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let-them-read-fics · 5 years ago

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Safe With Me

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 1,690

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my first writing for Jennie; I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Y/N, it’s Jennie. She needs you.”

The second that your brain processes those words, you’re on your feet, mind beginning to race.

After the staff had called you in a panic earlier, you came as soon as you could. They failed to inform you, though, that it was something concerning Jennie -- likely because they knew you’d drive like a maniac in order to get there as fast as humanly possible.

“What happened?”

“She had an attack on stage earlier and she still hasn’t fully calmed down. We got her some water and she’s in her dressing room right now, but she keeps asking for you.”

With that, you thank the backup dancer and exit the waiting room, quickly making your way to her. The winding hallways of the backstage area seem longer than they ever have before, and you can’t help the antsy feeling that creeps over you.

Upon turning the corner, you spot Jisoo outside of Jennie’s door, a heavy look of contemplation on her face. When her eyes meet yours, worry flashes across her features -- considering how strong she always stays for the other girls, this comes as a bit of a surprise. Despite the stutter in your step after seeing that, you continue on nonetheless.

Rosé and Lisa are further down the hall, the low chatter of their voices carrying over to Jisoo and yourself. “This one was pretty bad, Y/N. Take care of her, okay? I’ll keep the others occupied.” With a nod, the two of you part ways, and you open the door.

You make sure to enter slowly, not wanting to burst in and frighten her in her already anxious state. “Hey, jagi. Come here.” The words come out softly, a gentle request, as you open your arms to her and sit down beside her on the small couch. Wordlessly, she crawls over to you and settles against you. Now, holding her close, you can feel every tremble and sniffle that she lets out. Your world shatters a little more with each erratic pulse of her untamed heart -- you can feel every beat against your own chest. Her head is resting on your shoulder, her warm cheek pressing against your skin, and her lips lightly brush your neck.

It wasn’t anything sexual -- it’s something that she does everytime you hold her, no matter what. She once told you that it brought her comfort to feel your pulse point against her lips, the steady beat working to regulate her own. So, everytime she gets anxious, you assume this position with her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, but I’m here now, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” Your left hand rubs soothing circles on her lower back as you use your other to play with her hair, knowing the calming effect it has on her. Her body begins to relax into you, and you feel the weight start to lift from your shoulders.

Having an inconsiderate boss always sucked, but never more so than at times like these. Even after explaining your reason for needing to leave early, he didn’t budge. He fired off the cliché, “If I let you do it, then I’ll have to let everyone do it too!” In a moment of crisis, Jennie needed you more than anyone else, and you couldn’t even be there for her. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you can’t help but feel guilty about it. Her reasoning for finding such comfort in your mere presence still baffles you, but you’re always willing to offer it when she needs it.

She must have noticed the dejected look on your face, because she pushes herself up enough to press a kiss to your cheek. “I love you; thank you for being here. Now, will you tell me about your day?” You nearly melt at the sound of her sweet voice, paired with her declaration of love. It still makes your heart skip a beat, and based on the light smile that tugs on her lips, you’re sure that she felt it.

Her words serve as your command, and soon you’re filling her in on everything that happened throughout the day. Jennie could listen to you talk about absolute nonsense for hours on end; she loves the sound of your voice, and she takes solace in the vibrations of your body as you speak. All of those things -- some of her favorite things about you -- are a combination that never fails to take her mind off of anything that’s stressing her out. If she’s honest with herself, everything about you cheers her up. The way your face lights up when you see her, the feeling of your arms wrapped around her, your sense of humor, your kindness, the warmth that you radiate just by being yourself -- she could go on and on forever. No amount of words could possibly convey how thankful she is for you and all that you do for her.

It goes without saying that you feel the same way about her. You suffer from anxiety, too, and she’s always by your side in an instant whenever it gets especially hard to handle. Her perfume would wash over you, and she would pepper kisses across your skin. Words of affirmation would spill from her lips and drift to your ears, working to bring you back down to Earth. She always knew just what to do to help, and you often thank your lucky stars for aligning with hers.

Things like that can really make or break a relationship -- dealing with stressors and pressure is never easy, but it can certainly bring people closer together. Before you even started dating, Jennie knew you were special; being around you brought her comfort like no other, and she quickly realized that she would choose to spend all of her time with you if she could. Anytime she thinks about her future, you’re always in it; you’re a complex puzzle that she wants to spend her life unraveling and solving.

After spending the better part of an hour like that -- limbs entangled as you talk with one another -- Jennie’s feeling a lot better. Her heartbeat is steady now, and that suffocating feeling of panic is long gone.

“What would I do without you, huh?” She asks, nudging your shoulder as she sits up to face you.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” You start, looking off dramatically while you pretend to think. “Probably be really bored without all of my awesomeness around.”

Your dorky response earns you a chuckle, and she shakes that beautiful head at you.

“I think you might be right about that one.” She tilts her head to the side, her eyes shining with a look of pure adoration.

She rests her forehead against yours and guides your hand to her chest. It’s her special thing that she always does after an attack; she wants you to be aware of what your help does to her. The rhythm of her heart is constant against your palm, and her fingers slide up to lace with your own. Knowing that she’s comfortable now is the only reward you could ever ask for.

“I love you so much, Jennie. You’re so strong.”

“I couldn’t do it without you.”

Her lips find their way to yours, and you can taste the gloss on them as she deepens the kiss. Before long, she’s worked her way into your lap, her hair falling like a curtain around the two of you. Unbeknownst to you, moments like these got her through some very hard times; her mind would recall the memories of how her skin felt against yours, the sighs that would leave your lips as she would kiss down your jawline, how just one touch from you could send her wild, etc. Her safe place is you, and she’ll do everything in her power to always remind you of that.

Just as her fingers begin to undo the buttons of your shirt, the building’s intercom starts up, and the sound echoes loudly across the building. Jennie startles, falling forward against you, and lets out a surprised yelp. Despite your efforts, you can’t stop the small giggle that leaves your lips at how easily she gets scared. She playfully smacks your shoulder and tries to give you an angry look; she can’t keep it up for long, and soon the two of you find yourselves in the middle of a laughing fit.

You give her cheeks a little squish before saying, “You’re the cutest ever.” Following this, she boops your nose and replies with confidence: “I know.”

She pecks your lips one final time before standing up and tugging you along with her. “We’d better go find the girls now.”

“Fiiiiiiiiine.” You drag out, your usual dramatic self coming back out to play.

