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sapphosclosefriend · 1 year ago

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-Thanksgiving Fun-

Pairing: Stepcousin! Masc! Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Genre: smut

Summary: you were never able to resist her, not even on Thanksgiving.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: top! (beefy and tattooed 🤤) Natasha x bottom! R, stepcest, enemies with benefits, allusions to weed consumption, SMUT, oral on strap on (R giving), throat fucking (R receiving), strap on sex (R receiving), extremely brief oral (R receiving), squirting (R)

A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. I literally wrote this in 2 days out of a frenzy so Idk how good it is…M, P, G pt 2 will come, I promise!!!! Once again, thanks to @rt--link for being so sweet! As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

It was already November, which meant it was Thanksgiving time! You were so excited to finally get back home for a little bit after the couple of months you had spent away at uni. Contrary to most of your friends, you actually really liked Thanksgiving. Yes, it meant having to undergo the neverending interrogation from your classically nosy aunts, but you gladly did it every year to be able to spend some time with all of your relatives, even the ones who lived a bit more far away. Of course she was also one of them, though.

Natasha was one of your aunt’s daughters. Her mother had married your uncle 3 years before, making her, the redhead and her sister officially part of the family. Everyone liked Nat as soon as she became part of the group and her sister Yelena, with her sharp wit, was, if possible, even more beloved by everybody. As soon as the two girls regularly entered your lives, you had followed everyone’s advice and started to hang out together. You’d always felt very lucky for having cousins of your same age range, making them some of your closest friends ever, and having the chance of adding someone else to the group immediately sounded like the best idea ever, or at least that’s what you had thought at first.

That was because you didn’t like Natasha, you just didn’t. If at first, while witnessing her interactions with other people, she seemed to be the sweetest girl in the world, once you finally got to know her personally you started loathing her. She wasn’t necessarily a bad person, she was just so irritating all the time. And the worst part was that, apparently, she only acted that way with you, not with her friends, not with your other cousins, not even with her own sister, just with you. If you thought that, thanks to uni’s social life, you had met the cockiest motherfuckers in the world, you were utterly wrong. Natasha was the most terrible one of them all. It was constant teasing, constant comments, constant jokes, constant snickering and each time you heard her voice or looked at her, you wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off her pretty face.

You didn’t know how it all started. Well, of course you knew that one time, at your grandma’s house to celebrate her birthday, Natasha had been particularly annoying since the moment you’d gotten there, which resulted in you being bitchy and her pulling you into the bathroom and kissing you once she had you trapped against the locked door. You hated it, every second of it and the fact that you ended up begging her to keep going while she was with her fingers knuckle deep inside of you wasn’t of any importance. You weren’t proud of what happened that day, but you were too nice to deny her when a couple of days later she was at your door ripping your clothes off of you. You were both attending the same uni and, despite literally never seeing each other in academic nor social settings, you started finding the closeness to be a much bigger impediment to your initial want to put a stop to your newly found situation. You were growing weaker and weaker to her charm, only while in the bedroom of course, and your intent to end it all kept getting pushed to the back of your mind each time you came with her name on your lips, until it was completely gone.

And that’s how you ended up at yet another family gathering partly ruined by her, this time to celebrate Thanksgiving, having to try to push away the tingle between your legs at the sight of her in her usual casual clothes hiding the defined muscles underneath as she talked with her dad and your grandpa about something involving a bike she was fixing up for herself. You were keeping your distance for your own sanity, but you could clearly hear their words and her low, raspy voice regularly adding to the conversation. You didn’t know what the hell they were talking about and either way, you had stopped actively listening long before, once you got lost in the view of her hand as she held her glass. The second she noticed your eyes fixed on her, you were thankfully saved from her most definitely coming over to tease you, by your cousin Clint, bored out of his mind and equally in need of leaving as soon as possible, even if for very different reasons than you. Ok, maybe him being the person talking to you didn’t exactly make him your savior, he was the person Natasha had gotten the closest to after all, which meant that, as soon as she once again turned to get a peek of your outfit she particularly appreciated, he immediately called her over, most definitely hoping to lure her away from the party. She couldn’t have been more obvious with the way her eyes kept ranking your body head to toe as she listened to his frustrated rambling, but thankfully Clint’s desperation blinded him from noticing the less than innocent way in which her gaze was on you.

“I’m begging you Nat, I’ll get on my knees! Just one!”

You both couldn’t help but chuckle at the grown man’s antics, when you suddenly realized that you had no idea of what the hell they were talking about. You barely had the time to open your mouth to ask them directly, when, of course, she interrupted you without a care to keep talking to her friend.

“Fine, but I’m taking half of it”

As soon as the first word barely left her mouth he was throwing his fist in the air and putting his coat on to go to the guest house she was staying in with you. Because of course you had been placed in the same room, in the small guest house in the backyard that only consisted of one room with one bed. You didn't know why, but everyone apparently thought of you two as some sort of best friends just because you both went to the same uni, despite, again, the known fact that you did not have one single class together, lived in different places and had completely different friends, meaning that you only saw each other when she called you over or randomly popped up at your place to fuck, but of course they didn't know any of that.

“A quarter..”

He was already leaving once he spoke his final words, leaving her alone with you to shake her head at her friend’s antics.

“Fine”

You hated how easily she seemingly had you under a trance as she murmured the word while smiling to herself. She was able to put you out of it equally fast, though, as she turned to you to regard you before leaving the celebration to follow after Clint.

“Are you coming?”

Her almost soft tone had to have given you some sort of whiplash as you stood there, looking at her without being able to utter a single word for a second, before regaining control over your own mind, and sanity, once you noticed her lips starting to curl into her usual mischievous smirk.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna stay here a bit longer”

She was once again putting at risk your ability to talk as she ran a hand through her short hair to get it out of her face and moved closer and closer to you, sneaking her gaze towards the other side of the room where most people had moved to, before reaching behind you to get a snack from the table you were leaning against, pressing her front against yours and letting your feel a certain something poking your lower belly.

“I’ll wait for you then”

She looked way too pleased by your slightly widened eyes as you tried to contain your emotions in order not to draw any attention to the two of you.

“You’re packing?”

Her brows furrowed as you whisper yelled at her, before speaking matter of factly.

“Of course I’m packing, I’m always packing when I’m with you”

She didn't give you the time to respond to her, immediately licking the chocolate off her fingers while shamelessly looking at your cleavage before turning to go to the guest house. She was infuriating, her and her constant horniness. You decided to casually join some conversations here and there for the brief rest of the night, until almost everyone had gotten to bed, including a much more relaxed Clint, and it was just you and your aunt gossiping in the living room. The moment your phone buzzed in your lap you almost had a feeling of who might had been trying to get in contact with you, so you cautiously lifted the screen, in case a certain someone decided to share something a little too private, and noticed she had sent you a picture.

The moment you clicked on it, the initial, brief awe you found yourself lost in at the sight of her posing with her tongue peaking out and the hood of her sweatshirt over her cap, was unfortunately wiped away once you finally read the caption under it. You couldn’t help but mentally facepalm at her dumb words, even if you had to reluctantly admit that the text was successful in making your heart leap at its crude nature.

“Not enough pressure on my 🍆”

Her finger was pointing to the word “pressure” printed on her hoodie, why did she have to be that way? You knew what she wanted from you, it was all she seemed to be thinking about, like some pussydrunk teen, and the way she didn’t even ask you if you were down for it, expecting you to just indulge her wish, didn’t sit right with you. Who did she think you were? Her whore always waiting for her like a pet?

You locked your phone with a frustrated sigh and got up from the couch, quickly finding an excuse with the immediate questioning you got from your aunt as to why you'd go back to your room so early.

By the time you walked across the whole backyard and got to the entrance of the guest house you were finally able to make out her figure, sitting on the wicker armchair under the small porch with all the lights off, in complete darkness, to hide the very end of a hand rolled cigarette between her fingers and the suspiciously smelly smoke coming from her.

“Your tits look good in that shirt”

You knew it was coming, as soon as you had chosen your outfit, you knew some sort of comment was to be made by her, although it had taken her a bit longer than you had expected. You were wearing a quite simple blouse with a boob window, in reality nothing as scandalous as it sounded, but the complete opposite in Natasha’s eyes. The way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass and the sway of your hips anytime you had walked past her, were just the cherry on top to the main course right below your pretty face.

You barely looked at her as you kept walking by her past the door without acknowledging her words, hearing her chuckle at your usual uptight self. You hated to admit it, but the way she was manspreading, making a bulge under her sweatpants slightly visible, while she casually smoked, had made you even more willing to help her out with her “pressure issue”, not that she needed to know about your enthusiasm anyway. By the time you were just starting to get undressed she entered the room, locking the door behind her and standing against it to shamelessly look at your ass as you leaned down to take your shoes off. As soon as your pants were off too and you were about to slip off your shirt she spoke up.

“No no no, keep that on”

Despite the way too pleased look on her face, you were silently thankful for the piece of clothing still on you in the slightly chilly room. You didn’t even bother to take your warm, ankle high socks off and left yourself fall on your back on the bed, feeling satisfied after noticing her swallowing and wetting her own lips as her eyes stayed fixed on your boobs’ slight jiggling as you had dropped on the mattress. Once you got comfortable on top of the soft duvet, you made sure to look right at her as you slowly spread your legs and immediately started lightly rubbing yourself through the fabric of your own underwear, moaning softly at the light stimulation as a way to tease the motherfucker in front of you. Without uttering a word, she left her spot by the door and walked over to you, stopping at the foot of the bed to grab her cock through her pants and slowly pump it. Pushing down her sweatpants just enough for the dildo strapped to her hips to spring out, she gave you a peak of the beautiful, defined v lines you had kissed over so many times and the bottom of the tattoos on her torso and abdomen you had to admit you loved. There was some ink peeking out from the cuff on her wrist as well, making the sight of her strong hand holding the base of her cock even more pleasing.

“Come here, get it wet”

You wanted to come up at least with a remark at her blunt order, but found nothing but anticipation in you and your body, as if moving by its own accord, immediately left your spot to kneel on the bed right in front of her crotch. You didn't waste any time, you couldn't have even if you wanted to, and, as soon as your lips touched the head of her cock, you tried your best to relax your throat in order to take as much of her length as you could, earning a pleased hum from her at the sound of your gags every time she reached the back of your throat.

“Now that's a cocksucker”

Her words pulled your eyes to her face and found her looking intently at you. The groan that came from her once you stopped bobbing your head to stay still with her cock still in your mouth sent a strong twing of arousal through you as she easily understood what you wanted.

She gently grabbed your head with both hands to keep you in place and immediately started to move her hips to fuck your face. Relishing the sight of a string of spit dropping on the part of your chest exposed by the cut in your shirt, she started pushing even deeper to see just how far you were willing to go for her. The resistance was clear as she pushed a bit more of her cock with every other thrust, until you finally couldn't wait anymore and grabbed her ass to give her a push and hopefully make her understand what she needed to do. With one final thrust she managed to push herself past your tight throat until your nose was touching her crotch. She couldn't help herself and rushed to get her phone from her pocket to snap a picture of you looking up at her with watery eyes as you grasped her ass cheeks through her pants to keep her from moving away. It was only once the need to breathe got the best of you that you pushed yourself off of her, sucking in a deep breath while Natasha stared with hooded eyes at your swollen lips and the spit connecting them to her cock.

“You say you hate me but you need my cock that much?”

You hated so much how true her words were and tried to distract yourself from the thought by lying back down and grabbing her cock now covered in your spit.

“Well, you're obsessed with my pussy so it's even”

She just smirked at your remark, deep down knowing that you were so fucking right. She couldn't get enough of it, all the girls she had fucked and she had to loose it for her stepcousin? Well, she honestly didn't give a shit, as long as you were careful she was going to keep fucking you like the slut she knew you were for her deep down.

“For the first time I've gotta say you're right”

You didn't even have the time to process her words and the shock that they had caused when she suddenly moved your underwear to the side and grabbed your ass tightly to lift your hips and get a taste of you, moaning exaggeratedly at her now favorite snack. Despite the leg shaking orgasm you knew she would've easily gotten out of you with her mouth, you pushed the delicious thought to the side and firmly grabbed her hair to lift her from your center.

“Right now I need your cock balls deep in my pussy, not your mouth”

Her lips looked way too delicious as they glistened with your juices and as they curled up she suddenly left go of your ass, making you yelp as you fell back to your lying position, before grabbing your thighs and pushing them to each of your sides, waiting for you to keep them there yourself with your arms to fully open yourself up for her. From the position you had a clear view of her strap as she rubbed it over your wet folds before finally pushing its head inside of you. She could never get enough of seeing your reaction at her entering you for the first time and once again, she couldn't help but keep her eyes on your face from the first moment. She fucked you just with the tip for a bit in order for you to get used to her and, gradually pushed more and more inside as you rubbed your own clit. You knew you were very far away from everybody else, but you still tried your best to keep your volume as low as you could, making her smirk at the clear signs of your struggle to do so.

“More, go faster”

She loved it every time when your uptight, moralist voice turned in a second into the pathetic begs of her own cockdrunk whore and who was she to give up the chance of fucking her personal pussy when she asked for it? After lifting up her hoodie a little to get a better view of your center begging to be filled up more and more, she firmly grabbed your waist, gradually thrusting faster and harder until she had set a pace that knocked your breath away every time she pushed her hips forward and her tip stroked your g spot so deliciously a deep sensation quickly started to build up inside of you. Her flexed abs and veins popping up on her hands made the pleasure she was making you feel, become even stronger, getting your orgasm closer by the second. It honestly amazed you how fast she was always able to make you cum and, despite not wanting to show her any weakness, you admittedly always felt a little self conscious because of it. You could barely keep it anymore, though, it was going to happen in a matter of seconds and your mouth opening in shock told her everything she needed to know.

“Wait, I think I'm gonna-”

You didn't have the chance of finishing your sentence before an earth shattering orgasm hit you so strongly that small, clear droplets spilled out of you every time she pulled back.

“Holy shit”

She panted the words to herself before swiftly pulling out completely and quickly rubbing her fingers over your clit, making you moan loudly as you squirted even more for her while you rode out your orgasm. By the time you were done, your legs were a little shaky and you were almost sobbing from how intense and quick it all was. Once you looked back at her, though, you knew you would've gladly done it as many times as she wanted. Her abs were a little wet from your orgasm, with a couple of drops still lingering on her tattooed skin, and, once your eyes locked with hers, she looked like the most dangerous predator eyeing its prey, ready to eat it in one bite, and, god, wasn't she going to do exactly that.

After all, maybe Thanksgiving was actually going to be even better with her.

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #marvel #mcu

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

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A Perfect Score - Epilogue | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping

A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!

"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.

She throws a middle finger.

Charming.

You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.

Nothing, you sigh.

El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"

You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.

El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"

"Ew, don't call me that"

"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.

"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"

She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"

"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.

A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.

"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.

To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.

You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.

Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.

It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.

"Oof!"

You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.

You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"

"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.

She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".

You resist the urge to frown.

Coward.

“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"

It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.

Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.

Even if he said it was okay.

But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.

"One day" you promise.

The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.

“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.

She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”

King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.

The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.

El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.

Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.

"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".

You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".

She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"

You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".

"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.

Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.

"That your man?" You ask.

She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"

You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".

"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"

She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.

Ones you know you can't refuse.

"Fine" you sigh.

She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.

It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.

“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.

You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”

“Nope! Just you” she grins.

“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”

She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”

You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.

There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.

He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.

Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.

It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.

"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.

You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.

You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.

He smells just like he used to.

And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.

You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.

Fuck. His voice.

You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.

When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.

You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.

His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"

Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".

His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

"How?.."

Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".

"But…she's-"

"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.

"For old time's sake?" He smiles.

And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.

It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.

But it feels nice.

Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.

Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.

Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.

"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.

"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"

He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".

You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"

Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".

"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"

You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.

Oops.

Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.

"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.

"Got in?"

"KLU".

"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"

You beam with pride.

And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.

"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.

"And?..."

He licks his lips before he speaks.

"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"

He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.

He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”

You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.

He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.

Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”

He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.

His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.

Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.

When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.

You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.

“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.

He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.

All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.

He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.

He tastes just as you remember.

A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.

When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.

Gods, it’s been so long.

A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.

“Stop that”

Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”

He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.

“Blushing”

His voice lowers.

“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”

The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.

That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.

It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.

How wrong you were.

Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.

He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.

His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.

It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.

“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.

“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.

You nod, “It’s a nice place”

“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.

You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.

Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.

"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.

" - fuck - "

You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.

How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.

"Baby, please -"

Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.

And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.

"Oh, fuck you-"

You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.

"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"

Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.

He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.

He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.

"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".

You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.

That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.

It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.

With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.

You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"

You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.

" - fuck - Aemond -"

Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.

Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.

For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.

But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.

His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.

Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.

You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.

“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”

You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.

Something you have in common, clearly.

With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.

You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.

It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.

“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”

Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.

It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.

“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”

You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.

The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.

“ -Aemond -”

“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”

Fuck.

Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.

All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.

The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.

His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.

“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”

You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.

You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.

“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.

You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”

It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.

“ -please, Aemond -”

“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”

As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.

"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"

Wait what?

This isn't said 'fun'?

Oh shit.

Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.

The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.

"-Aemo-"

Smack.

"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.

A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.

"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"

The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.

You do.

"Please - daddy - need it-"

If you could see him, you'd hate it.

Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.

"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"

You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.

"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"

"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"

His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.

Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.

But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.

Just wants to feel you first.

“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.

As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.

You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.

And then you see him smile.

"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"

Oh shit.

After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.

Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.

His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.

Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.

"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"

"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"

Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.

You almost hear his choked moan.

"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"

The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.

He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"

The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.

“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”

You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.

His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.

You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.

Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.

All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.

“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.

Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.

You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.

Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.

“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.

“-Mm- another time-”

Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.

One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.

Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.

You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.

“The apartment”.

“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”

He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.

“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

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court-jobi · 2 months ago

Text

The Bet

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/characters))

Pairing: Hawks x reader (fem!reader)

Words: 4.2k

Rating: T

Warnings: flirty FLUFF hours, yall, quirkless!reader/Pro-Hero Hawks, tame dressing room shenanigans, light teasing, he fell first she fell harder vibes

Summary:

Hawks loves a playful game, and you're a sucker for each and every one. Till now, you've taken his harmless flirting as just that, but it is starting to seep into you. You're a four time best-selling author– brought low by a boy calling you the most darling things… only today, you'd profit off of his attentions by way of a bet-- or was this just another way for him to spoil you?

A/N: this is one of the first Hawks ideas I had, based on the hc that he'd have an eye for fashion given all those gorgeous accessories he wears... pretty bird likes pretty things. gosh I just love this man. oh gosh, do I part 2 this one? Might be fun… and spicy… edit: now available HERE

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

“Alright m’dear, I'm impressed,” your Winged Hero pins up his wings with a slow clap, “You win!”

As you’re stepping out of the car, suave cheers are the flirty taunt you hear over your shoulder– well, up on the lightpost.

“Win?” you fire back to the source of shadow over you -Hawks- as he hops off and strides over to you, “-were we playing something?”

“The race,” he shares plain as day. “Thought I’d race ya back to the Commission's office, see if I could beat your- charming- chauffeur here since I was on my way too~”

Ah, so it was a one-sided game, it seems. The driver who picked you up from the conference center passes you, poorly masking his exhaustion at the flyboy’s presence at just about every turn. When it involves transporting you, the poor man knows Hawks won’t be far behind.

It’s not like you encourage this behavior… but you don’t stop it either.

Between the two of you, the money on who could remain the most professional in public would sit squarely in your court. But to say it didn’t interest you, this mysterious focus of affection from the #2 Hero in the country? Well, riddle you intrigued. So you let him talk- as long as you keep your ironclad guard up, you tell yourself you’ll resist his teasing just fine.

You shoulder your belongings in order to follow the driver, but slow your pace for Hawks to catch up. He’s earned a bite, with those pretty eyes of his.

“And just how did you know I was even going to the Commission's office?”

“You really gotta start setting your calendar to ‘private’ if you don’t want me seein’ where you’re heading, lovedove.”

You really should be better about changing your working location on your calendar– because if it involves your contract with the Hero Commission, Hawks inevitably will see it. All in all, he's not wrong, so you can't really call him nosy when you've advertised where you'll be. He's notably observant as per his profession, and the dearly devoted attention is… sweet, in its own way.

And the pet names. You’re a sucker for the pet names. How pathetic.

You’re a four time best-selling author– brought low by a boy calling you the most darling things… There’s something oddly American about Hawks’ forwardness, indeed. There’s hardly an ounce of propriety on him. All gorgeous grins, fawning compliments spouting from his lips, and hearts in his eyes.

“But!” Hawks sighs in faux dejection, “since you beat me here fair and square, I guess that makes you the winner this time.”

You bite the inner of your cheek, “And what have I won?”

“That's up to the victor- whoever got through all that traffic to the office fastest gets a favor of their choice. I bet a nice dinner out, buuuut I don’t believe you’ve decided just yet...”

“Don’t you have enter a race in order to win it.”

Hawks lifts his hands, “Nnnope~ I don’t make the rules, I’m just telling you what they are.”

How generous.

“A hero’s favor: I’m speechless,” you fein sarcasm, but it comes out just as flirtatious.

Boyish charm on full blast, Hawks starts walking in reverse a few extra steps: to get a better look at you as you set each perfect stride forward.

“So. What'll it be? Office hours with yours truly? New tablet? Maybe treat you to a subscription for those shnazzy glasses you like so much? I know a pretty neat brand deal who'll be happy to set you up~”

He’s laying it on thick… but from the back of your mind -the part you really try to silence while on the clock as a consummate professional- you throw Hawks a curveball:

”A dress.”

Hawks pauses and blinks, “Say again?”

“You heard me. I want a nice dress. I can't remember the last time I went shopping, plus I certainly don't have my wardrobe from New York– and there's a board dinner coming up next week. So, I'll need a dress.”

“Oh really?” Hawks comes to scritch at what little, tailored facial hair he has, “Done!”

Yes, you needed a dress. Yes, you have a particularly dashing hero willing to wine and dine and hold a childish bet as the excuse for him to buy it for you. Yes, you even have full plans to send some photos of the excursion to him as a little treat for his efforts.

But yes, you’re regretting everything.

Taking a personal day, you drag out your morning routine to maximum enjoyment. A quick, efficient breakfast wouldn’t do today; this called for a home-baked casserole moment to start your time off at home. Light and easy, it held you over through some oddball errands, which you humored your friend back home with as you called her up on the way to the shopping complex,

“//It’s a blend of formal and not, here– like, you’ll have someone dressed to the nines in a full suit, then a girl walks up onto the train looking straight out of a k-pop video!//”

You chatter away in your first language, brain taking a sufficient backseat from the Japanese your father raised you on.

“//Yeah, I mean, I love the looks, it’s just fashion whiplash sometimes. There’s also an insane amount of hero merch- it’d put Iron Man to shame… Oh, for sure, you’d have a field day– and no bank accou–... you’ve gotta be kidding me.//”

Your bestie asks what happened on your end of the line; why your voice suddenly fell to a groaning whisper.

Peeping down from the rooftop of the dress shop was Hawks– a pleased smirk on full display and waving, having lifted your sights with a little whistle that a bird a fraction of his size might have made.

Somehow, you knew better- hearing the utter tease in that bird call.

“//My god… I’m an idiot.//”

Hindsight working as it wills, you realized your regret at telling him where you were interested in going to shop around, and blamed your bogged-down memory that still failed to update your shared calendar and remove some pesky permissions for privacy’s sake. Can’t even say he didn’t warn you- Hawks teased you of it straight up.

