only one who notices. What do you think the others would think, if they knew?” “I’m afraid I’m still not understanding you, Claudine. Would you mind helping me by putting it a bit plainer?” “Ever so polite. Come on now, Haven---as well as you know people, you must know they don’t like being put under a microscope. Everyone likes the IDEA of someone who “gets” them, who knows just what they’re feeling and what they need without them ever needing to open up all their vulnerable little insides like clams willfully tearing themselves out of their shells...but when it actually comes along, they don’t like it. Especially if it doesn’t feel earned, or specific to them. Because when they say they want that, they’re thinking of a partner, a lover, one single person who knows them that well because they’ve been with them that long, and love them, just them, that much. But telepaths like me, we get all that without having to see them as special at all. We don’t have to love them or spend time with them to KNOW them. We don’t have to open ourselves up in exchange. That’s why people don’t like us. And that’s---” She stepped close to Haven and bobbed her fingertip just above the other woman’s nose, “---why they wouldn’t like you. Oh yeah, you’re great when you’re sensitive and empathetic and all that, when you just know when someone needs a cup of tea or a shoulder to cry on...but it’s only to a point. Underneath all that soft silk and sweet words, you’re a lot like me---a scientist. We see the data. We gather it. We examine it. We analyze, we classify, we theorize. People call Xavier creepy these days but I think he’s just finally being honest.” She picked up Haven’s right hand, and raised it up, Haven allowing her. “So,” Claudine met her eyes, still smiling, “When are you going to be honest too?” Haven smiled back, with kind sincerity as always, “May I be honest now, Claudine?” “Of course.” Haven put her other hand on top of Claudine’s, sandwiching the unnaturally pale paw between her two soft brown ones, “Everything you say is accurate. But it’s also a deflection. You could have told me that you just did not wish to talk about Alice, you know. I would not have pried or pushed you. You know I never do.” Claudine laughed, and it was the laugh of someone who had just been proven completely correct. *** LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE “We’re going to need you to go undercover for this mission,” Xavier explained to the team, “It’s been decided that Sebastian and Haven will do best in this environment. Naturally, you will be outfitted with image inducers, and provided with all the false documentation required.” He slid a folder across the table to them, explaining, “You will be posing as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. King.” “King. I’m sure you thought that was very clever, Charles,” said Sebastian, picking the folder up and perusing it, “And I see our first names are...Abraham and Lakshmi. Is that a reference to something?” “Lakshmi is the goddess of which Radha is an aspect,” Xavier explained, “And Abraham...well, that just sounds slightly like Hiram, your middle name, or so I thought. I thought it might help the pair of you remember your identities, without being obvious to others.” “Well, thank you Charles. It’s good to know you put a man on the Quiet Council of whom your opinion is so low you think I can’t remember two names for a single night,” said Shaw, getting up and taking the folder with him, without excusing himself. The rest of the team follow suite, save Haven, who of course said the politest of goodbyes and thanked him for arranging the false identities. clever, and our first names “We’re leaving in the next five hours, so there’s hardly any time to prepare,” Sebastian said, plainly speaking to Haven even though he was looking ahead, not at her, “Ms. Dastoor, come with me so that we may discuss the details of our ruse.” Pyro watched the pair like a hawk as they went in a different direction from the rest of the crew. “Jealous, Pyro?” Claudine quipped, “I confess, I didn’t think Sebastian was your type...then again, he does have a certain resemblance to Dom I suppose...” Pyro was in no mood to play, however. “If he touches her I’m a-toast him from the inside out, see if his stinking GUTS are fireproof!” he proclaimed, a small jet of flame emanating from his wrist-shooter for emphasis. “Husband and wife...what’s Xavier thinking?! And she’ll be all alone with him and have to keep up the act if he does anything!” “Don’t sweat it,” Shinobi assured, “ I know my dad. She’s like ten years too old for him to be interested.” Pyro looked confused, “Isn’t she YOUNGER than him?” “Yeah,” said Shinobi. A look of disgust came over Pyro’s face. “Don’t look shocked,” Madelyne told him, “Don’t forget, he dated someone under ten once.” And that garnered...about the expressions you’d expect. Even from Claudine. “Me, you idiots! I was making a joke!” Madelyne clarified, seeing their shock and horror on their faces, “I’m technically like twelve years old max! God, you people...”

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Haven’s conversation in the former’s ship office was not far off. “With all that covered...” Sebastian finished as the last of their act was hashed out, “I have to bring us to what will likely be the most difficult part of this for you. Ms. Dastoor, I am not sure what the norms are for married couples in public in your country, but at some point in the evening...I will most likely put my arm around your shoulders.” “I understand,” said Haven, with the solemn gravity required for such a thing. “There will hopefully be no need for anything else, but if dancing occurs, there is a chance that a hand on your waist will be required as well. Can you allow and “act natural” this without displaying any discomfort?” "This will be tolerable if need be, Mr. Shaw, though not preferable. Will your hand be on mine, outside of potential dancing?” Sebastian cracked a smile, amused, “Husbands and wives don’t hold hands, Ms. Dastoor. I’m shocked you’ve never noticed that. It’s far too intimate for a married couple.” “I’m afraid you lost me, Mr. Shaw. Too intimate for a married couple? Is this a Western peculiarity?” “Men don’t slap their wives bottoms, Ms. Dastoor, “Sebastian explained, “They slap the bottoms of waitresses and flight attendants when their wives aren’t there. Does that help illustrate it better? “Yes, I think I see, Mr. Shaw.” “We probably haven’t had sex in the last 25, 35 years. At least not with each other.” “Thank you, Mr. Shaw.” “ Our marriage bed is as dry as the Sah—” “Thank you, Mr Shaw.” It was the first time that Sebastian had ever heard Haven cut him, or anyone, off. He would have taken offense from someone else, but he actually liked this, and smiled. He found it amusing he’d managed to get under her skin enough to prompt such a, for her, dramatic reaction. He’d have to make a note of this. *** PARTIES, PLEAS, AND PROMISES These Krakoa portals were truly a godsend. For many mutants, that was because the X-Men and other agents of Krakoa could now come to them easily and bring them to a safe place. For others it was because it enabled them to keep contact with their family and friends while also not having to leave what they felt was at last a place they could belong. But for Pyro and Shinobi...it meant bar-hopping from Manhattan to Moscow to Mexico! to Bulgaria to Bangkok to Taiwan to Timbuktu! In Manhattan, a cute guy with a nose piercing bought them beers and guided them through the city with his friends, boyfriends, and cousins til 5 AM when the guy’s cousin decided she really wanted spahgetti, so they all went to her house in the Harlem projects where she made them some and then they watched 90s hip hop music videos together. They stayed til 10 AM, then hopped a portal to Mexico, and went to a resort strip, where they got piss drunk again by doing shots with a guy covered in tattoos who might have also been involved with the cartels---Shinobi said he knew him from his dad’s black market business---and then Pyro got in a fight with the bouncer while Shinobi snorted molly in the bathroom stall. Got drunk again in Shanghai, fell off the bouncy dance floor, made friends with some Ukrainian tourists and went back to their hotel, walked in on an orgy, and when in Rome... Next thing they knew, they were in downtown Tokyko, drunk again, running on foot from the Japanese police, each of them holding a marijuana plant in a pot, laughing uncontrollably. Shinobi grabbed Pyro’s hand and they phased through a wall, only to fall down through thin air into an underground parking garage. Their potted pot plants shattered as they hit the concrete, and this just made them laugh more despite their own bruised tailbones as they lay there between a couple of cars. Eventually, when the giggles ran out, Shinobi slurred, “Man, I’m so glad...so glad our last night is awesome.” “Wha?” Pyro said, not sure he’d gotten that right. He was pretty boozy right now, after all, “What’d you mean, last night?

"Well, I, uh,” Shin said, obviously uncomfortable, “I decided...if I can’t hang out w’you anymore...gonna make the last time a good time.”

”Wh--” Pyro started, then his expression soured, “It’s yer dad, isn’t it?”

No answer.

”I knew it! He told you...tol’ you you couldn’t...be mates with me no more...that it?”

Shinobi mumbled.