With that, the two of you head out to the main dressing room in search of the girls, hand in hand.

~~~~~~~

“YAY! You’re here!” Lisa shouts, nearly knocking the two of you over with her bone-crushing embrace.

“We sure are!” You struggle out, the words coming through as more of a pained wheeze than anything else.

Rosé and Jisoo manage to pry Lisa away, but soon all of you are hugging again anyway. Your little huddle is perfect, and you’re so thankful for the girls. Being surrounded by such genuine, talented people is a blessing, and you seriously wonder how you got so lucky. As the sounds of their jokes and laughter fill your ears, you can practically feel your heart soaring.

“Time for dinner!” Rosé shouts, now walking out the door.

“I’ll race you to the car!” Lisa rushes out, quickly darting past the other girl.

“Not fair, I wasn’t ready!” Their rapid footfalls fade as they get further and further away, and you just scoff at their antics.

“Kids.” Jisoo says with a roll of her eyes, her inner mom showing.

Jennie leans into you, settling against your side, and lets out a content sigh.

In that moment, the dynamic between everyone so perfectly highlighted, you can’t help but think to yourself: there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

#jennie kim #jennie x reader #jennie kim x fem reader #blackpink #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #jennie imagine #let-them-read-fics

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indulgenthoax · 4 years ago

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Wallflower

Sir Stranger x F!Reader

Content - Mystery, Nobility AU

WC - 1.5k

Warnings - None!

Summary - You finally have a chance to debut in society at the Princess's ball, but a masked stranger catches your interest.

Ax's Note - I have read so many like nobility mangas i am obsessed so heres one for ya

“Stay still! This debut ball may be for the Princess, but that doesn’t mean you can’t shine just as bright.”

“This dress is impossible! How do I even dance in this? I might just become a wallflower.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This is one of the best chances to find yourself a good partner. Who knows, maybe you might be able to fulfill your dream of becoming the Prince’s bride.”

While being chided by your personal handmaid wasn’t the most pleasant experience, you were secretly excited to finally debut. Your parents, the Count and Countess Silver, were fortunately wealthy enough to allow you to travel to the capital to attend the Princess’s debut ball and debut on your own. You may be the daughter of a count, but you’ve read the commoner’s stories about loving princes and terrifying dragons. Though you’ve grown up, you were still thrilled to be in high society, even if only for a day.

Your dress and matching mask was chosen months ago for this occasion. Your father called a skilled tailor to ensure quality for his daughter. It was a beautiful deep blue, with small jewels dotted around the skirt and bodice. Black tulle with woven silver thread lined the neckline and the hem of the dress. Small silver flowers were scattered across the dress, with some spots holding three or four of them. The mask was a beautiful piece of workmanship. Silver braids along the edge of the blue mask shone in any light, and decorative feathers and lace added elegance. Your hairstyle was perfectly suited to match the rest of your outfit, and the jewelry you wore only added to your beauty. Soon, it was time to finally attend the ball.

Arriving at the ballroom, you allowed a servant to announce your presence before you entered. The room was dazzling. The chandelier reflected light so much it sparkled like the ocean at sunrise. The floor was polished to perfection, and the walls were decorated with brilliant ribbons and flowers. You would have loved to stop in the middle of the stairs and take in your surroundings, but people were coming in behind you. You moved to one of the less occupied walls so you could stare at the décor for as long as you wished.

Soon, everyone was present, and the King and Queen Ojiro announced the Princess to the room. They declared the start of the ball and cued the musicians to start playing. Everyone found a partner and began to dance on the floor. You also wanted to dance, but you didn’t have an escort to dance with. Standing against the wall, you fulfilled the ‘wall’ part of your previous statement of being a wallflower.

Another person seemed to think you fulfilled the ‘flower’ part of the word exquisitely.

④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④

Fed up with just watching everyone dance, you made your way to the balcony. It was beautiful outside. The palace gardens were wonderfully maintained, and the night sky shone as brilliantly as your dress. However, your feet were tired from standing all night. Luckily, there was a bench outside. You sat down and began massaging your feet.

“These shoes truly are a menace,” you sighed.

“With you saying so, I’m glad I don’t have to wear them.”

You jumped with a squeak. Looking around quickly, you spot a man standing across the balcony. “Who are you? When did you get here?!”

The man approached you. He was wearing a tailored black suit with white accents. White ribbons and string decorated the seams and buttons. White leather gloves fit his hands well enough to the point that you might think they were his real hands. A thick, black and white striped ribbon connected his belt to his shoulder. A stunning brooch with dozens of gems hung from his chest pocket. Upon his face was an amazingly sculpted fox head. The muted orange head even had tufts of white fur in the ears! You knew this was a masquerade ball, but did his mask truly have to cover his whole head?

His chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts. “Did I say that out loud? Please forgive me.” You bowed your head. You may not know who he is, but you know your manners.

“You may raise your head. I realize most masks at balls only cover the eyes, but I would like to remain anonymous for now.”

“I see.. I won’t ask for your name, but may I ask why you are here?”

“I wanted some time away from the crowd.”

You nodded along. “I felt the same way when I came outside.” A few moments of comfortable silence passes as you both look up at the stars.

“I noticed you lining the walls earlier.” You looked at him, shocked. “Please don’t think I’ve been following you. It’s my hobby to watch people, and you passed under my eyes as I scanned the room.”

“Why have you followed me then, Sir?”

He chuckled. “When you left your wallflower position, you dropped this.” He handed you your handkerchief. You must have dropped it without realizing.

“Thank you for returning this to me. How could I return the favor?”

The man thought for a moment before speaking up, “Will you keep me company and chat with me? I won’t tell you who I am just yet, but I promise I can be a good conversationalist.”

You giggled. “I can certainly do that, Sir Stranger. What would you like to talk about?”

④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④④

It seemed like a couple hours passed by in an instant. He was indeed a good conversationalist. You even shared some childhood memories with each other. His memory of his sister’s antics made you laugh; your dreams of being a prince’s bride made him hum in amusement.

“What would you do if you could marry the Prince?”

“I’m merely the daughter of a count. I would not have the necessary training to become the Prince’s bride. Even if I were to receive lessons now, the Prince should already have a fiancée considering his position as the first heir to the throne.”

“And if he doesn’t love his fiancée? Or if his fiancée already loves another man?”

“As much as I would love to take over the position if that were to happen, it simply won’t. My marriage to someone as authoritative as the Prince could only happen in fiction, especially because our marriage wouldn’t be beneficial. I am glad that I can dream about what I like, however. I may have romanticized it, but I do believe I could help the Prince run the kingdom at least a little should fantasy play out.”

Sir Stranger looked at you for a bit. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see his expression, so you didn’t know how to react.

He huffed a laugh under his breath. Somehow you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Lady Silver, the statements you are making seem almost treasonous. Should I report this to the guards?”

You could feel heat rush to your face. “Please do not tell them! These- these words are simply the delusions of a young lady! I would never do such a thing as to take away the fiancé of another lady! Please ignore all that I have said this evening! I-”

You pause for a moment after hearing a few giggles coming from the fox mask. You looked at him incredulously for a minute. He looked back at you and quickly straightened himself out. He started to speak, but you just huffed and stood up.

As you began to walk back to the ballroom, he panicked and spoke out, “Please wait! Come back! I apologize for laughing at you. Let me make it up to you?”

You turned his way and asked, “Why should I give you the chance?”

“... Because I can make your dreams come true?” he said thoughtfully.

You immediately spun around again, but you were stopped by a hand on your wrist this time.

“I apologize again. I’ll stop teasing you if you would only dance with me once, my Lady?” He seemed genuine in his apology this time, so you decided to agree to the dance. Relieved, he held out his arm for you to hold. You accepted his invitation to be escorted back to the ballroom.

As you both made your way back inside, the music for the current dance ended. He led you to the middle of the floor as the music began. You thought that he might have not been good at dancing, but he was doing well as your partner. You felt like the only two in the world whilst he held you close. With every step, you felt weightless in his arms. The music swayed your bodies to the rhythm, and your feet gilded together perfectly along the floor. This all felt like a dream. Though your dreams usually featured a man whose face you could see.

You looked at his mask. “May I finally know who you are, Sir Stranger?”

He leaned down to your ear as the dance ended. He lifted the mask enough to reveal his mouth to everyone but you, and whispered:

“Your dreams.”

BONUS ROUND

WC - 200

Warnings - you have a child

You couldn’t believe it. He seemed to be crazy. What was he thinking? How could he do this? Why was this happening? What stars and planets aligned for this to happen to you?

How could your husband and child make such a mess together??

“Aran. How in the world did this happen?”

He looked up sheepishly. “Sorry, my love. We wanted to surprise you with flowers, but we got carried away…”

“Don’t lie to her, Papa! You made this mess cuz you got scared of a little buggie!”

Laughing, you scooped up your child in your arms. “Now, now, Aran. Is it befitting of a king to be scared of little buggies?”

“I was not! I simply wanted these flowers to look presentable! I can’t give my lovely wallflower bug-infested plants!” He pouted up at you.

You leaned down and kissed his cute face. “Thank you very much, love. I know you tried your best to get me the prettiest flowers.”

“Mama! Me too! I want a kissie!” Your child wailed.

“I want another one first!” Your childish husband also wailed.

Soon the room was filled with the giggles and happiness of the King and Queen and their child.

Ax's Xtra Notes - Hope you liked it! and i also hope you liked who it was about ;)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #anime fanfic #hq #hq fanfic #haikyuu x female reader #hq x reader #aran ojiro #ojiro aran #aran ojiro x reader #ojiro aran x reader #hq aran #ax's fics #hoax’s fics

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blissfulsun · 5 years ago

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The very last part of lessons in love❣️ It’s been a long but rewarding process to finish my first ever series, I hope you all enjoy (i’m not fully happy with it but I’ve kept u guys waiting for so so long, I hope it’s the ending you all had in mind)🥺💗

word count: 1,707

What I learned from love (us) // Jeff Wittek

Empty. The room, the bed, and you.

A quiet that feels so heavy it settles in the darkest depths of your chest and simultaneously claws at your throat, invisible to the naked eye as you stumble out of bed that morning and tiptoe down the stairs with the hope akin to that of a child on Christmas morning sparking at your shaky fingertips, only to find the rest of the apartment desolate of even his cologne.

You hope it’ll wash away with the bed sheet haphazardly stripped off the bed and into the washing machine, with the bathroom tiles scrubbed to shining perfection: this realisation that your twenty for hours were just that.

One day: one thousand four hundred and forty minutes, eighty six thousand and four hundred seconds that seem far more abstract in their numbers to hold enough time to allow you to both love and lose like never before.

Jeff doesn’t call: doesn’t ring your cellphone or your door.

There’s no good morning text or a picture of Nerf or a random dog he saw that day.

You avoid the rest of your friends like the plague, unaware of the recent events that transpired between the two best friends.

The deadline for your assignment works in your favour, reason enough to cut every call short and answer each message in the group chat with a polite no.

Jeff’s name lacks even within that thread of texts. It’s like he’s never existed.

But the ache in your chest and the tears staining your pillow serve as reminder that’s far from the truth, they gather in your eyes as you blankly stare at your reflection in the empty word document on your laptop for days, only allowing them to fall in the now cold familiarity of your shower or bed.

Love is crippling, you realise.

Finally feeling it for the first time but wishing for the undoing of it in the aftermath.

Until you realise, this is not who you are.

Staring at the shell of the girl with rosy cheeks and dainty fingers, hair lazily thrown up and his t-shirt adorning your body:

a last act of masochism before you throw it out with the garbage that night, staying up until the sun comes up as you fingers type away with the deadline looming over your morning.

It garners you the highest grade in your lecture, a mention by the professor in front of the whole class and a spot at the literature event he’s hosting for the department.

You thought this heartbreak might feel more poetic as you watch the ink print across the pages.

That it’ll become less heavy from theory to practice, parking outside the familiar apartment building but sitting in your car for another fifteen minutes before you decide to head inside.

You realise it doesn’t when your feet turn in the direction of the stairs, prolonging the inevitable only to find Jeff’s apartment vacant anyway.

There’s traffic on the way home. And for the first time in a long time you’re fine with being stuck in one spot for so long, the tips of your fingers growing cold at the thought of reentering your home.

Because now, home is a person, has been for a while but you were maybe too blind to notice, too busy filling seconds of silence with laughter, eyes find those familiar pools of brown in every room, shoulders dropping their weight in his presence, fingers slotting in between much larger ones with timely practise.

For a moment, you convince yourself you somehow fabricate the smell of Jeff’s cologne in the hallway leading to your apartment door, heartbeat accelerating in your chest and legs stumbling to get around the corner while your mind screams at you. It falls quiet when you’re met only with the dark wood of your front door.

On the other side of town, Jeff stumbles into his own apartment, defeated at the lack of answer at your door earlier that night, foot steps heavy and falling short at the sight of an envelope on his floor.

More silence. Just as heavy on your chest as you clear your throat and frantically glance around the room.

This time, it’s somewhat welcomed as your mind recollects itself before you look down at the pieces of paper in your hand.

The words feel wrong as they leave your mouth, stinging on the tip of your tongue.

Your mind knows they shouldn’t be read aloud like this: to a room full of people, strangers, who’ll only hear the pretty ornaments that barely scratch the surface. Y

ou go ahead anyway, stuttering through the first sentence while students and lecturers alike gather around to listen:

‘Descartes wrote I think, therefore I am. A dutiful observation of his existence. I am. I wake up each morning, get out of bed and choose to live, though not all of us truly do. I certainly haven’t. I think, therefore I am.’

He didn’t come, your mind echoes the sentiment over and over.

If your heart had thus far remained intact by no less than your entire strength, it’s falling apart right now.

‘But I do not love, not the boy with blushing cheeks and clammy hands, the one who steals my first kiss under the bleachers, or the next one to follow with flowers and confessions made on the steps of my mother’s old porch, not even the freckled man with a guitar on his back and a promise of forever in his mouth.’

There’s practised precision to the way you read the words aloud, eyes glancing away from the sentence that have been ingrained in your mind, finding pools of brown standing tall in the crowd.

You smile at Jeff, stuck between the relief spurting in your throat and the instinct to run, continuing somehow:

‘And I’m not good at this, always stutter over confessions and stumble through these feelings but with you? I’d follow blindly, rough around the edges but comforting like the first time I held your hand in mine. One day, I’ll hope to say I love you without decorating the words with ‘get home safe’ or ‘sleep tight’ or even ‘you make me a better person’.

It garners a half broken smile from your best friend, his hands nervously fumbling with the pockets of his suit jacket.

‘It will be like any other Tuesday night, except our stars will align. The violet undertones of my veins will spill. Heart strings will play to an awaiting choir and these words will finally hold enough meaning, far more poetic than the silence we’ve endured in the aftermath. For now, I grieve for the girl I was before you, perfectly unknowing, waking up each morning but choosing not to live. I grieve for the woman I am now, knowing yet choosing to wake up each and every new morning. I love, therefore I am.’

The applause shakes you away from the intense eye contact, professor’s hand patting your upper back as he engages you in a conversation you’re frankly too lost to follow.

The words might be pretty, soft enough in their realisation to keep you busy with pointless conversation from their listeners: when Jeff finally makes his way to the front, shy in his steps in your direction, flowers clutched in his right hand as the other flies up to scratch through the brown locks at the nape of his neck.

The two of you stand like that for a while, awkward and quiet until you clear your throat and ask, ‘Are those..are they for me?’

For a moment, Jeff looks lost at the words until he finally glances at the bouquet clutched in his grasp.

‘What?...I - yeah’ they’re clumsily shoved in your direction with that.

‘Darling, look...I-’ Jeff sighs, space between your bodies growing smaller as your best friend nears.

‘Why did you leave?’ you interrupt, the question whispered and cheeks aflame when you glance up to his towering height.

Jeff has the decency to look lost for a moment, brows furrowed before his eyes shift and jaw clenches at the realisation.

‘I didn’t know if I could do it.’ Jeff begins, hands quick to wrap safely around your waist when you begin to pull away at his words, like a wounded animal, not ready to hear the rest of his speech if it’s to carry similar tone of rejection.

‘Y/n..’ his deep voice begs. When you find yourself glancing up there’s sudden depth there, shades of brown and green mixing together enough to keep you hypnotised long enough to let Jeff continue.

‘I - we - we wouldn’t just be a trial run alright? If we do this, take that next step...then there’s no going back for me. If I get to wake up next to you, have breakfast together, go on dates and hold your hand, get to -to kiss you? Then you can’t expect me to ever be able to stop.’

There’s no pause to his words, no stutter or shaky breath as the confession settles in him and simultaneously washes over you in a room full of strangers and snobby class mates.

You release a breath for what feels like the first time in a week as your hands involuntarily find their way to his chest, body swaying into Jeff’s like second nature, like what feels as if too long ago in your shower.

‘You mean?’ you bite your lip, eyes searching his as everything else blurs into the background. ‘I love you.’ Jeff replies, delirious giggle escaping his lips as tears line your eyes.

Neither of you can help the goofy, ear splitting smiles that stretch across your mouths.

They remain that way even as your smaller body jumps up and Jeff’s own leans down only to tighten his hold around your frame when your lips touch for the very first time, clumsy and with teeth clicking as you both refuse to stop grinning even for a short while.

That night, you fall asleep in the safety of his arms, legs intertwined under the covers while you drift off with the knowledge that tomorrow, you’ll get to wake up beside your best friend, the person that’s quite likely the love of your life.

And then again the night after that...and the night after that, hopefully, for the rest of your life.

#thank u all!!!so much! for being so patient with me🥺 thank u for reading for showing support #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek fanfiction #lessons in love #the epilogue

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funkzpiel · 5 years ago

Note

Another consideration (sorry) is if Jaskier did lose his voice permanently from the Jinn and Geralt feels guilty and doesnt stop trying to find a cure even though he knows there isnt one (or lies to Jaskier that he's trying to find one til Jaskier finds out)

He doesn’t sing again. That prickly part of Geralt that’s been traveling alone for most of his life gruffly thought he’d enjoy that result. After all, he did his level best to have the issue resolved. It wasn’t his fault that the bard got involved. He hadn’t invited him along – he had just wanted to fucking sleep for fucking once in his life, damn it. It had been his wish though, however unintentional, that brought the bard into this new life, this silent existence. A world without Jaskier’s singing.

It is like biting into a pie only to find it has no filling.

Those words haunt him in the lingering silence of Jaskier’s presence. They hang between him and the bard as heavily as any wraith might – leeching him just as much as actual conversations exhausted him. Jaskier, like the birds of the woods, was born to sing and talk and fill the world with the litany of his voice and his perspective and his life; and Geralt had taken part in shattering him.

Yennefer had, in her way, tried to heal him. They had released the Djinn – much to the mage’s dismay – and that should have been the end of it. Jaskier’s swelling went down, his bleeding stopped.

But when he opened his mouth to greet Geralt when finally he woke, nothing more than a wheeze passed his lips. In that moment, the witcher watched a part of Jaskier die. He saw it in the bard’s eyes – a small bit of the light that constantly filled him fading away like a cloud passing over the sun.

Jaskier stayed with him. Geralt doesn’t understand why. It was his fault, his words, his hasty and ill thought out wish that had crushed the bard’s vocal cords to dust. Jaskier should hate him, and yet he stayed. Geralt thought pragmatically that it was because alone, Jaskier would struggle. He was a man who had independently crafted a life and a career for himself off his voice, and now that was gone. He had his fingers, his lute, of course – but drunken pub-goers relished the bard’s songs, his lyrics, and with nothing to sing along to, it left Jaskier’s lute playing, while lovely, pale and hollow by comparison to what patrons expected to hear when they recognized who he was.

Geralt did that to him. So it was the least he could do to keep Jaskier by his side. To provide a safe place for the bard to sleep, coin for him to eat. And that must be why he stayed, he reasoned. Why else?

As they passed through villages, he asked for healers, for mages – anyone who might have insight into the bard’s situation. He even began to direct their travels in the direction of famous herbalists or sorcerers (or sometimes even creatures), all without ever making it plain, just in case they might stumble upon someone who might have a cure.

‘Sorry’ hung heavy on his heart, weighing it down between his ribs, pressing in on his lungs, strangling him. He spent his nights, already so prone to sleeplessness, on his back and staring up at the sky as though the stars might suddenly align and spell out the answers he sought. His eyes drifted to Jaskier, curled by the fire. Small and quiet. So fucking quiet.

Geralt was really beginning to fucking detest the quiet.

It made him admire Jaskier’s penchant for conjuring a conversation seemingly out of nowhere; particularly when he began to try and solve this problem of too much fucking quiet by doing what Jaskier could not: talking.

“Pleasant day,” he growled one morning, eyes on the meal he stoked above the fire as Jaskier silently worked on lacing up his clothing. Blue eyes sought him out over the fire. He could feel the weight of them, the surprise. But what else was there to say? His words had been efficient. The day was pleasant. What should he say next? Describe the color of the sky? Foolish.

He grit his teeth, hating himself for his blatant inability to provide even so much comfort as this. But he keeps trying. He practices. Only because when he does, Jaskier’s gaze falls to him – keen in a way those blue eyes had not been in some time since the silence started – and for a moment he feels as though his bard has returned again.

Jaskier, for his part, does not simply melt back into the stone of a garden wall like a shrinking violet. His voice was not what made him so lively, so vibrant; it was a side effect of all the life and sunlight and existence that the gods had seen fight to cram into a body as lithe as Jaskier. He learned how to speak with his hands and Geralt, a man who had only spoken through body language for so long, found it easy to listen. It was an act of communication that drew no end of curious looks when they went to villages. How could two men speak so silently? Some even began to suspect Jaskier was a familiar of Geralt’s – which made the bard wheeze silently, laughing.