These two slips combined meant you should not have thought any freedom would be yours when a muted flash of red rains a couple of stray, baby feathers atop you as you approach the storefront.

“Hiya~!” he calls to your stunned face, which gives way to resignation. Tender, willing resignation.

Hand shielding your face from the sun, you make out where he’s cocked his head at you and simply offer a little crook of your finger to make him come down.

“--I’ll call you back~” you tactfully ignore all of your bestie’s spot-on assumptions that the fabled flyboy had arrived to collect on your winnings.

He was a grown man. Surely a picture to approve the purchase and details for wiring the money at checkout would have sufficed for this little venture- did he have to accompany you?

"Ahhh time for you to model for me, eh gorgeous?" Hawks croons once he arrives by your side.

Your gentleel, pacifying nature mutes the barest flicker of an eye roll. "Please don't make me regret this, dear."

"No funny business, promise," he held his hands out in defense. "A bet is a bet. You claimed your terms, I deliver. I'm just here honoring our deal."

You pause now that you were four feet from the door. For some reason, you felt a pang of nerves underneath your cool exterior. To double it, you were positive his attention should likely be anywhere but here. Seeing as he’s dressed down in street clothes settles that worry, but you still think he should surely be needed somewhere other than a women’s dressing room.

"I never meant you had to be present for redemption, though."

“Course I do. Fine print; ‘must provide adequate supervision’. For posterity’s sake– you know how it is, dove.”

“Seems I don’t know a lot of these ‘terms’ when it comes to you…”

"Humor a poor, losing man's wish. After you."

You couldn't lie, Hawks was a pro at sweet talking and complimenting you- and seemingly only towards you. Press conferences and bathroom trips alike, he seeks out an opening to ask you something so down-to-earth that you never consider a chat with him to be strictly ‘small talk’. Truly it didn't matter the duration– Hawks flew to you like a magnet, but never carried out the same saucy line twice. It’s enough to make you think whatever’s happening between you is not something casual for him…

Not since the night you met, where talk between you lifted the persona of ‘Hawks’ and revealed the man underneath bit by bit. He shed that outer bravado almost immediately with you; you could tell that’s a rare (and perhaps dangerous) move on his part.

To be true, you liked that part. That felt real. It was that rationale which you hung onto. Let yourself be tugged by the side of your brain that allowed Hawks to usher you into a particular formalwear shop you’d heard rave reviews from a coworker a few months into your life in Japan.

This one-on-one time together could be a sweet fever dream– or a horrendous case of honey-dipped hives. You’d focus on the positives for now: so long as he minds his hold on your heartstrings, perhaps your new crimson shadow would prove your mistrusting gut wrong…

Hawks follows companionably behind once you walk in. His wings are shucked a touch shorter today, and elicit a few double takes from some folks between racks.

You note the peeping and low gasps, and cast a look back to him as you turned a corner,

"Second thoughts about a public appearance in daylight?"

Hawks grins back without missing a beat.

"Not a chance~ Wouldn't miss this time for the world."

You start up the escalators and he keeps one step lower. Ever the faithful duckling, when you veer off towards the formalwear, a woman came right to greet you both– immediately recognizing the pro hero at your heels. After you assure her that you were alright managing on your own, you were happy to find Hawks mimic your reasoning when asked again– and kept the interaction short and sweet.

Then the teasing started.

‘D’ya like this one?’ ‘This would hug you in all sortsa good ways.’ ‘Watch out gents, here comes trouble~’

“Red would look stunning on you.”

You eye Hawks playfully– both at what he suggests and the proof that stems from below his shoulders: where he prominently featured the color on his person.

"It's a better color on you, hon,” you hedge against his push for that dress. “Besides, I'm looking for length and cut, not just color."

Less than happy with your objectives, he picks one up anyway. "Sure about that? Give it a real look."

Red, of course, and while you nearly straight-up ignored the selection outright– you thought it over once you saw the dress he was referring to. From an exasperated cock of the head, you straighten up, consider, and hold it yourself. It wasn't bad, actually… The fabric was divine.

You ask for a couple sizes for him to check. Making out the Japanese characters on these tiny SKU cards was still hard to read, so you are genuinely thankful for his presence now more than when you came in.

"Hmmm…” Hawks put himself to work, but fell just as puzzled as you. “Euro sizes here, it looks like."

"Oh crap, that's right..." you mumble through the ‘dress math’ after a quick conversion chart lookup and notice they do have it in your size.

“I’ll– think about it,” you placate him.

Hawks conveniently pulls out his phone and makes a note by your contact– listing your dress size ‘for future reference’.

He didn’t make a show of it, but wasn’t subtle with what’s on his screen, either… so you clear out your phone's notifications with thinly veiled sass and an overactive thumb.

"Are you blushing?" Hawks calls to break you out of your stewing.

"Hush you~" You pocket your phone again while he chuckles.

"Okay okay, back to business. What about this one?"

A deep gunmetal floor length gown is what catches Hawks’ attention next. It’s downright elegant, but a bit over the top.

"Hm, shame. I can see that one for maybe an embassy event..."

Watching Hawks peruse is amusing. He stays away from the flashy, multi-textured colors, but the muted metallics and jewel tones draw him to finger through racks consistently. More to match his suit selection, you figure. So, you entertain him when you circle back to the red dress in your size, and hand it over to him to carry. You ignore the way Hawks’ eyes light up and follow after you, humming some happy little earworm.

"Ooo~ what's this black one by its lonesome over there?"

By the off-yellow tag, he spots a factory sample: ideal length, asymmetrical cut, appealing neckline and just your type. Hawks couldn’t hide his appreciative look your way as he holds it out and imagines it on your body type.

“Well now, that’s cute~”

"Try it?"

You agree and read off the dress size again (more for your memory than his). For a second, you catch sight of the reverse side of the tag, and almost choke as you return to the few items he held draped across his arm, inspecting each of their tags as well, "//Holy hell-//"

“Language," Hawks chuckles.

Your eyes fire humorously back at him, with a firm grip on the price tag of the one in your hand.

"This dress -here- is over a thousand dollars!!" you stage-whisper.

Hawks conspiratorially looks around, and matches your whispered tone, "--You're trying it on!"

"Hawks."

"Keigo–" He reminds you, softer still, and relieves it from your hands to join the red one. "And you're wearing it. What else? You need more than two options."

Avoidant of the pricepoint, you find one in a navy satin and another deeper purple number till you sit Hawks down forcibly on a bench outside when he proceeds to follow you into a room as a gag.

While the blue could use a different size, the black was your favorite so far. You’d be pleased that you won’t leave here unhappy, certainly, if you still weren’t so sticker-shocked.

But then the red dress -perfectly hung and whispering to you- reminds you he was still out there, waiting to see it.

"You still alive in there, sunshine? Haven't heard a peep in a while."

"What, you wanna see every one?" You fire back confidently, but with your pulse racing.

"Only fair. I'm here as a second pair of eyes."

"Hm. That's what I'm worried about."

He laughs it off. "Come out, I wanna see you."

So you slip out of your room in the black midi dress with a little shuffle of your hair, looking damn gorgeous and an ideal knockout in any professional circle. There’s a perfectly-structured, white accented jacket in your arm that you slide on and look across to a mirror.

No second-guessing filled your mind at all when you took in the full ensemble. Pleased, you made your third immediate regret looking through the mirror’s forced perspective at the man sitting behind you.

Yes, Hawks -the #2 fan-favored Pro-Hero- is GAWKING.

"So? What’s the verdict?"

His eyes roam, but meet yours when prompted. "I .. didn't expect anything less than gorgeous on you, but... you are stunning."

The flatterer was present, but the undertone carried out from his compliment seems utterly adoring. Those golden eyes aren't far off from hungry, yet he respectfully rests his sights to your eyes more than anywhere else.

"Do you like it?" Hawks craves your opinion above all.

"I really do." You turn to the side to check your posture, and take the outer layer off again. "I'll have the jacket for other things too, if I go with this one. But I think the straps should be fine for Endeavor’s agency, right?"

"Have you seen Bubble Girl?" Hawks mouths off, now standing by you. "She's one nip slip away from an x rated advertisement."

"Hey!"

"To put it kindly! No, this is- tastefully sexy." The backs of his fingers brush by your elbow. He takes care not to let the touch linger but enjoys the view all the same while he has it.

You smirk back and feel great about your top choice.

"--What about the red one?"

–and there it is.

You fix the jacket collar absently so it doesn’t crease, "Haven't tried it yet."

"It’s next, right?"

You roll your eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"I'm a man of my tastes~ and I have a good feeling about it."

So you change, with a few impatient remarks from outside the door. This one has you a bit more nervous.

The leg slit had you hot flashing on your neck and up your jaw– standing vulnerable in your stall. Checking over yourself, you’re suddenly aware of Hawks’ comments at the apartment that one night after he dropped you off from a spur-of-the-moment karaoke night. Something about the high cut that reminded you that Hawks was a leg man for sure, and he'd surely have a field day seeing a dress with this much skin. The sleeves were shimmering and gorgeous, and you felt comfortable otherwise. So... nothing left but to strut it out and get it over with.

Coming out, you could have snorted at the way Hawks melted.

Wings drooped, the man slack-jawed and eyes blown into an awestruck stare, you feel 90% more proud. Sauntering to the mirror, you fuss over the look in perfect confidence now- spinning to give him the first once-over before you could get the first grand look yourself.

"I'll admit, good find,” you praise appreciatively, thankful he didn’t start howling the second you emerged. “You saw it first. Happy?"

Hawks is quiet for a beat but lifts to your gaze again shyly before looking back.

"Ah... You’re.. really beautiful. I mean, wow," he hides behind some propped up hands.

You smile and don't care now fast your heart flutters. The butterflies warm you all the same, in that special way he seems to bring out in you. What were once nerves turn to calm as he watches you turn and joins your side again, a bit closer.

A strong, soothing hand slightly correcting where the seam fell along your side, you kept your focus on the event itself and not on his touchiness. Much easier to do than reading into Hawks’ reaction and attention on you.

"It’s a little formal for next week, but... I may have to remember to come back for this one some other time. When the right occasion strikes."

That decision seems to break him from his trance: "Oh no– you're getting that one, too."

You whip your head aside fast, "No way. Deal was one dress. That last one is already over 800- plus whatever the jacket was, technically-"

"I don't believe it's your job to worry about cost, sunshine." Hawks pockets his hands confidently, staring you down exclusively in the mirror’s view.

“Haw----Keigo…”

“You won. Winner called for dress shopping. You never specified how many.”

“I’m pretty sure I did name a one, singular event in mind-”

“Nonetheless, I am indeed the loser and therefore the payor of said bet.” Hawks fixes you a firmer look than usual. “I say you get both. Black set for next week, the red for… call it a rainy day.”

You believe his seriousness, but can’t shake a twinge of guilt at the cost. This was a silly bet; a saucy wager between two people that tests the waters of what you’d call this friendship…

“Look– I’m sure money isn’t an object for you, but this would—”

“--be my pleasure.” Hawks won’t let you finish- “C’mon- When was the last time you bought something like this for yourself?”

Hawks holds you by the shoulders to turn back to the mirror. At your quick study over the red semi-formal gown again, you flip your sleeve cuff into place and miss the loving look he gave while pulling your hair back softly.

His fingers return to your shoulders but with the gentlest, experimental touches to your neck in its path.

“You -my darling wordsmith- have, no doubt, the kindest heart I’ve ever met in one of the hardest cities in Japan. Those two things shouldn’t coexist in this kinda world, but you thrive in it. You’re… so good. You haven’t let the hard stuff touch you, even when you’re neck deep in it. Not only that, I’d say you're also easily the most resourceful mind PR’s had in years; hell, of any agency on the field. You’re brilliant, funny, and as I've so recently discovered today– downright gorgeous, no matter what you’ve got on.”

His gaze separates in favor of fixing a portion of hair back into place– light preening, by his standards.

“Gems like you come once in a lifetime; if anyone is that lucky to meet one nearly as great as you… they should consider it a blessing…”

You hadn’t realized you'd leaned back into his space until you register his hand sliding down to caress your elbow, and his other fingers resting right on your waist.

He tilts ever so slightly to speak towards your ear; his eyes meeting yours again, a sparkle in them that has you wrecked.

“You won a stupid bet, sure; but you deserve to be treated more often than once-in-a-blue-moon. Call me selfish for taking the role of the guy who gets the pleasure.”

Your polite smile turns lopsided, just listening to this rare show of heart.

“Please let me do this for you, lovedove. Please?”

Sorry gut, you’ve been proven wrong. He’s a verified angel, and to be frank, you’re tired of avoiding the flip in your tummy when you see him. With Hawks pressed against your back, you’re not troubled by what fleeting intentions he may or may not have– not when you can see them plainly in that pretty face looking back at you.

While your standards had always been on sharp lookout for the catch behind his behavior, what made Hawks’ company something you looked forward to was the heart behind the charm... that soft feeling you caught every now and then when you two spoke behind closed doors or in passing. He carried a depth with him, but also a lightness that seemed to shine whenever he took to your presence– like he was chasing after joy, not just chasing some tail.

Perhaps that was enough for you to want something more than these quick interludes, and draw out this little dress date into lunch.

You nudge your head toward his. “Red, for a rainy day, huh?”

He nuzzles you back perfectly. “Mhm~”

“Rainy days call for rainy dates, don’t they?”

Interest lifts the hero’s wings, but he keeps his voice sure and calm, “Sure would be poetic~”

You don’t break eye contact with him in the mirror while you mesh your fingers with his on your waistline,

“Then I guess a certain someone should ask me. Get something on the calendar he’s actually invited to.”

Hawks matches his hold on your waist fully now, relishing the touchpoints he’s sharing with you.

“Now that sounds like a great idea, sunshine.”

“Maybe.. swap some time slots– over lunch?”

A soft glint in his eye, Hawks dips to give your shoulder a small peck, “Done.”

Happy with your bravery - as well as the amount of eye contact that will last you the next four to six business days- you finally cut away from watching Hawks in that damn mirror, and sway side to side enough to give him the hint you were ready to get changed again. Only before he steps completely away, you catch his wrist with a quick, blind question over your shoulder.

“Hey– help unzip me?”

You’d zipped yourself perfectly fine… this was for him.

A happy little exhale leaving him as he snugs back up to you, Hawks flares out his wings a bit as he catches that tiny zipper until it reaches your mid back right where you could normally reach- and then a tad lower.

“There y’go~” Hawks murmurs to your ear again, “I’ll make sure no one catches an eyeful that they shouldn’t.”

You look back to him over your shoulder, “No one?”

An invitation offered, Hawks gives an appreciative glance down where your dress barely splits open.

“Not trying to jump straight to dessert here, yknow. Sounds like I’ve got a hot date.”

Chuckling, you finally twist and keep your new dress up by the front,

“You’re right– it’s not like it’ll be the last time you see me in this. You wanted dinner out, right?”

Hawks gave an agreeable hum, nodding along the way.

You chip his chin toward you for him to listen,

“Then call me a sore loser next time, so you can collect~”

Part 2

#keigo takami #hawks #mha hawks #bnha hawks #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha

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theluckywizard · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! Here is a prompt if you would like one: Rose/Hawke, Florence and the Machine prompts, "And for a moment, When I'm dancing, I am free"

This is all for you, Ammy! My fill for @dadrunkwriting

The Assassin's Masque (or Highfalutin Hawke and his Foxy Boss Try Subterfuge at Halamshiral)

Rating: Teen

Genre: Sexy fluff and subterfuge

Word Count: 3736 words

Warnings: N/A

Pairings: Rose Trevelyan x Garrett Hawke

Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan must conduct herself carefully at the Winter Palace as they work to collect the necessary intelligence to find and stop the Tevinter assassin. Luckily Inquisition agent Hawke is there to lend a hand.

Please enjoy my OCs Rose x m!Hawke (he hates his first name) as they get up to their usual mischief.

Illustrations by yours truly!

“I’ve heard they let these olives ferment in the gut of an august ram before harvesting for fancy canapes,” says Hawke from behind his mask, sidling up next to me. He whispers the next bit behind his hand. “They go digging for them in their shit, you know.” I know he’s not trying to blow our cover, but he damn well can’t resist can he.

“Delightful. Orlesian gastronomy is so inventive,” I answer, not taking the obvious bait. “And you are…?”

“Hawke,” he replies, beaming underneath shadowy peacock eyes.

“The illustrious Champion?” I ask. He inclines his head once in a tidy nod.

“And you– I feel as though I’ve seen you somewhere. Contessa Ophelia perhaps?” he says. Maker, I’d love to swat him. He’d love it too. I can feel the insipid weight of nosy eyes upon us. Everyone's a critic here and everyone’s a show, our interaction being dissected fifty ways already. The Champion of Kirkwall is hard to miss, easily one of the tallest men in attendance, his attire somehow perfectly Free Marches and yet perfectly flamboyant as well and he’s been working the crowd for hours already. Eyes follow him wherever he goes and I can hardly blame them. His vibrant plum colored justaucorps falls nearly to his knees, fitted over a waistcoat embroidered elaborately in gold and his starched white cravat and ruffled cuffs are equally garish. His hair is tied back with an elegant plum ribbon in a darling little queue. Hawke certainly knows how to make a statement.

“Lady Rose Trevelyan,” I reply with a measured smile.

“The Inquisitor? The Herald of Andraste? Maker’s breath, I figured if you somehow finagled your way into this affair you’d show up in some manner of pompous uniform, not this gorgeous getup,” he says, surveying me up and down as frankly as ever, pleased as punch to pop off a compliment. “Is that your infamous hand!?” He gestures to my right hand. I consider whether it would be all right to laugh at the intensity of his antics. I’ve seen him entertain multiple guests, each of them effortlessly charmed by his exuberance left giggling and fanning themselves. I shake my head with a smile and hold up my left hand to him. He makes a show of beholding it like the holy weapon many consider it to be and then bows elegantly before me with his foot extended forward, raising my gloved hand to his lips.

“Your worship,” he says, and his smolder is hidden behind that ridiculous peacock mask but I can feel it bearing down on me, probing for that weak spot he knows I have for him. “Let me see your dance card. ” Forceful as ever, too. If I’m to present myself with the proper clout, I’ll have to match him somehow, spar with him.

“I’m not sure there’s space for a personality as colossal as yours,” I tease him. He shakes his head with a grin.

“Oh I’ll make it fit, I promise you, Inquisitor,” he says, scrawling his name gleefully onto the next spot. “I see the Duchess has claimed a dance! She’s a delight. I’ve danced with her once already. If you dip her, she’ll be putty in your hands. Do with that bit of info what you will. If your fancy leans that way.”

“My fancy is leaning toward these petit fours.”

“Watch you only have one. The variety of deep mushroom in it can have a moving effect,” he says, suppressing his giggle. I contain my smile and retract my hand from them which he immediately claims and boldly tucks into his elbow as the music breaks before the next dance begins. I know he’s a competent dancer having taught me to lead, but I’m anxious with all these eyes upon us that our familiarity with one another will be difficult to conceal. Perhaps I should just look as starry-eyed as every other guest he interacts with. It wouldn’t be a terrible stretch, though resisting all the terrible jokes I wish to make with him will be a challenge.

Hawke bows low before me on the ballroom floor, and I catch a glint of playful pale blue from behind the peacock. The music pipes up, a lively uptempo waltz that prompts an immediate smile in me. There’s no feeling as liberating as a breathless waltz, flying about the floor on light feet. He tugs me taut against him, his dashing smile properly contagious.

“And how did you secure an invitation to such an illustrious affair?” I ask him.

“Now, now, Your Worship. I have an air of mystery to maintain,” he replies. I feel slightly admonished, remembering Josephine and Leliana’s careful instruction in the Game. Being forthright shows naivete, reveals too much. One must choose words carefully, couching them in riddles, relegating the truth to the barest subtext. My eyes drift up to the wall where Cullen’s installed himself, and I consider how difficult speaking that way must be for him. In fact, I feel certain that Josie and Leliana have instructed him to stay by that very wall, keep his mouth shut and look pretty. An easy sell for a man who’s interest in the Game amounts to less than nothing. “I don’t understand why people don’t just say what they mean,” he’d said and the women had looked at each other with anxious eye rolls and patiently explained its uses while he scowled and huffed in protest.

“So, in a race between a Bull, a Halla, and an Orlesian Courser, who’s going to win?” Hawke asks, his wit sharpened to a fine point in this setting, abandoning some of the goofiness I normally adore about him.

“Depends on whether one of them gets shanked in the starting gate,” I mutter, glancing around as he sweeps me weightlessly across the floor.

“Interesting! That would be poor sportsmanship, but certainly within the official rules,” he remarks. He pulls me closer and speaks in a low voice as if only to me. “You dance like a dream, Inquisitor.” The involuntary flutter in my stomach was already poised for action by the spiritedness of our dance, but the compliment unleashes it. We have an entire audience, party guests pressing against the rail above the ballroom to watch as the Inquisitor is swept away by the Champion of Kirkwall. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. He may be leading, but I’m now aware of the effect I have on him. Hawke pushes me out for a heady spin and then reels me back in exuberantly, and I feel the heaviness of the stress of the affair easing, like he’s charging me with confidence and courage for the covert tasks to come.

“Perhaps you and I might disappear after this,” he says in my ear and it’s not quite quiet enough. I see at least one guest cover their mouth in shock and delight and turn to the person next to them to point at us. Even as we dance I mentally freeze, trying to understand his angle, what he could possibly mean beyond actually wandering off for a quick fuck. “Find a quiet corner out of sight. The guest garden looked rather inviting.” If he was sincere he’d be grinning, but there isn’t a smile on his face. He’s sharing the next move and creating cover. And a torrent of rumors, but cover.

“Are all Fereldans as presumptuous as you?”

“I can think of at least one who is not nearly presumptuous enough,” he replies, with a cheeky glance at Cullen’s side of the mezzanine. “But no. I’m incorrigible. And I find you… most bewitching.” I manage to control my blush, remembering that the Game is an act, no matter how much truth there is lurking underneath it all.

“I’ve far too many people to meet still. Perhaps. If you can track me down.”

“I’m famous for my investigative abilities, you know,” he says, beaming again.

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t bother trying to hide?” I reply, gathering up the social credit earned by this playful, titillating exchange.

“Tell you what. I’ll take care of the introductions and then we can claim a corner of the guest garden.”

“The guest garden. I’ve been told it’s gorgeous.”

“Yes, it’s divine. We can cozy up. Plop some caprice coins in the fountain. I’ve got a pocketful to share,” he says.

“Sounds rather lovely, actually,” I say, allowing myself to smile.

“I’ve heard the library is next to none. It’s just upstairs from the garden,” he continues, spinning me again and then catches my eyes again with meaning. “Containing rare untold works you might enjoy.”

“The library?” I confirm.

“Yes, the library! Great big room. Stuffed with books. You know.” I lean back to scold him as the music reaches its rousing conclusion. He dips me low, his face close enough that I feel his breath soft against me, his eyes locked to mine. (cont below)

“Want to get out of here?” he asks. The mere thought of it causes waves of heat to wash slowly over me from down low as I recall our last tumble before leaving Crestwood. Aware of the attention fixed upon us, I allow my smile to tease at one corner of my mouth, attempting something of a sultry look under my mask and I nod very slightly, allowing him to lead me from the dance floor by the elbow.