”Listen Shin...forget him! You a grow...grown man! Y’don’t have to do what that old douchebag says! He’s just a...just a cunt, a right cunt, y’know? Fucking cunt...” Pyro wobbled back and forth, so vehement was he in his support.

”Well, we’re workin together now...” Shinobi said weakly.

”Yer workin WITH him though not for him! And why’re you even doing that? C’mon, he he wasn’t any good to you why should you do anything for him?”

Shinobi looked shocked, then angry, demanding, “How d’you know that?!” "Pfft, I’m not as thick as your old man thinks, you know! I can pick up a hint or two! Especially when it’s you telling me.” Shinobi looked shocked again, and Pyro, still swaying in place, clapped him on the back and explained, “Ah, I don’t expect you to remember but you’ve said a few things when you were as full as the back of a plumber's ute.Don’t worry, weren’t nothing too personal, no specifics, so don’t look so scared alright?” Pyro knew how it was to want to keep some things private, things that hurt, and even drunk he was trying to be sensitive to that, sensitive as someone like him could be. He continued, “And anyway, would have still guessed. He’s such a right bastard to everyone, can’t imagine him being some warm old papa bear behind closed doors. “He’s---” Shinobi started, about to tell Pyro about just how horrible his father was, and then remembered how ‘sympathetic’ Warren had been, and instead went back on the defensive, “Well it’s none of your business!” Pyro shrugged, not deterred, “Sure it’s not but I’m a journalist, so what do I care? It’s been my job to go where I’m not wanted. And you can do what you want, Shinobi me mate, but you can’t expect ol’ St. John to just keep his trap shut on anything, you know that. Calls it likes I see it, me. Thought you liked that.” There was a sobering silence between the pair for a moment, sitting on their butts in the silent garage while the noise of the Tokyo nightlife sang beyond the concrete walls of what they were missing. “Don’t...don’t tell him I said anything,” Shinobi said at last. Pyro promised him he would not. For he heard the plea in his new pal’s voice. *** SEA AND SKY (Context: Happens just after THIS) “Haven?” Madelyne arrived to the rescue, praying she wasn’t too late. She’d thought she was when she saw the wreckage, but she also saw Haven within it. And she wasn’t lying there like a body, she was sitting up, kneeling over...something. “Haven, thank god! Are you injured? Stay right there, I’ll come over and help---oh dear lord.” As Madelyne had begun to move forward, she’d seen what Haven was kneeling over, its half-charred head in her lap. “Is he---” “Yes,” said Haven, calmly, sadly, distantly. Madelyne didn’t ask how; it was obvious, the explosion killed him. She’d thought his powers would protect him from that kind of thing; it must have been specialized to combat that. Freaking Pierce. She didn’t bother to question how Haven was alive, but if she had, she’d assume maybe it was something also designed only to kill humans and Haven had been in a safe place during the explosion and then found Sebastian’s remains after. Something like that. “Alright, come on,” she said gently but firmly, taking Haven by the arm, trying to pull her up, “There’s nothing you can do for him now. He’ll be reborn on Krakoa by the time we go back to pick him up anyway. Wait, what are you doing? Haven, put that down, that’s disgusting!” Haven was carrying the...torso. She was tenderly cradling the great hunk of lifeless meat, needlessly supporting the neck and head as one would for an infant. The sight out Madelyne in mind of a bizarre Pieta scene. Madonna of the Charnel House. “Haven, he’s dead!” “I know, Madelyne, I know. But isn’t it...wrong to just leave a body here? I know he will have a new one on Krakoa, but it still feels obscene to leave the old one unburied, unconsecrated, uncared for.” “Haven...” Madelyne started, not sure what to say. And she thought of something she never had before. What had happened to her body? Her first one? The original? The one that died at the end of Inferno? She’d come back first as a being of pure psychic energy disguised in a human form, a very solid ghost, essentially. That was all she was for a long time, walking and talking and fucking, all while TECHNICALLY still being dead. It was only recently that she had really become flesh and blood again, Jean Grey’s DNA spliced by Arkea into the body of a woman named Ana Cortes, altering the physical appearance of the young Columbian into that of the redhead and allowing Madelyne Pryor’s consciousness to take up residence in it...meaning Madelyne was still, as ever, occupying a body that wasn’t really her own. And her first hadn’t been her own either, just a copy of Jean’s, but she wondered now, what had been done with it? Knowing the X-men, they gave her a perfectly proper funeral. Maybe they even cried. But she wished, perverse as it seemed, that they had thrown her out with the garbage, had the HONESTY to treat her in death as they ultimately had in life, than PRETEND that they really saw her as a loss. She knew they didn’t. Even the ones who knew her FIRST, Rogue and Psylocke and Longshot, who had met her BEFORE they met Jean, even they had wanted that witch instead of her at the end.... “Yeah, okay, just...just put it somewhere it won’t...rot,” she said uneasily, “And we’ll call Sebastian when he...when he wakes up. See what he wants to do with it.” It should be, Madelyne felt, his choice, and Haven agreed. When he did get the call, his reply was firstly being rather disgusted they had kept it, and then, without any emotion, said they should just thrown the “damn thing” overboard. “Funeral at sea then,” said Madelyne as she turned off the phone, “You want to do the honors, Haven? Since it was your idea.” Not like anyone else wanted to be a part of it. Well, except Shinobi, who had suggested launching it like a cannonball and then having Pyro set it aflame in the sky. They thought they were funny. “Would you mind helping me terribly, Madelyne?” Have asked, “I’d rather lower it down gently, and if your telekinesis could that, I would appreciate it...but I also understand if you don’t wish to touch something so gruesome, even psychically.” “I’m not squeamish,” Madelyne smirked. As she performed the task, she noticed Haven was silent. “You’re not gonna...say a few words, or anything?” “Mr. Shaw has told he isn’t religious, so I don’t think he would want it. And he isn’t...well, he isn’t dead. So what does one say, really?” “Hell if I know,” said Madelyne, “It’s funny---I’ve been dead a lot, you’d think I would be an expert on it.” As she began levitating the chunk of meat that once house Sebastian Shaw’s mind and soul, if he had the latter, she continued, “I never even thought about what should be done with my body...which isn’t really even mine now actually, don’t ask...I guess cremation is most appropriate. Fire, you know. It’s kind of my thing, whether I like it or not.” “I’ve always wanted a sky burial, myself,” said Haven. “I’ve never heard of that,” Madelyne sounded very interested. The word ‘sky’ had piqued her interest as a former pilot. “It’s a practice among my mother’s people, the Zoroastrians, as well as many other people, such as Tibetans. The body is placed on a mountaintop to be decomposed naturally by the elements and the animals. In Ancient Zoroastrianism specifically, it was placed on the Dakhma, the Tower of Silence, to be desiccated by the sun and consumed by birds of prey. I realize this sounds ghastly to a Western point of view, but--” “No, no, I get it. You’re just...going back to nature, becoming a part of everything else again, right? That sounds like your kind of thing.” Haven smiled at her, “It is.” Below, the body gently broke the surface of the waves, and Madelyne released her hold, allowing it to sink. “I guess that’s sort of what we’re doing here. Just with fishes instead of birds. Me though...that’s not for me. I don’t want to be a part of everything. Not when I’ve fought so hard...to just be ME.” *** AWKWARD “Hey! You got a problem with me, fuck knuckle?!” Calmly, Sebastian turned his head in the direction of the insult just hollered at him from the the far end of the deck, “Why, several, Mr. Allerdyce. Though most of them stem from the back you quite clearly have a problem with ME.” The Australian was drunk, but Sebastian knew from experience that the scrawny little bastard didn’t need THAT to be rude and belligerent, in particuliar rude and belligerent to Sebastian. Sebastian could ALMOST appreciate the balls on him, if only he could back them up. But without his fire to intimidate---and it could not intimate Sebastian---he really was just like one of those irritating little rat dogs peeking from ladies’ purses to bark challenges at true canines. “You’re damn right I do!” Pyro returned, “For starters, you’re---” And then continued with a really rather impressive listing of all his opinions on just what made Sebastian Hiram Shaw, Black King of the Hellfire Club---er, Trading Company---just such unbearable company. Sebastian listened in a detached, blaise manner, quite unruffled by the display of uncouth unruliness, and ready to simply throw the fool overboard should he come close enough to grab. “And on top o’ all that, yer a homophobe to boot!” What. Sebastian blinked. Nothing else had surprised him in the entire rambling rant, but this? This he had not seen coming. “Come again, young man?” “You heard me! Don’t think I don’t know why you’re always tryin’ t’get between me and your son! You don’t want him catchin’ the gay any worse than he’s got, eh?” Sebastian stared at him for another moment. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he turned away, and put his fist up to his lips, as though stifling a cough, “Excuse me.” Did that fucker just laugh?! Pyro wondered. “Excuse my boot up yer arse, you old dicknob! Listen, it’s 2020, and you can’t get away with---” He is laughing! He was indeed. Pyro had not been prepared for this. “Hey...hey what’s so damn funny, huh?!” “Nothing, nothing,” Sebastian waved a hand, but it was clear from his voice he was still trying VERY hard not to laugh again, “Please, do go on about my bigotry. After all, I’m very conservative when it comes to sexual practices, as I’m sure you know.” Something begin to click in Pyro’s intoxicated mind. Something that suggested...he might have made a mistake here. And an admittedly pretty hilarious one. “Oh god yer in the fucking Hellfire Club, “ he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, “Of course you don’t care about that...” “Well, it was funny though,” Sebastian said, and the bastard was actually SMILING, “Thank you, Mr. Allerdyce, I haven’t been that tickled all week. But, no, I know about my son’s egalitarian predilections with regards to sex and gender----he inherited them from me, after all.” Oh. Oh god. Of all the things Pyro HAD NEVER WANTED TO KNOW OR IMAGINE. A moment ago, Sebastian had been planning to throw Pyro overboard. But now? Now Pyro was considering just doing it to HIMSELF. *** STORIES “And then I got to Cambodia and let me tell you---food is great. People say don’t ask what’s in it but me, I got to ask---it’s my job, see---and yeah, they eat things ‘Mericans never would, or most Aussies, but I say, why’re we judging? We eat pigs and those’re way more intelligent than spiders or half-hatched duck eggs, seems we’re the savages for that, y’know? Not that I’m givin’ up pork any time soon but you know what I’m saying?” Pyro and Madelyne were sitting on the ship’s edge, watching the sun go down over the water, sharing a few beers, talking about what they’d done before all this. “You don’t look like you ever ate pork in your life, string bean,” replied Madelyne, “ But yeah. You say Cambodia? What part?” “ Senmonorom, capital of Mondulkiri Province.” “No kidding! I dropped cargo off there once!” Madelyne exclaimed, “When I was a pilot! Spent the whole rest of the day there since I had the time. Couldn’t understand a word but I loved the---oh no, hahaha, I loved the food!” “Ha! I’m sure it was just noodles you got, love.” “Mmm...pretty crunchy noodles, then...” She paused, and looked pensieve, more serious, “It’s crazy. I can really remember the texture. Not the taste though. He must not have known what it tasted like.” “He?” Pyro asked. Madelyne was suddenly sober in more ways than one, as she explained, looking away, “I never went to Cambodia. I never flew that plane. That cargo never existed, and neither did whatever I ate.” “Well, y’don’t need to lie to me get me to like you, Madelyne.” “No, you don’t understand---they’re not lies. I mean, they are, but---they’re not to me, I---but they are---I hate them, but I forget that they’re not---” She was clutching her hair now, and looked distressed. “Whoa, whoa, hey there mate, what’s the matter?” Pyro placed a hand on her back, trying his best to calm her down, something he wasn’t great at even for himself, “Listen, Maddie...I been through some crazy shit. And I heard crazier on Krakoa from people. We mutants...or, people who are, I dunno, mutant-adjacent like you...we live weird lives. You don’t GOTTA tell me but I’ll believe you.” Madelyne took a deep inhale, “It’s not that. I know you’ll believe me. It’s just...I never really talked to anyone about it, you know?” Pyro was uncomfortable now. He braced himself. He didn’t like going deep, he wanted everything to just be fun and casual. But he wasn’t going to run away or brush it off either. He owed his friends better than that; when he’d been on his last legs with the Legacy Virus, his friend Avalanche had been everything. He knew their value. Madelyne, too, needed to amp herself up for this. “So you know I’m a clone, right? Of Jean Grey?” “It’s come up, yeah.” “I was grown to full adulthood in a...in a vat, basically. But Sinister---the man who did it---didn’t want me to KNOW what I was. Would spoil the plans he had for me and...for me and Scott. So he gave me some false memories. Mostly I had “amnesia” but I could remember being a pilot. To explain the memories of flight and fire that I got from Jean----what memories don’t come from him, are from her. Well, the Phoenix actually...it’s complicated.” “Yeah, I’m getting that. That’s rough, buddy,” oh god he sounded like an idiot, “ But in my book, you still went to Cambodia.” He was answered with an eyebrow quirk from his friend, and so he elaborated, “Look, I’m a journalist, and I’m a writer, and I...I write stories. Even when it was something true, I’m still making a story about it. And when I make it up entirely, it’s as real a story as when I wrote the one about the real event. Ah fuck, I can’t talk, can write a damn novel but I fuck up all the words when I try to SAY it...look, Maddie, what I’m saying is,” He put a hand on her shoulder, “When I met you, it wasn’t who you are now, or who you were when you came out of that vat. It was some human bird running with the X-Men in Dallas. Yeah, I noticed you looked a hell of a lot like Jean and I thought that was who you were the whole time. Then I saw the broadcast they made, where you talked to your husband---shit, wait, he married you and Jean, what the fuck---telling him to find your baby---oh fuck I’m just realizing why you’re so mad at him, holy hell--before you gave up your life to save the world. That’s who I remember. And your memories, real or fake, well they’re a part of you, they’re your stories. Stories...they make us who we are. And even if they were made up, who you are, what you did, isn’t. You’re a story, yeah. So are we all. Fuck I’m really mangling this but you know what I--- oh.” Madelyne was hugging him. Holy shit. Well, he must have done something right, then. Damned if he knew what, though, he thought he’d fucked it up royally with that Trump-level rambling. And when she released him, she looked up at his shocked face, and said, “St. John?” “Y-yeah?” “Eat some damn pork. You really ARE a string bean.” *** OUT OF THE FRYING PAN Sebastian Shaw was indeed generally immune to explosions. And also to fire. He simply absorbed the thermal energy, rendering it harmless to him, if annoying. Afact that a certain Australian had exploited mercilessly. But Pyro was not here now, and so he could not stop the blaze that Shinobi was trapped in, that Sebastian had escaped but Shinobi had not yet. He’s not out yet, Sebastian thought nervously as he watched the blaze, waiting, Must be unconscious, must have hit his head, the fool, idiot boy, told him to stay in super dense form, stupid stupid stupid child He’d burn to death, if smoke inhalation didn’t get him first. He would die, and be reborn on Krakoa. It would be fine. And the suffering, the death, would serve him right, for being so foolish as not to listen to his father, to do the sensible thing and stay dense, why had he let himself get caught there? If you were weak enough to die, you deserved it, deserved it for KEEPS. Sebastian could say that, and admit it applied to him too. He would not DENY the second chance given to him by Krakoa, but nor would he pretend that Emma didn’t earn his death by virtue of being ABLE to do it. If you could do it, if you did do it, then it was within your rights to do it, was how Shaw saw things. Right of power was the only right that mattered, and you did no favors by RESCUING someone, you only prolonged their weakness. Any moment now, he thought, Any moment...if he’s going to make it out, it will have to be soon. There was a horrible cracking as a wood beam crashed down into the flames. The building was coming down. And Sebastian Shaw’s feet were suddenly moving. But was it by his deliberate decision? Or his own accord? He didn’t know. He sprinted into the structure, careful not to let his body bash through what supports remained---it might not hurt him but it would crush Shinobi if the boy was still alive---heedless of the fire, though the smoke stung his eyes, and he knew he was not immune to the effects of breathing it. If he was going to do this foolish, stupid, NEEDLESS thing, he had best do it fast. He scanned the room through the gray haze, and caught a glimpse of purple obscured by some rubble. He tossed it aside, digging through it like a terrier on the scent of a rabbit, until he found his boy, unmoving but still breathing, and hauled him from the wreckage. His body hair sizzling against his heat-proof skin, the sweat turning to steam the moment it left his brow, he gathered the limp form of his son into his arms, and ran from the flames, this time not caring about the beams he knocked aside, ran right through as though they were as intangible as Shinobi could be. When they were out, and a safe distance away from the blaze, Sebastian laid his son down, and waited for him to wake up. As soon as Shinobi did, as soon as his eyes opened, and he began to speak, and to realize what had happened, to start to express his shock at the fact his father had just saved his life at risk to his own... Sebastian’s fist landed against the boy’s ashy face. And again. And again. Until Shinobi was dead. He left the battered corpse where it was, and begin making his way to find the other Marauders, and tell them they needed to head back to Krakoa when most convinient, that Shinobi had died and would be waiting there. And when they arrived and picked him up, Sebastian knew he would have the good sense to say nothing to anyone. And he’d have a talk with him about the importance of handling oneself in such future situations. He really did try with the boy, dammit, but there was just no teacher like experience, he supposed. And painful experience worked best. *** NIGHTMARE DRESSED AS A DAYDREAM