Geralt couldn’t even be annoyed by that. It was good to see the bard laugh.

Jaskier’s hands grew more and more fluent as they travelled until he learned how to fill the silence in an entirely new way. And if Geralt’s attention were distracted, his eyes not on the bard, Jaskier found ways to grab his attention. A pebble to the shoulder, if annoyed. A hand to his side, to the small of his back, to his bicep if not.

But still, Geralt looked for a cure. He did not ask for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it – not while Jaskier was still unable to say the words to pardon him for his wish. Wishes. How Geralt hated them, hated the word. His wish had driven Yennefer away. His wish had bound Jaskier to a life in which he could not do what he loved. Geralt didn’t deserve forgiveness. So he did not ask.

And then came the contract about the witches of the bog.

Ancient hags. Magical ladies. So old that Geralt wasn’t even sure if the word ‘witch’ truly befitted them anymore. He didn’t even know what to call them, what to research in his bestiary. Three witches of the bog. Complicated and powerful, hand in hand. Some of the village worshipped them. They kept the forest rich with game. They protected birthing mothers. They warded off those from foreign lands that might colonize their home, change it, urbanize it. It left the area like a capsule from another time; perfectly preserved.

Others hated them. Virgins tended to disappear now and then. Children too. Livestock would die, men would suddenly fall dead. Believers called it penance, divine and unknowable justice for deeds the public might never see or fathom. Nonbelievers called it terrorism at the hands of monsters. Geralt found himself stuck in the middle.

He insisted Jaskier stay in the village. This was beyond even his expertise. Even with normal monsters there was always the chance that he might fail, not protect Jaskier, however slim. Now? He would not tell Jaskier that he had a healthy fear for what laid ahead, but he made it known that for no reason should the bard follow him this time.

He approached the bog with his swords on his back but his hands nowhere near their hilts. Women as old as these, there was a chance he might be able to reason with them. Negotiate.

There was just as big as chance that he might offend them by trying.

His heart thumped in his chest as he kneeled in a dry spot in the bog. He set out the offerings the believers told him would attract the witches to him. He rested his hands on his thighs. Closed his eyes.

“Bog women,” he said, calling to them in a hushed, croaking voice, “Ladies of the North, Winter Women… I have no request but to parlay with you. I humble myself, I kneel, knowing I don’t deserve an audience. Would you speak with me?”

At first there was nothing. He wondered if the believers had lied, if the nonbelievers were far more stable by comparison. He was just about to stand, to leave, when a wind brushed the faint hairs not held back by his hair tie to wisp about his face. The willows around him swirled and sang a sorrowful tune. The fine hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms rose.

“What is a boy’s name?” A witch sung to him. A boy. Despite his years, he felt very much like a boy kneeling at the feet of those women.

He nearly responded. Nearly. But there was power in a name for folk such as them.

“You may call me witcher,” he said instead, careful in his wording. Another witch laughed, delighted.

“Clever witcher-boy,” the laughing witch chirped, stepping out of the fog. She was lovely. Her red hair hung down to her bottom. Her face was round like a peach, her cheeks pink like one too. She wore a gown unlike one he had ever seen before. She looked kind, her smile pleasant, but her eyes – if he looked too long, he could see the predatory glint in those eyes. Her glamor blurred around the edges and if he peered too closely, he could almost see—

His pupils dilated, huge and blown out as he tried to make sense of what he saw. Limbs, so many limbs. A body distorted with tumors; or what he thought might be tumors, but perhaps just did not know the right word for them. Too many mouths, eyes, faces. The punishing visage of those warped by black magic or simply the form of a god not meant to be seen or understood by mortal men? He didn’t know, but he did register something wet beneath his nose. Hot and dripping. His heart thundered. He wondered if it might burst when finally another woman came up behind him, bent over him, and gently rested a hand over his eyes.

“A strong boy with keen eyes,” the woman behind him hummed, “Few have seen past our glamor. Fewer still remained sane enough to tell the tale.”

The first witch cackled, having appeared from the fog as well, and sneered, “You steal our fun,” then said a name that made Geralt’s lashes flutter sickly. The name sounded more like the mad tumble of rocks down a mountain side that any human word. His stomach lurched. He was so fucked. “I wished to see how far a witcher-boy’s mind might bend.”

“A boy came to us in good faith,” the witch whose name sounded like falling rocks said. Her voice sounded like the voice of many women, but also, one woman. His mother. He wondered if that was part of the glamor as well. If that magic was seeping into his mind, collecting fragments and details that might sooth him, lure him into a false sense of security.

Too bad it was the voice of the woman who had abandoned him. It only served to wake him up.

He decided to call that woman Earth Mother. The name pinged something familiar in the far recesses of his mind.

“Laws of matronhood,” said the second to the first, naming her as well. He gritted his teeth against the sound of it – glass shattering, wolves howling. It made his muscles tense, ready to flee the jaws of a wolf. When the feeling passed, a human name appeared in his mind seemingly from nowhere: Beast Mother.

“Aye, I know the laws,” said the Beast Mother, then a final name. Geralt’s stomach dropped sickly like missing a step on a staircase. This name sounded like the wind – both tame as the first warmth of spring thaws the fields, and wild like the storm that punishes a village. Sky Mother, his mind supplied.

Geralt bowed his head as those final, hind-brain instincts washed over him and eventually dulled. He felt suddenly exhausted. Word thin by the mere presence of these women.

“What does a witcher-boy call to women such as we for?” Asked the Sky Mother.

“Does a witcher-boy come to kill us?” Laughed the Beast Mother cruelly, and even with the third woman’s hand over his eyes – cool and soothing and dark – Geralt knew the Beast Mother was grinning with too many predatory teeth. More teeth than any human mouth should have. Teeth and teeth and teeth—

“The village placed a contract on you,” Geralt forced himself to say. “But I’m quickly realizing this is no monster hunt.”

He was in the presence of gods, or at least as close to gods as reality might ever get. Every story, every religion, stemmed from something after all. These land spirits, these witches, these women – they were so much more than a contract to be hunted. They owned the land, the wood, the swamp, and all inside it. Fuck.

“If you know this, then why come?” The Earth Mother asked gently.

“Some of the villagers are suffering,” Geralt explained, “I’m here to help. To parlay.”

“Life is to suffer,” laughed the Beast Mother cruelly.

The Sky Mother said instead, “And what can a witcher-boy offer us? How can a witcher-boy help?”

The Earth Mother was against his back, matronly and kind. He felt like a boy hiding behind a mother’s skirts – or more accurately Vesemir’s legs. It felt both nostalgic and sickening at the same time, his mind peeled apart like an onion so easily in their presence.

“I am nothing and no one to you Mothers,” Geralt acknowledged, “But I cannot turn my back on suffering. If I do so here, I have no right to my namesake.”

“A witcher-boy wanted to be a hero,” cackled the Beast Mother, fangs gleaming in his mind’s eyes, pearly and wet with hungry spittle.

“A witcher-boy is kind,” whispered the Mother blinding him with her mercy, her hand.

“A witcher-boy is doomed,” offered the Sky Mother clinically, but not dispassionately.

“What did the village ask?” The Beast Mother spat, “Did they whine about their lost babes? Their disappeared virgins? Their dead men? Their cows?”

“The milk had spoiled in their udders, so we killed them,” the Sky Mother said simply.

“The men had raped and stolen and marred the virtue of our lands, so we removed them from the grace of our hospitality,” the Beast Mother growled.

“The virgins sought escape from abusive homes, sought freedom and peace, so we guided them to happier places,” the Earth Mother hummed.

“And the babes would have died a painful death from winter, from illness, from genetic deficiencies – so we lured them to that better place in peace instead,” the Sky Mother finished.

“Life is cruel,” the Beast Mother growled like the sound of hooves on earth, pounding in chase after the fox, “But we are not. A witcher-boy cannot fathom our motives, so we pardon him once, but question our intentions again and a witcher-boy will understand punishment for himself.”

Geralt bowed his head intentionally this time, hands in tight, humbled fists on his knees.

“Apologies, Mothers, I knew not what to expect.”

“As we said, a witcher-boy is pardoned,” the Sky Mother said simply.

“We know a witcher-boy,” the Earth Mother sang behind him, her voice the laughter of a babe’s first smile, the song of a mother kneading dough in the morning. “A witcher-boy withholds his name, but we know him.”

“White. Wolf.” The Beast Mother is grinning with too many hungry teeth again. Geralt shivered.

“You helped a Godling not far from here,” says one.

“Spared a group of trolls in the eastern mountains,” says another.

“Helped a succubus escape the fires of the cities and the purge of daft men who put their faith in nonsense,” says the last.

“The list is long,” the Earth Mother says, her other hand stroking through his hair now. She’s untied it, let it fall loose around his ears. She tsks and says, “At least a witcher-boy tried to bathe for us. You need fine oils for hair such as this.”

He feels disoriented, exposed. Unsure of his footing.

“I will explain to the village—” he begins, but clicks his jaw shut audibly when the Beast Mother howls, “We were not done, witcher-boy!”

He swallows dryly. His very bones shiver. The Earth Mother shushes his fears and continues to pet him like a dumb, beloved dog warming her feet. It feels… nice. He has to shake his mind awake not to fall for that glamor, that lulling sense of safety. There is no safety. Safe is an illusion.

“Clever witcher-boy,” the Earth Mother says proudly, fondly.

“You’ve helped people and creature alike on our land,” the Sky Mother said.

“But you’ve also taken justice into your hands, as if we were not suitable to maintain it,” snarled the Beast Mother.

“What are three Mothers to do with their witcher-boy, their kind hearted wolf, their man of stone?”

They might kill him. They were not wrong, he had taken their affairs into his own hands unknowingly when fulfilling contracts in these lands. If their territory extended as far as he thought it did, he had only done so twice perhaps. Maybe thrice. A werewolf that had gone mad, slaughter their family. A cockatrice that had been spoiling the hunt for another township, killing the best of their providers. A wraith left behind by a widow spurned.

“We would have gotten to them in our own time,” the Beast Mother said, answering his unspoken question of why, if they protected these lands, had they not handled it?

“Or perhaps we did handle it in our own right,” the Earth Mother offered with a chuckle. Working through him, he realized. A pawn in their ways just as he was a pawn to fate. He shuddered helplessly, a little flame of offense rising in his gut as it always did at the concept of ‘fate’. She brushed his hair back in apology, stroked his cheek. “You need a shave.”

Disoriented didn’t begin to cover it.

“Spoil sport,” the Beast Mother snorted. So that had been it, then. He had acted as unwitting representative for them and their will.

“You are a trustworthy wolf,” the Sky Mother said, “Good in intention, civil in mercy.”

“You will go to the village,” the Earth Mother continued. “You will explain the way of things. Those who cannot abide by those ways can flee freely or be dealt with accordingly… They will not pay you, witcher-boy. Their hearts are selfish and easy to see reason why they should keep their coin despite your bravery, despite how you put yourself between we women and their cowardly souls.”

“For this, for the works you’ve already done unintentionally in our name and for the works you will later do intentionally in our name, we women shall pay you instead.”

He stiffened. Every bone locked in his body like rusted hinges on a door, painful and tight. That was a dangerous offer. He could not deny it and live. But one wrong word would spell a world of pain unending. He swallowed.

“You are too kind to someone as undeserving as me,” he managed to croak.

The Beast Mother laughed cruel and amused, high like a harpy’s screech and low like a bear’s roar. He shuddered visibly. The Earth Mother smoothed down the hackles that rose on the back of his neck like a master calming a spooked dog.

“Correct, we are too kind. Wise of you to notice,” the Beast Mother said.

“What does a witcher-boy want?” The Sky Mother asked.

Geralt clenched his jaw, feeling more like a mouse caught between a cat’s paws than a witcher. It was an uncomfortable, greasy feeling, and he hated it.

“I require nothing –”

“—Ha! A man says he requires nothing from gods!” The Beast Mother howled like a pack of wolves.

“You would spit in our eye and refuse our gift?” The Sky Mother asked diplomatically.

“Do not let them frighten you, witcher-boy,” the Earth Mother hummed, stroking his hair again. “We Mothers are unused to debt.”

He could ask for a token from them; small enough so as not to ask too much, but enough to appease their debt. He could ask for some tidbit of knowledge; the location of a cache in their lands, perhaps. He could ask for hospitality in their woods; safety and peace whenever he visited. But as their champion, which he was quickly coming to find that he was unknowingly, he inherently knew he need not ask for any of this. They had always provided for him, had always shown him the way. He never went hungry or thirsty in these woods. The birds called when anything deigned attack him, warning him. He slept here. To ask for what they already provided would be turning a blind eye onto their gifts – a dangerous thing.

He should find something else – something small, something humble. And yet…

“My friend… what would it cost for you to heal him?” Geralt finally asked.

“Aaah,” the Beast Mother crooned, “A witcher-boy does not love silence after all.”

“A witcher-boy did not know what he had until it was gone,” the Earth Mother said, her voice if possible even more fond.

“Witcher-boys tend to be clever, and yet dumb as rock trolls,” the Sky Mother said blandly.

“Please,” Geralt said, leaning into the cradle of the Earth Mother’s hand which blinded him, protected him. She hummed soothingly behind him.

“We women are powerful and old. We saw the mountains form and the rivers fill. We were there for the first storm, the first wind that graced the ground, the first sprig of grass, the birth of the first land beast,” said the Sky Mother.

“But alas, this boon you ask for is not as simple as you think,” the Earth Mother said sadly.

He nearly asked ‘so you can’t help’ before he caught his tongue. What a stupid way to die, offending gods. The Beast Mother cackled. She knew what he had almost asked.

“It is not that we are not capable. You ask for something more than what we owe,” the Beast Mother said, fangs glinting, her words the framework of a hungry maw in his mind’s eye, waiting for an excuse to eat him. A merry chase, a dangerous game. It thrilled her to chase him like a rabbit through their laws and customs and loopholes, waiting for him to trip and yet hoping he might not so the game would continue. “And you cannot afford a cure outright.”

“What is the cost of an outright cure?” He asked. He had to know. Maybe he could—

“Souls. Innocent souls. Blood. Flesh. Creation and death. You request to overwrite a Djinn’s will, witcher-boy. That sort of magic by human means, by the means in which you could pay us, would change you fundamentally. You’d no longer be worthy as champion of our will. We have no intention of warping a witcher-boy and losing a pawn such as yourself. Too dull, too boring. Too simple. A witcher-boy offends.”

He hung his head again. His debt to his friend was more expensive than his morality, the makeup of his being, than his use to the world and to these witches, these gods. His stomach became a stone inside him. There was no outright cure…

His head rose a little.

“What cost for his voice?” He asked. Not a cure. A voice. The Earth Mother stroked him approvingly. The Beast Mother smiled with impressed fangs. The Sky Mother considered him.

“A steep price,” the Sky Mother said, like spring rain.

“A generous price,” snorted the Beast Mother, like boars stomping in the brush.

“A fair price,” hummed the Earth Mother, like the sound of a gentle hands guiding a plant into fresh soil.

“Name it,” Geralt said, something unidentifiable to his knowledge of himself in the edges of the words, though he recognized it in others. Pleading.

They named it.

He agreed.

“But first,” said the women with too many voices, “What is a witcher-boy’s name?”

They already knew it. Geralt knew that they did. But he hadn’t given it to them. There was power in giving a name.

Geralt paid.

–

He returned to town feeling exhausted, hollowed out and reed-thin, and yet he held the light of dawn in his chest, weightless and hopeful. He carried it with him over the hall and down the path that led to the village, leaving behind him his Ladies and the offerings he had placed on their humble altar.

He followed their instructions precisely.

He went first to the village alderman – a believer – and the man who had posted the notice – a nonbeliever. He explained that this village was not in fact their home, but the home of the women, and it was by their mercy that their crops flourished and their lives went by in relative peace. When the nonbeliever questioned him, cheeks red with rage that Geralt had not done as he was tasked, Geralt merely offered precisely what the women had told him to say.

“If you do not like living in the lands of the Ladies, you are free to relocate somewhere with no matronage. But if you stay and presume to keep calling the lands your own, and living outside the laws of matron and guest, there’s nothing I can do to spare you from them. This was their land first. They’ve upheld every law, provided every mercy. Live by their terms, live somewhere else, or find out for yourself why men have disappeared from among you by becoming another face on a flier.”

They had bid him not over explain. There was no faith to be had otherwise, no trust, and the Ladies asked for little more than that from their guests. To explain would be to condemn these villages to eviction. So he left the nonbelievers’ fate to themselves. Heed, flee or perish.

They didn’t pay him, just as the women had warned. The nonbelievers accused him of solving nothing. They called him a charlatan and a cheat. The believers claimed that they had not asked for help in the first place – and honestly, that was fair.

He didn’t need their payment anyways, not now. He would not go hungry or thirsty while in their wood. They’d tide him over until he left their lands in pursuit of his next contract. That was more than enough.

He brushed off their accusations, their thanklessness, like kicking dirt from his shoes. He wondered if that was what endeared him to the Ladies, or at least part of it – for both he and the god women understood thanklessness despite service.

He went to the inn, carried himself up to the room he had left Jaskier in. He could hear his lute from halfway up the stairs. It was a pleasing sound, something cheerful to wake to – it’d have to be, not to received complaints from other patrons also guesting at the inn.

The moment he walked in, he found Jaskier seated on the window sill, face to the early morning sun like a plant soaking in daylight as he played with mindlessly fluent fingers. Geralt leaned against the doorframe and enjoyed watching the dance of those fingers over the strings, plucking, always searching for the next note. He let himself bask in that moment, in the portrait of his bard in peaceful domesticity. Then, knowing the Ladies would not wait forever, rapped two knuckles against the doorframe, drawing Jaskier’s attention.

The bard let his song lull to a stop, his face lighting up at the sight of him returned unharmed. There was relief there, plain and naked as Jaskier was in most ways; unabashed and quick to feel, to express. He set his lute aside with the same sort of care that Geralt might give one of his swords and immediately his hands went into action, his whole body speaking to Geralt as easily as he once did with words.

Well, what happened, don’t keep me waiting? Were they in fact witches or something more nefarious? Well? Come on, Geralt, these stories don’t write themselves!

He smiled. There was a weight in his chest he hadn’t realized he had been carrying until now as it slowly lifted, so close to resolution as he was. He stepped forward without a word, amber eyes locked on his bard, his traveling companion, his friend, his partner. It drew Jaskier’s hand to a stuttering motion not unlike ‘um’ or ‘uh’ or ‘what’s going on?’.

“Months ago, I stole your voice from you,” Geralt finally said, standing in front of the bard, close enough to touch him – but not yet. A puzzled look spread across Jaskier’s face.

I don’t understand.

“I wished for peace not knowing I already had something better. Already had peace in my hands. I was just to blind to comfort, to kindness, to know that I had it.”

Jaskier gave him a baffled look that both said ‘well aren’t you chatty today?’ and ‘who are you and what did you do with my witcher?’

Geralt did not know this language, this new tongue he was trying to learn: intimacy, apology, love. He reached to cup Jaskier’s jaw and paused nearly there feeling foolish, blushing, because words and intimate touches had never been a language of his. It felt foreign. Like a crude imitation, rusty and weak for what he was trying to convey. But Jaskier just watched him patiently, brows drawn into a curious frown as he met him halfway and nestled his jaw into his calloused hand.

‘Geralt?’

He brushed a thumb over Jaskier’s smooth jaw, freshly shaven and smelling of sweet oil. Memorized the lines of Jaskier’s face, the soundless paragraphs of his expression, and tucked it away in his mind for later.

“I am sorry knowing me left you silent,” he finally said, croaked, hushed, admitted.

Jaskier’s brows drew tight, his mouth a strange line. He shook his head.

“I understand if you cannot forgive me,” Geralt looked away. “I should have apologized the morning you first could not speak, but it felt wrong to ask when you could not answer. But now… Do you trust me, Jaskier?”

There was still that expression – anger, grief, confusion, all deserved. He’d leave him after this, no doubt. Geralt had pushed too far, presumed too much. But he pressed on. He had to see this through. Then he’d let Jaskier return to his normal life. Let him make his choice. Set him free.

He thought he heard a womanly sigh.

Jaskier’s hand came up to cradle Geralt’s on his jaw. In his touch and in his face, Geralt heard him: Of course I trust you, you daft excuse for a witcher.

Do or die.

He leaned down. Watched as Jaskier’s eyes widened. Watched until he was too close to see anymore. Got closer until their lips brushed – his so chapped against the bard’s meticulously cared for lips, soft and pleasant. The bard felt like a canary in his hands, all fluttering energy; fragile with hollow bones, more melody than flesh. He pressed, then swiped a tongue across trembling lips to ask permission.

Jaskier let him in. He sealed their lips together. Let his hand move from the man’s jaw to cup the back of his neck, crush him close without actually crushing him. Then he felt it. It began in his throat, behind his Adam’s Apple, and slowly crawled up – warm, not unpleasant but certainly not normal. It rose. When it met his tongue it tasted of night and bestiaries; earthy and deep. His voice. It passed by his teeth, slipped through their lips, then felt Jaskier jump in his hands. He leapt as though stung, or perhaps shocked like walking with socked feet and touching a door knob – surprising, sharp and fleeting. Then settled in his hands.

Geralt pulled away to mumble three words against Jaskier’s slack mouth, his own stomach twisting when no words actually bloomed despite his tongue and mouth doing what needed to be done to make words. He was mute. It had worked. The price had been paid.

He should have said it before he lost the chance to, and yet, there was a pathetic sort of comfort in murmuring the words soundlessly against Jaskier’s lips instead – like hiding behind a mask, bold because he could do so secretly.

Jaskier pulled away, speaking on instinct out of shock, “Geralt, what’s wrong with you—” then he stilled, eyes owlish. His hands shot to his throat. Patted and fluttered and searched for something that might give away what was going on.

Geralt smiled. His throat vibrated as it would if he had chuckled, but no sound followed.

“My voice,” Jaskier croaked, pale from shock and relief and all manner of emotions he wore as plainly on his face as he did his clothes. “How?”

Geralt felt relief bloom in his own belly: that weight lifting fully now that he had made amends, had fixed his wrongs. Relief that Jaskier’s voice was his own and not Geralt’s because that was a level of weird even the witcher couldn’t handle. He tapped his own throat with his fingers and looked at Jaskier pointedly.

Color leeched from the bard’s skin.

“You gave me yours?”

Geralt nodded, then blinked – confused – when Jaskier suddenly sprung to his feet, all pent-up nervous energy, and slapped faintly at Geralt’s chest with a sharp, “Take it back!”

Geralt’s brows drew tight, his lips pursed, utterly baffled.

“You lummox! Don’t you give me that look! You can’t—I can’t—this is too much!”

Geralt shook his head.

‘I had to make it right’ he said, using his hands, with his face, with his body; a pale imitation of Jaskier’s fluency.

“It wasn’t yours to make right! The Djinn did it, not you!”

‘My wish—’