As we make our way back out of the ballroom into the Vestibule, we are stopped several times for introductions by suddenly solicitous guests. Anyone on the arm of the Champion must be worthwhile, I surmise, as I’m now showered with attention I did not previously merit. An hour ago I was a spurious connection at best; a minor noble from a quaint and distant land with some very odd markings who may or may not have walked out of the Fade. Even the fact that I’d successfully closed the Breach seemed like a distant achievement; what makes me an icon in Fereldan is more dubious here in Orlais, far removed from the eyes of most guests. We haven’t pressed into Orlesian territory to resolve rifts yet. But on the arm of the Champion of Kirkwall, I’m instantly more compelling, elevated by his own legendary status. Surely a beauty, perhaps a wit.

We continue through the Antechamber, past the guest wing toward the grand staircase in the rear. Hawke leans down as if to graze my ear with his lips, sliding his hand around my waist provocatively.

“We should try this way first,” he says softly. “Otherwise we have a date with a trellis.” He takes me obviously by the hand and whisks me around the corner of the staircase, sweeping me up the stairs and into his arms. “If you giggle a little bit it will sell it.” He backs me against the wall between two doors and fumbles in the pocket of his elaborate jacket. “The number of things one can hide in this jack is truly astounding. I can’t be happier.”

“What are we doing?” I hiss. He leans down so it looks like he’s kissing my neck, but he looks over my shoulder and begins to pick the lock.

“Visiting the library of course,” he whispers. My heart knocks against the inside of my chest with both the thrill of the moment– breaking into a restricted area of the Winter Palace and my occasional lover looming over me so provocatively. A pick clatters on the floor after a particularly forceful crank of his arm. “Shit.”

The noisy footsteps of guard boots sound at the bottom of the stairs and begin to ascend. I step on the errant pick and grasp Hawke by the neck, hooking a leg over his hip and pull him down for the most theatrically passionate kiss I can dredge from within me, our ridiculous masks knocking into each other until they’re crooked. And of course he responds as if it was his idea all along, grasping my thigh with convincing fervor, shoving me gently against the marble column behind me.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” demands a guard, emerging from below in a pair. We break apart like teenagers caught, adjusting our masks, smoothing our clothes.

“Desolé, desolé,” says Hawke, which, by his strained accent, is probably one fifth of all the Orlesian he knows. One guard elbows the other, gesturing to us with his head.

“Euhhh, c’est le Champion, n’est-ce pas? Avec une amoureuse, en plus.”

“Le Champion? Ah, bon. Si, bon.” The guards wave us onward with their blessing and I’m once again reminded of the permissiveness of Orlesian sex culture. It was spoken of in somewhat horrified hushed whispers in Ostwick and laughably I’m now I’m the direct beneficiary.

“Le Champion de Kirkwall. More like le *Champignon* de Kirkwall,” I snort to myself, when he turns to trap me again.

“Think you’re funny, eh?” he says, bracing himself against the wall on an elbow over my head and bending to brush his lips over mine lightly.

“Mm hmm,” I tell him, rooting around in both of his pockets for his picks. I’m met with two cavernous bags full of Maker knows what. “There’s a lot going on in here. I need your picks.”

“Oh it’s fine. I’ll let you rummage around for a bit,” he says with a grin, breathing in the floral and cinnamon scent on my hair deeply. “You smell like pie. Or those ginger biscuits from Starkhaven that come in little tins. Shockingly edible.Was that on purpose?”

“Hawke,” I tell him, grasping his chin and meeting his eyes. “Focus.” He shoves his hand into his right pocket while my hand is still in there, running his fingers lightly down my palm like a proper rogue before feeling around for the picks in question. He folds them into my hand inside the pocket and I know he’s gazing at me from under his brow the way he usually does when he wants something from me. I turn around to attempt the lock. He presses his lips to my neck, his breath whispering across my skin. Maker, Hawke.

“We don’t have an audience, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, nudging my ear with his nose. “We have to be prepared. One could arrive at any moment.” I’ll allow it. He could be right. They could be just around the corner.

The lock should be within my skill at this point, but I talk it out in case he wants to weigh in.

“Five pins,” I remark quietly. “Did you drop your tensioner?” It stands to reason that the library wouldn’t have a particularly complex lock on it. It’s a library after all.

“Let me grab it.” I lift my foot so he can reach down for it, his hands skimming over my waist and hips on the way. He holds it out to me from under my arm. I slide the tensioner in and feel delicately for the first binding pin, which clicks satisfyingly into place. I clutch a couple tools between my lips so I can see what I have available and pick out a bent snake for the next couple pins.

“This is unbelievably provocative,” says Hawke in my ear. “Mouthful of tools and all.”

“It would be a lot more so if I actually crack it,” I answer, glancing at him over my shoulder. He kisses my cheek, breaking the sultry act for a hot minute. My look lingers on him, a quietly affectionate smile crossing my lips before I go back to the lock. I drop to my knees for better leverage.

“Raising the stakes on our emergency theatrics, don’t you think?” he says above me, earning a swift smack on the boot. The pins click into place one after another and the cylinder rotates smoothly, the door unlatching and drifting open slightly.

“Et voilà,” I mutter with a grin. We both glance askance and then slip through the entry. Even in the darkness a guard perks up across the length of the grandiose library, calling out in Orlesian as if we were common party guests who’d just bumbled our way in, his sword at the ready just in case. Hawke strides confidently toward him and in a swift motion shockingly reminiscent of our earlier dancing, slips behind the guard, eases him into a reclined position with his neck inside the belt of his arm and rapidly renders him unconscious. He steps this way and that, looking for other inconvenient eyes and then pushes his mask up, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Right. That should give us ten or fifteen minutes or so,” he says, dragging the guard into a nook between a towering bookshelf and a table and binding his feet and wrists with lengths of cord he had tucked in his carpet bag sized pockets.

“Leliana mentioned Celene’s occult advisor, is that what we’re looking for here?” I ask, pushing my mask up. He nods, suddenly all business.

“Apparently she keeps an office up here. I had it from a pair of elven servants I bribed.”

“They spoke Common?” I ask, perplexed. Hawke answers me competently in Orlesian.

“‘Blundering foreigner’ is a useful look in the right situations,” he says with a grin. He slides back into Common. “Don’t look so surprised, you monster. Back here.” We hurry quietly across the cavernous library, watching carefully for other guards and enter a room lined with urn-topped pedestals, fringed with moonlight that filters in through the impossibly tall windows. “Supposedly her lair is in this area somewhere. But this doesn’t look right for a witchy type, does it?”

“If she’s everything Leliana says she is, I’m sure her space is hidden away,” I say, heading toward the book shelf in the back and knocking on the wooden bits to hear for changes in reverberation. The shelf to the left gives the unmistakable hollow sound I’m looking for and I glance over at Hawke, who comes over to help look for the mechanism.

“Eye level or lower. Wouldn’t make sense to put it in a difficult to reach spot. Discreet would be chest to hip height,” he says with the confidence of someone who’s done this sort of thing before.

“Nor would the mechanism likely be in the door itself. I’ll check the right side.” We comb over the books, checking for undue resistance or volumes that look out of place. My finger catches on one that feels sturdier than any of the others. I give it a stiff tug. The bookcase to my left swings inward. Hawke grins at me.

“I could get used to this you know,” he says as we peer our way into a darkened room.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Lurking about places with you all sneaky like.”

“We’ve done plenty of that already. You’re feeling nostalgic for Crestwood,” I say, poking him in the side.

The entire space is cast in a dancing aquamarine light from an enchanted brazier on the right. Instruments of arcane significance are carefully arranged on both the advisor’s desk and a side table looking a little creepy if I’m being honest. Dried floral specimens hang tidily above the workbench which has rows of bottles of powders labeled in some manner of coded shorthand. The space smells of dawn lotus and sandalwood and recently extinguished candles. Rather lovely, really.

“Smells like a Lowtown brothel,” grunts Hawke in response to my thoughts. I smirk at him with a raised brow.

“Familiar, is it?”

"What? My investigations have taken me to all manner of seedy establishments," he says, browsing through unlocked desk drawers.

"Mm hmm."

“I couldn’t be arsed to pay for sex if that’s what you’re implying,” he answers, tapping my rear playfully. “Look at this.” He hunches over a massive book on her desk, bound in the skin of an animal with its hair intact almost like the smooth, spotted coat of one of father’s hunting hounds. The corners of the grimoire are secured with ornately filigreed metal fittings. Maker knows how old it is or what secrets are contained therein. I reach for it to open it but Hawke catches me by the wrist.

“I should have said– don’t touch anything. It could be rigged with spells for all we know,” he says softly. He withdraws a dagger out from under his jacket, gives it a tentative poke looking for a magical trap and then uses it to unfold a letter that sits partially curled on the desk. I swing around the desk to read it upside down.

“It’s from Celene,” I say. “She begs Morrigan to be by her side all night. Concerns about assassins.” I glance up at him. “So she knows already.” Hawke cranes his neck around me, his expression plainly perplexed by whatever he’s caught sight of.

“What?” I ask. He walks out of the office. “Hawke.”

“There’s a cat,” he says, over his shoulder. “A Maker forsaken cat. It’s a little weird, right? Don’t normally think of cats in these great palaces, do you? In the library no less.” A sense of uneasiness washes over me as he approaches a small gray tiger that walks curiously in our direction.

“Hawke,” I say again, my heart stopping. Hawke turns to me fully, gesturing behind him.

“You don’t like cats?” In a whisper of motion, the cat silently grows into an elaborately, darkly adorned woman behind Hawke. Celene’s arcane advisor. Hawke turns back before I can warn him and he stumbles backward with a startled curse. I jog to Hawke’s side instinctively, feeling sure that I’m better off next to him in the presence of such a creature, whose office alone smacks of blood magic and competence.

“Well, well, well,” slinks a sultry, smoky voice across the silver-lit library, the figure gliding like an enigma embodied. “What do we have here? The Inquisitor, fabled Herald of the faith, delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the blessed Andraste herself and some… manner of lace-festooned brute? ‘Tis hardly the place for guests.”

Hawke tilts his head with dawning familiarity and taps his finger against his lips.

“Mordred? Morgoth? Morgan is it? No, no. Give me a minute. I’ll get it.” All vestiges of mystery evaporate as Hawke disassembles her with his usual antics. She slumps her shoulders and rolls her eyes. “Morrigan."

"I should have guessed it was you.”

#hawquisitor #hawke x trevelyan #hawke x inquisitor #garrett hawke #purple hawke #hawke at winter palace #wicked eyes wicked hearts #dragon age fan fiction #dragon age fan art #In the Shattering of Things #Now part of my longfic forever #da drunk writing circle #dadwc #theluckywizard

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blarrghe · 2 years ago

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“When a character checks in on another character sleeping to make sure they’re okay, struck dumb by how innocent they look (bonus if they reach out to brush the hairs on their head out of the way, or stay up watching over them, or decide to lay down beside them, resisting the urge to touch or pull them close)” for T and Dorian? 🥺

Sleepy! Boys! Some canon universe, early relationship, just after Here Lies The Abyss softness for ya. Not editing this writing prompts is tough.. -- He hadn’t been there. Dorian had been right on his heels when the dragon swept down, right behind him until the battlements crumbled underfoot, and then he’d been on solid ground while a flash of green magic caught the rest of them.

He hadn’t been there, through whatever terrible adventure had lost them the Champion of Kirkwall, through the thing Sera only called a “nightmare” under her breath and over one too many drinks. He hadn’t been there while the Inquisitor uncovered memories that Cassandra would only call “concerning”, hadn't been there to help fight off demons that The Bull would only call “creepy”.

He’d been there when the flash of green magic spat them out again. Frantic and choking on his own strangled shouts to rush the soldiers forward. Dorian had been there to pull him up to his feet and support him on his injured leg as he made a solemn speech. He’d been there saying, “let’s get you home,” and he’d been there in the caravan over the mountains while Solas applied potions and healing charms over his battered bones, and he’d been there in the library, pacing, when the Inquisitor had finally come to debrief him, last out of everyone, on what had transpired.

He’d said he was angry and terribly upset, asked him how he dared to scare him like that, how he dared to go jumping off into bottomless pits of terror and demons without him.

He’d thought — he’d thought he’d lost him. Things had only just started, and for too many long, agonising hours up there on the crumbling battlements while the rest of the Inquisition’s assembled forces scrambled and despaired about the fate of the world, he’d thought only of the fact that he’d never see his smile again.

Confronted with his selfishness, Taren had only smiled and touched his cheek and given him an apology. An apology that Dorian knew was really something else, something heavier and harder to swallow. An apology that Dorian knew left the more heartfelt words unspoken. An apology just to humour him, just to avoid the ordeal of not hearing them back.

So Dorian had kissed him in the library, despite the lingering nobles and the nosy mages all around. He’d told him to rest his leg and to stop climbing up and down the bloody stairs, promised to visit his chambers in the evening with the kind of growl in his voice that made kissing him in public feel more purposeful, more rebellious, less impulsive.

Less like what it was.

When he climbed the stairs to the Inquisitor’s chambers that evening, Dorian vowed to himself to do better. He’d almost lost him, really lost him, and those unspoken words had threatened to hang over his head for the rest of his life. If he'd had any sense, they'd have been the first words out of his mouth the moment he'd laid eyes on him again. That was supposed to be the realisation, after something like this. That was supposed to be the romantic climax of the rush-into-arms of having him back.

Instead, the words stuck to the back of his throat more thickly than ever. Instead, the idea of letting loose so much sentiment at a time so fraught — to a man who could at any moment be lost again — only grew more terrifying. How selfish. How cowardly. Taren, the Inquisitor, had faced a nightmare demon, an onslaught of chaotic memories, the loss of an ally and the breaking of his own bones, and here was Dorian, burdened by sentiment.

He rapped lightly on the door. There was no answer. One more time, and the door swung open slightly with his knock. Dorian carefully peered inside. The inquisitor was propped on pillows in his modest bed, his healing leg lifted up by thick cushions and a scattering of important papers and maps spread over his lap and the blankets beside. An herbal remedy of tea had gone cold in a tall clay mug on the low wooden table beside his bed, a quill was left to dribble ink over Josephine’s carefully selected silk sheets.

Dorian sighed, and stepped quietly into the room. He removed the papers to a stack on the desk in the corner of the large, sparsely furnished room. He tucked the quill back into its holder and the blankets up and over Taren’s slowly rising and falling chest. Then he paused, looking down at the sleeping elf’s face, watching his furrowed brow closely, listening to the sound of his soft breathing.

The dim light nearly hid the tattoos and freckles which blended into his tan skin. The tired circles that often lay under his warm green eyes seemed pulled deeper by the shadows. A strand of Taren’s long and unruly hair fell over the lattice of vallaslin on his forehead and wavered with each rhythmic breath. Dorian leaned forward and very gently tucked it away. Taren stirred at the touch, a concerned groan mumbling from his lips and a deeper furrow forming in his brow. Dorian removed his hand.

“It’s only me,” he whispered.

“Vhenan,” his eyes didn’t open, but the concern in his face relaxed.

“Mhm.” Dorian leaned forward again, stroking his cheek this time with a gentle hand and leaving a kiss over his forehead. “You must be exhausted, just rest.”

Taren’s eyes blinked open, and he shifted slightly to the side. He smiled in recognition, sweet and warm, then closed his eyes again.

“Stay.” The word was little more than a murmur, and Taren fell back into his doze as soon as it had been spoken.

Dorian hesitated. He watched him again, the rise and fall of his chest, the twinge and twitch that affected his marked hand as a quick glimmer of green passed under his skin, the hitch and strain to those soft breaths and then the return to a quiet rhythm as they evened out again.

Finally, Dorian stooped to carefully remove the boots he wore around the castle. He sat slowly on the edge of Taren’s simple bed, atop the spread of delicate silk sheets. He moved as lightly as he could, bringing his legs up and leaning back, draping a careful arm over the shoulders of Taren’s still sleeping form.

He stroked his hair again as Taren’s head rolled towards his chest, tucked the curls of burnt auburn behind one delicately tapered ear. His own breaths were shallow, practically held. Taren’s slowed and calmed some more, growing deep and comfortable over Dorian’s chest.

Dim evening turned dark. The room was quiet. Dorian tightened the hold of his arm securely over the sleeping Inquisitor’s back and whispered, “sleep well.”

“Sleep well, my amatus.”

#ahkfjahkjsf #sleeeeepy boys #writing prompts #my writing #taren lavellan #dorian pavus #da:i #pavellan

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ratsoh-writes · 2 years ago

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When life gives you lemons…

Sans: you give life ketchup. It’s called bartering.

Papyrus: you make lemonade to share with your friends!! Then ask life for more lemons cause that stuff was nice!

Star: you use the lemons as target practice for your gun, then regret your life decisions when you realize your little bro could’ve made lemon bars.

Honey: dunno? Make lemon bars? Is this a trick question?

Red: you throw them at the neighbors dogs who won’t stop barking at 3am

Edge: you make lemonade and refuse to share with anyone. Especially not dirty *ss brothers who can’t clean up their own dishes

Mal: you dry them out to make a nice cleaner for your kitchen counter

Cash: you peel it like an orange and offer “orange slices” to your friends

Oak: you leave it on your desk and forget about it for two weeks

Willow: you sprinkle a little sugar on top and have it with your morning crepe! Delicious!

Charm: you eat that sucker raw because of a dare.

Sugar: you leave them in the fruit bowl on the kitchen, then go on a shopping spree for more fruits cause the lemons looked lonely

Lord: you debate squeezing one right on your nosy *ss friends pristine white shirt, then remember you actually like said friend

Mutt: you feed a slice to your baby raccoon, tape it, and get her famous on the undernet

Wine: you dry out some slices and put them in decorative candles.

Coffee: you give them to your brother. Who needs lemons these days?

Pop: you feed them to the eels in the creek behind the power plant .

Rhythm: you make a lovely strawberry lemonade for your students! They practiced hard and deserve the treat!

Pluto: you cross breed them with a magical plant to see if you can create a new crop staple, then you get bored and move on to a new interest

Jupiter: you give them to star cause he ran out of lemons for target practice

G: you reject the lemons and demand oranges instead

Green: you politely accept and immediately begin making a thank you letter for life’s generosity. You and life are now pen pals

Peaches: you plant the seeds and grow a lemon empire! Mwahahahahah

Rancher: you throw them at the gosh dang crows who won’t stay out of your field

Snipe: you shoot life. How did you get into my house???

Bruiser: you squeeze the juice into your enemies eyes.

Ace: you leave a lemon on life’s doorstep every morning, then their car, then their desk, then their bedroom pillow. Life spirals into insanity. Just as they’re being carted to the inane asylum, you leave one last lemon in their cell

Slim: you make a poorly timed wattpad “lemon” joke

Butch: you squeeze the juice into your enemies open wounds

Boss: you put the lemon slices on the fish you’re grilling (and flick the juice into your enemies eyes)

Lilac: you are older and wiser, so you leave one lemon aside before using the rest as target practice. But it was all for naught. Your brother needed two lemons to make the lemon bars

Basil: you make lemon bars, but you don’t question why. Life is too short for questions

Rust: you resist the urge to feed the lemons to your kids

Noir: you feed the lemons to rusts kids and laugh at their little scrunched faces

Lush: you resell the lemons as organic for twice the price even though they’re literally just normal lemons

Pepper: you make a lovely face mask to bleach your bones with

Sparks: you squeeze a little lemon juice in your water then act like you’re a fancy actor all day

Salt: you hide your lemons from your psychotic friends

Gears: you enchant the lemons into lemon mettaton. It goes up in flames in two minutes. Dammit

Compass: you sleep with the lemon next to your pillow cause it smells nice :)

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

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written-in-ash · 3 years ago

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i feel like im gojng to regret this because your angst is one of the rawest and most emotional things ive ever read....but i cant resist:

“Did he leave you?”

“No.”

“Did you leave him.”

“No, love left us.”

A Horrid Cheat, A Beautiful Liar

Draco feels the humid air of the Ministry ballroom settle as the initial shock fades from his mind. A familiar numbness overtakes his body, leaving him feeling vulnerable and raw, the confining ropes of yearning squeezing his abused heart.

This was not the first time Draco had seen Harry after their 'unfortunate falling out,' as dubbed by the Prophet. Polite pleasantries had been exchanged at various Ministry functions — many of which Draco probably shouldn't have attended for the sake of his damaged ego — to keep up appearances.

Malfoys do not show emotions, his father's voice had echoed through his head. Malfoys do not lose, and Malfoys do not love.

So, he went to the events as a good little Malfoy should. He continued to hurt, and he continued to love.

Now, seeing Harry in his formal robes entering the gala with his red-headed first love dangling like a jewel from his arm, the ache begins to spread.

The constricting ropes latch themselves onto his lungs as Harry's beautiful smile, displaying his pure adoration, is tuned to Ginevra.

(A horrid cheat.)

Harry had broken up with Draco one month and seventeen days after Ginny had returned from her two-year-long stint in Italy, just like the Prophet had said he would.

Renewed hatred and venom directed at Draco could be found spread across the paper's front page once again. They were convinced that Draco was in the way of Harry's happiness and that Ginevra was the true owner of Harry's heart. Naturally, Harry had been outraged, but deep down, Draco knew they were right.

When the vitriolic speech and public violence confined Draco to their home, Harry recognized and admitted the inevitable.

After sitting Draco down and placing his favorite glass of scotch in front of him, Harry finally declared he was still in love with Ginevra. Despite their mutual split two years and seventeen days ago, Harry thought he could fill the empty void in his heart with Draco's presence. He couldn't.

Draco insisted that the love they shared was still whole. He promised that it was strong enough to they could move past this inconvenience. It wasn't.

Harry told Draco that he didn't love him. Not in the way he should.

In a fit of rage, betrayal clouding his fragmented mind, Draco called him a horrible cheat, a beautiful liar.

Harry's face crumbled, yet he did not deny the accusation as he traced the outline of the scar on the back of his hand. I must not tell lies.

And Harry didn't. Not in that respect, at least.

(A beautiful liar.)

Looking at them now dancing, movements tender and swift, Draco can see how Harry's eyes are a little brighter, his smile a little wider, and his laugh a little louder. Perhaps Draco was holding him back. Maybe Harry and Ginevra were just a match made in heaven, a love irreplaceable.

As the puddle of hope begins to pool beneath his heart, a rough voice by his side emerges and draws his attention.

Feeling simultaneously surprised and caught, Draco's walls immediately rise, an icy mask covering his features.

Glancing to his side, a tall, burly man watches the couple, brown eyes both piercing and incredibly light. His wavy brown hair is artfully tousled and falls to frame his lean face.

"An old flame?" he asks, French accent inquiring as he tips his glass of champagne towards Harry and Ginevra. His eyes are narrowed as if trying to work out the compatibility between the two. If he is, Draco can't help; he doesn't understand either.

"Something like that," Draco responds, voice flat and uninterested. He doesn't really want to talk about this with a stranger.

But Draco doesn't — no, can't — always get what he wants. It's a lesson he had learned the hard way as each person he loved was ripped away from him.

"Did you leave him?" The stranger asks, leaning back in his chair and take a long swig of champagne. Draco wants to slap him, the nosy bastard, but he reluctantly restrains himself.

"No." He would never have left Harry. He loves — loved Harry.

"Did he leave you?"

Draco takes a moment to answer, and his eyes slowly returning to Harry and Ginevra.

Draco painfully exhales as the ropes construct a little more, tugging his heart and compressing his lungs.