"Look it’s the Marauder!” everyone cried out in awe and admiration as Pyro entered the party. His grim, stoic expression, his majestic stride, were in contrast to the lascivious frivolity around him of the swimsuit-clad crowd, but this difference only made the girls come swarming to him faster. He accepted their fawning adulation, but only cooly, as it was just his due. He was, after all, the handsomest, most power, Supreme Mutant, and this was all normal and natural. It was only when he began passionately lip-locking with Jean Grey on the hood with Jean Grey that-- Wait, what? This was wrong. This was so wrong. It had to be a dream, but even then it was WRONG. He’d never had a dream of this kind about a woman in his life, let alone Jean Grey. And if he was going to, why would it be JEAN? That felt extra wrong, given that he was pals with Madelyne now, was this some kind of weird-- “GET OFF ME!” cried a man’s voice, and Pyro broke away from the embrace, looking up. Some several dozen feet away, Fabian Cortez struggling with an amorous Avalanche, who seemed to have been engaged with the same activity with the redheaded ‘Supreme Mutant’ as Pyro just had with Marvel Girl...and Dom was wearing the same outfit Jean was. “Oy, what in the--” Pyro started to demand, when suddenly a huge head ---Mr. Sinister’s head, specifically-- erupted from the ground. It was bedecked by yet more scantily clad girls, with a throne on top it in which sat Claudine, being accosted by them, and she looked as confused as Pyro and Fabian were, confused and horrified. Then the rain began, endless rain, and Pyro was all alone, all alone in the mud as the rain came down, rain and pain, so much pain, coming from parts of his body he’d never had in his life, his womb, his-- “All right, that’s quite enough of that!” the voice of Emma Frost echoed throughout all of existence, and the lights came back on in the world again as Pyro woke up. “Freakin’ kids,” he muttered, as he realized what had happened. There was a baby telepath in the latest batch of rescues, and the little bugger had gotten their dreams all mish-mashed together. Happened more than once before. Grunting, he turned over, and went back to sleep...though a little uneasy this time. He wondered, who had that last part come from?

#fic #writing #alt marauders #out of cortez

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teamhook · 5 years ago

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CSSNS 2019 Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star)

Hello all!

This is my contribution to this year’s @cssns

I know my other story is still going on and it will find it’s ending, but since I cannot say no to @kmomof4 here I am, once more.

I wanna thank the lovely ladies at the CSSNS Discord. I love chatting with you all.

I wanna thank the mods of CSSNS19, my lovely very patient Beta @searchingwardrobes and my artist for the event @hollyethecurious

Below the cut, you will find the current chapter and at the end art by me.

AO3

FFN

Killian woke up at dawn and quickly changed. He realized now how much he had missed the sea. Sure, there was the lake he'd mention to Emma last night, but it wasn't the same. The smell of sea salt called to him. He looked outside his window to make sure there was enough light for him to take a walk to the docks.

He rushed out of the inn. It was a fresh morning and the air was cool and crisp. He arrived quickly to the docks. The ship was easy to spot. The Jewel I floated proudly on the gentle waves. The last time he was on the ship he had his mum and Liam. They were a happy family, and now they were gone. The Jones family ship looked a little beat up. He was surprised, knowing how particular his father was. He touched the ship reverently. While lost in thought on the ship's deck, he missed a swish in the shadows.

There was a sudden change in the air. His heart sped up, and his senses were on full alert now. He turned just in time to come face to face with the thing that killed his mum and had been terrorizing young Leo.

It had a cloak and its face was pale and covered in scars, with white eyes. The thing tilted its head in recognition and glided towards him. Killian turned and grabbed a steel hook hanging from the ship's wheel. He sliced through the creature, and it shrieked as it disappeared. He thought that maybe those supernatural shows were onto something. Killian looked around to make sure he was alone once more. Still shaking, it took him a minute to calm down. He shoved the hook into his back pocket and finally left the ship. He walked to the inn as fast as he could. He gave Ruby a strained smile as he walked by the front desk.

~~~

Emma woke up to the sound of scuffling. She darted up, her eyes instantly turned to the spot Leo was supposed to be. "Em, I'm hungry." The boy told her. She studied him for a bit. He looked better, he was rested. She couldn't help but smile. Killian had been back for one day, and her little brother had managed to sleep through the night.

"Okay, kid. Let me get ready. Is Killilan in the restroom?" She got up and stretched.

"Nope, he wasn't here when I woke up." He looked at her with his big eyes.

"Okay," she looked around the room. She panicked for a nanosecond. His things were all still there. "Well, he probably went to the diner. Leo, go to the restroom, and brush your teeth. There's an extra toothbrush for you. Wash your face too. Killian probably just got hungry, and he didn't want to wake us up."

The boy rushed to the restroom. Emma picked up her clothes to get ready once Leo vacated the restroom.

The door flew open, and Emma met a rattled Killian. Her brow rose as he looked around the room. "Emma, where's Leo?"

"He is in the restroom. Why?"

"That bloody thing just attacked me at the docks."

"Wait, right now? In the morning?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, it was in the shadows, but I used this" he takes out the hook from his back pocket. "It went away. I think it caused it pain. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits."

“This helped?” She took the hook from his hand.

The restroom door flew open, and Leo burst out. As soon as he saw Killian, and ran to him. The boy hugged him tightly. Emma couldn’t hide her smile. Killian’s eyes met Emma’s, and for a moment happiness flowed over them.

The moment was interrupted by Leo's stomach growling, and the trio erupted in laughter.

Killian sobered up, "I'm guessing, Granny's for breakfast."

Emma cleared her throat, "Yeah, give me a second to change." She handed Killian the hook.

Leo's eyes lit up at the sight, "Whoa, is that a hook? Can I touch it?"

Killian looked at Emma for guidance, but she had gone inside the restroom already. He pondered if he should let the lad touch it. The boy just wanted to look at it, how bad could it be?

"Alright, lad. Just a quick touch."

The boy’s eyes went wide with excitement. "Cool!"

The boy's fingers barely tapped the hook.

"Leo, be careful. The tip is sharp, and I don't think your sister would appreciate it if you hurt yourself."

Leo rolled his eyes. A family trait he shared with Emma.

Emma finally emerged from the restroom, fresh-faced. She wore the same clothes from the day before, but still managed to look beautiful.

“Alright boys, I’m ready and starving.”

~~~

Leo sat next to Emma, and Killian sat across from them. The trio looked over the menu.

Granny approached the table with a big wolfish smile. Ruby had mentioned that Emma’s friend Killian was back. Unlike most of the town, the older woman never believed the boy had hurt his mother. What happened that night she didn’t know, but she did know the boy adored his mother. She could see it each and every time the Joneses entered the diner for some food.

“Good morning, so what can I get you?” Granny asked.

Emma answered, “Good morning, Granny, can we have three orders of pancakes?”

“Of course,” the older lady raised both eyebrows, “anything else? Maybe some eggs and bacon?”

Killian turned his gaze to the young Leo, “That sounds lovely, Lady Lucas.” He gave her a charming smile.

Granny smiled, “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you boy?” Her gaze turned to Emma, “I can definitely see the appeal.” She finished writing on her pad and headed to the kitchen.

Emma’s cheeks turn red. Is it that obvious? She tried her best to avoid Killian’s gaze.