“Was an accident! You thought the Djinn was under my control anyhow, it hadn’t been intentional. I honestly don’t recall if you even wished for it or said ‘I just want some damn peace!’ – you had warned me it was dangerous! If I had just listened—”

Wait. Wait.

Geralt shook his head. How had this spun away from him so quickly?

‘This wasn’t your fault.’

“It was no more yours than mine or mine than yours!” Jaskier pointed out, as if that had been his intention all along. He threw his hands out to his sides, pacing quietly – quiet, he hadn’t expected that, as if it had become a habit. He watched as the bard fluttered nimble fingers against his lips, eyes darting to Geralt distractedly, and mumbled, “Lovely kiss, by the way,” and when Geralt smirked he continued haughtily, “Which we will further discuss later, you oaf!”

Geralt chuckled without chuckling.

“You are,” Jaskier said slowly, finally stopping his pacing, “Insufferable. Your hero complex will see you into the ground one day, I swear, and no one will even know now because you can’t talk.”

Geralt gave him an obvious, deadpanned look. This? This felt right. Natural. Things had always been this way. Jaskier just hadn’t realized that yet.

‘You have always been my words.’

Jaskier stilled. In the lines of his body Geralt saw the quiet sway of wind through a garden well cared for; buzzing with bees, home to all manner of flowers, beautiful and soothing to its guests. So alive, so open. Jaskier was a garden. Geralt had merely returned the birds that had lost their way.

He waited. Waited for the inevitable. He had taken Jaskier’s voice, then made parlay for it without his permission. Surely the bard would leave him. He no longer needed the witcher, after all, and in his silent days had seen more than enough journeys to sing about for the rest of his life. Geralt waited.

“You bloody imbecile,” Jaskier breathed, his face going slack with subdued outrage and realization. “You daft man, you uncommunicative bastard!”

Geralt looked away. He didn’t need his voice. It was better suited in the bard. He didn’t need Jaskier. He had been on the road alone for years before him, and he could do it again.

But there was something in his chest – heavy, prickly and unfamiliar. Want.

He swallowed. He didn’t approach him, but also did not shy away when Jaskier stomped forward and reached for his face. He waited for the slap, for the slam of a door.

Jaskier guided his gaze back down to him.

“Don’t belittle my affections by presuming I stayed because you were convenient. I do not need my voice to live a comfortable or enjoyable life. I need you.”

He felt like shattered glass in a repair man’s palms, all his broken edges grinding together in wrong ways.

“What’s done is done,” Jaskier finally said, his hand reaching back to cup the back of Geralt’s neck as he had done to him not long ago. “And… you’re right. We’ve never needed words to speak and they have never been a tool you enjoyed using. I shall be your words. I’ve been with you long enough to know how to explain your creatures to townsfolk and gods above know I am a better haggler than you – you let that bastard swindle you into this contract for 250 crowns, for gods sake, Geralt! I was dying – ahh,” he shook his head, refocusing, “Nevermind. Point is, we’ve always made it work. We’ll make this work too. But for the record, I wasn’t broken, Geralt. Not with you.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to the witcher’s mouth, smiling and soft at the sight of Geralt’s baffled look, his inability to collect himself to react in the face of such an unexpected confession. Jaskier was the one to whisper into his lips this time between kisses, “Not that I don’t appreciate your sacrifice. The songs I’ll sing about the gift you’ve given me, Geralt – gods above, I’ve missed singing.”

‘I’ve missed it too,’ Geralt thought, perhaps said with his touch and the way he leaned into every peck Jaskier gave him, every breath against his lips.

“Fucking knew it,” Jaskier said, grinning against his mouth, “Filling-less pie, you emotionally constipated dog. And don’t think for one moment I didn’t hear you. We’ve been talking without talking for too long for me to have missed it, you know.”

Geralt felt heat rush to his cheeks and crawl up his neck, making a home in the tips of his ears. He turned away to hide it as Jaskier pulled back, but it was too late. The bard chuckled fondly and when Geralt finally chanced looking back at him, he grumbled embarrassedly – silently.

“It’s not the first time you’ve said you love me, Geralt,” Jaskier said, smiling with all his teeth, skin aglow like dawn breaking the night. “You’ve been saying it for ages.”

Jaskier drew his face back to him when Geralt tried once more to look away, bristly and unsure of himself and self-conscious that all this time he hadn’t been half as secretive – or aware himself – as he thought.

Jaskier took his time looking him over. Memorizing his face, Geralt realized, as he had memorized the bard’s when he found him on the windowsill. He felt exposed as he had at the Mothers’ feet. Known.

He leaned into Jaskier’s hand. Enjoyed the brush of a thumb over a sore scar on his cheekbone.

“I don’t need words,” Jaskier said gently, “But I am grateful to have them. Thank you, Geralt. I’ll use your voice wisely.”

The witcher leaned in, loose like a puppet with his strings cut now that it was finally done, and pressed his forehead to the bard’s. Power thrummed between them, the magic of being known and kept.

Silently, love spoke for them

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #gaskier #prompt #wtf do I even tag this #i don't think I've ever written so much back to back fluff as I have for this fandom #who am I?#witcher writing

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jiminrings · 5 years ago

Note

hi!! can i request a drabble of new personaltrainer!jungkook training a pretty awkward (and kinda chubby/thicc..?) y/n and its super fluffy and aaaa,, i love your writing aaaa 🥺

cloud nine

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: y/n finally gives into jimin the gymbro’s thoughtful push, and jungkook is sO close to barking back to his chihuahua the moment he gets home :D // gif isn’t mine but look at it it’s so cRISPY!!!

notes: thank you sO much babie!! here you go :D

okay that’s iT!!

you totally need something new in your life

you need a change of pace or whatever that’s called

all the days you’ve been having are all blurring into the same one and it just makes you feel so stagnant

the only difference you could point out are the sleep shirts you wear and that’s ONLY if you don’t try to repeat wearing them

you now have a list of people you’re in awe of

people who genuinely and unironically consider friends the tv show as a cinematic masterpiece because nOAH FENCE how do they manage to get entertained by laugh tracks and the same skit over and over again

ok maybe your slander towards it increased because hoseok (the guy you have a sorta crush on) likes it and he leaves you on read and sometimes doesn’t even open your message and thEN you’d see his instagram stories and they’re all just???? friends???? what was the reason

and second, jimin!

jimin’s your best friend and that just makes you awed even more because you don’t even know how the two of you got close

jk it was when your friends forced you to come with them at this inflatable water park and you were sCARED and so he held your lifevest and was like

“hEY do you wanna take this in the same pace that i’m doing it?? tbh i just wanna get back to my mimosas but my friends paid too expensively for this”

<3 he has been the guardian of your heart since <3

jimin’s just so well-paced and organized and knows how to have his fun that his daily life doesn’t seem like a mindless routine

you are actively YEARNING for that kind of lifestyle

and right now it just seems like the stars are aligning for you and are practically made for your existence alone!!

jimin’s a gymbro

he is the living breathing talking definition of gymbro and gymrat and gymgod or whatever it is

.....

.......

.... gymin if u will ....

okAy then

but he wasn’t the aggressive type of gymbro, not at all!

he’s a total natural!!

like he’s ripped but not excessively and exaggeratedly ripped

he doesn’t flex but the muscle definition and the physique are just wHew exquisite!!

he doesn’t talk in protein powder lingo but you aren’t surprised to see a giant jug of it inside his cupboard!!! after all he’s proud to say that it’s practically all-skill!!!

and to top it off.,.,

okay so jimin takes off his shirt right

the two of you are neighbors and you often come into each other’s places and it feels like home too

and you aren’t complaining!! you know that he runs a little hot that normal and you wouldn’t want him overheating

but he has this large tattoo on his rib that reads nevermind and it’s so cOOL and it just makes the gears in your head go creak creak because aha your best friend is the blueprint huh

you’re not surprised!! you really aren’t!!

after all, why would you be surprised out of all the things above when you already know that he owns a goddamn GYM??

the only regret that you have is not meeting him sooner :((

yeah sure pjm athletics does have a nice ring to it bUT WHAT ABOUT PARK’S GYMIN

you’ve always been.,., a lil curious ok

i mean your goddamn friend is the ownEr of a really well-known and well-praised gym!! how could you not??

you don’t wanna mooch off from him though no matter how much he offers you free classes and stuff

he always brings you home extra merch and energy drinks that you’re sure you can now have a tap for gatorade

he’s not dENSE!! he sees how you look at him whenever he does push-ups on your floor or when he does planks like no big deal

there’s this thought at the back of your head that y’know..,., what if THIS was the thing that’s gonna be your change of pace

lmao you’re looking for hardship basically

jimin’s finally had it when you sigh for the eleventh time while he’s doing pull-ups

you want to spend your own money and he knows you won’t accept any of his offers!!

that’s it he needs to be smart about this!!!

“woah jimin holy sHIT you’re having a 50% off your membership??? and it comes with a trainer too??? are you serious right now???”

:)))

he can now sleep in peace knowing his editing job for this flyer has paid off and he’s passed the “y/n’s not believing me” stage :))

if it wasn’t established enough there really isn’t a sale lol

here you are then,.,.

wearing workout leggings that jimin deemed to be reAlly great and it made quite a hefty dent in your wallet but you trust his judgement so ok

you’re not in the mood to wear anything besides jimin’s black dri-fit shirt because you really don’t wanna attract attention as the newbie

this is good!! you now have a gym membership AND a personal trainer!!

you dON’T exactly need them but you feel you just do y’know!! there’s no harm in trying :D

you didn’t want jimin to be your personal trainer and he basically sULKED for a whole week

it’s not a him problem!! it’s a you problem!!!

you know that it’s a given that the trainers shOuld be excellently to a degree to actually train someone else

but it’s now dawning in you that HE’S the owner and he’s so intimidatingly good!!! you would look like a raw egg that’s just dumped haphazardly into a pot and he’s the perfectly-boiled egg :((

oh my god

jungkook feels like he’s gonna throw up with how nervous he is

it’s his first day as a personal trainer!! :D

he’s half-excited and half-terrified because holy shit fIRST of all this gym was hard to apply to in the first place

everyone’s flocking it because:

a) it’s really great

b) even greater benefits for the employees

c) the pay is hUGE

d) the equipment?? the morals?? the testimonials?? the owner?? the whole thing??? FANTASTIC

and second omg jungkook won’t admit it to anyone but uHm he’s kinda scared ok

he’s not the type of person that’s comfortable with ordering people around??? even if that’s technically his job???

like what if his first-ever client is a guy like jason momoa and that guy’s a fucking UNIT for sure

imagine hIM telling jASON MOMOA to give him three sets x twenty reps of push-ups

g-gulp

“or i can do it for you, i-if you want?”

he’s bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet and swinging his arms around forward and backward to make them clap quietly

“there, you’re all set!! i already filled up all the forms for you the moment i gave you the flyer!!”

“but-“

“your trainer’s... not me. but he’s uh, what’s his name again, jungkook!! what does he look like again — oh right!! i remember!!”

“jimin-“

“he should be the guy with the big doe eyes!! has a lot of dangly earrings!! if he’s not wearing a sweater then he should be the one who has some tattoos!!”

“no jimin-“

“off you go!! i’ll be bouncing around but i’ll keep an eye on you, don’t worry!! okay now go and i’ll let you have a sip of my gatorade even if we have the same drink :D”

.....

whew

there goes nothing then

you’re about to keep your duffel bag close as a reason to stall to getting to the locker room but jimin’s already one step ahead and snatched it from you

you didn’t even get your towel :((

it had a little blue cloud embroidered at the middle of it and it’s your Emotional Support Towel by default

you’re kinda nervous since there’s some pairs of eyes on you because after all they just saw you have the most carefree conversation with the owner they’re a lil scared to talk to

you’re wringing your hands together as you try to spot this jungkook with jimin’s descriptions and-

O H

jungkook looks so ????

wow?????

he’s gorgeous like that is nOt up for debate

he looks so fresh?? effortless?? handsome???

jungkook looks like he smells like baby powder and freshly-washed sheets

the baby powder that you’re tempted to snORt because it smells so good which was the one you’d put on your chest bc boob sweat and to prevent ur thighs chafing

he had to do a double-take on you because the first time he glanced at this walking person he immediately shut down

like when something looks sO pretty that you have to look away for a second because you literally can’t take it

oR like when you have this favorite scene of a movie and you have to physically pause it before rewinding and doing that for another six times

“are you perhaps jungkook?? because i’m not surE and-...”

“jungkook i am. i-i aM jeon jungkook!! yes, right, jungkook!!!!!”

holy fuck he’s stopped working

your mouth’s a little parted because you didn’t expect him to go on that lil spiel cLEARLY but omg he’s adorable!!!

if he could punch himself he really would

it’s taking him a second to regroup but you take the initiative to introduce yourself :D

“i’m y/n! you’re my trainer from what they told me :))”

you’re a lil more awkward when it comes to social interactions like these but it looks like you’re acing it when put in front of jungkook

the both of you shake hands and then immediately put it behind your back because wow u just shook the pretty boy’s hand AND it’s not even 8 in the morning yet!!

you haven’t even started the workout portion yet but ur already on fire

( jimin’s looking at the security footage and even HE’S blushing from the secondhand embarrassment jungkook’s brough oh my god )

(( jimin suddenly wishes he could unlearn reading people’s lips ))

“so, what brought you here?”

it’s jungkook who asks but he alsO wants to answer himself to say it’s fate aha :D

he’s getting you to stretches and he’s doing them with you!!

“to be honest?? well there was like a fIFTY percent discount but you already know all of that”

wait

what now

“a sale? what-...”

there’s an abrupt noise that goes through the whole gym and it makes the both of you flinch and you even yelP

if you see jimin lifting a 100lbs barbell only to throw it down and cut off jungkook from speaking THEN MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS

“you okay?”

jungkook asks you quietly and taps your shoulder and you’re about to faint right then and there of how you met like then minutes ago and he’s cONCERNED

the focus on today was flexibility plus easing you into working out!!!

stretches are the next best thing to working out and it’s a win-win combo bc you’re flexible aND you’re basically exerting effort = kind of a workout apparently

the bit of reaching your toes then doing a downward dog and the upward-facing dog right after to hear that satisfying grunt of your joints is a LITTLE awkward because jungkook’s looking at you

jungkook wants to look away but in the same time he can’t will himself to

one because he’s a young wide-eyed attracted man and twO he’s the trainer omg he needs to look at you!!!

“o-okay! just a set of jack jum — jUMPING JACKS!!! jumping jacks and we could start :)))”

no one told you.,.,.

no one told you where you should look when you’re doing jumping jacks

you can’t look downwards because that’ll throw you off and you can’t look up either because why?? what??? WHO are you seeking up there????

looking straight ahead is kinda awkward

the safe answer was everywhere at once according to you

you sneak a look at jungkook and you almost choke in your own spit with how handsome he still looks

you’re not gonna cope up with that fact probably ever

jungkook’s feeling a lil sweaty now because uHm he shouldn’t really be doing this with you technically

it’s usually a trainer doing it with you for like the first five reps and then letting you do it alone for the rest

but nO he’s doing this with you he doesn’t mind :D

he could feel a bead of sweat by his sideburns and he’s screaming internally to gO the fuck back where it came from

he wants to tear off his hoodie but he doesn’t know if he should since he doesn’t have a shirt underneath!!!

being shirtless to the gym isn’t new but you’re with him and nOW he feels nervous

honestly jungkook would rather overheat than to make you feel uncomfortable

news flash: you want to curl up into a ball and cry about thinking how you’d be sore the next day

you r about to give out and tear up a little bit because fuck this is nOT an introductory workout

you also don’t want to look like a wimp in front of jungkook because that is not a good look for your pride and you’d feel embarrassed for eternity

just two more to go!!

honestly fUCK fire hydrants!!! 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚𝕊?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖???? 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠 𝕒𝕊𝕊!!!

you raise your head because you’re getting dizzy looking down

jungkook’s looking at you and he sees you looking at him and it dOESN’T help the way you look right now

with you sweaty and grumbling under your breath and ur baby hair all over the place and ur eyes unfocused and fix at the same time a-and ur lips parted and-

JESUS LINE UP AT THE DMV RIGHT NOW TAKE THE WHEEL

jungkook’s so nervous and flustered that his limp actually trembles with how hot his cheeks are and he’s rambling out of nowhere

“fire hydrants amirite??? most certainly inspired by dogs and stuff because cooky, my chihuahua, does exactly that when he pees and-...”

THERE’S THAT LOUD BARBELL CLANGING AGAIN

oh my god he should not have said that

jungkook’s beyond mortified wHY DID HE SAY THAT

you look speechless and you aRE

you’re just nodding at him with a tight-lipped smile and if he knows better that’s because you’re so spent and a little light-headed and less off from his nervous rambling

planks,,, just planks,,, the final bit of it all

you don’t wanna get dizzy at the last stretch so you’re trying your best to not pay attention to the blood rushing to ur head

jungkook’s so distracted with his thoughts that he wordlessly adjusts you

lifts up your core while adjusting your feet closer before pressing his hand to your back and-

aHA FUCK

you now feel like you can run a marathon right after that

jungkook now feels like he can compete in a twenty-hour triathlon

he’s praising you to no end that you did sOOOO good!!! you really did!!!!

meanwhile your face is hot not only from that but also because you’ve endured hardship that felt like hours <3

you’re breathlessly laughing because wHEW you really did do that and wow you’re proud of yourself!!!! it’s not even 10 in the morning!!!

there’s a towel that’s gently patting your face section by section

“you uhm, you didn’t have a towel with you so-“

jungkook pats at your neck to your nape and that’s when it hits that o-OH right i’ll leave you to that

you take the towel with a grin you’re fighting so hard and that’s when you realize that it’s not just a random gym one

but rather it was jungkook’s himself because it’s the same clean one he had in his hands awhile ago!!

you can smell him on it and you make sure to pat your face extra dry because you wouldn’t want to get your face sweaty now would you :D his perfume’s just a bonus, right :D

shouldn’t trainers be the cold and straight to the point ones and immediately leave right after you’re all done????

..... inch resting

“oh my gOD — mr. jimin sir-nim min jimin-nIM!!”

jungkook has the fright of his life when his boss appears from nowhere by his side

jimin laughs at how frazzled this guy is lmao but anyways he came here for you (as if he hasn’t been supervising from afar the whole time)

“want me to give you a ride home or?”

kook’s a little lost and he might just cry as he starts to think that oh wait a second are you guys-

“he’s my best friend.”

you whisper under your breath towards him and he unknowingly sighs in relief

“well did you get here using your jeep or your vespa???”

jimin has this jeep he passionately calls chimmy the jeep and he has a knack for naming things with a ring on it ok

and the other was a cream-colored vespa he bought like six months ago

he learned how to ride the bike a year ago and he was immediately let’s get this to the next level idc i’m getting a vESPA!!!

you have an iRRATIONAL fear of vespas

you’re okay with big bikes and regular motorcycles!!! in fact you find them less threatening than jimin’s motorcycle

the little wheels scare you and it’s just so??? it looks so bite-sized wHY does it look like that???? it looks like you could breathe an extra breath to your right and the vespa would steer to the right

ugh you hate his motorcycle sO bad

“well don’t you hAte public transport when you’re tired and all that???”

yikes you did

it’s true!! you’d call him to pick you up because the bus ride hits harder when you’ve had a long day and u feel every bump in the road possible

“i have a big bike!”

jungkook chimes in and he even raises his hand and that’s when he shuts up when he realizes his mistake

“no one asked mhmm i’m sorry jimin-nim sir hYung-nim”

your eyes widen as it sinks in you that oh my god he mIGHT be as into you as you are with him and that’s so ???? that’s such a heartwarming concept you can’t believe

jungkook has the same big brain moment and he takes your widened eyes as a signal to keep talking

“i have TWO helmets! but uhm one of them is for kooky and he’s a chihuahua, wait i already said that, so that means it’s just a tINY helmet i ordered from amazon but it’s okAy i can wear it!!! b-but i’m not forcing you or anything that i should take you home o-or no offense to mr. jimin-nim sir i am NOT underestimating you or-“

surprisingly, jimin doesn’t hate the idea of you and jungkook

ah he should probably adopt a dog and name them jupiter or sth,,, you and koo look like you’re gonna end up anyways

“okay. just bring her home in one piece.”

he’s oddly calm and that also makes YOU confused

jungkook isn’t confused however because the moment you turn, jimin mouths to him in korean and the rough translation was hurt her and i’ll kill you :D

you nodded your head and that meant he’s iNDEED taking you bome

he starts throwing things in his duffel bag (and he should still be in the gym but jimin jus gave him a free pass) and he’s wordlessly carrying yours too!!

he could feel your fist holding the back of his hoodie and jungkook just feels at peace :’’’)

wearing a ridiculous miniature helmet for dogs on top of his head that won’t do shit is tOTALLY worth it

#feedback pls and thank you :D #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook au #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff imagine #jungkook fic recs #trainer!jungkook #bts masterlist #requested drabbles

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theheartsmistakes · 5 years ago

Text

The Last Night Part V

Author’s Notes: Hey all you cool cats and kittens (she did it), here is Part V of my Jordelia (and friends) fanfiction based off of the lovely characters from Cassandra Clare’s novel Chain of Gold. The song sung in the dream sequence is a Persian Children’s song called You Are The Sky's Great Moon. I’m not sure of the author, unfortunately, but it was not me. I just thought it fit so perfectly for how Cordelia feels about her friends and how they feel about her. I am terribly sorry about the wait on this one, but it’s quite possibly my favorite piece yet. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, if this did tickle your fancy, please hit the <3, reblog, or pop in with a comment. Comments grow my heart and fill me with motivation. Stay safe. Stay healthy. Stay sane. We’re almost out of the woods.

P.S- This one might require some reading of the previous parts. So, here they are in order if you want to catch up:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

.Part V.

Cordelia stood in the center of the ballroom of the London institute. It was larger than she remembered it: empty now of the elaborately dressed guests, the waiting staff, the noise of the quartet, and tables of food. The curtains were all drawn away from the arched cathedral windows illuminated the space in the warm light of the auspicious London sun burning away the last hours it had in the sky. The distant London skyline was bathed in blue with not a cloud to be seen for miles. No smoke billowed into the sky from factories or chimneys; no boats crowded the harbors as if she were looking at a picture of London. It felt so warm to be in the light, she wanted nothing more than to bath it in and never leave.

A light pressure wrapped around her elbow. She turned around to and found herself facing her mother, with her dark hair loose in curls to her waist, standing in front of her.

“Mâmân?” Relief filled her as she wrapped her arms around Sona’s waist and buried her face in her shoulder.

“Layla.” Her mother’s hand slid down the back of Cordelia’s head, fingers sliding through the tendrils. “Do you remember that song we used to sing together when you were a child?"

Sona grabbed Cordelia’s hand; the other pressed against her shoulder blade and suddenly they were dancing across the room. An odd thing, to be dancing with one’s mother, but Cordelia didn’t mind. A smile spread across her face as she matched her mother’s footwork as they spun around the room.