"No," Draco says slowly, cocking his head. The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them: "Love left us."

But the love didn't leave them, did it? After all, admitting an amicable mutual breakup is more manageable than pretending he wasn't still pining over lost love.

The man nods slowly and abruptly holds his hand in Draco's line of vision, obstructing his view of the couple.

"Care to dance?"

The man's lips are tugged into a charming yet lopsided smile and the challenge stands clear in his eyes. Surprisingly, Draco finds himself resistant to back down.

Slowly he nods, taking a step towards the man. And perhaps it could be a step towards the right direction, a step away from Harry.

With his back turned and the man's hand in his, Draco does not notice the evergreen fire drain from Harry's tired eyes, the weight of society's expectations weighing down on his shoulders. The ropes live in him, too, constricting and unrelenting.

For Draco, he could be a horrid cheat. For Draco, he would be a beautiful liar.

With a prompt like this you practically BEGGED for angst, my friend. Hope this lives up to your emotional tastes 🤍

#unrequited love #(???)#drarry #draco x harry #draco malfoy/harry potter #harry potter #draco malfoy #harry potter series #drarry fanfiction #drarry microfic #lyssarosewrites #prompted fics

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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And I always will - Tom Holland

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

week 3 babies! it’s been so long since i last wrote for Tom and this story just screamed for him when I made up the plot. so here is some cute friends to lovers christmas edition! updated the fanficmas post with next week’s fic and added another one for the 24th, check it out if you are interested!

word count: 4.2k

masterlist

It’s not a date, it’s not a date, it’s not a date!

That’s your mantra for the evening and the closer the time is coming when Tom is picking you up, the louder you’re shouting it in your mind. Well, while it was sure he was nowhere near your apartment you physically kept telling yourself, heart pounding in your chest with each passing moment, but when he texted you that he’d be there in five you shut yourself up.

Stepping to the mirror you take one last look at yourself in your simple black dress and red blazer, a simple but fitting look for the annual Christmas party of the company you’re working for. You tug your hair behind your ears to make your earrings more apparent, they are like little red Christmas ornaments, the perfect touch up for the occasion and you also happen to know Tom loves how you wear them around the holidays every year.

This whole thing started a week ago when he was over for a movie night, something you often did when he was in town and you whined about having to go to the company party alone again and listen to your boss comment on how she was already married at your age. She is a very old school woman with strong beliefs that a woman should be able to catch herself a man at an early age if she doesn’t want to end up alone for the rest of her life.

You were only twenty three, not at all in rush to settle down, but you hated the teasing and commenting every year. It happened all through the year, but it was the worst at the Christmas party, because then she had the time to talk to you without the distraction of work, so she was able to touch on more personal topics as well.

Tom listened to you patiently, letting you rage about the irritation even the thought brings to you every year before proposing his idea.

“I could go with you and pretend to be your boyfriend.”

The words rolled off his tongue so easily, like it was nothing at all, when in reality it put your stomach into a knot immediately. It might have not mean anything to him other than just a friendly request but it meant so much more to you, being in love with the man for years.

Cliché, right? Falling for your best friend and keeping your emotions bottled up because you’re too afraid to come clear and possibly ruin your friendship. It sounds like a horrible teen movie, but this is the truth. It’s not something you can just blurt out without having to overthink about all the possible outcomes that would send you into a rabbit hole of the worst case scenarios until you are scared to talk about your feelings for life.

You were hesitant about his idea, but like every time, he managed to talk your ears off and convince that it would be a great idea.

“Lots are already thinking we are a couple, it would be easy!” he assured you, and he gave you a sly, cocky smirk, one you can never resist. So naturally, you said yes at the end and that brings you to this evening, when you’re nervously waiting for him to arrive to pick you up so the two of you could go to that stupid party together, pretending to be a couple.

You keep pacing back and forth in the small hallway as you wait for him to arrive and when you hear the knock on the door you jump.

It’s not a date, Y/N! Just pretentious!

You keep telling yourself your little mantra as you stride over to the door and open it for him. And there he is, handsome as ever, wearing black dress pants and a nice, crispy looking white shirt under his wool coat, the top buttons of the shirt left undone to let your greedy eyes a little hint of his toned chest underneath the fabric. You need to stop yourself from sucking on your breath, he looks so great, not just now, but all the damn time, making you feel lightheaded with just a simple smile.

“You look beautiful, girlfriend,” he tells you, putting a teasing tone into the last word and though it was just a joke, it made your heart flutter for sure.

“Thank you, boyfriend,” you shyly smile, the word tastes so sweet on your tongue, but there’s some hidden pain behind it.

“Ready to go?” You nod and grab your coat and purse before shutting the door behind you and locking the door.

The ride is short, but feels like forever. You’re anxiously chewing on your bottom lip, heart pounding in your chest and you fear that Tom might hear it and question you about it. This is so nerve-wrecking, and so not how you imagined to be his girlfriend for the first time.

Though it’s the closest you’ll get to the title, probably, you tell yourself, stomach churning at the thought.

“Hey,” Tom’s soft voice grabs your attention when he stops at a red light. “Nervous?”

“Just a little,” you nod shortly. “I just… want to my boss to take me seriously for once,” you lie, because there’s absolutely no way you are telling him it’s him that makes you shit your panties.

“I’ll be right there with you and we’ll charm the shit out of that woman,” he smirks making you laugh at his words.

“Hope so,” you mumble with a sigh, turning back to stare out the window.

Tom parks down in an empty spot near the venue that holds the part and he helps you out of the car giving you a hand, but he doesn’t let go of it once you are standing on your feet, holding your hand and even lacing your fingers together. When he gives it a gentle squeeze you peek up at him and notice that he is looking down at your with a warm smile as if he is trying to tell you that it’s gonna be alright without words. You try to swallow your anxious thoughts and hope he doesn’t find your hand too sweaty as the two of you head inside.

You work for a huge marketing company, one of the biggest ones in London. You landed an assistant job two years ago, fresh out of college and worked yourself up to be a fulltime graphic designer, mostly working on visuals for smaller campaigns running in the company, but you were proud of your work and enjoyed it to the fullest. One of the lead designers is rumored to retire sometime next year and you were hoping to be considered for his spot, thought there are quite a lot who has been working there for a longer time, but you felt like you have proven yourself to be suitable for the job. Tonight you are praying to charm your boss so she would move your name forward in the process and earn you a few good points at the admission, but this meant that you have to make her believe you are the definition of couple goals so she would get off your back and finally see that you are trying your best to move forward in life.

The venue is one big ball room, several tables set on the sides with the department’s name on the table to let people know where to sit, the luxurious decoration making the whole place appear like Winter Wonderland straight out of a fairytale. There’s a stage at the very back with a DJ already playing and a dancefloor in the middle, some guests are busting their best dance moves there, while others are enjoying the open buffet that runs along the two sides, tables filled with the most delicious looking meals.

A waiter greets you both, offering you champagne and you gladly take a glass while Tom shakes his head with a soft “I’m driving, thank you”.

Looking around you see some familiar faces but there are a lot new ones. The company has a whole office building with five floors and one usually stays on their own floor throughout the working days, you don’t interact much, so it’s hard to tell who you are working with on a wider level.

“Do you know where we are sitting?” Tom asks leaning closer to your ear so you hear what he is saying over the music and as his hot breath hits your neck it sends a shiver down your spine.

He is so close and his hand feels so warm on mine, you think to yourself while your eyes scan the place, trying to find your colleagues. When you spot them you pull Tom in their direction, plastering a nervous smile on your lips.

“Hi everyone!” you greet them arriving to the big, circular table. You work with a team of ten designers, some of them are older, but there are two around your age. Sally is twenty-five, her desk is right across yours and you’ve become closer, eating lunch together almost every day, and then there’s Owen, who is basically the office’s gossip source, always knows what happened to who and he makes sure to give the word away to the right people. Your older colleagues find him nosy, but you think it’s funny how he can still get any information from anyone even though he is known to have a big mouth. There’s just something about a tall, gay dude who approaches you with a sly smile, it’s like he puts a spell on people and they magically start talking. He often joins you and Sally for lunch, the three of you forming a club of young, ambitious people, holding each other up so you don’t get crushed by the judgy thirties.

When Owen looks up from his cocktail he almost spits it out seeing Tom standing next to you, holding your hand firmly.

“Little miss Y/N?! What is this supposed to be?” he gasps dramatically and you just chuckle shaking your head at him.

“This, is my uhh—This is my boyfriend, Tom,” you nervously introduce him and he waves around politely.

“Hi, nice to meet you all,” he calls out and most just acknowledge him with a nod and a hello, but Owen is over the roof that you just appeared with Tom Holland by your side.

“Why haven’t you tell me you were fucking Spider-Man himself?” he continues to rage and you almost choke on your own saliva hearing his words. Your cheeks start to heat up, but seemingly Tom doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as you, he just chuckles lightly, before pulling out your seat to help you sit before he takes the seat next to you.

Sally, who is sitting between you and Owen just slaps his chest in a warning manner.

“Control yourself!” she scolds him, but it only earns her an eye-roll.

“I’m sorry, but I feel offended I didn’t know about this,” he explains pointing at you and Tom.

“I hope you understand that I like to keep my private life, well, private. So it’s my fault Y/N hasn’t been bragging about us.” Tom rescues you from making up some stupid lie and you’re happy you didn’t have to say a word, so you just chug down half of your champagne in hopes it would ease your nerves a little.

Surprisingly, Owen backs off immediately, giving you a knowing look, as if he understood so well the life of a well-known actor even though he was far from being one.

“Oh, totally. I get it, don’t worry about it, Tom. Though I’m sure she’s been dying to talk about you all along.”

“Has she?” Tom teasingly looks down at you and you just let out an awkward chuckle nodding.

“Yeah. Exactly,” you mumble finishing off your champagne and putting it to the table. Tom can easily tell how nervous you are, so he puts a hand to your knee under the table and gives it a gentle squeeze, leaving it there afterwards, but it just rises your anxiety level. You are highly aware of every touch and look, as if your senses became hypersensitive all of a sudden, but only to Tom.

“So how long you two have been together?” Sally asks with a warm smile, trying her best to steal the opportunity from Owen to talk so he doesn’t say anything inappropriate and you are endlessly thankful to her for that.

“Um, couple of months,” you say the first thing that comes to your mind and from the corner of your eye you see Tom just nod along your words.

“And how do you know each other if I might ask?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, actually,” Tom speaks up this time. “Y/N’s dad used to work with my dad when we were younger and we sort of became friends. I was always in love with her, though it took me a long time to grow the balls to ask her out.” You are stunned at how easily he is talking about something that’s not real, as if he has been building up this story in his mind for a while, but that can’t be the case of it.

“Oh, this is so cute! And did you feel the same way?” Sally asks you. Licking your lips you glance over at Tom.

“Yeah. Loved him all along,” you softly say and it’s the truth, however he will probably never know about it.

“It’s like in the movies!” Sally gasps, holding her hand to her chest.

Tom’s eyes still hold yours and he gives your knee another squeeze that makes you take a deep breath before you tear your gaze away from him, feeling giddy and lightheaded.

You stay at the table a little longer before the two of you head to fill your plates before everything is fully gone. It’s kind of a relief to get away from Owen and Sally, you hated lying to them, but you had no choice.

“Everything alright?” Tom asks, brushing a hand against the small of your back as the two of you stand at the buffet, looking at the food.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you nod with a weak smile. “Just a little nervous,” you admit.

“Don’t be, we are doing just fine,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses your forehead gently. It’s nothing new, he often does this and the gesture always manages to pull you out of your boiling thoughts and it has the same effect this time as well. You feel like you can breathe again after holding it in for a long time.

You carelessly glance over your shoulder as you wait for Tom to finish packing his plate up with veggies when you spot your boss talking to a guy who you recall works as an accountant on a higher level. Her eyes move just enough to meet yours and you suck on your breath when she spots Tom next to you, right when he reaches out mindlessly sliding a hand to your waist.

“Oh God, she saw us,” you mumble under your breath as you watch her excuse herself from the guy and head in your way.

“Hm? What?” Tom lifts his head and his eyes quickly find the tall, lean woman walking towards you with ambitious and confident steps. Mrs. Winston is the kind of woman that could easily intimidate any high power man in the industry, and she worked hard to be where she is now. However, you don’t necessarily always share her beliefs of the world and life, for instance her vision of a woman marrying a man as young as possible.

“Y/N? Who is this handsome man you brought tonight?” she asks right away, eyes landing on Tom who has put his plate to the table behind him and circled an arm around your waist. Before you could even get a word out, Tom extends his other hand out for her, with a charming smile.

“Tom Holland. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Winston. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Oh God, you’ll never get used to hearing him say that and you’re amazed he remembered her name even though you just mentioned it earlier.

“Nice to meet you too. Call me Carol,” she smiles, seemingly already loving Tom and honestly, you can’t blame her. “I saw that you were bringing a plus one, but I was expecting a relative,” she comments finally paying you a glance and you can feel the sharpness in it, how she partially meant it as an insult, but you just smile at her widely.

“Oh, no. Hope you don’t mind it.”

“Not at all. So tell me, why do you look so familiar, Tom?”

“I’m an actor, you might have seen me in movies.” It takes Mrs. Winston to put the picture together, but when she eventually does, she gives you a highly approving look.

“Well yes! Now I remember! I think my son in law is a big fan.”

“Give him my best wishes,” Tom nods with a warm smile.

“You know, I’m happy to see Y/N finally with a worthy man by her side. I always told her to grab herself a good one before she runs out of time,” Mrs. Winston starts her usual sermon.

“Oh, I think Y/N is perfect on her own, I think she is an amazing individual,” Tom replies and your and Mrs. Winston’s eyebrows rise at the same time. “I don’t think a woman needs a man by her side to make her complete and I admire her strength as a person on her own, not just in a relationship.”

“Don’t you think a woman needs the support of a man to succeed in this man dominated world we live in?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head confidently and you feel him pull you closer to his side while you listen to his words curiously. “I think women deserve the recognition of them and their work and not to have it overshadowed by any men. I’m proud to be Y/N’s boyfriend and I’ll support her through everything, but I would never let anyone think of her as just a part of our relationship, or the person connected to me, because she is so much more than that and I want everyone to recognize that.”

You are at a loss of words, you knew Tom was a feminist, supporting women’s rights passionately, but you never heard him talk about it in a close relation with you. His words twisted your heart in the best possible way and though tonight is all about faking, something is telling you that these are his genuine thoughts, except the part about your relationship, but he could easily mean just your friendship under that.

Mrs. Winston seems stunned at the honest and forward answer, though you can tell it surprised her that someone went against her beliefs. However, it doesn’t seem like she is upset about it, more like she appreciates the balls that someone spoke up.

Her eyes fall back on you and there’s a small smile tugging at her red lips.

“He is a keeper, Y/N,” she simply tells you before walking away.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out when she is far away. Tom gives your waist another squeeze as he glances down at you with a smirk. “It’s like you put a spell on her!”

“I’m a charming bastard,” he shrugs smugly before grabbing his plate from the table and the two of you make your way back to the table.

Following the little talk with your boss you feel a lot more relaxed, knowing that Tom charmed the shit out of the woman. Now you are starting to enjoy the party, laughing with Sally and Owen and you’re happy to see that Tom is getting along with them pretty well too.

When the DJ starts playing All I Want For Christmas, the whole room cheers as one and most guests rush to the dance floor, that includes you and Tom as well.

He keeps you close, twirling you and moving around with you to the song, even singing it just like most people around you. Looking around you spot Mrs. Winston dancing as well, a lot more reserved than you, but she looks like she’s genuinely having a good time. She winks at you when your eyes meet and she sees Tom wrap an arm around your waist. You feel yourself blushing and you turn back to him, earning a sweet smile from him as he is enjoying the party.

When the song ends, the DJ slows it down a few knots playing Christmas Lights by Coldplay, people start to leave the dancefloor, only couple staying to slow dance to the song. Your eyes meet Tom and you thought he might want to go back to the table, but instead, his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you to his chest, starting to sway to the rhythm.

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you feel his body pressed against yours, his hands holding your waist firmly, and you cheek is next to his, occasionally brushing in the motions. You run your hands up his broad shoulders and rest them behind his neck, a shiver running down your spine when you hear him sing the lines into your ear:

“Like some drunken Elvis singing, I go singing out of tune, saying how I always loved you darling and I always will.”

You lean back just enough to look into his eyes, feeling like the words he sang were a message addressed straight to you and you needed to see it in his look. When your gazes meet your heart skips a beat when they validate your thoughts. He sang those lines on purpose and he wanted you to hear them, but still, you can’t bring yourself to say or do something. You just stand there, wrapped in his arms, eyes lost in his, swaying gently to the song.

He brings a hand up to your face and tugs your hair behind your ears, his yes fall to your earring and he can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips.

“I don’t know if this is the right time, but I feel like it is,” he softly starts, seemingly having a hard time to find his words. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you breathe out faintly.

“I love you.”

The words almost push you out of your balance, and you feel like you are falling down in a deep, endless hole. He said the words you’ve been aching to hear from him for so long, he really said them and he is looking at you with eyes you’ve only seen in the mirror when you were thinking about telling him about your feelings. But this time the look belongs to him and he is breathlessly waiting for you to say something in return.

“I love you too,” you softly tell him, brushing your fingers gently along his jawline. He breaks a relieved smile, but then furrows his eyebrows in a serious expression.

“Just to make it sure, you are not talking about a friendly love, right?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“No. Not friendly,” you assure him and he sighs in relief again.

“Great, because it would have been really awkward.”

You bite into your bottom lip, shyly staring up at him, a little lost about what should be said or done next, when you hear Owen call out from behind you.

“You guys are standing under the mistletoe! Kiss!”

First you turn to look at him and then you follow the direction where he is pointing and you see that you are in fact standing under a little mistletoe, hanging from the ceiling. Turning to face Tom you shyly smile at him, while he looks way more confident in himself.

“We can’t break the rule,” he chuckles teasingly, making you laugh as well before leaning down he captures your lips in a sweet, breathtaking kiss.

You feel like a teenager again, the butterflies are going wild in your stomach and you’re pretty sure your hands are shaking, but you couldn’t care less. All you could think about is Tom and that you were finally kissing him. Teenage you would lose her mind knowing you finally got to kiss him, after all those years of secretly dreaming about it.

Tom kisses you again and again until you both are breathing heavily, so he pulls back a little, resting his forehead against yours, his hands keeping you close to him.

“Wanna get out of here?” he breathes out and you nod your head eagerly.

“Fuck yes,” you chuckle making him laugh as well before he grabs your hand and pulls you back to the table to grab your stuff and then head out.

You don’t bother to say goodbye, or tell anyone you’ve left, you were busy feeling Tom’s hands touching you wherever he could, his lips finding yours every other minute. You both are a hot mess in the car on the way home and when you finally reach your apartment, you turn on the Christmas lights in your room, before Tom pulls you down to the bed and makes love to you all through the night.

general/forever taglist for Tom Holland

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Tom taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Tom fics!

@zaahidahhh @shawn-youth @wildflower-cth @imaginashawnns @haute-shawn @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @cutepenguin1 @madatmendes @harrysleftchelseaboot @sarcasticallywitty15 @dontworrysunflower

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

#tom #holland #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland au #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fictions #fanficmas #fanficmas2020 #fanficmas 2020 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2020

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blessedboo · 4 years ago

Text

Mop Bucket | Angel Reyes.

Angel Reyes x Reader

GIF Credit: @mayans-mc

Summary: The sequel to Complicated - On a shopping trip with your boyfriend, you bump into Angel at the store after avoiding him for a while.

Requested: Yes - @ifoundmyhappythought, @thesandbeneathmytoes, and a few others. Thank you, my babies!

Warnings: Cursing/Language. Sexual (18+ Content, NSFW). Cheating.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Spicy? Absolutely. Headcanon? Not. So yeah, the first part was a HC, this one ain’t - I wanted to give it a little more substance, ya know?

You frustratedly scoured the store’s aisles for ingredients. The task became tedious when most of the things you wanted were out of stock. The lack of help from your inattentive boyfriend didn’t make the situation any better.

Finally lifting his head up from his phone, “Babe, is this cake really that important? I mean, who even is this guy?” He groaned.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head disappointedly. “It’s for Ezekiel, love. We’ve been over this — you’ve met him!”

Waving his hand at you dismissively, he scoffed. “Whatever. You can’t expect me to keep track of all your friends.”

“It’s one frie-”

As you turned to face him, he started to make his way elsewhere; his eyes still glued to the bright screen in his hand, per usual.

“Douchebag,” you mumbled to yourself.

You couldn’t tell whether the exhaustion started to make you hallucinate, or if you actually heard laughing coming from the end of the aisle. Peering over to confirm your suspicions, a familiar dark-haired, gentle giant stood snickering at you from a few feet away.

Angel.

“He is quite the catch, mi dulce,” he sarcastically acknowledged, throwing a sly wink your way. Your lips pulled into a tight line as you flipped him off. He chuckled, yet a part of him couldn’t help but hurt. He wasn’t offended by your crude gesture, he just missed that attitude of yours.

You had been keeping your distance with him since that night at the clubhouse. You didn’t want to keep leading him on, it just wasn’t fair.

Angel made his way over to your cart, stepping in front of it to stop you from leaving - not before he got the answers he desperately needed. The sound of metal clanging against the shelves rang through the area as you winced.

“Nice. Great job, Angel.”

“Ah, so you do remember me? Amazing. Now, why have you been avoiding me?

“Wh—”

“I mean, no calls, no texts. Nothin’. Fuck is up with that?”

You sighed, dropping your head down. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, no matter how much you wanted to hide from the inevitable truth. He was upset, and rightfully so.

“I-I don’t know. I thought a little space would be good for the both of us,” You confessed meekly, toying with your fingers as you anxiously waited for his response.

Angel stared at you blankly, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised. His thumb scratched at his chin as he licked his lips, trying to process what he’s just heard.

He pinched at the bridge of his nose, seemingly trying to control his temper and choose his next words wisely. “You don’t get to make that decision for me, querida,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

You crossed your arms stubbornly. “Well, I did it for me. I have a boyfriend, Angel! In fact, he is probably looking for me right now.”

His lips curved into an empathetic frown as he pointed behind you. “Really?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you spun around, your heart clenching at the sight. Your partner was flirting with some blonde in booty shorts. Her hand was groping his bicep, giggling as she copped a feel. Instead of pushing her away, he just stood there smirking obnoxiously, entertaining her sexual advancements by flexing his muscles.

You cleared your throat of the lump that festered within, “They’re … they’re just talking. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Angel flailed his arms in the air, clearly fed up with your bullshit. “Are you fucking kidding me? Stop lying to yourself!”

His raised voice expectedly caught the attention of nosy passersby. To be fair, it wasn’t like they had anything better to do - they might as well bring out the popcorn while they’re at it.

“Shh, quiet down!” You looked around for a spot to inconspicuously talk in private. Not that it mattered anyway, your boyfriend was busy getting his ego jerked off by Ms. Perky Tits over there. Your eyes stopped their wandering when you spotted the janitorial closet, quickly pulling Angel’s arm as you dragged him in there.

You leaned against the door as Angel towered over you, pain and weary written all over his face. He sighed deeply, scratching at the back of his head as he contemplated on what to say.

“You know I’d do anything for you. But I can’t keep playing this game, baby.” Angel reached for your shoulders, rubbing at them patiently as he frowned at you. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t miss me. Tell me you don’t want me … and I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

You bit your lip as you tilted your head, your eyes giving him that knowing look that told him you couldn’t do that. You loved him more than he knew, more than you could admit to yourself.