They were enjoying their delicious food and failed to notice the pair arriving at the table.

Ahem.

Emma, Killian, and Leo turn to the source of the sound. Her dad and mom beam at them. “Good morning, my sweethearts,” Mary Margaret gushed.

David added, “That looks delicious. May we join you?”

Leo smiled and nodded. Emma glanced at Killian. “Yeah--” She waited for a sign from him that she needed to decline, but all she saw was a genuine smile on his face.

David guided his wife to sit in the empty spot Killian had left vacant. Killian slid over in the booth to make room for Mary Margaret. David graciously got an empty chair from another table and sat down.

Granny approached them as quickly as her age allowed. “I’m guessing you two don’t need to see the menu. The usual?”

Mary Margaret and David nodded their agreement.

Emma, Leo, and Killian continued eating. The silence was overwhelming. Young Leo was the one who broke it once he was done chewing his food. “Mom, Dad I finally slept through the night. Look-” He pointed to his well-rested eyes, and gave a smug smirk. “Thanks to Killian, he kept the monster away.”

Killian winced, Emma muttered, “shit.” Leo, oblivious, dove back into his food.

Mary Margaret and David shared a look. “Son, what monster?” David looked at Leo for clarification.

Emma responded for him, “Dad, he means” she lowered her voice so her parents were the only ones to hear her “the night terrors. He doesn’t need the treatment the doctor is recommending.”

“Just because he had one good night doesn’t mean he is better,” David stated.

Mary Margaret was awfully quiet just looking at her son. He looked happy, relaxed. and rested. “We could wait, look at him, he does look better.”

Killian was extremely quiet still eating.

Mary Margaret turned to Killian, “Killian, I’m sorry we’ve been rude. It is so nice to see you.”

David tilted his head to get a better look at him. “Killian, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry-”

Killian’s bright blue eyes turned to them. “It is nice to see you both.” He added politely.

Granny arrived with Mary Margaret and David’s food.

David looked at his food. All those years ago, he had asked Emma to keep away from Killian. Yet they’ve found each other once more. Once the awkwardness had disappeared, everyone enjoyed their breakfast.

Mary Margaret and David asked Emma to keep an eye on Leo since they had to take care of some errands before the Gala.

Emma and Killian were just talking about simple things when Belle burst through the door. The little belle announcing her arrival was still chiming when she reached their table.

“I think I found something,” Belle told them, out of breath.

Emma smiled, “Okay Belle, calm down. Catch your breath, and you can tell us what it is you found.”

Belle grinned and dropped some sort of archive/record book. It looked old. “Look here. There were disappearances for almost 300 years but not as consistent as in the last 100 years. The most notable were of the founding families, and it was always the second born child to disappear.”

Emma bit her lower lip and glanced at Killian. Despite everything, Emma was just happy Leo was in the kitchen making cookies with Ruby like a normal kid.

Killian asked, "When did the attacks begin?"

Emma added, "Yeah, something must have triggered them."

Belle looked at the pair, “The attacks started about 300 years, but they were rare. There’s no exact date. I agree something triggered them to become more consistent in the last 100 years give or take. I think it coincides with the Gala. We started the Gala to celebrate the founding families about 100 years ago, right? That is when the attacks intensified. You’re both descendants. Killian is the second Jones, so he was attacked. Emma you are the eldest, Leo is the second and was attacked.”

Emma shook her head, “I thought they got attacked because they both peeked. You are not supposed to peek, if you do the fairy will take you away.”

Killian was silent just listening to them.

“I know but as descendants from the founding families it looks like they were selected that way. I don’t think it made a difference that they peeked. What matters is their bloodline. I don’t know what happened, but this thing has it out for the families.”

Emma pondered Belle’s words. “I think mom has somethings passed over from my great great great grandmother, diaries I think. Mom saved them because they are part of our heritage. Maybe there’s something there.

Belle smiled brightly, “As soon as you have something, you can take it to the library.”

Emma nodded, “Okay.”

Killian stared at his hands. “So it truly was my fault.”

Emma turned to him, confused, “What?”

He met her eyes. “My mum, if I would have let her take me, my mum would be alive, and maybe Liam would be too.”

Emma laughed, “Are you kidding me? To your mom it wouldn’t have been a choice. Your life for hers. She adored you, and "if she had it to do over again, she would choose you.” She smiled and reached out for his hands.

“It doesn’t matter, it's still my fault.”

She shook her head, “No, this is not your fault. Whoever angered this thing, that’s who is at fault.”

Leo arrived from the kitchen with a big smile. He had a big, chocolate smeared grin on his face as he put the plate of warm cookies on the table.

They ate a few of the delicious, gooey cookies in silence.

“Hey kid, do you mind keeping Belle company for a while? We need to go to the farm to pick up some stuff. It won’t take long. You know how organized mom is.” said Emma.

Leo just nodded his agreement. He liked Belle.

Killian leaned into Emma’s space, “We better hurry, if Belle is right about her deductions. When is the Founder’s Gala?”

“Tomorrow night. Do you really think she’s right?” Emma glanced at Leo worriedly.

“She seems like a smart lass. Imagine if someone has wronged you, would you be happy if that person was celebrated as a hero?” His eyebrows rose to his hairline.

Emma sighed "I get it. I just think it's crazy."

Killian smiled "What? That there's a vengeful ghost out there targeting the people you love?" His ears reddened. He meant Leo, but deep inside he hoped he was included. He hadn't been back that long, and now he was having a hard time seeing himself anywhere else.

“Alright let’s go. Come on, kid.” They shuffled out of the diner after paying for their meal. They walked to the library, and Leo rushed inside.

“Don't worry lass," Killian encouraged her, "he will be okay. We will find a way to end this.”

They drove out to her parent’s farm just outside of town.

“So when did your parents move from the old house?” Killian asked.

Emma didn’t take her eyes off the road. “I think we moved a few years after your mom. The neighborhood didn’t feel the same. My dad always wanted a farm.” She shrugged.

“Do you not live with your parents?” Killian turned his full attention to her.

“Oh no, I don’t. Dad wasn’t happy about that. He claimed it made no sense since the farm is big enough. He said I wouldn’t lack privacy, but I enjoyed living on my own when I was in Boston. The loft is pretty cheap, I lucked out.”

They arrived at the Nolan Farm.

“Would you like a tour, Killian?”

“Not this time, let’s just find what we came for. Maybe another time you can show me around.”

“It shouldn’t take long, my mom is very organized.”

They got to the cellar and found a few old trunks. Each going through a trunk, they searched for the journals.

After an hour or so, Emma said, “Killian, I think I found something. Uh, this diary is from Eva right after the first Founder’s Gala. I tried to warn them but no one listened.” she muttered, “I knew Hester Blue wouldn’t be pleased.” Emma mumbled, “Oh here we go. My grandmother told me how Hester was killed unjustly. She loved the town kids, indulged them with sweets, and as a special treat when they lost their last baby tooth, she would give them a gold coin.” Emma looked up when she heard scuffling, and Killian sat next to her “the youngest Spencer and Midas went into the forest alone after they were told not to. They were missing for hours. The town quickly turned on Hester. She got blamed for the missing children.” Emma looked at Killian, “she was judged and executed by the town’s most powerful men. They buried her by a tree next to her home. Since her death, the forest hasn’t been the same.”

“I believe this is it, Is there anything more?” Killian asked as he got up.

Emma flipped through the pages. “We can take it and read it carefully at the library.”

“Alright let’s get back to Belle and young Leo. I just hope there’s more of the location. Do you think her home is still out there?”

“We’ll find out.” Emma grabbed his hand and with her free hand held on to the diary.

They headed to the library to share with Belle the new information they had found and to see if they could find out more.