“It’s been such a long time since we sang it,” said Sona. “I cannot seem to remember how it begins.”

Sona released Cordelia in a spin, the delicate soutache embroidered golden mesh of her dress billowed out around her ankles, and when she turned back around Lucie was standing in her mother’s place. Her tawny hair was twisted back in an intricate braid and her eyes, the same intense blue as the Tenerife sea, glistened as she grabbed Cordelia’s hand. Cordelia had never realized how lacking in height Lucie was— but then Lucie had never invited her to dance.

“If you are the sky’s great moon.” Lucie’s clear voice filled the empty ballroom as she began reciting the childhood lullaby as they floated in a semi-circle around the room. “I’ll become a star and go around you.”

Lucie paused and stepped away from Cordelia, their hands outstretched, but still clasped together like when they were children swinging around in a circle until they both collapsed from dizziness.

Lucie let go and looked over Cordelia’s shoulder. She turned around just as Matthew strolled across the room in a pinstripe suit and picked her up under the arms and lifted her off of the floor. “If you become a star and go around me, I’ll become a cloud and cover your face.”

Just as he set her back on her feet, a hand clasped her own and spun her around. “Thomas?”

He turned and shuffled down the room with her beside him. “If you become a cloud and cover my face.”

“I’ll become the rain and will rain down.” She turned to her right to find Christopher.

They raised her arms and both bent at the waist in a bow before disappearing like the rest. Anna came from behind her and walked in a small perimeter around her. Cordelia’s eyes trailed her every step. “If you become the rain and rain down.”

Alastair walked in the opposite direction of Anna. “I’ll become grass and spring.” The crossed each other and disappeared to opposite sides of the room, leaving Cordelia in the center, right underneath the three tiered crystal chandelier.

A hand slide around her waist. She felt the feather light tickle of fingers sliding down the bare skin of her arm until fingers slide into the spaces between her own. A body pressed firmly against hers from behind. The hand tightened around her middle and she felt someone’s breath on the exposed skin of her neck. “Daisy, my Daisy.”

There was only one boy who called her that.

She spun around to face him. She was so close to him she could see the faint random freckles across his nose and cheekbones. His hair was disorderly, as it always was: a piece fell across his brows, and his warm gold eyes moved across her face as if she were a painting, studying each individual line and stroke and shape that made up the whole picture.

“James.”

A sharp pain lanced through her ribcage, stealing her breath, as she fell limp against him. It was only then that she noticed a great shadow had stretched across the ballroom stealing away the warmth and the light.

James head bent until his forehead pressed against her own. “When you become grass and spring, I’ll become a flower and sit next to you.”

The shadow inched closer to them until they were a pinpoint in the center of the room. Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt until her knuckles became white as she drew herself up so their noses were aligned. They recited the last line together. “When you become a flower and sit next to me, I’ll become a nightingale and sing for you.”

A feeling like the floor dropping out from her feet pulled Cordelia away as she was ripped from James once more.

***

It was dark, that much Cordelia could tell, and it was cold. So cold the tips of her fingers ached. She was flat on her stomach, laying on something hard- stone possibly— that chilled her to her core. A dull, but intensifying pain, ached on the right side of her ribcage with every breath that she took. It was also the only part of her that felt enflamed with heat. Her lungs felt too full, the air scratched against the back of her throat as though she’d inhaled a mouth full of soot. She tried to cough, but nearly cried out from the pain in her ribcage.

Moving didn’t seem like a viable option, but neither did lying still. She tried to walk carefully through her memories to figure out where she might be. The last thing she remembered was James. He held her so tight; he was so warm and then everything was so cold again. She had said goodbye to James. Then Alastair— she’d been in a carriage with Alastair. The memory of him lying, bleeding in the street made her cringe. She had to find him—to get her stele and get to him.

Her arms shook as she pushed herself to her feet; her teeth clenched so tightly they might crack from the pressure. The pain was agonizing, spotting her vision with white dots; it was only then that she noticed the ground beneath her hands turned to fine powder and disappeared in a gust of wind.

She had been here before, that much she was sure of. The smell of acidic rot and decaying flesh was difficult to forget. Everything around her was orange and hazy like being surrounded by a blazing fire, but without the heat.

“Welcome back,” said a clear, deep voice that rang through her like the bass of thunder.

Cordelia stilled, bent awkwardly on her hands and knees. She looked up in the direction the voice had come from.

He was dressed much the same as the last time she’d seen him, in an all white tailored suit complete with black buttons that glistened like eyes- perhaps they were eyes. His pale gray hair swept across his face; in much the same way as James’, but she would not allow herself to think about that.

“Didn’t I stab you?” asked Cordelia.

Belial moved towards her, the tails of his coat flapping in the desert-like wind. “I faintly remember something about that, yes.”

“If at once one doesn’t succeed, one must try again.” Cordelia reached for Cortana with the arm on her uninjured side, but found that her hand closed around empty air where the hilt should be.

Belial smiled mockingly.

“Where is Cortana?”

“Where it fell,” said Belial. “You see I don’t often make mistakes, but on the rare occasion that I do, I am sure not to make the same one again.”

Cordelia’s head dropped and she looked at her hands. The knuckles on her right hand were bleeding; the pinky on her left hand was angry, swollen, and bend out of place at the joint. Dried blood encased her arms from her elbows to her wrists. There was pain everywhere, enough to swallow anyone whole, but still she tucked her legs underneath herself and sat up with her hands resting on her thighs, as if she were presenting him with an offering.

The last time she’d been in the shadow realm, she had been with James. They had held each other, defended one another, and barely managed to escape with their lives. Self-preservation hadn’t been a thought in her mind, as if James and herself were one entity, there was none without the other. Now, alone, self-preservation rang through her blood- Shadowhunter blood- every sense awakened and alert; desperate for a fight or an escape.

“What is it that you want from me?” asked Cordelia, the words shook on her lips.

Belial chucked, it echoed around them. “Nothing from you.”

“James.” Cordelia caught her breath and gripped her ribcage. When she looked down at her hand again it was covered in blood. There was a hole in her dress, just underneath her breast, the whole front of her was covered in a dark stain. “He won’t come. He thinks I’m in Idris with my—Alastair. What have you done with Alastair?”

“Consider him a calling card,” he said. “He was wounded quite gravely, but left with enough breath to relay a message as soon as your friends find him. It’s been extremely difficult to capture the attention of either of my grandchildren especially while I… healed, but after some careful observations, I believe I have exactly what will capture their attention.”

Cordelia’s hands clenched around the fabric of her dress, still damp from the rain. “He won’t come.”

“You don’t think so?” Belial raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’re right, but no matter, he is not the one that I require.”

Cordelia looked up again. Belial’s face hadn’t changed. It remained expressionless with the stoic passivity of a graveyard statue. “Who— who else would you—“ The thought dawned on her like a punch to the stomach. “Lucie.”

“Very good. I was afraid you were only bronze and no brain,” said Belial. He waved a hand in the air, and for a moment, Cordelia caught the faint outline of an automobile speeding down a London street. The two passengers in the front seemed to be squabbling with one another, a much larger figure sat in-between them with his neck bent awkwardly so his head wouldn’t burst through the top of the cab. Three more figures sat side-by-side in the back, one of them was Lucie. The picture focused on her face, gazing out the window, her body present but her mind lost in thought. “My granddaughter. It’s true, I overlooked her at first, believing James to be the true vessel because of his connection with the shadow realm, but that is until it came to my attention that my granddaughter holds the power to summon the dead. While I did prefer a male form, James is merely an adolescent traveler, jumping from realm to realm as if on holiday.”

The burning intensified in Cordelia’s chest. She could feel sweat drip down her spine despite the chill.

“Lucie?” Cordelia nearly laughed. Sweet, unassuming Lucie— with ink stains on her fingers and her mind constantly in the pages of her stories— with the ability to summon the dead. “You must be mistaken. If Lucie had the ability to summon the dead, I’m sure that I would know about it. I am her— best friend.”

“Didn’t you just abandon her to go home to Idris?” His lips curled.

Cordelia shook her head. “No, I—“ She caught her breath and nearly bent over from the pain. “No, I wanted to spare her the humiliation of being seen with me after I—“ She raised herself up again. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“No, I’d much prefer it if you didn’t actually,” said Belial, examining his shoes as if they held more interest to him than the entirety of the conversation.

“If what you’re saying is true,” said Cordelia, a shudder went through her whole body as the pieces started to come together in her mind. Her mouth became impossibly dry. “Then Lucie would—“

“Be able to summon an army of the undead,” said Belial, as if it were a completely normal thing to do like walking. “A truly wonderful thing about dead people is that you can’t kill them… again. They’ll be unstoppable in destroying your realm: killing, pillaging, destroying, so that I can come and claim it as my own.”

Cordelia let out a deep breath. “Just once I would like for a villain to come up with a less egregious plan than world domination. However, considering who you are— thief of realms and all— this is rather right on character.”

Belial spread his arms out to his sides and bowed at the waist.

“Lucie won’t do it,” said Cordelia, oddly calm. It was one thing she was absolutely sure of.

“Do you not think so?” Belial squatted down in front of her, still feet away as though she were a wild animal that might attack him at any moment. He was smart— she would. “I didn’t think so either. Not willingly, not unless I had something of great importance to her.” His eyes narrowed. “I tried to capture James but he had more wards around him due to my last attempt. I thought my dear daughter, Tessa, but Tessa seems like the explosive type. Unreasonable, like she might throw herself onto a blade before being used. Then there was her father, William, well I’ll just admit I feared I’d be decapitated before Lucie had a chance to join us.” He cleared his throat. “Her other friends, while they hold great importance to her and would have done the trick, there was the little dilemma of you and that blade. It seemed you were the most logical choice.

“You did make it quite difficult for me,” said Belial. “Always following James around like a loyal dog. I had to think of some way to separate the two of you. That’s where the Blackthorn girl came into play.”

“Grace,” said Cordelia. “Are you controlling, Grace?”

“Not directly,” purred Belial, “but I am not without my connections. You see, I promised the Blackthorn’s to raise their beloved Jesse if they served me. After that, they were like clay in my hands.

“When I found out the Blackthorn girl already had James under a binding spell, it all became rather easy.” Belial laughed. “He went to her like a drunk goes to ale.”

Cordelia swayed slightly and fell to her hip, her arm outstretched to catch her. Tears burned her eyes with rage. How could she know nothing of Lucie’s power; nothing of Grace’s spell on James. It seemed perhaps Belial was right about one thing. Perhaps she didn’t know her dear friends at all.

Belial’s eyes danced and flickered over her, taking in her expression, her resolve, her bleeding waist.

“Don’t die yet Miss Carstairs.” Belial turned his back to her and crossed his arms. His eyes took to the darkened sky as if waiting for something to fall from it. “There is still a need for you.”

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jojoreadwhat · 6 years ago

Text

I should've asked you to stay, begged you to stay | b.h. x fem!reader

a/n; meant to have this out last night before the ball drop but ya know. Anywho, HAPPY NEW YEAR!! love you all so much and I wish nothing but the greatest for all in 2020. I hope you enjoy this piece. x

prompt; the ghost of New Year’s Eve past makes a unexpected visit, let’s call it a New Years resolution that should’ve been stuck to.

mentions; joe mazzello, rami malek and lucy boynton.

words; 2.6k

this tale includes angst, flashbacks, sexual tension which will lead to unprotected bathroom sex, blow/hand job, fingering and Voyeurism (mirror sex)

inspiration;

The moment you heard the guys of your group, cheer on Ben’s arrival to the party. You thought you were dreaming.

You knew it couldn’t have been who you thought it was, there was absolutely no way. The last time you glanced at any headlines on the internet or Joe would sly and bring it up in conversations. He was supposedly away on press duties.

“Benny Benny Ben-nayyy!” Joe sang, rising from his spot across from you.

“Ay, there mate!” Ben replied.

His familiar voice, drenched with rasp, laced in a thick English accent, froze every particle of you. Silencing everything in your mind before hearing the light smacks ricochet from their hearty hug.

Ben and you had quite the history. The two of you met both being friends with Joe and him introducing you while filling in as a date for Joe. It was like love at first sight, an immediate connection the moment you two learned each other’s name. You were on for nearly a year, even ringing in the last one together. But things got complicated when Ben brought up an upcoming project and the length time apart with it. At first it was a mutual understanding... until tabloids stated otherwise.

Your eyes followed in the direction where the rowdy boys stood.

Ben’s green eyes were already fixated on you when they met your own. “Hey Y/N.” He greeted first, returning with a weak smile as you closed your blazer, tighter to your chest.

It pained you that not only his presence was nauseating, but that he still looked amazing as always. The way his grey button down clung to his broad chest and biceps, tucked swiftly into his brown trousers.

His blonde little locks wavy at the top of his head, green eyes still one of the things you noticed at first glance. So potent and inviting. Lips rosy and perfectly plump, with a jawline that could cut through smoke. Everything about him where he stood, made your stomach turn into knots, ready to burst in mixed feelings.

Pulling you away from your thoughts, Lucy, who had been sitting next to you, locked arms with yours. “Let’s go refresh our drinks, love.” Helping you to your feet before you squeezed your way through the crowd.

“Did you know?!” She asked as you at the bar, waiting to flag down an available.

You shook your head, “If I knew I wouldn’t have shown up.”

It was true, to be honest, you were regretting ever leaving your couch when you stepped foot into this place. This wasn’t your scene, you were no party girl and this was just only making matters worse.

Lucy smiled, toothlessly with sympathy. Grabbing your hand in hers. “Well, I’m glad your here and I’m not going to let that blonde bloke ruin that for you!” Squeezing your hand lightly.

You smiled at her optimism, pulling her into a quick hug. Not knowing where to begin with how much appreciation you had for her, “thank you, doll!” You muttered, pulling away with a light grasp of her arms, holding her close.

“Just remind me to kick Joe’s ass at brunch tomorrow.” Leaving Lucy in stitches, “No worries!” She rested assured

“Now, let’s get drunk!” She announced, then. Flagging the bartender taking forever, “We’re gonna have a blast!”

To your benefit, the night wasn’t a complete drag after all. Your mind fled from any rut it was in hours ago. Getting lost in fresh rounds and conversation. Finding yourself occasionally up and dancing with Lucy every few songs. Laughing so much that your cheeks hurt and getting anxious at every hour growing closer to midnight, not wanting the night to end.

Even though Joe was going to hear a piece of your mind tomorrow about the guest list. You couldn’t help but give him credit with how much he outdid himself, throwing this New Year’s Eve extravaganza.

The place was dazzled in neon colors cascading throughout. Party streamers hanging from every inch of the ceiling. Noises from the celebration favors on each table or lounge from chairs. Games were being played, the DJ was turning up all good jams from college days. While the place reeked of smoke and mixed alcohol accompanying the unbelievably, packed beyond capacity amounts of bodies. Just walls and corners aligned with strangers, ready to ring in the new decade of 2020.

Taking the last sip of your drink, you announced to Lucy and Rami in conversation that you were heading for a refresher.

Bouncing to your feet and heading for the bar. Squeezing past bodies again.

“Gin and tonic.” You requested once you got the bartender’s attention. “make that two.” Ben added behind you before filling in the space next to you.

He looked at you, first. You smiled softly, grasping the opening of your black blazer that went along with your black sparkly body con. Waiting as patiently on the drinks as you could in the unbearable silence between you two.

It was taking everything in you to not want to make a scene with all the unanswered questions you had bottled up. To turn and lash out at him, blame him for everything he put you through with the headlines and news haunting the past year. But Lucy’s words stuck to you like glue, you were going to get drunk and have a great night. End of story.

“You look good.” He broke, glancing down at his hands, not sure what to expect as he took a chance. “Thanks.” You replied.

Staring down as you rocked on your feet in wait. Falling into a silence again. From the corner of your eye, Ben straightened out his posture as he took out a deep breath.

“Look I’m S-“ his words were cut off mid sentence the second you raised your hand to stop him. You turned, looking at him now, not even knowing what to say but you knew you didn’t want to hear anything right now.

Thankfully, one of your drinks had gotten done in the nick of time. Clasping it between your fingers as you placed a crisp tip onto the bar.

Ben lips were agape momentarily before they closed, “let’s just enjoy the night, alright?” beginning to turn on your heel when he grabbed a hold of your wrist, bringing your attention back to him.

“I want to enjoy the night with you.” he said, “I’m sorry for what I did. I should’ve had more faith in us, but I was scared; of us, of what it was going to do with us. I didn’t want to put you through that.”

You were taken back by what he was blurting out, each word. You only heard them in the webs of your dreams when all you could think about was him, having him back in your arms again. A sudden reminder took you away from those fairytale thoughts, knowing damn well that they were the words you wanted to hear but none of them were true.

“So, putting me through hearing about you date co-stars, having lavish vacations with a new woman for every day of the week and making red carpet debuts... you wanted to put me through that?”

Ben seen the hurt in your face with each sentence you stated. You admitting that you were keeping an eye, even with no contact for the past year gave him hope that you still cared what you once had. But hurting you was never his intent. Especially when everything falling from your pretty lips was far from the truth.

“None of that is true. I haven’t had anyone since you.” Assuring, “You should know that!” you rolled your eyes before you brought them back to Ben. “Yeah, okay. And my real name is stupid. C’mon Ben.”

“But it’s the truth! I didn’t, I’ll admit that I tried. No one could come close to you, make me feel like I once did.” Ben took your drink, placing it on the bar, intertwining your tiny hands in his large ones.

“Like I still do. I came back for you, Joe told me you were here when I told him I was on your front step.”

Your brows rose in bewilderment, “You were looking for me?” you questioned, your eyes searching every speck of his, he closed them, nodding in response.

“I should’ve never let you walk out that door.”

You were in utter shock from the moment the conversation began. Before you could process any of it, you turned on your heel again but this time with Ben in hand as you pushed your way through the crowd.

In an instant, Ben had you pressed up against the door, crashing his lips upon yours. Fighting tongues, frantically. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and needing of each other.

Ben��s hands were everywhere on you, his pouty lips in pursuit shortly, trailing down your cheek, against your jaw and down your neck. You whimpered at the warmth of them, never forgetting the spots that drove you mad as you melted within his grip.

“I missed you so much.” He muttered, climbing back up you with his lips as they eclipsed yours again.

Grinding harshly, you gasped as he pressed you flushed against the door, feeling his growing member at your clothed heat.

It encouraged you, pulling away from his lips, leaving him chase them, wanting more. You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back towards the sink. His hands meeting the marble, keeping himself steady while you attacked his lips again, letting them begin a journey.

He sighed, pleasantly, the moment your lips met his neck and down to his exposed collarbone, peeking from the three buttons undone on his shirt. Your fingers worked the others open, pushing back the fabric off his shoulders, landing at his wrists. Trailing wet kisses down his chest and torso, Ben sneaked his fingers through your hair as yourself, dropping to your knees.

Your eyes never left his green ones as you peppered kisses over his trousers, soon buttoning them. Ben let out a soft moan from the release of pressure, so heavenly to your ears while watched you pull them down. The cheeky blonde had no briefs on, his vast cock springing free in front of you and against his abdomen. You grabbed it immediately, Ben’s breath hitched as you began to slowly pump your hand, base to tip, swiping over his slit and collecting up precum with your thumb, lubing him up.

Ben moaned loudly, “Baby please” he cried, and lowered yourself to his shaft. Taking him in.

You flicked your tongue around his tip, before you started to bob your mouth around his cock. Cheeks hollowed as you took him slow, building up, “F-fuck, you feel so good!” Groaning above you, his hand running through your hair moving strands from your face as your eyes met his. Staying steady at the back of your head, emboldening you to pick up speed.

Sucking harder, your hand running along the shaft you couldn’t cover. Ben’s groans and moans, ricocheted off the walls of the beat up bathroom. “I missed your mouth.” Practically heaving every word from his lips.

You moaned at the sight above, watching him close his eyes, throwing his head back while bucking his hips, your eyes trickled with a tear gagging a bit.

“I’m so close, y/n. Stop baby.” He groaned, watching you again. “Please stop, please please” he begged, not ready to release yet. You pulled off of him with a ‘pop’ of your lips. A sight for sore eyes for Ben, as his hands cupped your face, bringing you up to him again in a hungry kiss.

The kiss had you rotating, feeling the sink against your bum. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, love.” Ben purred between each kiss, his strong hands, so delicately, clasped around your face, lifting it to give him complete access to your neck.

Soon Ben turned you around, facing the mirror. Your hands resting on the sink, his hands slipping the straps of your dress off, pulling it down and your breasts fleeing. You watched as he seen the pretty sight in the mirror in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful.” His lips trailed along your shoulder, nipping the exposed skin and leaving you gasp at the feeling.

His hands coming up from your waist, cupping your breasts, kneading them. You arched your back, pressing your ass against him.

“Please touch me” you groaned, Ben complied with your plea, one hand leaving your breasts and heading towards your heat. Slipping under the waist band of your panties. “Oh love.” His fingers making past your mound and to your folds, slipping inside. “You’re soaked.”

Ben had you a moaning mess when he found your clit. Slow, tight circles against you, his lips vibrating against your ear as he spoke. “Look at you, so gorgeous.”

“Are you ready for me, baby?” He asked, his fingers teasing your entrance. “Y-yes. Please!”

He pulled your panties down, spreading your legs while pressing your front further into the sink. A firm hold around your body,grabbing his shaft in hand, pumping himself a few times. Before he aligned himself at your entrance from behind.

You whimpered softly at the feeling of his tip graze where you needed him most, biting your lip in anticipation but how fast your lip fell at him slowly making entry of your heat. Filling you up little by little, but so good. Stretching you out, generously. Ben carefully moved a bit, watching every facial expression of your through the mirror. Allowing you to adjust.

“Move, Ben.” Following into a moan and he nodded, picking up just a bit until an array of moans and groans gave him more to go by.

His hands all over you as he thrusted into you. You couldn't count how many kisses he had given you. How the mixing paces of fast, slow, hard, soft drove you fucking insane. You weren't even moaning anymore, you screaming in delight of how good he made you feel. How you swooned when he groaned, his teeth inviting themselves in a smile or along your shoulder. You were so immersed in how well your bodies work with one another, how you loved and were making up for lost time, so thoroughly and utterly.