Sporting a triumphant, lopsided grin, he cupped your cheek reassuringly. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t resist me. It’s my charm, isn’t it?”

You scoffed, laughing at his frustratingly cute face, “Puh-lease, in your dreams.”

He hummed at your remark before pulling you in for a chaste peck, “I know I’m in yours.”

“You’re so annoying that it hurts, Reyes.”

“Likewise, mami,” he drawled before he licked at your bottom lip. “Yet, you don’t seem to feel that way when my tongue’s sucking that pretty, little clit,” he whispered into your ear dangerously, his lips barely grazing the skin.

“Yeah,” he let out a dark chuckle, a sound laced in sensual mischief. “You certainly don’t find me annoying when I shove my fat ass cock down your throat either.”

You were dumbfounded, completely speechless. You quivered excitedly, stuttering as you tried to let out any sensical words.

“Nrgh. Ang-el, I-”

Before you could continue, his hand snaked around your throat in a light grip. Lifting your chin up with his thick fingers, his thumb parted your glossy, pouty lips as he slipped it in between them. The desire in his eyes set yours aflame with an even greater hunger as he waited for you to suck on it.

“Shh. Damn, baby. You talk too fucking much,” he growled lowly. He nipped at your exposed collarbone, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your chest. His other hand slid down to your ass, groaning as he groped a handful of your ample cheeks.

“That naughty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble — but we both know that’s what you want.”

From Angel’s shit-eating smirk to his filthy language, your panties were ready to drop from how wet they were. No one could work you up like he did, and his smart-ass knew that.

Giddy from this rendezvous, you were on the edge of collapsing. The cause being deprivation of touch. It was a valid diagnosis in your book.

“Angel, please,” you whimpered in a voice so breathy, so needy.

“Would you like to know what I want, baby?”

You nodded feverishly at the question, but nothing prepared you for what he was about to say.

“I want you to walk out there with my cum dripping down your thighs. I want you to go back to that pendejo pretending that I didn’t just fuck the living shit out of your tight, soaking wet pussy. God, I want that so bad, mami.”

At this point, your hormones were on overdrive. You felt sweaty and sticky, and the need for clothes didn’t seem necessary. Frankly, you two were overdressed and you couldn’t understand why it was taking him so long to bend you over the mop-bucket-service-cart-thing as he shoved his cock inside you.

Some things are better left as mysteries. Other things are better left sprawled naked in your secret lover’s arms, but maybe that was just you.

His skin on yours felt electrifying and you didn’t know how much more teasing you could take. However, you couldn’t say that you didn’t deserve it.

And just like that, all of that sexual plasmic energy was gone as he stepped away from you.

“But I won’t wreck your shit in the janitor’s closet. I’m classier than that.”

Angel bit his lip, trying to hold back the laugh while looking at your frozen state; hands shaking, eyes wide and mouth agape. He shook his head, his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked through the door in his usual big-dick-swagger.

“But you aren’t classier than that! You aren’t!” You cried out in agony, but it was no use.

That cunning son of a bitch.

A/N: I DON’T APOLOGIZE ON BEHALF OF ALL THE LADY BLUE BALLS I’VE CAUSED.

____________________________________________

MAYANS TAG LIST:

@ifoundmyhappythought @woahitslucyylu @starrynite7114 @claytoncardenasbabymama @multiyfandomgirl40 @justlikebreathing @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @chibsytelford @fvckthisbxtchup @angelreyesgirl @sheeshgivemeabreak @awildcur

[Just ask if you’d like to be tagged!]

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes headcanon #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc #mayans m.c.#mayans fx #mayans mc fanfic #clayton cardenas #x reader #x black!reader #x poc!reader

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botherkupo · 4 years ago

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marinette and the moving castle (chapter 5)

woo new chapter is up!

ao3

5: in which there is much eavesdropping

Marinette hid behind a tree, peering through a pair of binoculars at Alya and Chat Noir. The two had met in the park and were taking a stroll along the walkway. So far there had been no smooching, but Marinette couldn't help but notice the way their arms brushed from time to time.

"Don't you think they're standing awfully close?" she muttered to Nino. "Acquaintances don't normally stand that close to each other, do they?"

"They do seem close," Nino agreed. He had his own binoculars in hand and stood behind Marinette, using his greater height to peer over her head. A gasp escaped his lips. "Wait, that was the smile."

Marinette scowled. The Smile™ was one of Chat Noir's signature looks when he wanted something—a smile that was too charming, too earnest, and usually meant that he was up to nothing good. She'd seen it more than once when he was trying to slither out of an awkward situation and wanted her to cover for him. Combined with the way he leaned closer and plucked something from Alya's hair, it was no wonder that Marinette's grip tightened on the binoculars.

"That shameless flirt," she muttered. "Look at him doing the whole 'You've got something in your hair' trick. I bet there was nothing even there."

"She doesn't seem to mind," Nino said a little morosely.

This was true. Alya actually returned his smile.

Marinette frowned as the two headed for a bench and sat down. They were still too close for her likings. Alya's knee was practically touching his.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Nino murmured.

"Let's find out."

"Wait—"

Marinette sprinted to the next tree, ignoring the way her old limbs creaked in protest like stiff hinges. She peered around the trunk, but Alya and Chat Noir hadn't noticed her. Excellent. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled behind a row of bushes until their voices drifted towards her.

"You're showing a lot of concern for a girl you barely know," Alya said, arching her eyebrow. "It makes me wonder what your intentions really are."

Chat Noir placed his hand over his heart. "I promise my intentions are only the purest."

"Are they now? And what would you do if I agreed?"

He flashed The Smile™. "Well—"

"What did I miss?" Nino whispered, shuffling up behind Marinette on his elbows and knees.

"Shh," Marinette hissed. "I'm trying to listen."

"—and with your assistance, I think maybe it will work," Chat Noir finished.

Marinette's brow furrowed. What kind of flirting was this? What assistance did Chat Noir want from Alya?

"Are you two all right there?"

Marinette jumped at the unexpected voice and twisted around to find a woman peering down at them. Curiosity coloured the woman's expression, but there was an edge of suspicion as well in the way her gaze shifted from Marinette to Nino, her lips pursing slightly. (Understandable. It probably was an odd sight to find an old woman and a man hiding behind a bush.) The woman's chihuahua, which wore a little blue coat, let out a high-pitched bark.

"We're fine," Marinette said, resisting the urge to make shooing motions with her hands. "I just, uh—"

"Lost her earring," Nino supplied. "I'm helping her look for it."

More barking.

"Oh, Howl, stop that noise," the woman scolded, reaching down to give the dog a rub behind the ears.

New footsteps approached. "Is everything—ah, Édith."

Marinette winced. Slowly, very slowly, she raised her head to meet Chat Noir's amused gaze.

"Wow," she said, forcing out a laugh. "Imagine running into you here."

"Imagine," Chat Noir agreed, his eyes twinkling.

Well, crap. This was embarrassing.

The woman cast them one last nosy look before leaving with her dog, perhaps realising that she was the only one who was a stranger and had no excuse to linger. Alya, meanwhile, came over to stand beside Chat Noir.

"Were you two spying on us?" Alya demanded, ever the one to get straight to the point.

"No?" Nino said.

Marinette pressed her palm to her forehead. That sounded way too much like a question.

"Did she drag you into this?" Chat Noir asked Nino, a hint of sympathy tinging his amusement. "I'm sure it wasn't your idea."

"Uh …"

Marinette stared at Nino with betrayed eyes. He wasn't really going to throw her under the carriage, was he?

"Nope," Nino said, tugging at his collar. "No dragging was done here. We just, uh, decided to go for a walk and then Ma—Édith lost her earring and—"

"Funny," Chat Noir said, "because I can see she's wearing both of her earrings."

Marinette once again facepalmed. She loved Nino, she really did, but why did he have to be such a terrible liar?

Nino let out a small laugh that was more awkward than a fish trying to walk on land—just an ungraceful flop of a thing. "Oh? So she is. I guess she found it."

Now it was Alya's turn to press her palm to her forehead. "This is ridiculous. Just admit you were spying."

"Alright fine," Marinette said, standing up. "We were spying, but how can I not be concerned when Chat Noir decides to have private meetings with my—"

Chat Noir's mouth twitched as she fell silent. "Your?" he prompted, knowing very well she couldn't say the truth about her relationship with Alya. Or at least her fake truth. Gah, this was getting confusing.

"You know what I mean!" Marinette said with a huff.

His smile grew.

Meanwhile, Nino was casting unstable glances of admiration at Alya. When she caught his gaze, he offered an awkward wave.

"Hi again," he said. "Sorry about the whole spying thing."

"It's fine," Alya said, shaking her head. "I know what Marinette is like."

Marinette's eyes bulged as if they wanted to pop out of her skull and her heart stumbled on its rhythm. "W-wait, you just called me—how—"

"Marinette, how long have I known you?" Alya said, raising her eyebrow. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognise you?"

"But—"

Nino groaned. "Do you mean I pretended to be her grandson for nothing?"

"Pretty much." Alya patted him on the shoulder. "It was sweet you wanted to stand by your friend, but I'm not stupid and frankly you're both terrible actors."

He pulled his hat off his head and covered his face, but not before everyone saw the darkening colour on his cheeks. "No one talk to me," he muttered. "I need a moment to weep for the loss of my dignity."

Alya snorted.

"Don't worry," Chat Noir said, slinging an arm around Nino. "You tried your best, and we all know it's not easy to keep up with Marinette's spur-of-the-moment fabrications."

"You're one to talk!" Marinette said, and poked him in the chest. "What about all the times you've made me play along with your lies?"

"They were for a noble cause."

"Mine were too! I had a perfectly justifiable reason for pretending to be Édith."

Chat Noir's teeth flashed in a grin and he leaned closer, his nose almost touching hers. "And what is that reason?"

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish. "We're not having this conversation," she announced, and then latched onto Alya's arm. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to speak with her for a moment."

Alya's amusement faded as Marinette dragged her off away from the other two. "Girl, you have got so much explaining to do."

"I know, and I'm sorry I lied before and didn't tell you who I was, but I didn't want you to get dragged into this mess."

"Hey." Alya grabbed Marinette's shoulder and met her gaze. "Listen to me. You're my best friend. I'm happy to be part of your messes, okay?"

"That's why I didn't want to tell you! I don't—I can't bear the thought of you ending up like me."

Alya's grip tightened. "Like what? What happened?"

Marinette tried to say that she had been put under a curse by the Wizard of the Waste, but no words would come out of her mouth. It was like her lips had been glued shut.

"Come on, girl, you've gotta give me something to work with here."

"I wish I could tell you, but I can't," Marinette groaned.

"Sure you can. Whatever has happened to you, I can help. We can work this out together. Just please don't leave me in the dark again, okay? I've been so worried."

Tears prickled Marinette's eyes. It hurt to think that she couldn't tell Alya the truth. This was her best friend, the person who had always guarded her secrets. Yet here they were finally reunited and there was nothing that Marinette could say to explain why she had run away and abandoned her old life.

Marinette slumped against Alya's chest, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. "I … ugh, I hate the Wizard of the Waste!"

It was the most she could get out, and she could only hope it would be enough of a clue.

"The Wizard of the Waste?" Alya said. "You mean it's not Chat Noir I have to worry about?"

Marinette jerked back, her nose scrunching. "What?"

"He came snooping around your home," Alya explained. "Kept asking questions about you, so I decided to do a little investigating myself and see what he was up to."

Marinette's heart thudded faster, battering against her ribs. "He—he was asking questions about me? Me me?"

"Uh-huh. Seemed very interested in knowing all about you."

Marinette pressed her hands to her cheeks. "But I'm—Chat Noir only knows me as an old woman."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he knows you're actually twenty."

"She's only twenty?" Nino exclaimed.

Everything in Marinette's stomach plummeted. She swung around to find Chat Noir with his hand clamped over Nino's mouth and trying to drag him behind a nearby tree. They both froze when they noticed she had spotted them.

"Er, hi," Nino said, giving another awkward wave.

"Eavesdropping again?" Alya observed.

Chat Noir shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. "I was curious if you'd manage to get the truth out of her."

Marinette's cheeks burned. Her breathing quickened, caught up in a tangle of mortification and panic. Then anger threaded its way through the tangle.

"You!" she shrieked, marching over to Chat Noir. "You mean to tell me you knew I'm not old!"

He held his hands up in appeasing gesture. "Well, yeah. I'm a wizard. I could sense there was some kind of magic on you."

"And you never said anything?"

"I didn't want to offend you."

"What? What kind of excuse is that?"

"I mean I tried to remove the spell once I pieced together you weren't actually an old woman, but nothing changed." A shrug. "I figured you just liked being in disguise."

Her jaw dropped. "You thought I—why would I want to look like this?"

"I don't know," he said, spreading his hands. "It's not like you told us anything!"

"I couldn't!"

"Well, I can see that now."

Marinette scowled and folded her arms.

"Uhhh." Nino held up his finger in a tentative manner, his shoulders slightly hunched. "Not to interrupt, but would someone mind explaining what's going on?"

"My guess is that Marinette was cursed by the Wizard of the Waste," Alya said. "Right?"

Marinette let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness someone finally said it. Now I can talk about it."

Chat Noir's brow creased. "Then it was the Wizard of the Waste?"

"Yes."

His expression turned grim.

"What?" she said. "You know him?"

"Yeah …" He bit his lip and looked the other way. "Yeah, I do."

She frowned, but before she could press him further, Alya and Nino seized her attention again, demanding all the details about the curse and why the Wizard of the Waste had come after her. Marinette decided she would have to have a wee talk with Chat Noir later. For now, it seemed, she would have to satisfy everyone's curiosity.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #marichat #howls moving castle au #my writing #marinette and the moving castle

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years ago

Text

Fallen

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt: How about Katniss taking Peeta to the forest during the fall for the first time to see all of the fall colors. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T for suggestive language

Author’s note: Some of you may notice this is the second story for this prompt. During the selection process, @mega-aulover and I both fell in love with this prompt, and she very generously allowed me to write another version. Thank you for sharing with me! I was able to travel home a couple of weeks ago for the first time in the fall in a number of years. Although the trees had just started to turn, it was a lovely opportunity to remember what it’s like to live in the land of four seasons. This is my love letter to that.

__________

“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” Peeta asked for what must have been the hundredth time. I was getting really tired of reassuring him, but it was also adorable how insecure he was about the trip. “I mean, we only just started dating. Meeting your family so soon is a little bit… I don’t know. Quick?”

I shook my head and grinned at him. His blue eyes held a hint of panic. It only served to make him more endearing. Stepping close to him, I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled his face down to mine. Instead of answering, I pressed my lips to his, and our kiss devolved into a tangle of tongues and lips and limbs. Breathy moans and soft whimpers and catching breath and want.

I couldn’t remember how long it’d been since my body yearned for someone else, how many months had passed since I woke up with a smile on my face and the anticipation of greeting someone with a kiss over an early morning coffee. It felt like years, but that loneliness faded when I met Peeta Mellark. Sure, it had only been a few months since our first date, but we’d both fallen hard. Not surprisingly, he was more open about his feelings. I hemmed and hawed and tried to pretend my whole world hadn’t rotated right off its axis for another week before I admitted to myself how much I wanted to crawl inside him and live there. Not in a creepy way, of course.

I broke our kiss and relished in the touch of his forehead against mine. “You don’t have to come,” I whispered, hoping against hope that he’d see through my projected confidence. I wanted him there so badly. I needed him to see where I came from and understand my hang-ups and quirks.

Peeta tilted my head up so he could catch my gaze with his. He searched my eyes for several seconds before rubbing his thumb across my cheekbone. “No,” he answered softly. “No, I want to go with you.”

My head nestled in the crook of his neck, and I released a relieved sigh. “You sure?”

“You promised me leaves,” he murmured against my temple as his arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I told you I’d come, and then I tried to bail on you at the last minute. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you hanging?”

“The worst kind.”

“Oh, that bad, huh?” he chuckled, and I grinned at him.

“The kind that needs to be punished,” I whispered into his ear.

“Oh, yeah. That kind. Are you going to spank me?”

“Absolutely, and you better return the favor.”

God help me. He definitely did.

__________

“You know,” I hissed as I settled into the driver’s seat, “it was fairly stupid of us to give each other sore asses the night before a road trip.”

Peeta shifted gingerly, and I chuckled at the pink hue flushing his cheeks. He’d been a champ as I’d spanked his perfectly rounded cheeks until they were rosy and warm. His willingness to shift over control in bed to me wasn’t something I was used to in a partner, but he made it easy to enjoy when he squirmed and moaned and begged. Truth be told, I loved it, especially because he was equally eager to turn the tables and take charge.

“Maybe stupid,” he grunted as he wiggled until he found a comfortable position. “Maybe just really good sex.”

“Yeah,” I murmured as he wrapped his hand around my thigh. Shifting into reverse, I leaned over to kiss him before easing off the brake and backing out of my driveway. “It’ll have to hold us for a while. Privacy isn’t exactly how it works when I head home.”

His fingers tightened on my leg, and I grinned as his thumb stroked higher and higher. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said softly as he grazed his thumb against the seam in my jeans. “Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

“Well, I can’t believe you haven’t ever seen fall leaves in person. I mean…”

He watched as I steered the car onto the entrance ramp and headed north on the interstate. “When was that supposed to happen, sweetheart?” he asked. “I’ve lived in the south my entire life.”

“But don’t you take vacations?”

“Well, sure, but not in the fall. School and then work and just— I don’t know. We went to Orlando and the beach and stuff like that. Normal things.”

“Normal,” I scoffed. “Ah, to live in a world where going to Disneyworld is normal. That takes money, and we never really had a lot of that.”

“No, you had something better,” he answered, bitterness just creeping into his voice. “I would have traded every Mickey sighting for a relationship with my brothers like you have with Prim. And my parents are just—”

Peeta didn’t finish, Instead, he tilted his head against the car window and closed his eyes. I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. I couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up with things instead of relationships, so I didn’t try to pretend I did. All I could do was squeeze his hand as I steered into the left lane and pressed on the accelerator. The miles passed quickly as silence filled the car.

__________

“So, what is it you love about going home during the fall?” Peeta asked as I steered the car deftly around a sharp corner.

We’d long since left the interstate and were weaving along the state highway that would lead to the county paved road that turned into a country gravel road that led to the dirt road to my family’s homestead. I’d tried to explain to my boyfriend how remote the house I grew up in was, but he didn’t really seem to get it. He would soon enough.

“It’s the leaves,” I inhaled in an elongated breath and then released it in a blissful sigh. “I love them.”

Peeta hummed and glanced sideways at me. When he caught my eye, he rested his head against the back of the seat and treated me to a megawatt smile. “You love leaves?” he teased.

A goofy smile spread across my face, and I signaled to turn. “I really do. There’s no way to explain it, but I’m going to knock your socks off tomorrow morning.”

Peeta hummed and squeezed my thigh. “And here I thought we wouldn’t get any sexy times while we’re visiting your family.”

Laughing, I signaled and turned the car to the left into the driveway of my childhood home and shifted into park. “Finally. Home, sweet home.”

We’d been traveling all day—fifteen solid hours of driving with only a few gas and restroom breaks—and all I wanted to do was take a shower and climb into bed. When I looked at him, nervous and shy, I realized there was one more thing I needed to do before greeting my family.

Thankfully, he came willingly when I fisted his shirt and tugged him to me. Our lips rammed together, frantic and feral, before our tongues tangled and turned filthy. Heat flooded through me, molten and scorching, as involuntary whimpers and grunts tore from us both. The dark enveloped us, filling up the car and protecting us from curious glances from nosy family members. As his mouth met mine again, I calculated just how far we could go before I had to pull away and stop what was so good between us. I wasn’t always sure of social customs, but I knew riding Peeta like the purebred stallion he’d proven to be in the driveway wasn’t okay.

His hand cupped my breast and squeezed as he tilted his head to lick further into my mouth. The sticky wetness between my legs grew as my fingers tangled in his hair and tugged. The yelp he released caused my eyes to roll back in my head. I did it a second time, and his mouth fell open, yielding to my rough grip.

“Katniss,” he groaned, my name falling from his swollen lips.

I wanted him, then, more than I’d ever dreamed I could desire anyone, but we had to stop. It wasn’t a question of whether we wanted to or should, it was imperative. If we didn’t, I’d fall in love with him so much more than I already was, and I couldn’t risk that. Not yet. Not when it was all so new, and I feared another broken heart.

“Time to go in,” I announced in a hoarse whisper.

He closed his eyes, scrunching them in what was probably frustration, and gasped, “I need a minute.”

I couldn’t resist one last bit of torture and reached over to squeeze him firmly. He choked back a gasp as my palm pressed an intentional caress meant to remind him what his body craved. Hissing, he squirmed away, his back against the door, and his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t,” he begged, and I took pity on him.

“Butchering a deer. The feel of dough between your fingers when the yeast fails. Sourness in your stomach the morning after a drinking binge. Socks in the bottom of the laundry basket that have been balled up for weeks.”

He grimaced and shot me a half-smile. “That did it. Not hard at all anymore.”

We grabbed our bags and headed inside where Peeta charmed my family and chastely kissed me goodnight before settling into the guest room. I slipped into bed in my childhood room with a warm glow surrounding my heart. Despite my best intentions, I’d fallen for Peeta Mellark.

__________

“Are you ready?” I asked, a timid smile stretching my lips.

Peeta slipped his arm around my waist and hugged me to him. I knew he would love the autumn leaves, which I kept trying to convince myself was the real reason I’d asked him to come home with me, but really, I just wanted him near me.

“Take me to the woods. Take me forth into the wilds of the world. Just don’t leave me there alone.”

“Okay, overdramatic one,” I teased with an eye roll. “Grab that basket, and let’s do it.”

We walked out the door, and he released a soft gasp of approval. The ash tree in the front yard was in rare form with the outside leaves a purplish-red and fading to orange and then yellow closest to the trunk. Those had always been my favorite, and we took a moment to appreciate it before I tugged his hand and led him to the gate that allowed us access to the forest.

“This is beautiful,” he observed in hushed whispers, like the world around him was a magical land he was afraid to disturb with loud noises. “This is just— I don’t have words.”

“You don’t need words,” I murmured, disturbingly enamored with the sparkle in his eyes and the sheer wonderment on his face. “You don’t need words because you have your art.”

He turned to me then, his face alight with wonder. He was a miracle in that moment—adorable and bemused and so excited he wriggled like a puppy. It was no wonder my heart was already his, why I’d fallen for him after only a few months. He was as close to perfect as anyone I’d ever met, and I wasn’t nearly good enough for him. But I wanted to be. I wanted to be everything he’d ever needed and desired, if only he’d allow it.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented me sweetly, and I ducked my head to blush.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand and tugging him along behind me. “There’s a clearing I have in mind. I used to spend a lot of time there with Prim when I was growing up. The leaves there are gorgeous.”

I moved through the underbrush fairly quietly, but Peeta stumbled a few times, kicking up leaves and sticks and making so much noise the birds scolded us as we passed. He was a trooper, though, his presence steady and sure beside me as we passed through the trees that eventually opened up into a clearing with a brook that flowed from a light blue, spring-fed pool. The massive oak tree that had stood for decades had blown over when I was in high school, and it rested there, a fallen log perfect for spreading the blanket and relaxing onto its sturdy seat. It winked an invitation, and we accepted.