Once again Emma asked for Leo to spend the night, but they spent it with Killian. Leo felt safe with Killian.

~~~

In the shadows of the town, the vengeful spirit of Hester lurked. She hid in the dark corners. She had become angrier and restless after the child escaped her all those years ago. There was a new child to focus her ire on, but he too proved elusive.

#cssns19 #Captain Swan #cs ff #kmomof4 #CS Crew #CS Mafia #cs au #cs ff au

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richardpooleimagines · 5 years ago

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Imagine celebrating your birthday with [the Saint Marie gang and] Richard! (part 2/2)

A/N: so here it finally is and damn it took me too long to post it, my bad. also i find the world’s lack of images & gifs of starlit beaches disturbing

Part two of the original request by the super awesome @cake-and-umbrellas!!!!!!!

Pairing: Detective Inspector Richard Poole x reader

Warnings: Richard rants for like 200 minutes, fluffy kisses (oh dear), sand (dw it’s unmentioned)

--------

Back at the Shack, Richard opened the passenger door for you and when he held out his arm without a word you took it and cocked your head to the side in question. He hadn't said anything for the entire car ride.

Needless to say you gasped when he opened the front door and you were drenched in the beautiful orange glow of hundreds of little fairy lights, hung from the ceiling and wrapped around the tree that grew through the middle of his living room. Your grasp tightened on his arm as you looked up at him, near to tears, "What's going on Richard?"

He smiled softly. Finally, after a long day and a night of partying with your friends at Catherine's, it was near midnight and he finally had you right where he wanted you: so close to being in his arms so he could tell you how much he loved and appreciated you.

"Shhhh," he put a finger to his lips and untangled his arm from yours, taking off his suit jacket, tie, rolling up his sleeves, and undoing the first few buttons. As he did this you watched him curiously, your cheeks tinted rouge (trying not to pass out from the sheer masculine appeal that Richard was exuding with his rolled up sleeves and few undone buttons). What was going on?

His silent answer came when he held out his hand and led you slowly out to the porch and then onto the sand along the starlit beach.

Forearms linked and fingers woven together, it was lovely to feel the contact usually not felt when he had his sleeves rolled down and suit jacket on. He hoped you didn't notice how his skin was searing where it was pressed against yours, contrasting with the cool salty sea breeze that whipped around you both. His blood was running hot because even after all this time together, your laugh and smile and eyes and everything you did made his heart flip somersaults.

Aglow with bright moonlight, you walked along for a ways. When you stopped, you could hear Richard take a deep breath - you were holding yours- and release a heavy sigh, before he turned to you and took both your hands in his. Your birthday was becoming more and more magical every minute you spent with him, and you were on the verge of dizzy with how romantic this all was.

"I'm sorry," he said.

His words took you by surprise as you froze in horror and furrowed your brows, your heart having leapt to your throat. You could see Richard's face contort into confusion with your sudden change of expression.

"You're breaking up with -"

"-What? No? No! No of course not," he looked at you, incredulous.

"Oh thank god," you let out a rush of air.

Taking a second to relax and giving you a moment to release the sheer panic you just experienced, he gazed at you apologetically. His hands were warm and gentle around yours, and you stared back at him in awe, you loved him so much. "What are you sorry for then?"

"I - I, well," he began, "I wanted tonight to be special, because it was your birthday."

You giggled and shook your head, "It was special, Richard, everyone was so wonderful."

"No, I mean I wanted to make tonight special for you. I had quite a bit planned out..." he sighed and looked away at the nearby waves, "I'm sorry that sounds terribly selfish of me."

You were stunned, Richard was grumpy the whole night because he wanted to spend your birthday evening alone? Oh, your precious, sweet, well-meaning, absolutely dense Detective Inspector. You grinned broadly, blushing, "No, you did make it special for me, by being there. ...And for being with me," you added.

"Oh!" he let go of your hands, "that reminds me!" fumbling in his trouser pocket he pulled out a small, long rectangular box. Your eyes widened and you could feel your head beginning to spin. "I got you something."

"You didn't have to-"

"No, I did," he handed it to you, blushing. "I hope you like it. It was my great-grandmother's. I got my mother to send it by priority mail. To be honest I was shocked it actually arrived."

Opening the box, you felt the tears beginning to well up. It was a simple but elegant, beautiful, beautiful wristwatch with a black band. It looked very vintage and very well taken care of. "It's gorgeous!" You were trembling and your heart was racing as he offered to help you put it on. He was close enough then that when his warm breath fanned your cheeks and fingertips lightly brushed your wind-chilled skin it sent shivers all over you. And when he finished and didn't step back, you let your eyes roam over all of him, appreciating the slightly disheveled, vulnerable, unprofessional, entirely whole-hearted and kind Richard that no one else except you was allowed to see.

"I know it sounds cheesy," he paused and rubbed the back of his neck, "But you ground me. And you complete me. And to be fair, you make solving cases a lot easier since you - well you are the best part of my day and a lot of my stress is gone when I see you - well that is besides being able to have a lovely cool shower when it's ridiculously hot outside ... but then again even those sometimes don't go according to plan because of Harry thinking it's okay to sneak up on me in there - so I suppose when you weigh all of the cons of being on this godforsaken tropical island, you truly are the best part of my day. And don't even get me started on my not being able to have a decent conversation with anyone of Camille, Dwayne or Fidel, or Catherine for that matter. And they probably think that it's okay to - wait I hope they didn't make you...No they couldn't possibly have," he briefly interrupted this thought to wave it off and shake his head, then he continued, too nervous to stop, "Did you know I was going to cook you dinner? It was going to be one of those lovely, traditional, good British dishes. I mean I'm not the best at cooking, but I thought you'd have liked to help me. We could've worked it out together. And then after we were going to watch any movie you wanted. And I even bought some of those desserts you love. I know it wasn't a cake but we could've blown out some candles anyway. I'm sorry that-"

You grabbed his shirt collar and kissed him, shutting up his directionless ranting. He froze, hands mid-air. But you didn't shy away and just as suddenly as he had tensed, he completely relaxed against your lips and returned it with a joy that sent happy warmth flooding through you. The fireworks were bursting from your head to your toes and you reveled in how soft and gentle his mouth was against yours.

When you finally pulled away, it was because humans still needed oxygen to survive. He held you in his arms, they'd slid around your waist and yours around his broad shoulders, during the kiss.

You could've stayed like that for eternity, drowning in each other's souls. He let out a shaky breath, "Wow," his emerald eyes were wide with happy surprise. "You can't imagine how long I've dreamt of that," he whispered confidentially.

"Really?" you mumbled, flushed, raising your eyebrows.

"Is it my birthday or yours?"

You giggled and rolled your eyes.

He frowned slightly, "I'm sorry for having made you go out of your way to do that. I ought to have kissed you instead. It's just that I -"

So you cut him off by kissing him again sweetly. He made no protest. In fact his grasp around you tightened and one of his hands slid up your waist into your hair to deepen the kiss eagerly. Your racing heart fluttered and you tangled your fingers in his short brown locks.

Breaking apart you stared at each other, breathless, and entirely head over heels in love,"Come on, let's go back inside, it's only midnight. We still have lots of time to do all of what you planned. I'm also willing to accept your apologies for my supposedly absolutely no good horrible birthday in the form of your kisses, Detective Inspector Poole."

He grinned, red from ear to ear, "Gladly, my love."

#detective inspector richard poole #richard poole x reader fanfiction #DI richard poole #death in paradise fanfiction #saint marie birthday time #richard being a beautiful fool

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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New Testament, Chapter One (Branjie) - VoskaVixen

Read on Ao3 | Tumblr: VoskaVixen | Word Count: 3,483

A/N: Hi there! This is my first fanfiction, I hope you all like it! ♡

Summary: Brooke Lynn is your average church-going christian, with a few secrets. Vanjie, well, Vanjie is a secret. Based on the song “Scotty Doesn’t Know” by Lustra, it was on repeat while I was writing!

“Hey Brooke, slow down girl!” Nina shouted as she sped through the crowded hall, squeezing past the hovering groups of students and ignoring the glares they were shooting her. Sighing, Brooke turns around to watch as Nina approaches with Plastique following closely behind.

“Thought we lost you there, is there somewhere you need to be?” Nina continued, slowing to a walk beside her with Plastique at her shoulder.