You were so close to your climax, “I’m so close!” You cried. Your walls clutching ever so tightly around Ben who was nearing too. Seeing as his brows furrowed slightly from time to time through the mirror. You felt the heat rising quickly, engulfing from your curled toes to your belly.

Without pressing a warning, you cried out in absolute pleasure. Your back arching, your bum close to him as you hit your peak. The lights faded out. The sounds of breathless moans between the both of you as Ben met his too. He held you so close as you trembled and bringing his face close to yours, kissing him as he came, groaning loudly and twitched inside you. Coating your walls.

So fucked out, you both became limp with only yourselves and the sink helping you keep steady. Ben released himself from you, spinning you around to face him. He cupped your face eagerly in his hands, devouring your lips and peppering kisses all over your face.

Your arms wrapped around his bare body. Calming down with racing, restless hearts in each other’s embrace. Enjoying the sounds of your euphoric comedown before smiling at the sounds, colliding from outside the door.

“3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!”

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fanf1cshawn · 6 years ago

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skies and stars

the last plate was placed in the dishwasher and you bob your head to the beat of particular taste, the song filling the room. you can't help but dance, so you sway your hips to the song until you heard a deep laugh from behind you. shawn was sprawled out on the soft couch as he filmed you, immediately posting the short clip onto his instagram story. he drops his phone on the couch and runs up to you, quickly sweeping you off the floor.

"bub!" you squeal as you playfully hit his chest, making him laugh. you wrap your arms around his neck and he places a kiss on your forehead. a smile spreads across your face as you lean into his chest, trying to hide the blush that was already spreading on your cheeks.

he carries you all the way to the walk in closet, setting you down on the marble counter that held his and your precious jewelry. although you tell him not to get you those kind of things, he still did. you remember the last time he bought the two of you matching cartier love rings, and you were quite shocked to see it in front of you. he always told you that you shouldn't be worried about him spending the money, because like he said 'i have millions of dollars in my bank account and i'd rather spend it all on you'.

he pulls out his ysl hoodie and slips it onto his body, fitting him perfectly. it was oversized but not too much, adding that chill look to it. he walks around the counter to your side of the closet, flipping through your numerous pieces of clothing. he chose a yellow dress with a wrap around it and handed it to you.

"what is this all about?" you giggle, taking the dress from him. he smiles and turns to you again, holding a pair of white flats.

"you'll see." he winks. you take another look at him and can't help but smile at his cute little antics.

you take off his large shirt off of your body as shawn eyes the white band of your bra that had the words 'calvin klein' printed on it.

"looks like you could do a calvin klein campaign too, eh?" you chuckle in unison as you shake your head. you tie the wrap of the dress into a neat knot and sit down on the floor to put on the flats. you stood up again, straightening out the small creases of the dress. you look up at him only to see his hazel eyes staring back at you in awe, a pink blush coating his cheeks.

"now can you tell me where we're going?" you ask, hoping that he'd finally tell you. he shakes his head as his curls were flying all over the place, making it look messy.

you run your fingers through his hair, putting it back in place. him being the playful boyfriend that he is, he pulled out a single strand of hair, just to add that extra charm to him.

"nope." he teases, taking your hand in his, leading you to the front door. you sigh, giving up, knowing that you'll never be able to force the answer out of him.

"stay here." he says, quickly running back to the shared bedroom. he comes back with the keys in his hand, making a faint sound. you head out of the apartment as he leads you to the parking space of the apartment complex. he presses the unlock door on the key fob, sprinting to the jeep to open the door for you.

"why thank you." you smile, climbing in the jeep. he soon follows and minutes later, you were on the road to you don't know where.

you couldn't help but admire the tall buildings of toronto through the window of the black jeep. all of a sudden, you feel shawn's hand trace random shapes on your thigh. instead, you held his hand in yours and comfortable silence filled the vehicle for a few minutes.

"do you wanna be the dj today?" he asks, referring to the radio. you two took turns in playing music in the car, so you gladly accepted the offer. you scroll through the selection of songs on your phone, finally making the decision to play queen by your boyfriend. he smiles as his fingers tapped to rhythm of his music against the steering wheel.

"who made you the queen?" you sang in unison, smiles spread across each other's face. for every finished song played a new one, and the two of you sang your hearts out to all the lyrics; too much to the point shawn didn't even notice that he already went past the place he wanted to take you.

he took a turn as a nervous laugh left his lips, mumbling the words oh my god over and over again. you snicker and he rolls his eyes at you playfully.

"stop laughing at me, babe!" he laughs, finally pulling up into the single parking spot. he shuts the car down and runs over to your door, opening it for you. he holds out his hand to help you step out of the jeep.

"so now can i know where we are?" you were confused since there was literally nobody else other than you and shawn.

"oh fine. c'mere, love." he motions his hand for you to come forward and you did.

your jaw drops at the small setup before you. a huge picnic blanket was laid out beautifully on the grass, a few pillows spread on top of it. fairylights surrounded the blanket, giving off a warm glow. you pull shawn to the cozy layout and give him the tightest hug you've ever given a human being. he rubs your back gently, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

"so you know how we always drink our tea in the balcony of my apartment at like 1am and you look up at the sky, gushing over the stars and what not? well, i decided that instead of doing that on my balcony again, i thought of taking you out here instead." a blush crept up your cheeks and your swear you felt your heart physically skip a beat. you couldn't believe how thoughtful and loving he was, the fact that people like him still exist.

you slowly walk over to the blanket, just noticing the rose petals scattered all over the place. you smile, remembering the first ever bouqet of roses that shawn gave you on your first anniversary. you sit down on the banket, quite surprised at how soft it actually was. shawn silently sat next to you, looking up at the sky. you lean your head on his shoulder and you feel him pull you tighter to him.

"this place looks absolutely stunning, shawn." you whisper, still amazed by the adorable act your boyfriend has done for you.

"it looks more stunning with you in it, love." you roll your eyes and laugh, flustered by his words.

"let's lay down, shall we?" shawn suggests, grabbing one long pillow for the both of you to share. as soon as you laid down, you place your head on top of his chest and your arm over his torso.

"i don't know why, but the sky looks prettier tonight."

"you always say that, y/n." he grins and you nod in agreement.

"hey shawn?"

"yes, darling?" the brunette looked down at you, a calm tone escaping his lips.

"i love you so so so so much. words can never express how much love i have for you, neither can my actions do. you deserve all the love the world holds. i still can't process the fact that i was able to find such a loving, caring, and awesome guy like you." you felt his heart beat faster and you pause for a moment before continuing.

"the only reason i like the sky and the stars is because of you, shawn." you confessed.

"how come i'm the reason you like the sky and the stars?" he asked curiously.

"because of the stars that were spread on the sky when i met you. i know for sure that those were my lucky stars, otherwise i wouldn't be with you today."

"it's like the stars were aligning." you say at the same time, making the two of you smile.

"i wish i could fly up to the sky right this instant to say thank you because with them, i was able to meet my own star that brightened up my dark sky." as cheesy as it sounded, you meant it, and you were only able to croak out the last few words.

"oh come here." shawn pulled you tightly in his arms and looked at you with eyes full of love. to him, you were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. he never would've thought that such a gorgeous girl could have the most beautiful heart as well. from the moment he first said hi, he knew that he didn't want to let go of you. ever.

"i love you too, y/n. sooooo much." he smiled, as he held his beloved star tightly in between his arms.

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author’s note: soooo i’m back! i’m sorry i haven’t posted in like forever but yeah i hope you like this. ~ i wanna write more this week too, so go and watch out ‘cause i might be uploading a lot this week. <3

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes one shots

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mrs-dragneel-stark-solo · 5 years ago

Text

Made for Me (part 2)

Part 2 of Made for Me

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Lexi!OFC

word count: 2631

Warning:choking, hair pulling, oral (M/F) receiving,smoking,tied down,master/pet, blindfolded, ice use,toy use,unprotected sex.

Note: this is a fic I created for the amazing @thorne93 since she’s been such an amazing friend and because she wrote me a steamy professor!tony x reader/ bruce x reader. I hope this lives up to the standards of smut seeing as it's my first time writing it! Enjoy! Send me some feedback or some love.

Songs played while writing this:

Sexy Dirty Love- Demi Lovato

Come and get it- Selena Gomez

Boyfriend- Ariana Grande

Be Mean- DNCE

Addicted- Saving Abel

She squealed and took a few steps back. “Oh my god! I'm so sorry I thought you were still sleeping” she turned red realizing she had been taking in her view and she couldn’t deny he was packing a punch. “Here I’ll get out of your way,” she made to cover her eyes.

He covered his lower half with a towel that was near him. “Oh dear I didn’t mean to startle you,” he looked at her in her tight spandex leggings and he couldn't help but moan seeing her voluptuous curves. “I probably should’ve locked the door, sorry about that.” he smirked seeing how cute she looked all flustered. “You could join me if you’d like?” he asked in a husky tone.

“I-i’m not sure that’s a good idea Hayden, what if your girlfriend found out?” she peaked from between her fingers to see he was covered and slowly lowered her hands.

“Lex, I'm as single as a pringle darlin,” he laughs knowing he sounded so corny. “And it’s not like anyone would find out” he said in a seductive tone. “Come on love won’t you join me?” he asked.

“I’m sure you’d prefer some privacy” she couldn’t help but to stare at him she tried to memorize as much as she could of his body. She’d been quiet for a bit and the more she looked the more she began fantasizing about all the things she’d want him to do to her.

He noticed how she had started to rub her thighs together slightly which gave him a bit more courage to say. “You know we would be saving water if we shared the shower together, you know?” he shrugs “good for the environment and all.”

She moved her gaze up to his eyes and could see that his beautiful gray-green eyes were dilated and he looked ready to pounce her and how could she deny herself this chance to shower with him she might not get another one ever again.

“A--alright we can share the shower,” she blushed realizing she’d have to undress in front of him. “Do you mind if I close the door?”

“Not at all love,” he moved so that she could close the door. “I’m going to hop in i’ll see you in there.” he winked at her and got in the shower.

Mentally she was preparing herself she was too nervous about what was about to happen when she stopped mid taking off her shirt that she thought why is she so nervous it just a shower for christs sake!

He had taken a moment to peak from behind the shower curtain to see her and he couldn't help getting turned on he was watching her take off those spandex of hers. Oh how he wanted to just rip those leggings in the crotch and just fuck her senseless against the sink he couldn’t help getting hard thinking about her like that, he moved back into the shower and started to wet his hair,

“Alright i'm coming in.” she announced. She pulled the curtain aside and walked in and she closed it he turned around and smiled down at her.

“You want to get under the spray of the water?”

“Yeah if that's possible?” she asked.

“Of course it is your bathroom after all” he moved to the side so she could pass.

While they had moved he had lightly caressed her side and she couldn't help but shiver.

“Thank you” she was still somewhat covering herself up, but she turned around and faced the water so she could rinse her body. Feeling the hot water felt so good on her body and she began to relax. “Would you mind passing me the shampoo?”

“No problem” he grabbed the bottle from being him and poured a good amount into his hands and began massaging it into her hair. “Hope this isn’t uncomfortable.”

“Ohh.. um thank you” she closed her eyes feeling so good as he shampooed her hair.

Hayden got closer to the point where he was pressed up against her, causing the two of them to moan in pleasure feeling how they seemed to fit perfectly. He could feel his cock growing harder but he kept on going with the shampooing he wanted to see how long it would take to break her and get her to make a move.

Lexi knew exactly what he was trying to do to her and she knew that there was no way she would last for long. He had his cock pressed up against her ass and her core was getting wet. She moved her legs hoping to create some sort of friction and bit her lip trying to cover up her moans. “I think that should be enough shampooing.” she stuttered.

“You sure about that Lexi?” he whispered in her ear causing a shiver to go up her spine.

“Y-yes i'm sure” she moved to get the shampoo out of her hair but kept her eyes closed not wanting to succumb to his teasing. ‘Do you want to hop into the spray?” she managed to get out without stuttering.

Hayden had zoned out watching her large breasts bounce as she washed her hair. He smirked seeing as she had her eyes closed he couldn't help finding her adorable when she’s flustered.. “Sure thing.” was all he said. But rather than let her move to the side he wrapped his arms around her waist and slowly turned them around. “Don’t mind me just getting into the water.”

She jumped at the sudden movement, and ended up pressed against him with the tip of his cock pressing up against her clit and that’s all it took for her to moan. “F-f-fuck” she leaned her head back and started moving her hips.

He grabbed the soap and began lathering up his hands and moved his hands to her shoulders and agonizing slow he moved down taking his time rubbing and squeezing her breasts. “You doing okay?” He watched her reaction to his touch.

She hummed feeling relaxed and aroused under his touch.

He pinched her nipples. “I asked you a question baby girl.” he smiled again seeing her bite her lip.

“Yes”

“Yes what?” He moves his cock away from her clit.

She whines at the loss of pressure on her sensitive bud. “Yes, s-sir”

He thrusts his hips forward hitting her clit harder than she had expected and then moved to rub his thick member between her folds letting her juices coat him.

“Now we can do this one of two ways” he trailed his hands down to her hips and squeezed. “One I'll pleasure you until you're a clinging mess.” One hand snaked down between her legs and rubbed her folds. “Or we can finish this shower, I’ll add a little something to you and we can head out.” He’d planned on inserting a vibe into her and using it whenever he pleased. “So what's it going to be?”

Lexi was distraught she wanted both options but knew he wouldn’t let her choose both. “The second one.” Was all she said.

“Alright my love let's get this finished then.” He finished lathering her body and proceeded to rinse it all off and do the same for himself.

They got out of the shower and he took that moment when she bent over and he got on his knees and licked her whole length.

“Hayden!” She moaned his name completely surprised at his action.

He started pumping himself as he devoured her. “Fuck you taste delicious.” And hummed causing her thighs to quiver at the feeling of his tongue circling her clit.

“Hayden please” she pleaded feeling heat pour between her thighs.

A few moments later lexi was a trembling mess twitching at every stroke his tongue made as he dipped it into her core. He sucked her clit into his mouth hard.

Lexi gripped the sink hard she looked down at him and could see his lust blown eyes. He pulls back and she let a sob fall from her lips.

“Ah ah ah” he moves his finger side to side. “ he stands up and aligns himself with a strong thrust he slams into her filling her up. He gave her a moment to adjust to him just to pull out all the way and slam back in.

“Harder please” she moans creating a rhythm with him.

One hand goes up to her neck and chokes her a bit and the other hand snakes down to her clit rubbing circles furiously and he fucked her from behind.

“I-I’m so close!” She yells feeling herself on the edge of her orgasm. She squeezes her walls around him in hopes to get him to go faster.

“Your so tight baby girl.” He was coming undone and he knew she was too. His thrusts got deeper and he nipped and sucked on her sweet spot. “Cum for me babygirl show me what this is doing to you.”

She saw stars feeling him inside her and her overly sensitive clit could take no more. Screaming his name she came harder than she thought she could. He slowed a bit to help her ride out her orgasm.

“I'm gonna come love” he grunted his movements became erratic and she felt him twitch insider her. She clenched her walls a few times causing him to come inside her coating her walls with his hot load filling her to the brim. “God your amazing Lexi” he kissed up her back and slowly pulled out.

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” She teased him back after that mind blowing moment. That little remark earned her a smack to the ass that pulled a moan from her.

“You like that pet?” He saw the lust in her eyes and knew he’d discovered another one of her kinks.

She nods her head and a blush forms on her cheeks.

Another slap on her other cheek. “Respond pet.” He rubbed where it turned red to soothe the sting

“Yes sir I really do,” she wiggled her ass at him hoping to get one more.

“Oh no, I'm not gonna give you what you want that easily you have to earn it.”

“Please just one more?” She gave him the cutest puppy dog eyes he wanted to cave in but knew better than that.

“I said no. Now let's go pick out your outfit for the day.” he wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door waiting for her to exit and follow her to her room.

“So what exactly are the plans for today?” she asked. She figured they would go where the road takes them.

“I have a few places I would like to go see,” he sat on her bed watching her dry her hair. “But after what just happened I think there’s going to be a few changes.” he pats a spot on the bed next to him. “Can you come sit for a moment I’d like to talk to you.”

She walks over and sits wondering what it was. “What’s on your mind?” she felt nervous

“Listen I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable or if I went over the line we’re just starting to get to know each other and I have no idea what came over me.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not like this I swear, but there’s something about you that I can’t seem to get enough.” he cards his fingers through his hair.

“Hayden I feel the same way too, there’s this connection that I’m feeling a lot stronger after that, but I’m not sure what to make of it.” she looks down at her hands.

He lifts her chin up gently. “Hey we’ll figure this out together okay?” He gives her a smile. “I really like you and I want this to work out so will you trust me?”

“I know Hayden, and I do trust you.” she smiles up at him and leans into his touch. “So where do we go from here?” She was curious about what she had chosen. “What exactly did I get myself into with choice two?” she cocked her head.

“Well thanks for reminding me.” Smirking he stood up and walked out of the room. “Hold on!’ he yells from his room. He walks back in dressed in just a pair of shorts. “Alright so i'm going to need to see what clothes you have,” he opens his hands. “And also ask do you have any toys?” he wiggles his eyebrows

“Anakin! ” she giggled seeing how dorky and cute he was being. “Okay most of my clothes are in the closet over there and…” she looked away.

“Your being a very bad Pet, you are not answering my questions.” he says with a faux stern voice. “Now will you be nice and tell me where you keep your toys.” he stands in front of her pinning her legs between his. “Did you just call me anakin?” he smiles.

“Yeah it’s he was the reason I fell in love with you as a kid and it’s been that way ever since.” She looks at him and smiles fondly. “Those movies were a big part of who I am today.”

“Wow I didn’t know my character would be so important to you!” he stopped what he had been doing to focus on her for a moment. “If you’d like you can call me that.”

“Are you sure Hayden?” She looked unsure. “I was just teasing.” she waves her hand.

“I think it's really cute plus, I love how it sounds coming from those beautiful lips of yours.” He leans forward and pecks her lips. “But back to my mission where are your toys?” he raises an eyebrow.

“I keep them in a black box behind my dresses,” she gets up to show him. “There in here.” she whispers feeling him lean his head on her shoulder and nip at her neck.

“Alright now you go put on a sexy set of underwear and wait for me to pick some stuff out okay?” He kisses her cheek and turns her around so she can’t see what he picks out. “Wow you have a bunch of sensual outfits gonna be hard to pick.” He laughs seeing how many of the dresses were very short and some were tight.

Meanwhile inside her room Lexi knew exactly what she would wear underneath whatever he picked out. It was one of her favorite sets and it made her feel confident. “I’m all ready anakin,” she said in her most sexy sultry voice. “What have you picked?”

It took Hayden a few moments to pick out a dress but in the end he went for the cute little black dress that off the shoulder long sleeves and then from there he searched in her box of toys for a vibrator and he found one. It looked like there was a way to control it with his phone which was perfect for what he had planned.

“I’ve got what I need right here…” he was at a loss for words when he looked up from what he was holding to seeing Lexi standing there a sheer lace bodysuit. “L-lexi...wow..you look like a goddess.'' He stuttered, surprising himself. He couldn't help but to look her up and down seeing how the bodysuit just deliciously hugged all her curves and accentuated her large bosom.

“What do you think?” She gave him an agonizingly slow turn so he could see just how gorgeous she felt. “Hayden?” she turns her head to the side with an innocent look on her face. “If it’s too much I can change into something else..” she got cut off.

#smut #hayden christensen #hayden Christensen x ofc

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elioetoliver · 7 years ago

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loving you is no chore, destiel fic, 2.4k

a childhood friends to lovers fic of sorts, partially inspired by this twitter exchange, and in which dean learns the value of doing chores

Parents have the remarkable ability to make breaks feel like anything but, Dean Winchester learns, visiting home after his first semester away at college. From the moment he stepped foot back in Lawrence, fresh off the tail end of an excruciating week of finals, he was put to work doing chores.

Dean, pick up your brother from Kevin’s house. Dean, wrap these presents for Ms. Missouri down the road. Dean, be a dear and buy the groceries today. Dean, clean the house. Dean, drop this pie off at Bobby’s and Ellen’s (and don’t eat any on the way!).

One task after another, until finally, finally Christmas eve and Christmas day rolled around, and all Dean was expected to do was eat and drink and spend time with his family.

But then his mother opens his bedroom door early on December 26th, tossing a roll of packing tape on his bed with instruction to “clean out your closet before I get back from work,” and he thinks MIT engineering might be a walk in the park compared to being home. Sure, he might be juggling a 21 hour courseload, a part time job at a garage, and a healthy social life at school, but at least that’s all on his own terms.

But alas, he’s in Lawrence through til the new year, and as such, subject to his parents’ every whim. Which is why he’s staring down a closet filled with clothes and shoes and relics from his past at 8 am rather than sleeping in til noon, as God intended college students to do on breaks.

He finds it between his old middle school soccer bag and the Gamecube he got on his 8th birthday, tucked in the far right corner of his closet’s top shelf. An old disposable camera, never developed. Dean has been shoving shit he didn’t know what to do with on that shelf for years now, can’t possibly begin to narrow down where this camera came from or when he used it – if he even ever did. Maybe it was Sammy’s, or Mom’s or something, packed away on accident and forgotten, lost to the ages.

He puts it in the keep pile, and continues sorting through his closet…

…For all of five minutes. At which point curiosity gets the better of him.

He picks up the little plastic camera, turns it over in his hands again and again, inspecting every inch of it, as though careful scrutiny of its exterior will reveal something about the content within. What could it possibly be? Photos from a weekend fishing with Uncle Bobby? Snapshots of a mundane suburban childhood? Moments from a Christmas from years past?