Clearly delighted, Peeta’s eyes sparkled when I reached into the basket we’d brought and produced a thermos of cider. Steam rose into the crisp air, and we sipped quietly until he asked me, “So, what kinds of trees are these?”

I took a sip and waved around me. “The yellow are shag-bark hickory and elm. I like the hickory better. The yellow’s a little brighter. The orange are mostly sugar maples. Completely gorgeous. The red trees are both maple and oak. The brown-ish red ones are pin oaks. My favorite, though, is the purple ash. There’s one in the yard. It’s the one that’s purple on the outside and yellow on the inside so it looks like the whole tree is hombre.”

“I had no idea,” he murmured. “No idea trees could look like this. I mean, I’ve seen pictures and movies, but that pales in comparison to an actual in-person tour. I wish I had my oils. I’d paint the hell out of this.”

“Will pictures work? That seems a lot more practical than hauling your stuff across state lines and into the woods,” I teased. I understood his desire, but both of us were more pragmatic than that.

“They’ll have to, won’t they?”

He softened his retort with a shoulder nudge and smile, and my heart flipped at the affection shining in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to see what you paint once we get back home. They’re going to be…” I searched for a word, but the only one that seemed to do his artwork justice was almost over the top if it wasn’t also true. “…transcendent. You transport me with your paintings.”

He kissed me then, cradled my cheeks in his palms and turned up my face to seek my lips with his. I could almost picture us in my mind—Peeta strong and protective with ashy blonde waves topping a stocky figure draped in denim and dark green flannel wrapped around a smaller figure in aqua and orange fleece and rugged boots. He twined my braid around his palm and nudged my mouth open to sweep inside.

I swallowed his groan and matched it with my own. The mid-morning light slanted through the trees and danced on the underbrush and our shoulders. He smelled like fresh air and cinnamon, and I wanted to subsist on only that forever.

Peeta finally broke the kiss, although he only pulled back enough to lean his forehead against mine. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, and he closed his eyes briefly before locking his gaze to mine. A cloud passed over the sun, and I shivered. It felt momentous, like something was about to happen. The grove had become a sacred space in that very moment.

“I love you,” he breathed against my cheek, and the sun burst from behind the cloud in approval. Sunlight washed over us, and I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat. Stunned and speechless, my eyes widened and stomach rolled.

I wanted to respond, to say something—anything—that might make sense in what had become surreal and dreamlike. There was no way he’d actually announced what I thought I heard. He didn’t love me. I was convinced of that. We were dating, happy as a couple, but I was head over heels for him, and he couldn’t possibly feel the same. There was no way I was allowed to have that, that I could be so lucky and fortunate and blessed. I shivered and stepped back.

“W-what?”

My ears weren’t working properly. That was the only reasonable explanation. He considered me for a moment, his blue eyes darkened with apprehension, and his shoulders hunched slightly to protect himself. He held up his hands to indicate his willingness to let me question him and said it again.

“I love you, Katniss Everdeen.”

His words were soft but true, and I gaped at him. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered above us in the wind, as if clapping in agreement, and I tasted his words on my own lips. They were sweet and tart at the same time.

“You love me?” I squeaked, completely unable to catch my breath. He gave me a soft smile and brushed stray hairs off my forehead where he dropped another kiss.

“I do,” he insisted, barely audible over the rustling leaves. “I know it’s quick, and you don’t have to say it back, but you should know. I love you, and I hope you’ll feel the same way about me in the future.”

I could hardly stand the hopefulness he displayed, could hardly bear to think about how selfless it was for him to offer me his heart when he had no idea mine had been his since the first time he’d made me laugh. Even before our first date, I knew he was something special and someone I wanted in my life forever, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

“But I do!” I sputtered, blurting out my confession with so little finesse I’m surprised he didn’t leave me standing in the clearing by myself.

“You do?” His eyebrow seemed to question my declaration, but I threw myself at him in a very un-Katniss-like way.

“I really do,” I admitted, tears closing my throat. “I love you, too.”

The wind picked up then, swirling the branches and leaves into another chorus of applause. The sun sparkled and winked, and the clouds skipped across the sky like old friends. Peeta looked around us as a smile broke across his face. He tipped his head back and yelled into the morning.

“She loves me!” he shouted, and I burst into laughter. Relief and exuberance drifted on the breeze, and I leapt at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and clinging to his broad shoulders.

We kissed and cuddled for warmth on the blanket for hours as the sun reached its zenith and dropped in the west. Declarations of our undying affection gave way to mundane topics followed by plans for the future. It was too soon for an engagement, but I wasn’t looking for that anyway. I only wanted to explore this feeling, being in love with someone who adored me every bit as much as I did him.

Eventually, we made our way back to my childhood home, away from the log that had fallen for us as surely as we fell for each other. As we stepped from the forest, the gorgeous autumn leaves were surely cheering.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #hutchhitched #submission #prompt

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merakiaes · 5 years ago

Text

Forbidden - Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman

Pairing: Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This is a bit smutty at the end, extremely slow-burning and uneventful and I’m not happy at all with the outcome of this but I still hope you like it. Let me know what you think and send in more Sad Eyes requests xx Not proofread and Spanish translations at the end!

Wordcount: 4287

Summary: When in a forbidden relationship, the best thing might not be to make out right outside the house in which the person you’re most desperately trying to hide it from lives. Or is it?

The human mind was designed to always crave what it couldn’t have, to be lured in by the forbidden and make its host do anything in their power to get it.

There was just a certain charm about it, about the forbidden, that made it so unspeakably desirable, forbidden pleasures being loved immoderately while when they were lawful, they didn’t excite the same kind of desire.

That’s why, when you reached seventeen, you started developing a certain kind of attraction for your brother’s right hand man and best friend.

You had known Sad Eyes for as long as him and Oscar had been in the Santos together and you had never seen him as anything but another annoyingly protective older brother.

He was older than Oscar by three years, making him twenty-five by the time you were at your sweet seventeen, so a relationship between the two of you wouldn’t even be legal. But for some reason, that only made it even more exciting for you.

Your brother had always taken care of you and your younger brother Cesar, raising you like you were his own kids despite the fact that he was only five years older than you.

So naturally, he was fiercely protective over the two of you, determined to shield you from the bad parts of life, especially when it came to you.

The second you reached puberty and your eyes opened to your budding sexuality, he had you on a leash so tight you could barely breathe some days.

You weren’t allowed out by yourself, either Oscar or Sad Eyes constantly following you around wherever you went, and God forbid if you even thought about going on a date.

Boys were a big no-no, no matter how innocent, non-judgmental and kind-hearted they were. You weren’t allowed to go out with them, and they for sure weren’t about to step a foot inside your house because he knew what they were after, Oscar always told you.

They didn’t want your heart, he said, querían tu virginidad.

But little did he know, you weren’t his innocent little sister anymore.

After going through your very belated puberty, a lot of the younger Santos began looking at you differently.

You had grown into your body, curves growing fuller and face losing its baby fat. You had opinions now, morals. You were fierce and taught yourself your own worth and not to take shit from anyone anymore.

Long story short, you were everything a cholo would want in a ruca, and their shameless staring and flirting didn’t go unnoticed by your brother.

He would tell them off every time he caught them looking, having them quivering with fear, and if, against all odds, someone was stupid enough to actually make a move on you, he would have them jumped, making it known extremely quickly that you were off-limits to all of them.

But while you were used to his intensely excessive, the way Sad Eyes would suddenly jump at everyone who looked at you for too long was new territory for you.

You were used to him being protective, but before, he had always been the one out of him and Oscar to keep his calm.

He always pretended he was doing it all in their leader’s name, telling them “You’re lucky Spooky ain’t here, fool”, but you were smart enough to see through it and conclude that he was one of the many Santos who now saw you in a different light.

And the more you thought about it, the more you noticed; the short, lingering glances whenever he walked past you, the small touches and acts of affection when Oscar wasn’t looking. And even when he was looking, he was so blinded by the trust he had for his best friend that he never batted an eye.

That’s what awakened the feeling of attraction toward him inside of you to begin with. He was always so close, always so available, just hanging around your house every day like a perfect opportunity to defy your brother’s ‘no boys for as long as you live under my roof’-rule.

True to your suspicions, Sad Eyes had, in fact, developed a new kind of attraction for you when you had gone through puberty.

He could barely recognize you anymore, it was like you were an entirely different person, with an entirely different pull; one he couldn’t resist no matter how much he tried in the end.

He had tried to a start, though, taking distance from you when he noticed your painfully obvious attempts to seduce him in order to test your theory. But it was hard for him to do so when he was the only one besides himself that Oscar trusted with you.

When he didn’t have time, he was always the one sent to babysit you whenever you went out, and he knew he couldn’t tell him no, because if he did, how the hell would he explain it?

He wouldn’t have been able to, because he barely even knew what he was feeling, himself.

But he got that question all answered when he was tasked with going with you to the mall one day, just the two of you.

All these years, the two of you had never seen each other as anything other than siblings, and now all of the sudden, you were hurrying to undress each other in the back of his car while your lips moved together in perfect synchronization.

Yeah, it sounded disgusting, going from seeing each other as siblings and then heading into a relationship. But it was pure; figuratively speaking, that is, because the activities you partook in from then on were everything but.

He saw you in an entirely different light, falling head over heels for you when he realized that you were so much more than just Spooky’s little sister.

To a start, you were just using him to get back at said brother, having so much fun doing the exact thing he had forbidden you from doing.

But the longer you kept your little affair going, the more emotionally attached he got to you, and the more attached he got to you, the more his emotions showed through the way he handled you; so carefully, so genuinely, looking at you like you were the sun in his own little solar system.

In turn, you caught feelings for him, too, and suddenly everything got so much more complicated, everyone having failed to mention the fact that forbidden affairs were all fun and games until feelings showed up to the playground.

He was never supposed to mean this much to you, you were never supposed to fall so hard, or at all, for that matter, but you did. So had he, and suddenly, you were just fucked.

Sneaking around behind your brother’s back got so much more stressful from then on.

Before, the worst that could have happened if he ever found out was that he would forbid you to see each other which, with no strings attached, didn’t seem so bad.

But now… Now feelings had been caught and suddenly that possible outcome truly was the worst thing that could happen.

You no longer enjoyed the rush you had gotten the first few times. In fact, you didn’t feel it at all. All you felt now was anxiety. You were scared for the first time in a long time, scared to lose the man you had grown to love.

What you had originally planned to just be a few quick fucks turned into months, turned into over a year of seeing each other in secret.

So more than anything, you were scared for his sake, because if Oscar found out now, the consequences would without a doubt be a lot more severe than they would have been if he had found out at the beginning.

Both you and Sad Eyes knew it, and it was stressing him out.

He was a Santo. He had been held at gunpoint and had his life threatened more times than he could count, but being beaten and even killed by the person who had been his brother for so many years awakened an entirely new kind of fear inside of him.

It made him doubt your relationship, and no matter how many times you tried convincing him that you would never let Oscar hurt him or force you apart, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that promise if he ever made up his mind to do so.

The clock was a little past ten at night when you headed out of your house on this particular Thursday evening.

You had been sitting in your bed, talking with Monse on Skype, when you had gotten the text from Sad Eyes telling you to come outside.

You had scoffed at the mere sight of it, your entire attitude turning sour, but nonetheless, you had bid your brother’s girlfriend goodbye, pulled on a pair of leggings to accompany your night slip and sneaked outside.

Oscar and Cesar were out doing God knows what so you didn’t necessarily need to hide from them right there and then, but the street you lived on was full of Santos and their nosy families and you knew that if any of them caught you, the word would reach your brother in no time.

And that was not something you wanted to happen.

“Spooky home?” Was the first thing Sad Eyes asked you once you had gotten into the passenger seat of his car. Not even a hi.

You scoffed at that, leaning your elbow on the car door and in turn leaning your cheek on your knuckles as you stared straight ahead, not even bothering to look at him. “No, but you still shouldn’t have parked so close to the house.”

“I needed to see you.” You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you ignored it.

“Really?” You sniffed, glaring forward. “That’s not the impression I’ve been getting by you ignoring me for almost a week.”

He sighed from beside you but didn’t say anything, knowing you well enough by now that he just needed to let you get your anger out.

“I called you, every day.” You continued. “And I lost count of how many texts I sent you after the first fifty.”

His hand reached over the console to take yours in his. You didn’t stop him, but you didn’t squeeze his hand back when he squeezed yours either.

“It took everything in me not to call you back, mami. And every time I didn’t, I almost did.” He answered quietly. “You have no idea how hard it is to force myself to stop thinking about you. I couldn’t.”

You swallowed, turning even more irritated at the feeling of your body betraying your mind, relaxing at his touch as he caressed your knuckles. “Why does it feel like you’re going to hit me with a ‘but’?”

“We need to end this thing between us. I need to stay away from you. Spooky’s been getting too suspicious.” Ah, there it was, the same conversation that you’d had more times than you were able to count on both of your hands.

He would start contemplating your relationship and everything he knew, ignore you for a certain amount of time, return and tell you that you needed to break up, and it would always end the same way; with you in each other’s arms.

But despite knowing the whole routine by heart at this point, it never failed to make your blood bubble with anger.

“Then stay away.” You snapped back, finally turning your head to look at him with one quick turn of your head, and when doing so, your eyes instantly met his, finding that he had already been looking at you.

He shook his head. “No puedo.”

“That so?” You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and he sighed.

“Come on, bella. Don’t be like that. I had to go away.” He reached his hand out to touch your cheek, gingerly brushing a strand of hair out of your face while he scanned your face. “I would take a bullet for you any day but this shit is just stressing me out. When Spooky jumped that cabrón out of Los Santos for trying to feel you up I just-“

“It triggered your fight or flight instinct.” You interrupted, swallowing as you felt your glare turn soft.

His eyes flickered back up to yours and he nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you’re here now.” You pointed out, raising your head in a small nod at him. “So what changed your mind?”

His face pulled into a concentrated expression, his eyes staring straight into yours and his hand cradling your cheek. “I missed you, mami.” He replied quietly and you instantly felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname.

“Yeah?” You inquired, instinctively reaching up to touch the hand at your cheek and your other hand finally squeezing his back rather than laying limp.

He nodded and when he started leaning over the console, you followed his lead, your faces ending up only inches apart a second later. “You have no idea.”

Your breath started getting heavy from the intense proximity, feeling like he was staring straight into your soul. “How much?” You inquired again and he didn’t miss a beat.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” He brought his thump down to your lips, pulling at the bottom one lightly.

Your body immediately started reacting accordingly, your stomach erupting into a flutter of butterflies that went straight up to your chest and down to your core.

“I thought you said we needed to end things.” You breathed out, but meanwhile, your body was twisting in his direction almost as if working on autopilot.

“We do.” He agreed lowly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours. ”But I can’t stay away from you. You’re like a drug and there’s not a single sober vein left in my body. Shit’s dangerous, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already addicted to you.”

You didn’t say anything, simply raising a hand of your own to his face to drag it over the tattoo on his neck and in response, he sucked in a long, satisfied breath, just like you would when taking a hit.

“What’s that you always tell me?” He asked then, opening his eyes again and meeting your gaze through slightly hooded lids.

Your lips instantly pulled into a smirk when seeing that his pupils had dilated, his brown irises now a shade darker, and only getting more so the more you caressed the side of his neck. “Better oops then what if.” You replied, and he nodded, the corners of his lips tugging slightly.

“Yeah.” He agreed, pulling his lower lip into his mouth briefly with his teeth while looking down at yours, before releasing it and looking back up into your eyes. “You’re irresistible.”

Your lips automatically pulled into a wide smile, without a doubt showing off the dimples both you and Oscar had inherited from your mom.

At the sight, his face turned sincere again, eyes turning soft as he kept caressing your face. “Thank you. For seeing me.” He spoke softly.

“I’m always here for you.” You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “You know that.”

He snickered, brushing his lips against yours ever so lightly. “Even when I’ve been acting like a pendejo for the past week.”

You hummed, chuckling along with him. “We both know this isn’t a normal relationship.” You pointed out and for the first time, his lips pulled into a smile to match yours.

“I missed you.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours in the shortest, most featherlight kiss.

You smiled at tingling sensation that went through your entire body at the feeling, inching even closer to him. “I missed you, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He chuckled, indicating to the attitude you’d had when first getting into the car, but he turned serious quickly again. “You’re too good for me, mi amor.”

His eyes left yours, turning his attention to the side as he brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your bare shoulder.

You analyzed his face, taking note of how the corner of his lip turned up slightly as he hooked his finger under the strap of your black night slip.

The next second, the thin strap was sliding down your upper arm with a simple brush of his hand, and the next thing you knew, your lips were locked together in a feverish kiss, a week’s worth of emotions spilling out.

Your hands immediately went to the back of his neck as your lips parted and your tongues touched together.

His hands were pulling you over the console and into his lap in no time and for once you found yourself extremely lucky that he never got around to fixing the broken honk, or else the entire block would have known what you were up to at this point with the way you were pressed against the steering wheel.

Your entire body was a mess of tingles and butterflies from the growing anticipation and you instinctively grinded down onto his denim-clad lap, feeling him growing underneath you almost instantly.

At the feeling of the growing friction, you grinded down again while breathing heavily into the kiss, and when his hands gripped onto your waist tightly, a guttural groan leaving his throat, you knew you were doing good.

You smirked against his lips, satisfied at the effect you always had him, how you could have him more or less eating out of your palm by such a small movement.

After a good minute of kissing, you finally broke apart to breathe and when doing so, your hands moved from the back of his neck to the front of his button-up, wasting no time in starting to work on the buttons.

While you occupied yourself with getting him out of his shirt, his hands moved down from your waist to grip at your hips, then proceeding to push you down harder on his crotch while latching on to your neck.

The feeling of his tongue brushing over your sweet spot had a moan leaving your lips in an instant, your head falling back at the feeling and your hands momentarily stopping what they were doing to pull at his collar.

“Don’t be so rough.” You muttered to him as he began sucking at your sweet spot, his hands now tugging lightly on your hair, but your body betrayed your words, letting out another moan.

He snickered against your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and shoulder as you pulled yourself together and returned to the task of unbuttoning his shirt.

“I thought you liked it rough, baby.” He mumbled into your shoulder, and the sound of his husky voice was enough to send another flurry of excited butterflies through your abdomen and down.

“You know I do, but I don’t think Oscar would appreciate it very much if he came home to see me marked when I was clean when he left.”

Your chest heaved up and down rapidly as you finally finished with his buttons, bringing his head up from your neck with your hands to make him look at you, putting on your best innocent face and asking: “Do you, papi?”

A dark expression crossed over his already aroused face, and a hiss left his lips when you grinded down onto his lap again.

“Shit.” He cursed in a breath, his head falling back into the headrest of the seat and his hands squeezing down harder at your hips.

You smirked in contentment and wasted no time in taking his face in your hands to pull him into a new kiss, fingers moving on to work on his belt.

You were so wrapped up in each other that you completely missed the red Impala returning and parking in the driveway of your house, and how the two people who had been riding in it caught sight of the familiar car parked just down the road.

It wasn’t until a loud bang on the hood of the car reached your ears that you noticed the two pair of eyes now watching you, the two of you jumping as far apart as you possibly could in the cramped position you were stuck in and your eyes instantly locking with your brother’s when you turned around to look out the windshield.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, fuck, is right! Get out here!” Oscar yelled at you as he pushed his hands off the hood of the car and stormed around it to the driver’s seat, having been able to read your lips.

Sad Eyes hurried to clasp his belt buckle back up while you pulled your strap back up on your shoulder and began shuffling off his lap when Oscar ripped the door open.

“Oscar-“

“Look, Spooky-“

You and Sad Eyes began at the same time as you scrambled out of the car. Your eyes were wide and guilt was written all over your face, while Sad Eyes’ face pulled into an expression that could only be described as ‘this is where I die’.

“Cállate!” Oscar had none of it, glaring at you and raising a hand to interrupt you while Cesar stood by his side awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you.

Both of you quietened down, your first instinct being to look at each other. And then, much to yours and everyone else’s surprise, Sad Eyes stepped up to his side and took your hand out of pure, protective instinct.

The small movement didn’t go unnoticed to your brothers and while you met Cesar’s worried eyes with an identical expression, both of you thinking Oscar was going to kill him, it was Oscar’s turn to surprise you by doing the exact opposite.

His face was still pulled into a fierce glare as he took a step back, eyes dangerously narrowed as they kept flickering between the two of you, before finally stopping on you.

Your eyes locked with his and Sad Eyes and Cesar remained silent as they watched him raise a pointed finger at you. “This is the first and last time you keep something like this from me.” He drawled slowly, holding his glare at you for a moment before moving his eyes and finger to his second in command. “Vosotros dos.”

Keeping his finger out, he took a step back forward and poked it into Sad Eyes’ chest roughly. Once, twice and thrice.

“My sister isn’t a road gig along the way, she’s a fucking destination.” He spoke sternly, glowering at him. “If you’re fucking her, you’re staying with her. Entienden?”

Sad Eyes stared back at him with absolutely zero fear in his eyes, despite how scared he had been for this moment before. “I would never hurt her. La quiero.” He answered without missing a beat and Oscar nodded in response, content with his reply.

“You better.” He said, lowering his arm and taking a step back again, allowing Sad Eyes to slowly wrap his arm around your waist. “You coming inside, or are you gonna keep sneaking around in this piece of junk?”

Your brother kicked the tire of the car next to you and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re not mad?” You asked, and instantly felt Sad Eyes squeezing down at your hip, silently telling you not to jinx it.

Oscar noticed this, his eyes flickering down to his hand briefly, but he didn’t do anything, simply looking back up at you.

“I’m not happy. But if there’s anyone I’d be okay seeing mi hermana being with, it’s my compa.” He raised his head in a nod of acceptance at Sad Eyes, and you instantly felt him relax beside you. “Now get your asses inside, we’re making albondigas.”

With one last look at you, he turned around and headed straight for the house, and only then did you notice the bag of groceries hanging from his hand.

Cesar, who had been quiet up until then, let out a chuckle once your older brother was out of earshot, causing you to turn to look at him.

“Guess the cat’s out the bag, huh?” He gave you a mocking smirk, balancing on the back of his heels. “Now I finally won’t have to cover up your tracks anymore.”

“You knew?!” You instantly exclaimed, your hand coming out to slap his chest before you could stop yourself.

He laughed, taking a step away from you while raising his arms in defense and shrinking into himself.

“Do I have a pair of functioning eyes? Of course, I knew.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Oscar might think you’re still his innocent little sister but I know for a fact that you’re the devil.”

Sad Eyes laughed out loud at that, reaching the hand that wasn’t holding on to your waist out to bump against Cesar’s. “You got that right, Lil’ Spooky.” He agreed and you instantly glared at them.

“Stop ganging up on me, pendejos.” You scolded, holding your hand up to your chest to feel your heart beating frantically. “I just had the scare of my life and so did you, you should be pissing yourself, not laughing.”

But you still couldn’t help but get all warm inside at the sound of his laugh, knowing that he no longer had to be that ‘nothing’ when people asked you what you were thinking about.

Finally, you could be with each other without limits and not be forced to sneak around in the shadows, something you wouldn’t have thought possible even in your wildest dreams.

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

Querían tu virginidad – they wanted your virginity

No puedo – I can’t

Bella – beautiful

Cabrón – bastard

Pendejo – asshole

Mi amor – my love

Vosotros dos – both of you

Entienden? – You feel me?