“Just the usual, Youth Group, you know?” Brooke replies as she throws the pair an apologetic smile. It’s the same excuse she’s been using for the past few weeks now and honestly she’s surprised they haven’t questioned her about her sudden weekly routine, but it seems to satisfy the girls.

“Ah damn! I forgot you were volunteering…” Plastique mused as she piped in, scrunching up her face in thought. “What about Saturday, are you free to come to my party? My parents won’t be home!”

“Oh gosh, I completely forgot… is it okay if I let you know later? It’s just that I’d have to get a lift sorted, I’ll have to get up early for church and all.” She answers, shrugging.

Usually she would love an opportunity to spend some quality time with her friends, but she suspected something else would require her attention, which was currently sounding much more appealing to the tall blonde.

Plastique nodded enthusiastically, happy that Brooke hadn’t completely dismissed the idea. “Of course.” She stated, before glancing menacingly over at Nina. “Just let me know as soon as you can though, yeah? I know a certain guy who would love to see you there!” She continued before dissolving into a fit of giggles as Nina joined in.

Rolling her eyes, Brooke was about to reply with a very sarcastic “if he really knew her, he wouldn’t be interested.” but the words died in her throat as she heard yelling from outside the building. The trio turned and shared a look before heading for the doors, walking through the entrance and being greeted with a small crowd forming around their fellow classmates, Silky Ganache and Yvie Oddly as the two shouted obscene profanities at each other.

The pair faced off for several minutes, and Brooke was about to continue on as she was unable to make out most of what they were saying from where she was standing when a loud booming voice halted any movement that was going on.

“HOLD UP.” A deep throaty voice shouted above the crowd as it’s owner made their way through the growing crowd. Brooke watched as a small brunette elbows her way into the circle, whipping people with her long hair as she passes them.

“I left y’all hoes for two minutes. Two frickin’ minutes.” Vanjie groaned as she stared at the pair of loud mouths. The surrounding crowd began to fan away, disappointed that their show was now over, however, Brooke was even more intrigued as the small firecracker took control.

Just as the last of the group thinned out, Vanjie shot her hand out to grab another girl who had been attempting to silently escape.

“Hold up there Mary, I left you in charge of them, I told y’all they can’t be left alone and now look what’s happened!” Vanjie scolded, still holding on to A’Keria’s jacket as she, along with the other two girls, hung her head in shame.

“Those girls are nothing but trouble, I tell you.” Nina stated as she shook her head, effectively snapping Brooke’s attention away from the group. Realising that both Plastique and Nina were watching her, she quickly wiped the smile from her face and let out a small cough in an attempt to drag their attention away from the awe stricken expression she had been exhibiting.

“Aren’t they?” She agrees as a buzzing from her phone is heard, causing her to glance down at the notification she just received. Illy disguising a smile playing on her lips, she looked up at her friends. “Listen, I’ll text you girls later, but I really need to get going.”

“Oh of course! Would you like a lift?” Plastique offered as she jiggled her car keys in her direction, a wide grin on her face. Smiling at her friend’s thoughtfulness, Brooke thanked her graciously before pulling them both into a hug.

“I’m fine, I don’t mind the walk.”

Glancing over Nina’s shoulder, she could see that Vanjie had finished scolding the rest of her friend group and was waving goodbye to them as she walked towards the car park around the corner.

“Okay… if you’re sure…” said Plastique as she moved back out of the embrace, earning a nod from Brooke in return.

The group waved goodbye as they headed in opposite directions, with Plastique and Nina both heading towards the car park and Brooke heading for the nearest campus exit.

As she neared the exit, Brooke quickly glanced around for anyone she recognised to ensure that she wasn’t being watched, or worse, followed before she continued on, walking briskly for several minutes down the bare path. The Canadian had purposefully chosen that exit as it wasn’t used often.

Continuing down the path at a slower pace, Brooke heard a car approaching and turned around, watching as a beat up economy car jolted to a stop on the road beside her.

“You gettin’ in, mama?” a distinctive voice boomed from inside the car before the window was even a quarter of the way down, causing a wide smile to grace the blonde’s lips.

Opening the passenger door, Brooke lowered herself into the seat, before turning to look at her companion who was grinning back at her. She let her eyes run appreciatively across the small woman’s face as she took in her painted red lips and fluttering eyelashes.

“You look really goo-” She began but lost all train of thought as Vanjie pushed herself across the car’s control console and her lips are on hers before she can finish her breath, a hand snaking up around the back of her head and tangling in her hair as she pulls her closer.

The kiss was over far too soon in Brooke’s opinion, as Vanessa pulled back to grin wildly, her eyes shining brightly from beneath her thick lashes.

“I missed you.” Vanessa whispered as if she was admitting it for the first time and they hadn’t been secretly dating for several months now, causing Brooke to let out a breathy laugh.

“We’ve been in the same classes all day, how could you possibly have missed me?” she questions as she rolls her eyes, simultaneously reaching over to place her hand over Vanessa’s and unconsciously draw shapes along her palm.

“It’s not the same…” Vanessa responds as she frowns and looks away from Brooke.

Using the hand that’s already on Vanessa’s, she interlaces their fingers and uses her other arm to tilt her head back towards Brooke.

“I know Nessa, but we’re together now and we have the whole weekend, yeah?”

The brunette’s lips quirk up in a small smile at the use of the nickname Brooke gave her and she nods briefly.

“You’re right, as usual.” She says in response before gesturing to Brooke to put her seat belt on. “Now, where you wanna go mama?”

|| - X - ||

Finally, the paired decided on a small local diner on the other side of town, partially due to it not being very well known to their friends but mostly because Vanessa swore by their milkshakes and Brooke knew that if Vanessa, the biggest sweet tooth in existence, thought highly enough of them to call them her favourite then they must be good.

As usual, Vanessa chatters away on the drive to the diner, describing in great detail what happened throughout the day, as if Brooke hadn’t been sitting across the room for the most part, competing the story with hand gestures as her voice grows increasingly louder throughout the story.

Brooke is happy to just sit back and watch, drinking her in, as she muses about how enthusiastic Vanessa is about everything. She’s convinced that she could listen to Vanessa talk forever and never grow tired of it, but watching her is even more fun. The facial expressions she pulls without realising she’s doing so are Brooke’s favourite, as Vanessa is known to wear her emotions on her sleeve and Brooke loves watching as her nose crinkles and her eyes flutter close when she giggles.

She’s the warmest and softest person that Brooke knows, and the most fiercest and unapologetically brutal due to how straight forward she could be. Brooke loved how she refuses to sugar-coat anything, yet she still maintains an aura of innocence and elegance.

She is herself; and she is proud.

And Brooke is unworthy.

By the time Brooke snaps out of her thinking, they have arrived at the diner and Vanessa has already unbuckled her seat belt and is looking over at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“Bitch, you gotta stop oferani-, overanu-, overthinking.” Vanessa states as she shakes her head, causing Brooke to inwardly cringe at her unnecessary use of profanity.

“You’re right, sorry.” Brooke quickly apologises and then curses herself silently under her breath. Vanessa is always telling her off for over-apologising and she already knows she is going to do it again, almost hearing the words before Vanessa has the chance to voice them.

“You don’t gotta apologise, baby. Just relax, it’s just us.” Vanessa sweetly replies without realising that, that was half of the problem.

Brooke attempted to suppress her anxious thoughts and let a small smile build on her lips as she met Vanessa’s eyes. Quickly removing her seat belt, she attempts to lighten the mood.

“Come on then, let’s go.”

“Yes! Let’s get those cookies mama!” Vanessa excitedly replies as she jumps out of the car and albeit skips towards the diner’s entrance, only just remembering to stop at the door to wait for Brooke, who simply shakes her head in disbelief at her girlfriend’s response.

The two manage to find a booth in the far corner of the brightly lit diner and Brooke quickly takes note of how quiet it is. It’s small but cheery, a little old-fashioned - just like the rest of the town.

A sweet-looking waitress came over and presented the girls with a menu each, asking if they would like anything to drink before she left them alone again. As much as Brooke tried not to, she couldn’t help but wonder what the woman was thinking.

Did she know? Were they being obvious?

Biting her lip, Brooke attempts to focus on the laminated menu in front of her, the words blurring together into a pile. Just when she thought she was going to pass out from the stress and anxiety, a hand stretched across the table and reached out, grabbing a hold of her wrist and moving to intertwine their fingers.