He must know.

He throws on his dad’s old leather jacket (another discovery from the depths of his closet), and pockets the disposable camera.

“Headed to the drug store,” is all he tells Sammy on his way out the house, “be back soon.”

Any excuse to avoid actually doing chores, right?

He recognizes no one from the photographs.

When he went to collect the pictures from the drug store several days after dropping them off, Dean was on edge with nervous anticipation. His mind had conjured infinite possibilities of moments from his life this disposable would unlock, and having had to wait days to find out, he would not delay uncovering the truth any longer. The moment he sat in the impala, in the store’s lot, he rifled through the photos.

They’re from a family vacation – but not his family’s.

There are shots of sunsets, palm trees, and members of a family all dressed in matching blue floral Hawaiian shirts. All of it looks vaguely familiar – the shirts in particular resonate with him something fierce – but the faces strike up no memory. There’s a smiling couple wearing leis and drinking mai tais, a little boy with shaggy brown hair and a lollipop in his mouth in just about every picture he’s featured in, and a girl a little older than him with sharp eyes and flame-red hair.

Who are these people? How old are these photos? Why were they in Dean’s possession? All of it is completely lost on him.

Until he sees his own face staring back at him from the last photo in the stack.

He’s seven, hair sun-bleached and a sea of freckles across his sunburned face. This is from the dinner cruise his family went on in Hawaii over a decade ago, his mind supplies. There’s a framed picture of him looking just like this next to Sammy down in the living room.

But in this picture, Dean’s got a stupid big grin on his face, and his arm around a boy his age with dark messy hair, bright blue eyes and –bingo– another of the matching Hawaiian shirts.

Dean remembers him vividly. His name eludes him now, all these years later, but he remembers that he had been sitting at the table next to the Winchesters, and between every course of the meal the two of them wandered around the deck and the dining room and disrupted the other passengers with their incessant, delighted throes of laughter. He remembers how the boy’s blue eyes would crinkle at the corners when Dean said something funny, and how he tilted his head in confusion when Dean made Star Wars references. Most of all, he remembers how the big gummy smile the boy wears in the photo, when Dean saw it in person, made his heart flutter and his knees go weak.

It wasn’t until Aaron Bass kissed Dean in the back of the bus when they were twelve that he felt that again, and was able to recognize that the mystery boy he’d known for one night in his youth was his very first crush. He thought about him still, on rare occasion, and though time had erased his features and the finer details of his personality, Dean never forgot that feeling.

And now, seeing his face again, Dean accepts two truths: 1, he has always had excellent taste; 2, he really wants to know where this kid is now. Part of him wonders, perhaps even hopes, that maybe he hasn’t completely forgotten him, either.

He snaps a picture of the photograph, and tweets it along with the caption: “Hey twitter, I met this guy on a dinner cruise in Hawaii in 2006. We were basically best friends for that night and I never saw him again. I wonder what he’s up to. I need y’all to help me find him so I can see how he’s doing now.”

He's not expecting much success, but he’s got no name or anything else to work with. Probably this is his best shot.

Dean woefully underestimated the power of Twitter.

Three days later, his plea to find the boy from the dinner cruise has been retweeted over 20,000 times, and has amassed several hundred replies from people wishing him luck and asking if he’s found him yet. He’s begrudging the fact that, no, he hasn’t, when he refreshes the page and a new reply appears.

It’s a photo of a man holding a framed picture of his family of 5 in matching Hawaiian shirts. The frame obscures part of his face, but his ethereal blue eyes and messy hair perfectly match those of the boy in the picture, and there’s no doubt in Dean’s mind that it’s him.

Even with part of his face covered, it’s clear that time has been kind to him. He was cute as a kid, but he’s devastatingly handsome now.

“Heard you were looking for me ;)” the tweet says, and the name on the account reads “Cas.”

“Man, you have no idea,” Dean mutters. He retweets Cas’s reply, then scopes out his profile.

He’s barely finished reading Cas’s bio, which proclaims, “Berklee ’22. Apiarist. Star Wars Enthusiast. Expert Napper.” before he’s sliding into his DMs.

“Hey man!” Dean writes. “Glad I found you. Looks like we both go to school in Boston!”

Dean keeps folding his hands on the table in front of him, then unfolding them when, moments later, they go clammy. He keeps fidgeting. And checking the time. He should’ve ordered a calming tea or something, instead of coffee.

Really, he shouldn’t be this nervous. He’s been on lots of dates, and it was Cas who asked him out, having beat Dean to it. They’ve been talking nonstop since Dean messaged him, and he has no reason to expect this encounter will go poorly. Cas is handsome, funny, and easy to talk to. They’ve got loads of common interests, but enough varied ones to keep things interesting. On paper, Cas is perfect.

Dean is terrified he’s gonna blow it. This reunion of theirs feels impossibly significant to him. He has the chance to reconnect with his first childhood crush who, by some miracle, is also into guys and now lives in his city. It’s like the stars aligned to make this happen for him and there’s so much riding on this meeting and so much pressure for it to go well and Dean has never been so nervous in his life.

Cas interrupts Dean’s mounting panic by walking into the coffee shop. His coat collar is popped against the wind, though his cheeks are still flushed pink from the cold. He scans the crowd for Dean, eyes lighting up in recognition when he spots him. He smiles that same big, gummy smile that absolutely besotted Dean as a kid. It has the very same effect now. As he walks over to Dean’s table, he shrugs off his heavy winter coat, only to reveal –

“You’re kidding,” Dean blurts out when Cas reaches the table, which is not at all the fist thing he wanted to say.

Cas raises an eyebrow, and is evidently biting back a grin. He drapes his coat over the back of his chair. “That bad?”

He’s wearing the blue floral Hawaiian shirt. It’s dated and tacky, and it’s wholly ridiculous attire for winter in Boston. But somehow, unfairly, Cas looks good. The shirt is tucked into his skinny jeans, the sleeves are cuffed, and it is unbuttoned about halfway. Anyone else would look like some wasted indie front man wannabe, but Cas looks hot.

And Dean, despite all reason, thinks he might be in love. “No just,” he laughs, “I can’t believe you’re wearing the shirt.”

Cas shrugs, sliding into his chair. “I wanted you to be able to recognize me. Though to be fair this one’s my dad’s. Mine hasn’t fit in a good 10 years.”

“Wearing your dad’s duds to a first date? Real sexy, Cas.”

“Well, you know,” Cas presses his palms against the tabletop, leans forward ever so into Dean’s space, “how long it’s on me it is entirely up to you.” He then leans back into his chair, ever so coolly, like he didn’t just proposition Dean in a busy coffee shop at 11 am.

Dean’s throat goes dry. He wants so badly to divest Cas of the shirt right now, but instead he says: “Later. But first,” he reaches into his coat pocket, and from it produces the envelope of developed photos. He slides them across the table.

Cas picks up the envelope carefully, then flips through the photographs in quiet reverie.

Dean watches as he takes them in, delighted to see Cas beaming as he looks through them all.

“I was so upset,” Cas says, eventually. “I remember getting back to the hotel that night and realizing I didn’t have the camera anymore. I thought I left it on the boat. Thank you. I cannot believe I’m seeing these right now.” He tucks the photos back in the envelope, then, in turn, tucks it into his own coat pocket for safekeeping. He then fixes Dean a look heavy with intrigue and sincerity, “And I cannot believe I’m seeing you again.”

Dean blushes under the weight of his gaze. “Me neither. I’m just sorry it took so long. I didn’t even know I had the camera ‘til a few weeks ago.”

Cas shakes his head. “It’s ok. I’ve got them now. And anyway,” he winks, “I’d say it was well worth the wait.”

Eight months after cleaning out his closet at home, Dean Winchester is hanging up the articles of clothing that survived the purge next to Cas��s Hawaiian shirt in their shared closet in their new Boston apartment. He’s admiring his work when warm, gentle palms cover his eyes. “I want to show you something,” Cas says. He presses a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. With Cas’s guiding words and careful steps, Dean lets himself be taken into the living room, where he is eventually stopped. “You ready?”

“Born ready, sweetheart.” Dean says. But when Cas takes his hands off Dean’s eyes, reveals his surprise, Dean realizes he was not ready at all. The wall in front of them is covered with framed photos of their friends and family, and at the center of it all is the two of them, seven years old on the dinner cruise.

His heart swells at the sight of it, and he’s overwhelmed, as he often is, by how much he adores this man. He turns around, pulls Cas to him in a desperate, bruising kiss.

Cas pulls away infinitesimally, rests his forehead against Dean’s. “I take it you like it?”

“I love it.” Dean confirms. He kisses Cas’s cheek. “And love you.” His jaw. “So fucking much.” His neck. “Gonna prove it to you, baby.” He palms his boyfriend’s dick through his jeans.

“Later,” Cas says through a moan, and pulls Dean’s hand away. “Later,” he repeats, a bit more sobered and with far more conviction, “I’ll hold you to that. But first we have to unpack the kitchen stuff.” He kisses Dean once more, then saunters off to the kitchen.

There was a time in Dean’s life not long ago when he would have contested that assertion. He’s on break, after all, and only for a few days more. His second year of college starts up Monday. He should be relaxing, for the most part, and only exerting himself to have very noisy, enthusiastic sex with his boyfriend in their new apartment.

But really, he knows he’ll never lament having to do chores again.

In fact, he owes the very best part of his life to them.

#destiel #destiel fic #my writing #friends to lovers #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural fanfiction #college au #idk #this whole thing is silly #sorry #hope u like it #destiel college au #sort of #childhood friends to lovers

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rougepetale · 7 years ago

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oh my gods (Scorpio) (NSFW)

Fandom: Star Crossed Myth (Love 365)

Pairing: Scorpio x Reader

Warning: Smut, light choking, hair pulling 18+ only!

Note: this is for @iluvsexyvoltageguys I hope it was as steamy as you like it!

You were lounging in the tub, the bathroom was filled with the fragrance of sweet pea filling the air. Your head was lulled back as you closed your eyes. Your day was very hectic to say the least, the planetarium had unveiled a new interactive show and so many bugs happened that your work had to shut down early and you had to refund a lot of money.

You groaned as you sunk beneath the warm water, the warm water soothed your throbbing scalp. All day you had yanked and ran your fingers through your hair making your scalp hurt a little. This warm bubble bath was perfect for what you needed.

Once your lungs couldn’t hold any longer you slowly slid up to get new air. You sighed again, you didn’t have the opportunity to see Scorpio as he was busy trying to keep the problem child in check and Gemini child from becoming dark. You missed the abrasive god and his foul mouth, and well what his foul mouth did on your womanhood. Just the thought of Scorpio had your womanhood throbbing with need.

It was amazing how stress can turn to arousal in a matter of seconds. Your mind immediately went to the last time you two fucked. His tongue on your clit as he sucked and teased with abandon, his fingers pinching your nipples so that they were erect and in slight pain. Your fingers had a mind of their own as your mind wandered over all the delicious times that you and Scorpio were together, your own fingers knowing exactly what you needed began to slowly caress your folds.

Your eyes closed as you hummed gently, “Oh…. Scorpio” you mumbled out. You saw so easily Scorpio’s fingers pleasuring you and not your own fingers. Your left hand snaked up your throat to squeeze gently, you didn’t want to die while having an orgasm. Your fingers dipped inside and pumped in a rhythmic fashion.

Your fingers curled and scratched your own walls, your toes curling, “S-Scorpio!” you whined. You were so close to orgasming, you added another finger to stretch your walls. You were too preoccupied with your own pleasure that you didn’t notice the door opening.

Scorpio had entered the room, he hadn’t seen you in the apartment so he had hoped he could catch you in the shower, he wanted apples shaped like bunnies and whenever somebody else tried to make them they failed miserably. He had hoped he would catch you in the shower at least, he could follow you into the shower and ravish your body to his pleasure.

What he saw had him blushing from head to toe. Your mouth was open and your skin was flushed and your fingers working you into a frenzy. It was a beautiful sight but there was no way in hell that he’d ever admit it. He could also tell that you weren’t able to perfectly achieve your orgasm, your body had been conditioned to him and him alone, you couldn’t find the release that you so desperately wanted without him and that made him smirk.

“Damn it woman!” he hissed, he secretly enjoyed watching you jump at his words. “Don’t you ever lock the damn door?!” he growled.

You had jumped nearly out of your skin when he had growled at you, your concentration had been broken and your high that you had been chasing was now completely out of your grasp. “S-Scorpio?! What are you doing here?” you asked, sitting up in the tub, not really caring that your breasts were out for him to see, not that he had ever seen them before.

He took two large steps forward and was by your side in seconds, you could see the blush that dusted his face. He knelt in front of the tub, his eyes serious. If he wasn’t blushing you could have sworn he was angry that you were touching yourself, his hand reached out and touched your cheek. His eyes rolled back as the flood of arousal rushed into him, every feeling you had rushed him and temporarily short circuited him.

He didn’t noticed the moan that escaped his mouth, and you smirked, happy he was feeling everything that you were feeling. You sat up and kissed him hungrily, your arms snaked across his broad shoulders and pulled him flush against your wet, naked skin. His arms grabbed you and hauled you from the tub as if you weighted nothing.

You squealed in surprise, not expecting him to be so forthcoming in his desires, you should have known. He was by your bed in a matter of strides, he dumped you unceremoniously upon the tiny bed making it squeak in protest.

He loved how your breasts bounced when he thrown you down, he loved that you were more than receptive to his advances. He straddled your waist and pinned your arms above your head. He captured your lips in an aggressive kiss, no fight for dominance as you knew your place. His other hand pushed down upon your neck just enough to remind you who you belonged to. It was your turn to have your eyes roll back into your head, the pressure causing a euphoric effect, “Good girl, knowing your place.”

He removed his hand on your throat and snapped his fingers, instantly his clothes disappeared and he was completely naked and completely aroused to the point of pain. His cock was standing proud and throbbing, already dripping with need. You managed to free one hand from his grasp, you glanced down and a smirk graced, an evil idea sparked in your mind, this all started with him touching your cheek…. Thinking your dirties through you grasped his dick.

Your arousal had his arm buckle and his head fall to your shoulder, he bit down upon your shoulder, “That is not playing fair ____” he said as he left his mark.

You smiled sweetly at him, “Since when did we ever play fair?” you replied, your hand caressed the tip of his cock.

“Oh you’ll pay for that, annoying woman” he replied. He grabbed your hand and pinned them again above your head. “An eye for an eye perhaps?” he asked, with his free hand he caressed your clit. “I watched you, you know. Unable to achieve that which you so desperately wanted.” His fingers following the same path that you have done in the bath. “You couldn’t have that orgasm because I did not tell your body that it could.”

You frowned, “Fine! Damn it!” you hissed, writhing in pleasure. “Damn it, don’t stop!” you pled, his fingers were so much more pleasurable than your own. His fingers curled inside and you saw stars. Just a little more and you would reach your pinnacle.

Scorpio could feel your body tensing and in his very being he could precisely tell when you were going to snap. “I give you permission to orgasm” he whispered into your ear.

All the tension you had built up came flooding out, your head was thrown back as your orgasm flooded your body, tiny ripples of pleasure erupted throughout your body. Scorpio could feel your orgasm through his powers and his fingers gave him a mental orgasm. His eyes closed and he sighed through his nose, he wouldn’t allow his body a physical orgasm without being inside you.

As you were coming down from your high you could feel Scorpio’s fingers still inside you, pumping gently, quickly building your orgasm back up. He angled his hips, aligning to your folds and sheathed himself fully within you. You loved the feeling of being full, knowing that you two were one. Scorpio grabbed your shoulder as he hit your g spot time and time again.

In your passion your hand grabbed his hair and pulled him to you. You kissed him and gasped in his ear as he hit your g spot again, “You-- Scorpio!” you mewled out.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head to the side, giving him access to your neck which he left another hickey on your body. His bite brought you over again, hitting your second orgasm which triggered his own as your conjoined body rocketed together.

Scorpio continued to thrust during his orgasm, trying to prolong yours and his high. You sighed as you came back to life, Scorpio had pulled you flush against him as he traced feather light circles on your stomach and breasts.

You yawned as you snuggled closer to his warm body, “You came at the perfect time Scorpio…. I was a little stressed today.”

“You could have come to me at any time, troublesome woman.” He grumbled, his gruff exterior back in place.

“I didn’t want to disrupt your work…. I know how much you cherish it.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you.” He said, “Damn, Zyg is getting so much work now that rapid lion is now on the throne. I didn’t want him to keel over from sheer exhaustion.”

You smiled, and stretch yourself out in the most delicious way, stirring new feelings in Scorpio. But of course he would have to wait for you, as you were now dozing in his arms, worn out from your passionate love making.

#scorpio #Scorpio scm #voltage inc #Voltage smut #star crossed myth

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isakwon · 7 years ago

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Coffee Bean (Extinct) Part 7

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Romance & Angst

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Uuff I feel like this gonna drag.

Coffee Bean Masterlist

Baekhyun already spread the news of your reunion explaining what and who Sehun is talking about.

“Nothing.”

He crosses his arms. ”I know that you saw Chanyeol today Y/N. Though I wasn't there to see what happened, Baekhyun told me only half of what he saw.” He says. ”Plus strangers wouldn't stare at each other for a long time.”

Your fingers clasp around the blanket.

“So you know that Chanyeol doesn’t know who I am?” Sehun nods, you missed Chanyeol even more now. Since flying on the plane, since hearing Junmyeon whispering about Chanyeol and listening dishes clanging from the kitchen, and since Baekhyun rested his hand on your shoulder the same night. Now you're missing Chanyeol even more after finally seeing him two hours ago. The questions, ‘Do I know you’ and ‘could I at least get your name’ with his signature puppy smile, froze your thoughts and movements right on the spot. Your heart rate accelerated like the first time he had kissed you where no audience is watching, and spotlights are not shining on you, and there was no script.

”He could be lying you know.” The boys weren't very surprised the day that Chanyeol told them you had started dating. They saw the chemistry off-Broadway, and after finding out that you two were meeting nearly every day the cafe shop, they knew you had feelings for each other. You hug the blanket tightly. Sehun was the most bickered for four years since you boarded the plane and said goodbye. He had thought there might have been some elopement plan Chanyeol came up with for him to board the same flight to Seoul and live beside you. But when that wasn't the case, Sehun turned away from his friend.

“He might've pretended he didn't know you because his father-in-law was with him."

"Hun, I think he just moved on. It's-I promised Yeolie that I'd respect his decision moving on.”

"Do you not remember the way he would look at you before? The way his eyes shone, and how his cheeks rounded. Baekhyun told me that that was the same way Chanyeol smiled at you. He even said how Chanyeol moved closer to you while wiping his sleeve."

Sehun sucks his bottom lip.

"'Of course I remember. I never forgot anything.”

Chanyeol's eyes burned like he was concentrating hard on figuring out what was going on in your mind standing next to him again. You wondered whether he was trying to see your brain twirling with how unbelievable holding his arm, taking napkins from his hands, and the chance of touching him made you feel or if he could hear your heart thumping hard. If he could hear you mumbling to yourself how idiotic you felt burning him and if he could hear you asking how he forgot about you.

”But memories are all Chanyeol, and I have become. Though it hurts now, there's nothing I can do now."

The aching behind your chest was driving you crazy; you felt like your heart was made of concrete being drilled and chipped and hammered out. The pain needed cradling inside your palm.

"I know the both of you acted like strangers," lowering his arms to his sides, "But it's not just the past that makes me believe that you and Chanyeol still have hope being together again."

You remember watching fireworks with your friends, and Chanyeol tagged along simply because you invited him. Fireworks grabbed everybody’s attention; all people could do was sit, stand and stare as you could.

The fireworks sparkled your eyes, the booming resounding through your eardrums and the golden streamers whistling into the sky. You were barely aware that your friends weren't there around you standing under a tree. Suddenly you feel a pair of arms wrapping around your middle and weight coming down on your back. You couldn't turn around and see who was hugging you then a recognizable nose and lips appears at the corner of your eye. Chanyeol had you hooked with his arm wrapped around your hips molding himself on your back with his chin molded into the curve linking between your neck and shoulder. He smirks when he hears you chuckle, enjoying the moment, wanting to dip your head into his shoulder.

”Sehun. I'm happy now, and I'm sure Yeolie is happy too.”

Your arms sink further into the comforter bundle held against your abdomen. During some point, they had to stop, but your memories were so sweet and dear that you wanted them to stay. Sehun cups your shoulders and his eyes falter down to your fingers twirling your red string. The little red string filled with a deep meaning tied around your finger with a tight bow getting pinched between your fingers.

”Y/N. I'm not asking for you to chase anyone.” He says. “But seeing how fate can also endanger, I don’t think you’re willing to let that drop.”

You didn't have words to oppose what Sehun says about fate because there was a big wedge filled with hope and you didn't want to crack on your words. You blinked a few times, ”Hun, please I really wanna sleep.”

Sehun’s lips curve upwards. ”Okay. I won't talk about it anymore.”

He plants a quick kiss on your hairline.”I'm sorry okay?”

You nod attempting to make a smile that makes Sehun force back his snickering.

”We’ll see you in the morning.”

You close the door behind you, tossing the clean comforter on the bed, and turning the lights out before climbing into bed. Soon, after meeting the entire cast the show would begin production, and some lines of your character memorized in the back of your head.

In the next several days will be the first time you would star in a drama as the protagonist like the musicals rather than supporting cast. The director promised the soundtrack wouldn't have to provide your voice if you didn't want to sing, but you liked to sing. You would have to wait one more week before filming so the producer would be present, which luckily granted you time to keep rehearsing your lines.

Once you looked outside the window, only tiny stars were visible and the moon wasn't anywhere to be seen. This evening has a new moon, jet black and leaving zero support for stars to bling like diamonds. Dreams change every single time except the ones he kept having consisted you and him together in the same place. In one dream, Chanyeol’s shoulder already felt heavy because you laid your head over his shoulder. He was trying hard to stay awake occasionally snapping pictures. His most recent being you standing in front of him, hands held behind your back, saying nothing and smiled at him. He moved closer where you stood grabbing your face with his hands, smiling where his eyebags showed naturally, and two laugh lines appear on his cheeks.

“I miss you. You have no idea how much.”

Admittingly Sehun was right, you still holding romantic feelings for Chanyeol and you didn't want to believe that the ’you’ can be endangered.