La quiero – I love her

Mi hermana – my sister

Compa – buddy

#sad eyes #sad eyes x reader #sad eyes imagine #steve villegas #on my block #on my block imagine #on my block x reader #omb #omb x reader #omb imagine #oscar diaz #oscar diaz x reader #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz #spooky #spooky x reader #cesar diaz #cesar diaz x reader

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agent-cupcake · 4 years ago

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First prize winner @elmentrysworld wanted a Claude x Yuri x Reader story that takes place after my Claude x Reader oneshot Aletheia. I’m splitting it up because my life has been… A lot these days and I wanted to post SOMETHING

I hope you enjoy it regardless?

Claude x Yuri x Reader - Part 1 of 2

This part is sfw, but the next part will not be

News spread throughout the palace like wildfire. Even when it was meant to be kept quiet. No, especially then. Claude had a visitor. Mysterious, foreign, he came without notice and had been quickly hurried out of sight. It was strange to be sure. He hadn’t called for you, but Claude knew as well as you did that you’d find out and come anyway, no invitation needed. That was just the way of things, both of you were too nosy for your own good. The casual way in which you regarded the lapse of propriety once would have shocked you, but now it felt as natural as breathing.

It was his fault. Honesty, transparency, tearing down all the walls that would divide you.

Thinking about that made your chest ache in a hollow, bitter way. You still weren’t entirely sure where you were with him. Things had been unsteady since that night. Or, perhaps, too steady. He was so eager to get everything back to normal. And it worked. Mostly. When you were together, you could readily believe in everything Claude had told you. You could buy into his vision of what you were meant to be, who you were to him. But alone, well. Things were always harder when you were alone. Sometimes something frightening welled up within you. It was not the fear, or the anger, or the helplessness. It was the doubt create by the memory of those things.

You were almost able to ignore it, to cast aside your fractured memory of that night.

But that word was the kicker. Almost.

After being so flush with conviction, to be caught in uncertainty was agonizing.

It was his fault.

You shook that bitter thought from your head with a nearly violent jerk, taking advantage of the dark halls to cover the spastic movement. There were far more important things to focus on than your own personal melodrama. That was the way of it, of everything, wasn’t it?

A mysterious visitor. That would be a good distraction.

The door to Claude’s sitting room was cracked ever so slightly. A trap probably, left open just for you. Or you were reading too far into things. It didn’t matter much, as there was just enough space for you to pause, breath held and ears straining to listen through the narrow opening. There were voices from within, two of them. Male. Unaccented. You hesitated there, unable to make out any of the words, only aware of when they stopped abruptly.

“You can come in, you know,” Claude called from within, his voice raised enough to reach where you hovered. It caused you to start. A deserved surprise, all things considered. “How long were you hiding there?” Claude asked as you stepped past the threshold, not surprised to see that it was you. A trap, then. Or, more charitably —and Claude was so charitable— an invitation.

“I wasn’t hiding,” you told him, although there was a certain unintended edge to the words that made them seem deflective. Claude sat in his usual chair, a big, comfortable throne of seat that was plush enough for him to take up any manner of unusual reading postures. In the chair across from him sat the guest, the second voice you’d been hearing.

Yuri Leclerc, apparently, had decided to visit. Instantly, every defense you were in possession of was thrown forward, your instincts recognizing the man as a threat before your mind could catch up. He was watching you with too-keen eyes and an unreadable expression. Yuri was the type of man that was almost always unreadable. Or smirking. Plotting, planning, not too unlike your king. Only, where Claude thrived in the sun dappled world of politics, Yuri was a shadowy figure in the night. The most formidable criminal player in Fódlan. And here he was, watching you approvingly in the familiar comfort of Claude’s sitting room like he belonged there.

A thousand questions jumped to mind, but you stifled them. That would be rude. After all, Yuri was a friend. Or so Claude said. You smiled. “I was merely trying to think of a good enough excuse so that when I interrupted, it wouldn’t seem so suspicious. Then you would so graciously invite me to join you.”

“And how’d that go?” Claude asked, playing into your game without blinking. “Did you think of one?”

”Oh, sure. I came to tell you about a strange visitor that’s come to the castle.” You looked at Yuri, meeting his eyes for as long as you could bear before looking away. Of all of the people Claude knew from Fódlan, he was the most interesting. And the most dangerous. You resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his eyes. “Very strange and mysterious. Probably a foreigner. Possibly dangerous.”

Claude laughed. “Right. Well, I’d hate to compromise on security. Would you like to join us?”

“If you insist,” you said, shutting the door fully behind you and taking in a big breath. “It’s been awhile, Yuri.”

“It seems that all of us have been quite busy,” he responded warmly, standing up to greet you. In all the time that had passed, you had forgotten about how pretty Yuri was. Or perhaps it just wasn’t something that you could remember, his image intangible and vague when you weren’t directly exposed to it, like the lingering tendrils of a dream that caught as fleeting fancy in the waking world. In fact, Yuri did possess a strange, elusive dream-like quality. At a glance, anyone could tell that he was most definitely from the west, what with that paper-white skin and light violet hair, his narrow features and that slim build. Considering his reputation, it was nearly paradoxical that he would be so strikingly feminine. But this, too, was a weapon.

You almost would have preferred he show up with a sword in your face. At least you would know how to react to that, would be able to keep a cool head.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Yuri took your hand, pressing a kiss to its back when he bowed. Although you knew this to be a western tradition of introduction —Claude had taught you all manner of western traditions— Yuri’s method was disarming. Far too charming to be authentic, but not slimy enough to read as deceptive.

“You too,” you said, bowing in turn while doing your best to keep from seeming affected by his demeanor. Yuri, just like Claude, was the type of man who enjoyed playing with people. It was, you supposed, apart of his charm. The type of charm that made your teeth clench.

“Yuri and I were just discussing his trip,” Claude said, seemingly oblivious to Yuri’s flirtatious greeting. Or dismissing it as Yuri’s usual antics. Or, no, Claude’s smirk told you that he was fully aware of your flustered reaction and found it entertaining. You pushed down the impulse to scowl at the man. “Apparently, a group of bandits has been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat.”

“A group of bandits had been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat,” Yuri corrected, sitting back down gracefully. You followed suit, albeit with far less poise. You didn’t believe yourself to be an awkward person per se, but he could make anyone look like a lumbering oaf by comparison. “When I heard that there was trouble with a group of Almyran merchants coming into Fódlan, I got permission from Holst to gather a group of my best men and follow a shipment coming out of Fódlan into Almyra.” His lip pulled back slightly, a slight expression of disgust. Just a blink later, it had passed, his face composed back into airy calm. “For all the trouble they caused, they were nothing but a lousy group of thugs without a single shred of sense between them. The only reason they’d done as much damage as they had was because of their terrain advantage.”

“And?” Claude prompted dryly. For all of his personal dramatics, he often lacked the patience to indulge anyone else’s.

Yuri smiled, undeterred. “Let’s just say they won’t be bothering anybody else.”

There was no question as to what that meant with that suggestive grin. You didn’t envy the bandits. Then again, you didn’t pity them, either. As far as you were concerned, men like that deserved what they got. For all of the many ways Claude disagreed with you about acts of violence and death, he obviously felt the same. Or maybe it was just okay when Yuri did it.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a reward for this good deed,” Claude said.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Yuri said with a wave of his hand. “Besides, several merchants have already made their appreciation abundantly clear. Their gratitude is all the reward I need. Besides, it wasn’t entirely unselfish. Bandits hurt my business, too.”

“You have my thanks all the same,” Claude said. “I mean that.”

“Will you be going back to Fódlan soon, then?” you asked. You didn’t meant to sound so eager, but the words came out that way all the same.

“I have business here, actually,” Yuri answered. One of his carefully manicured eyebrows raised. “Why, are you that eager to see me gone?”

Gods, his eyes practically cut through to your soul, twinkling in amusement. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said, trying to remain steady. “But, you know, having a foreigner hanging around during times like this could be inconvenient. There’s quite a bit of unrest already and your line of work is, well, it could cause issues here.” Not to mention the fact that you still didn’t know if you could trust him and were at least mostly certain that him being here could cause upset in your relationship with Claude. That last thought came out of nowhere, hitting you hard and leaving you breathless. You cast a side eye to Claude, jumping slightly when his gaze met yours. Too perceptive. You looked away.

“I promise not to cause any trouble,” Yuri said, putting on an air of sincerity despite the small smirk he still wore. “Besides, it was quite an ordeal to get here, my men and I need some rest before we can make the trip back. You wouldn’t be so cold as to ask me to put myself or my men at risk, now would you?”

Your eyes narrowed, but you shrugged. “That’s my opinion as an advisor, it has nothing to do with me being cold. In any case, it’s not up to me.” You looked at Claude pointedly. His expression was difficult to read, his fingers resting on his chin as he considered it.

“As long as you agree not to cause any trouble, I welcome you to stay as long as you would like,” Claude finally said to Yuri. “And since you seem so concerned about his presence,” he continued, turning to you, “why don’t you keep an eye on him? I’m sure Yuri could use a guide. Assuming that works for you, Yuri.”

“I have no objections,” he responded, flashing you a brilliant grin. “I look forward to getting to know you even better. Who knows, maybe we can even become friends.” Gods, did he have to say everything like it was a proposition? Even the word “friend” was heavy with implications when it came from his mouth. In spite of yourself, you felt your stomach clench, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“Claude,” you bit out between your teeth. “I’m not sure-”

“Great! Then its settled,” Claude said, cutting you off. “Well, it’s getting late and I am just beat. I’m gonna hit the hay.” He stood, stretching and yawning in an exaggerated way that only he could make look like anything less than a farcically bad performance. “Yuri, you’re more than welcome to take a room in the palace if you can find a maid to prepare one for you. They have a thing about outsiders so it might be somewhat of a hunt, but I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

“Wait a min-”

“Actually,” Yuri cut you off, standing. “I already have a place in town. Wouldn’t want to be too far from my men in case something goes wrong. I suppose that’s my not so subtle cue to leave.” He paused, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you. “I’m staying at the Silkstone Inn, in case you want to come keep an eye on me. I could use a guide to show me around the city.” He smirked. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

“That’s not necessary,” you said flatly.

“Heh, nevertheless. Goodnight.” Yuri tipped his head towards you. “Claude, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope we can catch up while I’m in town.”

“I’m sure I can find some time to entertain you. I’d love to swap secrets, for old times sake.”

“Now that sounds like fun. Until then.” Yuri didn’t wait for an answer, exiting without asking for Claude’s leave, dramatic cape flaring behind him.

Impudent scoundrel.

You stood. “Can we talk, Claude?”.

“Too tired,” Claude said, the words disfigured by another yawn. This one was far less convincing. Your eyes narrowed.

“You pawned me off to be a… A babysitter,” you said. “I had no idea he was going to be here, I didn’t plan for this at all.” You pulled in a large steadying breath, not that it did much to settle you. “Be honest, Claude, is this your way of punishing me?”

“I’m not punishing you,” Claude said, his facade of fatigue fading away as he read your expression, gaze holding yours. His eyes were too sharp, too astute. It made you uncomfortable, a sense of transparency rippling through you like a shiver. All the doubt you’d been secretly harboring was in your eyes. You knew it, and you knew that he did, too. “Truth be told, I didn’t know that Yuri would be coming, either. But… that’s not what you meant, is it?”

“It is,” you told him sharply, disliking that question intensely.

“No, no, this isn’t about Yuri. There’s something that’s been bothering you. After our little conversation the other night, I would have thought you’d be able to open up and tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t read your mind, you know.” Could have fooled you. He sighed, frowning. “You’re upset about something, I can tell that much. Are you… Angry with me? I hoped that it would get better, but it’s not, is it?”

A question. Yes or no. Simple.

Honesty was sweet and vile. Your hands clenched into tight fists and the taste of sugar was thick on your tongue, heat creeping in on the edges of your mind. It all came up, sugary bile in your throat and in your head. You hated yourself for your answer but he had asked you a question and expected the truth.

“I’m not angry with you,” you told him. “That’s the truth, you don’t even need to drug me to hear it. I’m not angry with you. How could I be? After all, you’re my king. My lover. For me, there is nobody else. And I’m-I’m okay with it, I’m not angry with you.” Words that had brewed as a cutting critique of his treatment, that you had meant to use to hurt Claude, ended up lacking any of the rage you had originally intended. That was the nature of the truth, the unpredictability of emotion. Looking into Claude’s eyes, you melted. The feeling wasn’t sweet, or feverish, or synthetic. Honesty was painful. Honesty was crippling. “How could I be angry with you?”

Claude’s expression fell. It might have been your intention in all the time those words had been brewing in your chest but actually seeing his pain nearly broke your heart.

“I’ve been going about this the wrong way, haven’t I?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. The silence was long and awkward, your words echoing in your mind, each pass creating a feedback of regret for having spoken in such a way. “Maybe we should take a break from this little scandal of ours. I’ve got the feeling you need some time to think.”

“Think about what?” you asked.

“What you want,” Claude said. At your scandalized expression, he was quick to continue, “I don’t mean give up your position, at least not for now, but we can’t continue on with this hanging over us. I’m asking you to help out a friend while he visits because I don’t trust anyone else to do it. That’s all there is to this.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. “As to everything else… Please, just think about what it is that you really want. Whatever it is you choose,” he shrugged, “I suppose we’ll go from there.”

“After everything you’ve done,” you said, a block of ice in your stomach, “that’s it?”

“What? Not at all,” Claude said, seemingly surprised by your accusation. “But I can’t force you to feel something if you don’t. The heart wants what it wants, right? Right.” He yawned again, this one far more authentic. He really did look tired. You hadn’t noticed that before. “And right now, my heart wants a good night’s sleep. You should think about getting some, too. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

You winced.

“Don’t make that face, everything is gonna work out just fine.” Whether he was talking about Yuri or you or your relationship, you weren’t sure. Maybe all of it, maybe none. Claude kissed your cheek in a shockingly chaste way and didn’t invite you to his bed, even though you were half certain you’d have agreed despite everything. He bid you goodnight.

The wind teased you that night, billowing in your curtains and kissing chills onto your skin as you thrashed around in your bed in the search of a comfortable position. You thought about doubt, and choices, but did finally get to sleep. Small mercies.

#fe3h #yuri leclerc #claude von riegan #fe yuri #fe claude #yuri leclerc x reader #claude von riegan x reader #my writing #fe yuri x reader #fe claude x reader #fire emblem three houses #my life is a mess as of late i'm sorry lol

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chimswae · 4 years ago

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BTS Caretaker CH35

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 3, 685

- Author Note: Hi update update! :DDD

Previous | Next

Chapter 35

It was a good day to drink only if you choose a perfect companion as your drinking buddy. Fortunately for Jimin, Seul had time to spare today. As soon as he finished his practice, he went straight to Seul’s workplace to pick her up.

They chose to drink at the top of the hill near her place. It was the best place to drink according to Seul, yet it did not disappoint him. Taking a sip from her coke, she glanced at him “What are you going to do about it?” she warmed up.

“About what?” Jimin feigned innocence. Rolling her eyes in response, Seul nudged his shoulder lightly “You know what I mean” she whispered.

Jimin scratched his head with a shy smile “Can you stop making fun of me? I told you I will deal with it discreetly. Don’t make it sound so scandalous” Seul curled her lips into a slight pout.

“So, are you going to give up on him?” she asked out of curiosity.

“Seul, listen.. I care for Jungkook and I love him, but it won’t change the fact that it is impossible to pursue him. I am comfortable to love him this way, as time passes the feelings that I have will be washed off completely. I will no longer have this romantic feeling for him, so I can return to where I start. I want to keep Jungkook close to me. I don’t want to ruin what we have now, it is precious” Seul nodded with a soft hum.

“Understandable. I am with you till the end. Follow your heart Jiminie, don’t be pressure. About your feelings for Jungkook, let the time decides it for you. As for now, live your life as it is”

“Thank you. As for now I am not thinking about serious relationship” he squished her hand, smiling brightly.

“So, should I introduce you to a girl?” “Ji Seul!” he poked her forehead using the tip of his finger causing the latter to giggle.

Jimin was having a hard time to deal with her little tease now she’s planning to add more it, what an ignorant girl. “What? Now, that you find I am unfit to your liking. Shall I set you up with someone? There is my best friend Hwasa” grinning like a fool, Seul wiggle her brows, followed by a small dance.

“Are you playing matchmaker now? Wow, you do have a lot of time in hand” he cringed at her absurdity.

“Hey, I am being helpful. Is Hwasa okay for you? She is loud and a little rough though, but that doesn’t matter since you survive Yoongi I am sure you can survive Hwasa!” Jimin was losing his word when he barely started this banter that he’s about to have with Seul.

Scoffing in disapproval, Jimin shuddered at the thought of dating Seul’s best friend “I am sure your friend is as crazy as you. Pass” the girl jabbed the side of his torso with a nasty glare.

“Yah! Do I need to remind you that you used to like me? Tsk, ungrateful brat” she crossed her arms and made a sour face. “Do you have someone in mind?” Seul gave him a questioning look.

“I have someone in mind” it will always be Jungkook, his subconscious argued at the back of his mind.

“Oh my god who?!” she deadpanned. “Is it someone that I know? An idol perhaps? Don’t tell me you like that girl from the previous rumour. I can’t recall her name, but she is pretty” it was Seul got a little dramatic over Jimin’s statement.

His eyes grew wider as he showed his protest “Hell no, not her! I am gay Ji Seul please” he shot Seul an ‘are you kidding me’ look.

“You used to like me; you are bisexual dude” Said Seul with a pout clearly offended by his remarks.

Jimin let out a soft giggle “Well, I am sorry if it is offending you. That was to cover up my gay ass” ruffling Seul’s hair in process, his eyes literally disappeared into crescent moon when he smiled.

“There is a letter that I receive from fans” his voice faded away in process. She really could not fathom the idea of Jimin falling for a stranger through a fan letter.

“Are you saying that you like a fan?” she gawked.

“Can’t you tell that I am changing the topic here? Everything that come from your mouth worth the gossip, goodness” he pinched her lips together earning a death glare from the annoyed girl.

Seul swatted his hand and frowned deeply “You are asking for it. Tell me about this mysterious fan, do you happen to know her personally? Have you ever meet her in any of your fan meeting?” she brought her knees to her chest, looking all excited to hear his story.

“Tsk, look at you. Nosy much. No, I don’t know who this person is personally. I receive her fan letter every month, and the things that she wrote in the letter inspired me” he bit his lower lips and expelled a deep sigh.

“You are falling for her writing? I don’t know you are this soft Park Jimin. She is your fan then?” Seul blinked.

“No, she is Jungkook’s fan”

“Yah, are you trying to steal his fan!” she looked up with a puzzled frown on her face.

He glowered “It is not my fault, she mixed up my name and Jungkook’s face. The first letter that I received from her had my name written on it. I thought it was meant for me until I received another letter. I realized she meant to write it for Jungkook” the content of the letter could not be forgotten easily, that was by far one of the genuine letter that he ever received from anyone.

“How can she mess it up until the end, when you are shorter than Jungkook? There was an obvious difference between both of you” she mumbled.

Jimin eyes widened disagreed by her teasing “Ji Seul! Do I have to remind you few years back, I used to be taller than Jungkook!” he puffed his cheeks, pouting away the last line.

Seul giggled kneading Jimin’s fluffy cheeks. “The story doesn’t match the situation, spill the beans” she demanded.

Annoyed, he really hated her sharpness, can she not be so on point over everything. It seemed impossible to lie to her face. “I stole the letter from Jungkook. One day, she sent another letter to me and Jungkook. She apologized for mistaking me as Jungkook, and that was the last letter that I ever received from her. Ever since she got her bias name right, she had been sending her letter to Jungkook correctly” Seul raised her brows in amusement.

“And that letter never reaches Jungkook right? Aren’t you sly like a snake? How long have it been?”

“About two years?”

“Yah are you insane?! You are not her ultimate member, it is Jungkook. And I thought you have bro-code even when it comes fans” she reasoned. If people think Taehyung is weird, wait till they have their first-hand experience with Jimin. This little mochi can be quite handful sometimes.

He retorted sarcastically “That is why I stop looking for her, because it is impossible to find her in the ocean full of Armys. Recently, she wrote something about her attending Wings Tour and one of our fansign during You Never Walk Alone promotion” she places her hand over her chest dramatically.

“Does it mean you keep your eyes on Jungkook’s fans during your fansign?” he moved his head slowly, scratching his not itchy head.

“I can’t help it don’t blame me. I don’t see any sign of her though, I wonder if she ever come” she snickered in response, letting out a small giggle.

“You don’t even know how she looks like, yet you pretend as if it is the biggest mission on planet” Seul teased.

Jimin simpered, looking pleased of his own decision to track down the mysterious fan “It is worth the try. I still have to apologize to her for not delivering her letters to Jungkook” Seul sent a bewildered look at his way.

“And you continue to steal her letter from Jungkook” she stated sarcastically.

“Jungkook won’t know unless you open your big mouth” Jimin squished her cheeks together messing it up a little, mimicking her action few minutes ago. She slapped his hand whining over Jimin’s unnecessary affection towards her, it spelled ‘Bullies’ on his forehead.

“Are you going to find her till the end?” his simple nod earns a loud cheer from the small girl.

“Yes, only because she is a true fan, and I want to thank her for the letters that she wrote few years ago which comfort me. I was in a rough phase when I first read her letters which she mistakenly addressed it to me. Not gonna lie, her words were just so genuine, I was comforted by them.”

Seul smiled softly, caressing his knees “You will find her one day. Update me once you find her!” Jimin took a sip of his drink and laughed at her silliness.

“Can we stop talking about me? What about you? Have you made up your mind? About Jungkook or Yoongi hyung?” her face turned sour as soon as he brought up the topic.

She grimaced “I..gave up on Jungkook” Jimin eyes shot opened as guilt consumed her. “Seul if this is about my feelings for Jungkook..You know.. you don’t have to do this” he sighed deeply.

“It is not about your feelings for him. I don’t deserve Jungkook, he deserves better than me. He is still young, and there is another amazing person out there who deserves him better than me. Don’t worry, I am not doing this because of you.” Seul gave her assurance that her decision will remain unchanged.

“But..Jimin..after learning the truth about your true feelings, I cant just go behind your back and date him when I am aware about your feelings. That is selfish. You and Jungkook are still possible” she giggled at her own remarks earning a dissatisfied glare from Jimin.

“How thoughtful” Jimin responded bitterly. In all honesty, he loathed the ideas of forging her own feelings for him when she’s free to love and be loved especially with Jungkook. Again, he knew stubborn Seul would not let anything to jeopardize their friendship. She guarded Bangtan’s friendship with all her heart.

“How are you planning to tell him?” Jimin could imagine the pain that the maknae had to bear when the truth is out. Neither Seul nor Jungkook could be blame in this matter, like she said love is about you loving someone. Your mind can’t choose who you’re going to fall in love, because your heart does all the work.

A soft sigh escaped from her lips “I have to do it even it hurts” he felt his arm wrapped securely around her, making her lean against his shoulder. “Jungkook and you can handle this. We can’t please everyone, that is life. Does it mean you are choosing Yoongi hyung?” suddenly thinking again, she falls into deep silence.

For some reason her silence made him fear her decision. Seul deserved to be loved and to be in a relationship, Jimin knows how much his hyung loved this girl. Hell, if anything happens to her he would be the first one to be by her side without fail. That’s the beauty of Min Yoongi when he’s in love.