Vanessa carried on reading the menu, seemingly oblivious despite her actions, and without glancing up she begins to speak. “I’mma get the cookies and cream milkshake… do you think it comes with a cookie? Oh, I hope so!” she mused, as she continued pretending to read the menu. “What about you?”

Sighing in relief, Brooke knew that with Vanessa by her side, she could conquer anything.

“I…” She began, quickly glancing down at her menu. “I think I’ll get the same.” she replies, scanning the menu with not much thought.

“Oh!” Vanessa exclaims excitedly. “Why don’ we get one a them sharing ones? Yanno, with the two straws?” She says, or shouts as she gets more excited. “Sounds real romantic.” She finishes, as she looks up at Brooke while wiggling her eyebrows, earning a giggle from the blonde.

“Sounds perfect.”

It didn’t take long for the two to order and receive their shared milkshake.

The two sipped in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Brooke pulled back to smile at Vanessa.

“This is really good!” She says as she leans forward to take another sip, continuing to keep eye contact with Vanessa as she realises how close they are, their foreheads almost touching.

“Really?” Vanessa questions excitedly. “I’m glad you like it!”

“Yeah. We should come here again, for another date.” She replies as the two continue to work their way through their milkshake.

Vanessa agrees.

“What excuse did you use this time?” Vanessa questions, as she wiggles her eyebrows and before Brooke can reply, she’s already listing scenarios.

“I need to wash my pet goldfish-”

Brooke scowls playfully as Vanessa erupts into a mass of foghorn-esque giggles.

“I don’t have a goldfish, that would hardly work.” She replies as she rolls her eyes.

“Hmmm.” Vanessa pouts. “You should get one.” she replies, causing Brooke to join in on her laughter.

“Wait! Was it the good ol’ I need to reorganise my closet?”

“Nessa! I told you not to ever bring that up again!”

“I can’t believe they fell for that, you surely are something else mama.”

The couple are so lost in their discussion that they do not acknowledge it when the diner’s door opens and a familiar face walks in.

“Brooke?” A voice sounded from the front of the diner, causing the pair’s conversation to come to a halt as they look around.

“Plastique!” Brooke exclaims, almost choking in shock at the sight of her friend; who had already started walking towards their table.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were at that youth club thing!” Plastique questioned, before taking notice of Vanessa sitting across from Brooke and Brooke watches as she observes the singular milkshake, her eyes widening at the two straws.

Brooke’s head spins as she tries to think of an excuse, her eyes fleeting between Vanessa and Plastique.

“We were, we left early.” Vanessa lied as she turns away from Brooke, giving Plastique her full attention.

“Oh right! I didn’t know you went Vanjie, Brooke’s never mentioned it.”

Brooke quickly snapped into action, joining in on the conversation.

“She doesn’t, today was her first day. We came here to discuss it.” She explained, hoping that her expressions were neutral and she wasn’t giving anything away.

“Oh! Well, I hope you don’t mind if I join you, do you?” Plastique questioned, as she began to slide in beside Brooke, not even waiting for an answer as she continues on with small talk about the menu.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brooke can see that Vanjie is feeling uncomfortable and wishes she could do something about it.

“Hey Plastique, how long have you been coming here?” Brooke enquiries, in an attempt to free Vanjie but it only made the situation worse.

“I haven’t been before, actually, one of my cousins got a part time job across the road and comes in for lunch with the rest of the workers - he says it’s good so I had to try it out.” Plastique explains before glancing between her companions. “What about you two? Who’s idea was it to come here?”

“Mine.” Vanessa replied dryly before putting on a fake smile. “My mum used to work here and the girls and I would stop in for a free meal.”

Brooke tried not to look surprised, as she hadn’t known that about her girlfriend. She had just assumed that it was something to do with her friend group.

“Awk isn’t that lovely Brooke?” Plastique questioned as she bumped her shoulder against Brooke’s, earning a nod in response. “We should bring Nina here sometime, for a girls date.” she muses, before looking over at Vanessa.

“Maybe you and the others would like to join us too?” She questions eagerly, oblivious to the look shared between Vanessa and Brooke.

“Yeah! I’m sure they would love that!” Vanessa exclaims, and Plastique is back to making small talk and asking questions.

It doesn’t take long for Plastique to get her order and she eats while she talks to the pair, discussing school projects and hobbies.

“Hey! You’re coming to my party this weekend, right?” Plastique questions as she stares intensely at Vanessa.

“Um, well… I’ll need to see if the girls are goin’.”

Plastique nods in response, satisfied with the smaller girl’s answer.

The trio sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before Plastique bounces back into action with another question directed at Vanessa.

“Oh Vanjie! Did Brooke tell you about what happened to her car?”

Brooke tries not to roll her eyes as Vanessa replies. Although Plastique didn’t know, Vanessa had been with Brooke when she’d gotten the flat tire and had helped her arrange to get it fixed.

As Plastique continues to speak, Vanessa catches Brooke’s eye from across the table and discreetly attempts to signal that she has had enough and wants to leave. As Brooke attempts to check her watch, Plastique catches her.

“Oh gosh, i’m sorry. I must be keeping you both back, especially you Brooke. I know how your parents can get.” As she speaks, Plastique smiles apologetically before rising out of her chair and grabbing her abandoned coat and bag which she had placed down earlier.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s getting pretty late isn’t it?” Brooke replied, as she copied Plastique’s movements and began to get up.

“It was good talkin’ to you.” Vanessa said to Plastique before turning to Brooke. “You ready?”

“You too!” Plastique responded, and just as Brooke was finishing nodding back at Vanessa and started to approach her, Plastique raised a hand and placed it on her shoulder quickly.

“Wait! Would it not be easier for you to come with me? After all, Vanjie lives on the other side of town…” Plastique reasoned, and while Brooke knew her logic was correct - She also knew that Vanessa wasn’t going to be pleased at not only getting interrupted and lying during their date, but also because they would now be unable to say goodbye properly.

“Ahh, yeah- yeah. That’s a great idea… I’ll see you later Ne-Vanjie?” Brooke responded, hoping that Plastique didn’t catch note of the accidental tongue slip, as she attempted to catch her girlfriend’s eyes.

“Yeah… I guess.” Was Vanessa’s cold response, as she quickly turned around and walked out of the diner without a second glance.

“You know, I’ve never actually had a proper conversation with her before. She isn’t anywhere near as loud or obnoxious as she’s made out to be.” Plastique mused as they walked to the car together, after leaving the diner.

“Hmm? Yeah, she’s pretty nice.” Brooke quietly responded, hoping that the conversation would shift to another topic.

Much to Brooke’s chagrin, Vanessa had seemed to be imprinted into Plastique’s brain, as if there wasn’t an uncomfortable silence filling the car, then the constant praising of Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo was.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like talking about her girlfriend, but she was scared of saying too much and causing Plastique to become suspicious, especially when Plastique was already trying to think of guys to pair her up with at the party.

Brooke could just see the shocked expression on Plastique’s face if she knew that Vanessa wasn’t into guys…

Fortunately for Brooke, she lived relatively close by and it only took several minutes before she was able to escape the metal hell that was Plastique’s car, especially with her driving.

After a quick thank you and a wave goodbye, Brooke sped into her house, fumbling with the key in the lock several times in her haste to escape to her room. With a quick check of the living room, Brooke sighed in relief as her parents were nowhere to be seen.

‘They must have already headed up to bed.’ She thinks to herself, as she makes her way up the stairs and into her room. Plugging her phone in to be charged, Brooke quickly sends Vanessa a text message.

Brooke [23:43]

Hey Nessa, sorry about Plastique… I’ll make it up you tomorrow, yeah? Xo

- Message Delivered.

She watches, momentarily, as the message is delivered before letting out a sigh. Hopefully Vanessa wouldn’t be too annoyed at her, it wasn’t exactly her fault that Plastique had unexpectedly ruined their date - yet she knew that on some level, it was.

While she waited for Vanessa’s reply, she busied herself around her room, completing her nightly routines and getting changed into her pajamas before settling into bed and picking up the phone to check, once more, for a notification.

When Brooke was only met with her lock screen reading ‘00:12’, she quickly unlocked her phone and opened up the chat logs.

Brooke [23:43]

Hey Nessa, sorry about Plastique… I’ll make it up you tomorrow, yeah? Xo

- Read [23:45]

Frowning, she types out a good night message, before reconsidering and backspacing repeatedly to delete the message. Maybe it would be best if she left it until the morning to text Vanessa again.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #new testament #voskavixen

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