Seul smiled indulgently “Yoongi is a great man. Do I deserve him? He is too good for me” she doubted herself. Jimin noticed the uneasiness in her voice, so he got the idea who is in her heart.

“It is Yoongi hyung then” he chuckled softly.

Her face turned fifty shades red as she shook her head frantically “I didn’t say anything about choosing him!”

“But there are only two choices to begin with, it is either Jungkook or Yoongi hyung. Now, that you have explicitly rejected Jungkook, shouldn’t you be choosing hyung? Or do you have another guy in your mind” he looked unfazed by the idea of Seul liking someone else who isn’t Bangtan.

There is Jin. Seul hated herself for opening the chances for Jin.

Was she trying to be caught in another messy love web? She barely escaped Jungkook yet she’s making it hard for herself to decided when it involved Jin. Another thing was that, Jin had never mentioned his feelings openly. Was it safe to assume Jin only see her as a good friend?

This was confusing her.

She liked Yoongi, but there’s Jin.

“Drink up, I need to go back in a bit. Mother is alone since Hoon is in Daegu. Shouldn’t you be home by now? I heard you have a long day tomorrow for your comeback show” Jimin frowned when he noticed the latter tried to chance the topic. Maybe it is best to stop talking about serious thing like this and moved on to lighter topic.

“Yes, Mnet. Will you be able to come? I can get a ticket for you” she took a big slurp from her drink before opening a new drink for her to savour.

“I am sorry, I have to work tomorrow and accompanying mother for medical check-up. We finally get a donor that suit my mother, hopefully she is able to go for the surgery by the end of this month” her eyes glimmered in happiness.

Jimin clasped his hand together in delight “Really? Ahjumma finally got the donor! Seul-ah, that is good news! Let me know how it goes, I am happy for you and ahjumma” she tucked the strand of hair behind her ears.

“Thank you Jiminie. I will let you know how it goes okay?” Jimin was satisfied by the news and now that both of them had finally spent their first alone time as a friend together, it was even precious. They stayed for thirty more minutes finishing their snacks and non-alcoholic drinks since Seul couldn’t really take alcohol, the reason why they ended up drinking sodas.

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

She pushed the password to her apartment and made her way inside hurriedly. To her dismay, she was welcomed by the sound of her mother’s shout from the living room which sounded like she’s having a huge fight with someone.

Seul kicked her shoes hastily approaching the loud sound only to be welcomed by a horrifying sight. Her mom was pressed against the wall while she threw a fit, meanwhile a man dressed in grey suit probably in his mid-fifties had his hand wrapped around her mother throat.

“I should have killed you ever since you decided to keep the baby” he snarled.

Seul took a moment to digest the situation and without wasting any more time, she lurched forward pulling the man away from her mother. Using her strength, she pushed the man against the coffee table and went to aid her mother. For a man that twice her size, she sure was quite strong to be able to push him without help.

“Mom, are you okay?” her mother coughed and panted heavily. The man dusted his clothes, standing up from his feet “Finally, the princess is back” Seul glared furiously at him, while helping her mom regaining her balance.

“Who the hell are you? Get out before I call the cops!”

“Jihyun you never told her about me, don’t you? I am hurt” he stretched one of his hand out for a handshake “Let me introduce myself, I am Lee Wonsuk, your fa-“ Mrs Hwang blazed in fury stopping the man before he could finish his word.

“KEEP YOUR FILTHY MOUTH SHUT!” the older woman outburst surprised Seul leaving the girl in daze. She was desperate to know who this man in front of her for her mother is to be this furious.

The man raised his hands with a mischievous look in his eyes “Alright, we will not talk about this tonight. You know Jihyun, you can’t keep this secret forever. I will come to claim what is mine soon” his eyes then landed on Seul, making the girl feel smaller under his gaze. It sent chill down her spine.

“Nice to see you Ji Seul” dumbfounded by the situation, Seul watched the man disappeared from their vicinity and turned to face her mother.

“Mom, are you alright?” she held her arms, sitting her down on the couch. “Are you sure we just let him escape? You almost got killed!” Mrs Hwang shook her head weakly, leaning her back against the couch.

Seul went to get a glass of water and returned almost immediately by her mother side “Who is he? He seems to know you” the older woman smiled meekly, placing the glass on the coffee table.

“He is not important Seul, forget about him. He is just an old man with rage” displeased with her mother’s ambiguous answer, Seul did not stop her interrogation until she got the answers that she wanted.

“I don’t believe you, no- I choose not to believe you at all. Enough with secrets, this is your life we’re talking, what if he returns and hurt you? For once, can you treat me like a real adult, I can handle this!” Seul sighed lightly.

There was a long silence between them for a moment. “Are you going to make me wait?” she grew impatient. No matter what happens, today is the perfect day to learn the bitter truth, even it is hurt at least she’s no longer living in the dark.

The older woman muttered lowly finally unravelling the secrets that she kept for years from Seul. “Twenty-two years ago, a month before my wedding with Hoon’s father, I was raped” Seul stared at her in utter disbelief, shaking her head.

“By who?” she squished her mother’s hand, giving her strength to continue her story.

“Lee Wonsuk, he is your father’s best friend. And there was another man with him that night. I received a call from Wonsuk, that Hoon’s father got into a fight and was badly injured. I went to his place and the last thing that I remember was seeing his face in front of the doorstep. Then I blacked out. The next morning when I woke up, I saw two naked bodies beside me” she started to sob.

Seul swallowed the knot on her throat, weary with the weight of her mother’s grief. She wondered how she could bear the pain alone all those years. She embraced her mother tight, “I am sorry that you have to go through that pain alone, mom” her tears finally cascaded down swallowing all the pain at once.

Mrs Hwang held her lovely daughter close to her “That…man..is he my father?” praying hard inside, Seul really hoped the things that came from her mother contradicted to what she had in mind.

Expelling a long sigh, she looked empty and worn out. Seul gulped down a huge breath of air through her mouth, because she was afraid to hear the truth. Even though, she realized it was not something that she can simply deny knowing they were sharing the same blood.

“I don’t know.. I couldn’t remember that night, I was drugged. He came to me out of the blue and claimed that you are his. I…dont want to trust him.. You are mine, my daughter. Even though, if he is your father, I will not let him come near you. Seul, stay away from him. He is planning to take you away from me” she said, her voice containing a hint of panic.

“I won’t let him take me away from you, I promise. You and Hoon are the only family that I have. Mom, don’t stress yourself. You are not well, we will talk about this later. You need to rest” she took her cold hand in hers, stroking it gently giving a little heat to the freezing hands.

“Are you alright?” Mrs Hwang asked worriedly. She was concerned of her daughter’s mental health though Seul had stopped taking medicine for her depression, still it could relapse.

Seul glanced over at her mother, secretly wiping her tears “I will be fine, don’t worry about me” she gave her a reassuring smile. The pain that she felt was nothing if she were to compare it with her mother, it was best to keep it to herself.

She pressed once more not convince with Seul response “Seul-ah, don’t keep it to yourself, cry if you want to cry, scream if you are angry, that is what normal people do” she caressed her cheeks softly in hope Seul would say something about her resentment. To her dismay, she remained stoic.

“It is okay, I am fine” Seul left a soft kiss on her forehead before stood up from her seat.

“Where are you going Seul?”

“I need some time alone, I won’t be late. Get some rest alright? Don’t wait for me” her weak smile was another way to indicate ‘no, im not okay please go after me and save me’ . In this situation, Mrs Hwang tried to find a solution more like somebody to ensure she would not do anything stupid.

She quietly grabbed her purse and made her way to the door leaving her mother who seemed about to lose her mind seeing her only daughter disappeared beyond the door. Pushing herself up from the couch, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contact. Hwasa or Wongeun were the best choice that she had, Seul needed someone by her side.

In fact, Mrs Hwang knew her daughter would not express her pain openly to anyone even with her, she was very conscious of what she’s about to say. To see how she fought back and recovered from her depression back then was a miracle.

However, that doesn’t mean it wont come back to haunt her.

Her eyes stopped at that one name in her contacts, the exact person that could be another miracle in Seul’s life. Without further ado, Mrs Hwang pushed the green button and waited for her calls to be answered.

“Yoongi-ah, it is ahjumma. I need your help..It is about Seul..”

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #bts x oc #jimin x oc #jimin fanfic #yoongi fic #bts fluff #bts romance #jungkook x oc #yoongi x oc #suga fanfic

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scenariosonscenarios · 5 years ago

Text

Dealer (1)

Genre: smut, drugs (dealing not using), stripper, slight angst.

Sumarry: you were just a stripper trying to get by in college while he was a dealer and rapper. confused about what he wanted from you

A/N: I got this idea while listening to loopy’s song “dealer” 😗 especially when owen said “baby won’t you strip for me. This a dealer symphony” LIKE YESSS

You looked at yourself in the mirror as the music from upstairs played throughout the club, the girls downstairs in the changing room talking and getting themselves dressed for their shift.

Your outfit was a rainbow fishnet bodysuit over a matching bra and panties, your ridiculously high stripper heels also going with your choice of clothing. You weren’t in the mood to be there tonight at all but there you were getting ready to dance for horny men that could only eye fuck you.

You were an exchange student at your college. You saw the “study abroad in Korea” sign one day and thought “why not?”. You wanted to travel and experience new things anyway.

But if you knew it would’ve brought you to making money like this you probably would have stayed home. Unfortunately you were under a contract and couldn’t just leave because you couldn’t handle it though, so you had to stay for the next year.

“Don’t just sit in here trying to avoid working, get up there!” You heard your boss yell as he barged in. You sighed but got up along with your other coworkers that were trying to avoid dancing, throwing on a face mask that matched with your outfit. It was your signature thing as a stripper and added to your charm, although for you it was just to hide your identity. You started heading up stairs feeling yourself getting even more moody, thinking about how much sleep you were missing out on and how much you just wanted to be home.

“Please give me a shot” you said to the bartender, the girl looking at you sympathetically before pouring you a shot of patron.

“Girl, all these shots you take every night is going to eat up your check” she said to you sliding the drink closer to your reach

“Luckily my ass makes up for it” you told her before lifting your mask up briefly to down the shot, a slight cough coming from you afterwards. You honestly weren’t a big fan of alcohol but you would get yourself tipsy or drunk to get through the night often times.

Now that you had an extra push from the alcoholic drink you felt a little better, walking around the club and looking at the men who were sitting and enjoying the view of women gyrating themselves in front of them. You did your usual, gave customers lap dances while they talked to you about shit you didn’t care a bout and got your money. Your attention was on the middle aged man you were moving your body lewdly for until the music playing faded out, your body stopping as you, along with other people looked at the dj.

“Alright alright sorry to cut the music off but I just wanted to announce that very special guests have made their way into the club, we got mkit rain in the building” they said. Everyone showed excitement while you muttered “if they aren’t paying my bills what the fuck do I have to care about them for” before looking away.

You danced for a few more men before going in the back to take a small break and make sure you still looked good.

“Hey [—-]” one of the girls called out to you while rubbing her ankle. You looked and widened your eyes when you saw the injured body part, a wince coming from you.

“How the hell did that happen?” You asked

“Some douche by the bar bumped into me and made me twist my ankle. I really need someone to cover my solo for me” she said looking at you with pleading eyes. One thing you avoided were solo dances on the stage and the only reason you did them was because you had to.

“Jesus Christ, why me?” You asked

“Please? You’ll get a lot of money” she said to you

You twirled a piece of your curly hair that was up in a high ponytail as you thought about it. Although you were introverted and hated the stage, you needed the money.

“Fine, I’ll go to our boss and tell him. You go home and rest” you said to her before walking out. She was a sweet girl and you decided to be nice tonight so she got lucky. You walked to your boss’s office and knocked on the door, coming in when he gave the okay,

“Hazel sprang her ankle pretty bad so she can’t do her solo and asked me to fill in her spot”

“Shit it’s always something. Go ahead and do it I think you’d be perfect for it. Your dance starts in 10 minutes so get ready”

“Thanks boss” you said before walking back out. You went back to the bartender, the girl saying “I already know what you’re here for” before pouring you another drink.

“Thank you so much” you said quickly gulping it down. You felt your nerves about to get bad but the brown liquid you just drunk saved you and you felt good again.

“Alright let’s get this shit over with” you said before walking backstage, the dj announcing you were coming up.

“This next dancer has the body of a Barbie doll and a mysterious charm about her nobody can resist, please give it up for [stripper name]” he said

Everyone cheered for you as you walked onto stage, all eyes on you. One trick a girl told you is that when you feel nervous don’t look directly at the faces of everyone, look at things such as their shirt, watch, or hair. They’ll still think you’re giving them attention although your not.

You heard Likybo Kraazy playing from the speakers and hummed in approval, thanking god a song you knew was chosen. Your body moved naturally to the beat as you grabbed onto the pole, getting ready to lift yourself onto it.

Your mind wasn’t all the way there so you honestly didn’t remember what the hell you did on stage but the men were cheering and giving hella tips so it didn’t matter. As you picked up up your tips your eyes met with one of the members of mkit rain who sat in the vip section. Another stripper was trying to keep his attention while he stared at you but he didn’t respond. You quickly picked everything up as you felt awkward, going backstage quickly.

“You did so well!” Some of the girls congratulated as you went into the locker room once again

“Thanks but I was honestly too drunk to even pay attention to what I was doing you said putting the combination to your locker in. You smiled as you looked at the money, satisfaction jumping inside you when you saw it wasn’t just 1’s”. You quickly stuffed it in your bag and closed your locker back before going back upstairs.

Your mood was good as hell now and you were ready to shake your ass for people as if your life depended on it.

“Hey, you were requested in the vip section” you heard before you could even get out of the doorway good enough.

“Okay” you said continuing your walk. You made your way to the vip area, the guy from earlier looking at you while you made your way to him. You had to admit he was fine as fuck but you never focused on the men who came in. You were there to do your job and go home.

“I was requested?” You asked double checking to make sure you weren’t hearing things and they actually wanted you in their section.

“You heard right. Come give my friend a dance it’s been a long day” one of them said looking you up and down before pointing to the one that had been eyeing you all night

“No problem” you said before looking at him and making your way onto his lap. Your ass was pressed against his hips as you grinded against him to the much slower song that was playing, your eyes closing as you took in his scent that was slightly reeling you in.

“So, why do you wear a mask” he asked while grabbing your hips as you danced against him, your back against his chest.

“You shouldn’t be so nosy” you said to him avoiding the question

“My bad, I guess I’ll just shut up” he said with a chuckle. You did a smile under your mask as you thought about how cute he was to you.

“Sorry if I came off rude it’s just that I usually avoid conversation” you said

“Maybe the men in here just talk about things you aren’t interested in” he said. You turned towards him and straddled his hips, dancing against him comfortably as the two of you talked.

“Maybe. You’d get tired of men talking sexually or ranting to you all night too if you did this kind of job” you said to him

“I’m an entertainer, you don’t think I deal with that? Groupies trying to fuck all the time and people ranting to you comes with the territory” he said.

For some strange reason you felt yourself getting turned on while talking to him and you had no clue why. You just hoped you didn’t get too wet and he felt it.

“Sounds annoying but some men wish they could enjoy what you have. You must get a lot of attention

“It’s always the same cycle with people and eventually I get tired of it. It gets really boring” he said to you as his hands gripped your ass.

“You can say that again” you said relating to his words.

“You just kind of want variety or someone to appreciate you for you, not because of your title. I’m sure you get tired of the same type of dudes coming to you every night” he said

You never felt yourself actually get attracted to a customer but you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you against the table in front of you so badly. You never even felt this way about guys outside of the club.

You looked at the alcohol swimming in your system as the culprit because there was no reason this man should’ve had this effect on you. You gave him a few more dances and conversation before you got up and left. It was almost your time to clock out and go home.

You were exhausted and horny from dancing on the man and you desperately needed to go home and take care of your problem. You changed into regular clothes and grabbed your things leaving through the back door. You never parked in the front because you didn’t want creeps following you home.

You were stopped in your tracks though when you saw mkit rain also in the back, standing around their cars as they conversed before leaving. They all went quiet for a moment before resuming their conversation and you hurriedly made your way to your car.

“Ay” you heard from behind you. It was the guy from earlier you were dancing with.

“You should take this with you” he said handing you a piece of paper. You took it and looked down at it, his number written on it.

“By the way, you look really good without that mask” he said before walking away

You smiled slightly at the compliment before getting in your car and starting it, driving back to your place. It was 3am and your bed was the only thing you wanted.

Or so you thought.

You tossed and turned in the bed as you thought about the man at the club. Your gut was tingling as you thought about whether to text him or not and eventually you gave in and sent him a quick “hey. It’s me from the club”

After 5 minutes you got a text back from him and saw a simple “wassup” across your screen.

“You busy? I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over”

“Send your addy” he texted back. You sent him your address and felt your stomach churn as you started thinking of possible scenarios. He could of been a murderer or something or a kidnapper.

“Be there in 20” he texted. You sighed in relief at the fact that you had time to prepare for him coming and with that you tidied up a bit and made sure your home wasn’t messy or anything. You also took extra measurements to make sure you looked good too, your onesie that you wore hugging your your curves.

You sat on your couch and watched Cartoon Network to calm yourself down as you waited for him. You were so scared but so excited as you anticipated what was gonna happen. You hadn’t had any in god knows how long and considering how frustrated and stressed you were, you could use it.

When the doorbell ringed you almost jumped out of your skin. Your hands fluffing out your hair and pulling down the shorts to your pajamas before you went to go open it. There he stood with his hands in his pockets as you stood in your doorway briefly before moving to the side and saying “come in”

He looked around your apartment and did a small grin as he looked at your decorations, the cute 90’s and early 2000’s theme catching his eye.

“I like the decorations you have” he said to you, the colors of neon words that lit up the room casting a dim glow over you two

“Oh thank you...you can take a seat on the couch and make yourself comfortable” you said to him. And he he did just that, sitting on the couch and looking at the tv with a smirk

“Gumball?”

You did a small laugh in embarrassment, fiddling with a piece of your hair

“Cartoon shows are better than regular shows sometimes” you said taking a seat on the other side of the couch. Loopy eyed you up and down, noticing how nervous you were and sighed.

“You can relax, I don’t bite” he said

“I’m just gonna be honest with you, I’ve never really brought a guy to my apartment like this” you admitted to him

“It’s understandable. I can tell you’re really shy and innocent in a way but I don’t mind” he said

“Really? Most people see strippers and think we have sex with anything that breathes” you said

“Most people judge others from the surface and make assumptions based off of the way they look or their profession. I’m not like that, I like to see people for who they are despite the image they have” he said. You felt yourself getting turned on by him again and realized maybe it wasn’t the alcohol that had you wanting him so badly.

“I’m glad you’re not judgmental like others. I view people the same as you do to a big degree. I want to know that person for them” you said

“So when you see me do you see me as a rapper or something else?” He asked

“I see you as a person I’m attracted to. Someone I can vibe with” you said to him. He actually was a deep thinker and didn’t think like everyone else and that alone was something he reeled you in with. Not to mention he was fine as hell.

“Show me how much you vibe with me” he said to you

You looked at him for a moment before rising up from your seat, motioning for him to follow you to your room. There was no light except for the blueish tint outside that let you know the sun was about to rise.

His hands moved to your hips and gently laid you down onto the bed, his eyes looking at your body before leaning down and leaving kisses on your collarbone, his fingers unbuttoning your romper like pajamas. He kissed every bit of skin that was exposed to him, his lips stopping once your onesie was undone. It was a brief pause before he started pulling it off of you and you looked at him shyly as you sat there in only your bra and panties.

His eyes scanned every curve of your body before spreading your legs, looking at the wet spot that showed through the lace. His member twitches impatiently as he whispered “fuck” under his breath at how wet you were. With a swiftness he removed the cloth that was covering your most private area, your legs closing as you saw him look at it.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. Everything about you is gorgeous” he said to you. You relaxed at his words and hesitantly spreaded your legs back apart, your hands unhooking your bra and watching as your breasts were freed from their confines.

“Good girl” he said to you with lustful eyes. You watched as he removed his shirt, nervousness spreading through your body as his pants followed. You could tell by looking at his print he was big before he even removed his briefs and when he did, you felt like you couldn’t wait one second to have him inside of you.

You watched as he crawled above you, your legs naturally spreading for him. His hands grabbed your thighs and pushed them up to your chest as he placed his tip at your entrance, guiding it into you gently. A whimper left your lips as you finally felt him slipping into you, the fit a bit big but not nothing you couldn’t handle.

“You feel so good baby girl” he said before sliding all the way in, a moan coming from you. He was reaching so deeply into you already and you couldn’t help but move your hips trying to get him to fuck you.

He must have got the message because he started moving in and out of you at a hard, steady pace. His eyes closed at the pleasure he felt while in you, harsh breaths and curses leaving his lips as he buried himself into you roughly. Your moans started getting more and more high pitched as he started slamming into you with no remorse, his pace fast and hard as he hit your spot dead on.

“Yes right there!” You yelled out as you felt yourself about to cum. It was stopped when he pulled out though, a look of disappointment on your face

“You want more?” He asked while stroking his cock. You nodded eagerly and rubbed your clit slowly as you watched him, wanting him back inside of you badly.

“Come ride me then” he said. You got up with no complaints as he laid back on to the bed, your legs straddling his hips as you positioned yourself above him. You held his hard on with one of your hands and guided it into you, moaning in relief once he was filling you up again.

Your hips started moving against him slowly, loving the way his hard member felt sliding in and out of you. His hand eventually came down on your ass spanking it, making you cry out from the stinging pain

“Come on baby girl I know you can do better than that” he said

You nodded your head and planted your feet on the bed before leaning back, started to slam your hips up and down against his quickly. His hands grabbed your hips as he thrusted back up into you, your spot getting hit once again. The sound of skin clapping and your moans mixed with his filled the room as you both moved against each other, your legs trembling as you felt yourself nearing

“Ioopy I’m about to cum” you moaned out as your movements on him started to turn sloppier.

“I am too” he said as his hips started fucking harder into you. It only took a few more thrusts before you were pushed to the edge, your pussy tightening around him as you threw your head back, cumming all over his cock. He felt your pussy clench around him and couldn’t hold back anymore as he fucking you, pulling out and cumming on you and his stomach as he pumped his member quickly.

Once the two of you settled down from your high you collapsed on side of him, your eyes fluttering as you tried to catch your breath. You watched as he got up and went into your bathroom, coming out with a towel and wiping his cum off of you and himself.

“Thank you” you said shyly, watching as he started getting himself dressed again. You felt a little hurt that he was leaving you and looked away, bringing your covers over your body. You had no clue why you thought he was gonna stay in the first place. You were clearly his little booty call to enjoy for the night.

“I’ll text you tomorrow” he said to you once he was fully dressed

“Yeah sure” you said quietly. After that you heard him walk out, the sound of the door opening and closing following after that.

“I feel so cheap” you thought to yourself before getting up. You didn’t even bother going back to sleep and just showered, got dressed and went on campus. How could you sleep after stooping so low so easily?

“What are you doing here so early? Your classes don’t start until 10:00” your friend said. It was just hitting 7am and here you were on campus after not sleeping the entire night, looking like a complete mess.

“Just needed to clear my mind” you said

“You look rough today. Something happened at work?” She asked.

“I guess you can say that. Anyway just forget about it, let’s go to the cafe and chill” you said

That’s what you were gonna do, just forget about it. Forget about him.

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