Chanyeol ran up, and down the staircase since five-thirty in the morning rather than going to the gymnasium. He needed time stretching his mind where nothing disturbs him before dealing with the same usual work and hope whatever stands out enough for him to talk about later. He may finally get a holiday bonus himself before clocking out. Or Jongdae might eventually return from his trip. There was silence all around, same as the previous evening when Somil wasn’t yet home. His blood pumps through his heart that continues beating centered behind his torso for another half hour until he steps out of the shower. Throwing an undershirt over his head, Somil enters their closet.

“Chan are you ready?”

She wears black loose ankle pants with a forest green striped sweatshirt with her short hair tied up. When they first met, there were already two weeks before the wedding ceremony. Somil was the one who wanted Chanyeol as her groom, but fourteen days wasn't enough for them to learn more about the other person.

”You're casual today.” He says.

He looked down on Somil widening her eyes by the slightest unwrapping the bandage. Her eyes were walnut brown inside circular rhombuses with curved lashes aligned below her eyelids. He looked down on Somil widening her eyes by the slightest the bandage. Her eyes were walnut brown inside circular rhombuses with curved lashes aligned below her eyelids. Her only facial marks are the freckles that had to be seen close-up for them to be visible across her bones and the pale pink color of her heart-shaped lips. Her jet black hair that fell past down her middle was now Auburn chopped into a bob cut shaping her face perfectly.

”What happened to you?” She asks grabbing his wrist.

“Some chocolate got on me after bumping into someone.”

”Chan, you should've called me when this happened.”

Somil lowers his hand down his side.

He chuckles. ”I’m okay. Come on let’s go.”

Somil and Chanyeol were already four years into their marriage, and that was the longest time they’d been together than during their engagement. Arranged married couples eventually fall in love as time passes, opening their hearts for each other, waiting for widespread arms welcoming either person. Their engagement lasted fifteen days which was enough time for final wedding plans however neither of them knew what was going on, not even the bride. When they spoke, they were always returning to the same topic during their reception and honeymoon. There was so much lack of communication that the silent moments between them felt even worse, especially after failed efforts of conversation starters but Chanyeol and Somil sometimes had ongoing conversations. There was phone scrolling in the passenger seat beside Chanyeol driving through moving traffic until the vehicle stops in front of them.

“We won’t be late right?”

“Dad understands being late to traffic. Trust me, that always gets around.” Somil smirks. Chanyeol nods, taking another glance at his watch then looks outside the city from his window and past other windows on the left. His eyes scan stores familiar enough to know the closer they are to Impresa as he tries calming himself, taking breaths through his lips.

“Ugh Chanyeol what the rush is? We’ll be fine with five minutes and have time for breakfast.”

“It’s not that. I’m worried about the Head Director.”

Somil scrunches her brows, keeping the phone eye-leveled. “What’s going on with my Dad?”

“Nothing...” Director Kim was not the type who sugarcoats his feelings, not for one bit. His tempered feelings for that matter, whenever he is gloomy or feeling down with the weather, he intends to hide them so he can continue and push through his business and so he doesn’t come off as weak in front of his employees and partners. Kim Junho was known for his nobility, humbleness, honesty, work ethic and sympathy even as a family man.

”He just doesn’t accept tardiness.”

However, for anything that goes out of agenda or anybody that steps out of line, Head Director turned into a professor students wanted to avoid. Without intending he would haunt whoever made him upset once would be afraid to hear him asking for them. Chanyeol received his father-in-law’s shark gaze last week for forgetting to wear his marriage band, and the look itself was enough making him clinch the seat edges.

“Are you really that scared of him?” Somil asks.

There was a hint of annoyance coming off. She used to have similar conversations a hundred times too many. Now after marrying Chanyeol, Somil keeps hearing those worries at home.

“That’s not the point, nobody working for Impresa should be tardy at all. It won’t leave us with a good impression also I haven’t finished much yesterday.” Chanyeol says, turning his full attention to her. “Your brother wants racks with our culinary line arriving on his set soon as he comes back. He makes me think that we’re some seamstress industry sometimes.”

“Well honey, you should just consider sleeping in the office.”

She lifts her phone off her thigh, checking her emails. Somil spends more time tapping and scrolling through her phone more than she does during work hours. She goes through her emails more than the men in her life on a daily basis and sometimes Chanyeol would wake up in the middle of the night finding her on the tablet before rolling over, falling asleep again.

Both Somil and Chanyeol arrive only one minute late at Impresa’s revolving door, following each other in the lobby to quickly order their breakfast. She orders one macchiato while Chanyeol orders a cinnamon bum and americano, there wasn’t a line in front of them however the cinnamon bun would take nearly three minutes. Somil’s macchiato was ready for consumption as she grabs the mug. Chanyeol thought trying to start some short conversation.

“Hey S-”

A ring sounds in her hand, and she looks hesitant to answer. Somil watches the screen before looking at Chanyeol like she was asking for permission to reply. He doesn’t say anything as she slides her finger across the screen.

“Yes, tell me.” Somil turns her back against Chanyeol, which happens many times even he has turned his face away from someone whenever he receives a call.

“Yes, if they reach near the point five foot seven-” However Chanyeol swore Somil was started walking away from the spot, making her stop when he pulls on her elbow.

“Hold on. What Chan?”

She lifted the voice mic above her ear, looking clueless at her husband who is looking at her expectantly.

”You're leaving without saying anything?”

”I’ll see you in the afternoon.”

Despite already wearing heels Somil lifts herself off the ground giving cheek to cheek. There they split ways in the building.

Chanyeol stepped off the elevator holding his prepared breakfast with his satchel hanging across from his right shoulder. Only five doors down the second corridor to his temporary office, who Chanyeol shared an office with two article employees whom were quiet and concentrated hard on their paragraphs. He has a private office as Chief editor until he found the office covered with plastic and after asking the Head Director, Chanyeol had to work out of the office until remodeling was complete.

“So the Vice Chairman never told miss Somil that he doesn’t even like her,” one voice said.

Chanyeol hides behind the wall closer where the voices came from, trying to listen on the conversation hearing the classic rumors that are still floating around Impresa building into thin air.

“Aw, that’s a shame, Mister. Park doesn’t seem like a great person.” The other person said.

“He doesn’t want anyone to know he married her for her looks and money.”

“You should confront that to the missus then.” The employee turns around instantly bulging their eyes at skyscraper Vice Chairman narrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m so very sorry sir, we thought we were by ourselves and just-just-” Both employees immediately stick their hands together, and one dips their head slowly.

“I hope if you both think kneeling would help don’t even try.” Chanyeol lowers his voice. ”Discussing old rumors about the high people you work for behind their back makes me assume you think it's better rather than two weeks notice.”

The two widened their eyes and waved hands before Chanyeol, being careful not to spill the drink and food.

“Get on out wherever, but here, I don’t want to see you two.”

The two gossiping employees speed walk away from Chanyeol’s sight before turning back around to enter the office. He shrugged the rumors off his thoughts since they were always the same rumors that are “too good” for people to get over and were still intriguing for people to let them die during the years Chanyeol worked in Impresa. His in-laws and wife know about the rumors, and once they aren't heard of anymore, one gets revived and more rise up. The night of the wedding Chanyeol never told Somil that he couldn't be in love with her because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Somil wasn’t toxic, nor the type who acted grumpy all the time, she was the ordinary person with behavior, not even Chanyeol disliked. There had been rumors that they had only gotten married because Somil became pregnant and Impresa wouldn’t call the heir a bastard child, and some consisted of the husband being the bad apple.

He set his cinnamon roll while taking his first sip of Americano on his desktop then removes his coat rolling his sleeves and straightens his office chair behind his desk. Suddenly his office telephone sounds apart from the tapping keyboard.

“Hello?”

“Chairman Park, Director Kim asks to see you.”

“Oh, Y/F/N, finally meeting you at last!”

The greeting from the crew member made you sigh contently, flattered with how sweet everyone was so far. The cast arrived in the studio for rehearsal before shooting begins, and first encounters started off the right foot. There were staff members who weren’t familiar with you nor Broadway or Korean Entertainment; they assumed that you were making this show become your debut project. Others, even some cast members knew who you are and mentioned their excitement in working with you. You shook hands with so many people, the only person you haven't met was the producer and the male protagonist.

“Is there a role you’ve always wanted to play?” The younger actress asked.

“I’ve been every character all the way to voicing an animal,” you smile, “except I wonder what it’s like being the show villain or antagonist.”

“Really? Have you auditioned for the villain?” The person brings the cup to their mouth.

“Well sure. But throughout my entire life, people tend to think it’s funny when I get mad.”

“Oh, there’s the food table if you would like anything. I do.” You smirk, holding in a chuckle as you walk over in front the table. You recognized the pastries from Cafe Cicero, and your arm instantly reaches for what used to be your usual. There, you smell hot chocolate from the pot and indulging the scents with your nose. Instead of asking yourself whether you should grab some, the previous day replays. In your head, you felt like rolling your eyes however that felt cruel to do.

“Ha, I’m sorry Yeol.” The apology comes out in you whispering voice through covered curved lips, thinking about the accident.

“What did you say Y/N?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing.” The director nods, and as she starts turning away, you gaze your fingertips over her shoulders. “What is the producer’s name?”

She responds with, “I don’t know. I’m afraid of asking for some reason.”

“Are you a shy person?”

The young actress looks at you with doe eyes. Her cheeks start blooming while she nods, she was indeed a shy person from what you experience. You were excited about working in New York again even when the time was flying quicker than you noticed, the next two years would make you exceptionally satisfied. Either way, anyhow you wanted to meet the producer and work on the drama passionately while enjoying the time being here.

”But I’ve been told someone can fill his spot until he's back. Supposedly the person is multitalented, and the producer confides in him, so I suppose we ought to as well.”

You nodded holding skeptical features over yourself while blinking a few times. Having a person take the producer’s spot sounded pretty last minute from the way you see it. This person must have experienced production and filming and must be close with the producer. As reasons why the original producer wanted to have ‘he’ or ‘she’- or ‘them’- take his place, already knowing what will happen. Except how does this woman know before the first meeting.

That moment the show's Director calls for attention. “Ladies, we’re about to start the roll call. Could you follow me please?”

The both of you with the entire cast tagging side by side following each other into one room, sitting down both tables. The minute you walk in, there was a person who surpasses the women and some men around the room, smiling, shining brown eyes, exposed forehead, shaking each passing hand. You become shocked stopping in your tracks wondering what purpose the person had for being here inside the room.

“Chanyeol.”

Thank you for reading! ♡

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artificialskyway-archives · 7 years ago

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Kitchen Floor

Members: Chanyeol x Reader

Type: Smut

Length: 1,248

-Admin R

“Jagi-ah, hurry! I’m hungry!” Chanyeol whines as he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Chan, you’re the one who is supposed to be cooking here… not me!” you whine back at him. He kisses the top of your head before stepping to the side of you, playfully nudging you with his arm.

“Okay, okay, Y/N. I’m ready to make pancakes!” He says cheerfully, flashing you a smile brighter than the early morning rays gleaming through your shared apartment windows. Your stomach does tiny somersaults looking at Chanyeol’s soft skin glowing under the morning light, and his bed hair tousled so perfectly you’d think the hairstyle was intentional.

“Alright, you have to mix the batter first, here.” You instruct him as you hand him the whisk to mix. You continue to guide him through the process until his first pancake is cooked.

“Jagi, is it supposed to be this dark? And small?” He asks with a furrowed brow. You giggle at his pouty face, and the two of you continue laughing at the failed attempts of Chanyeol’s pancake skills.

“Hey, Y/N.” Chanyeol says, turning to face you now closing any gap of space that would have existed between you two. He leans down closer to your face and you can feel his heat radiating from his skin. He looks in your eyes with sweet admiration, and you start leaning in to kiss him but you’re stopped midway.

Chanyeol giggles at your nose that is now covered in a swipe of pancake batter.

“Park Chanyeol!” you whine as you wipe the batter off with your finger. You reach your finger towards your mouth to lick the batter off but Chanyeol stops you. He grabs your finger and leads it to his mouth, never breaking eye contact. You stare back at his hunger-filled eyes as he licks the batter off of your finger then peppers it with kisses down to the palm of your hand and to your wrist. You feel a tingle going straight through your body and down to your core as you brush your now clean fingers through his bed hair and pull him into a deep kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you in close to his body, arms surrounding your waist. Chanyeol nibbles at your bottom lip rolling his hips into you. You feel his hard member against your body. “Chan…” you say breathless, and he slowly guides you to the floor lips never leaving yours. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck as he begins to leave love bites on the sensitive area of your neck.

“You really are hungry, huh?” You tease him. He smirks against your skin and moves his hands down the side of your body, lifting up your shirt. The two of you wrestle to remove each other’s clothes. You silently praise yourselves for only ever wearing t shirts and underwear to sleep. You both were out of your clothes in no time and are now laying on the bare floor of your kitchen sharing a heavily passionate kiss.

“You have no idea, jagi.” He responds, and begins kissing down your body, reaching the valley between your breasts, peppering it with soft kisses before giving each some attention. His tongue swirls over your sensitive nipple, as his hand plays with your other breast. He sucks and nibbles at each one, taking his time, making sure to leave a love bite on both your breasts before continuing anything else. You start going crazy at how slow he is being and you buck your hips up against his body to give him a sign to speed it up. Chanyeol looks at you and smirks, “patience, Y/N.” You roll your eyes and let out an annoyed groan that turned into a moan as he kept on kissing your breasts.

He continues kissing down your body, reaching your center he spreads your legs open and licks a long strip on your heated core with the flat of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs holding them apart as he starts sucking on your clit, you arch your back up at the sensation that he is giving you. Your hands find their way to the top of his head and you tighten your grip on his hair causing him to groan against your sensitive core. He inserts his tongue into your core and shakes his head as his nose rubs against your sensitive nub. You start moaning his name until you can’t take it anymore. You pull him up to meet your gaze, “Chanyeol… I need you right here, right now.” He smiles a lustful smile, leans up and crashes his lips against yours, letting you taste your juices from his lips.

Chanyeol then hovers over you, aligning himself with you and places the head of his member at your entrance but not pushing inside just yet. He leans down and whispers in your ear, “Y/N, you’re so beautiful,” and you let out a soft moan as you feel him slowly sliding his member into you. Chanyeol groans into your neck as he continues to push inside you, your tight walls surrounding his throbbing member. Once you finally adjust to him, he pulls out slow and easy, then pushes back in, only harder. “Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he says with a low growl, and he continues this rhythm of slowly fucking you on the cold kitchen floor, leaving you breathless.

His lips are back on your neck creating another love bite as you claw your nails into his back. You lift your legs up to his waist, allowing him to reach deeper into you and he hits your spot. “Right there,” you pant. Chanyeol’s thrusts become harder and faster, and with each thrust you begin to see more and more stars mixing with the rising sunlight in your kitchen. Your head was spinning and with each thrust Chanyeol was throwing you into another level of ecstasy.

“Chan… don’t stop…,” you manage to say and he responds with a low groan into the side of your neck. Your kitchen becomes filled with the sounds of yours and Chanyeol’s moans, yelling each other’s names with passion and pleasure. Your body starts to shake as you feel yourself reaching your high, you begin to roll your hips meeting his thrusts, which sends him over the edge. Chanyeol’s body freezes in you and you both become a mess of breathless moans. He drops on top of you slowly moving his hips as you both ride out your highs. He pulls out of you and lays down next to you, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

“Whoa,” you say as you try to come back down from your high. You were still seeing stars and your body felt numb and weak but you were in ecstasy. Chanyeol has always been good in bed, but this time around he left you speechless, breathless, and on another dimension. You were still staring at the ceiling trying to catch your breath as Chanyeol turns to you and kisses your cheek. “Thank you for teaching me how to make pancakes, jagi.”, he says as he pulls you into him wrapping his arms around you, you both lay there in the blissful morning air, on your kitchen floor and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

#chanyeol fluff #chanyeol smut #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol oneshot #chanyeol fic #exo chanyeol

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thebluesideofmyworld · 7 years ago

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Our Songs - A Solangelo Fanfic

Summary: Alternate Universe. Will was a famous pop singer who has released an album, and some of the singles from that album topped the chart for a couple of weeks. Nico was an indie musician who played guitar and piano and he didn’t really care about what is happening in the entertainment industry. For him, it’s the music that mattered. Not who sang it. One night, probably the stars up above were aligned, or simply it was just fate, but they met.

(Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || read on AO3)

CHAPTER 4: "The Song and the Singing”

(Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary:

Will sang one of the songs that Nico once wrote, a long long time ago. Then Will sang the song that they wrote together.

Nico had never written a song with someone else before. And he’s never been in a professional recording studio before. So his first experience of visiting the recording studio where Will did his work was overwhelming. In a good way. All the shiny musical instruments and sophisticated mixing stuff amazed him. And Will was not lying when he said that the people in his team were amazing. Probably because all of them were passionate about music, Nico didn’t find it that difficult to start talking with them. And he instantly hit it off with Austin, the one who usually played keyboard for Will when was performing. And just like Kayla said, Nico found that the whole song writing and producing stuff in a studio was something that he learnt quite quickly, and he enjoyed every moment of it.

So Nico spent most, almost all, of his spare time when he was not working, either in the studio or in Will’s apartment. If he’s not working on the song (they finally managed to come up with a title that everyone agreed with), he just hung out there, writing some small pieces that he kept because who knew, maybe he could come back to those small pieces later on and made them into something. Sometimes he would play the instruments, or jamming with the others to some songs, usually with Austin. Austin even agreed to help Nico with a new song that Nico has started writing.

It was not even two weeks later when they decided that they could start the real recording process for Will’s single. They have finished recorded all the music tracks yesterday so now they only needed to record Will’s vocal. Then it would be the final mixing. Lee Fletcher, the producer, he was even confident enough that they would have the final version of the song by tomorrow, or even tonight. And if everyone’s happy with it, they just need to send it to the mastering engineer as the final step for the song production. The first song where Nico professionally became one of the co-writers, and he was even acknowledged as one of the song-producers.

Nico was excited about it. Maybe a bit too excited. When he walked in to the studio, no one was there yet. Then Nico realized that he was too early for a good one hour. Nico shrugged his shoulders, and crossed the room to pick up one of the acoustic guitars that was lying around in the room. He slumped himself to the couch, and started strumming the guitar. He played a few notes, then before he knew it, he was already absorbed in playing something that he’d had in his head for a few days now. He hummed along as he played the melody, already thinking about the lyrics that he had written in his notebook.

“That was really nice.”

Nico’s heart stopped beating for a second as his head jolted up. Will stood in front of him, holding a cup that smelled of coffee, his other hand was hidden in his pocket. He had a gentle smile on his lips, his blue eyes were twinkling. He was wearing an old denim shirt that he left unbuttoned over a simple white shirt.

“Sorry,” Will said, flashing an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but that was really beautiful.”

Nico felt a strange flutter in his chest as he let his gaze fell down to the floor. It was not the first compliment that he’d ever received. But, the fact that it was coming from Will, somehow it made it feel more special.

“Thanks,” Nico said but kept his eyes at the floor.

Will walked to the other end of the couch and sat there. Nico kept on playing some random notes on the guitar.

“Are you going to upload it on your channel? The song that you were just playing?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe,” he said, still not looking at Will. “I don’t know. It’s not finished yet.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be great.”

Nico flashed him a smile and continued playing the guitar. For no reason, he started playing one of his older songs.

“I know that song,” Will said, making Nico stop and turn his head to Will. “I like it. A lot,” Will added, then sipped his coffee.

Nico raised his eyebrows. “Are you stalking my videos?”

For a second, it looked like Will was blushing. Maybe. Will pulled his legs up and leaned his back against the armrest of the couch so he was facing Nico.

“No,” he said, holding his cup with both hands as he peeked at Nico over the brim of his cup. “I was just… you know, scrolling through your old videos.”

Nico chuckled. “That one was like, one of my oldest videos.”

“I like it,” Will said. “It’s…I know that it’s not the happiest song, but it’s deep and honest.”

Nico smiled slightly. He remembered he wrote the lyric for the song when he was in high-school, when he was having a hard time dealing with his social anxiety and self-worth. He remembered writing those lyrics as he locked himself up in his room, trying to fight his own demon in himself who kept on telling him that he belonged nowhere. And even though Hazel was already around at that time, a tense relationship with his new step-mother, who seemed to scold everything that Nico did, it didn’t make things easier for him Basically, he wrote that one when he was in one of his darkest times.

“Play it for me, please?”

Nico tilted his head a little. The left corner of his lips curling up into a half-smile. “Only if you sing with it.”

Will’s smile was soft but his eyes, his blue eyes were bright and for a second Nico thought of how beautiful he was.

“Okay,” Will said, still smiling that beautiful soft smile. “I’ll sing.”

Nico shifted, and started playing the intro.

He was slightly surprised, but at the same time, delightful to see how Will started singing perfectly on the right notes.

“I spend too much time in my room. I keep too many secrets from you. I like to be alone but it’s bad for me. Because I spend too much time in my room.”

Nico kept his eyes at Will, and got even more surprised when Will continued singing the second verse, like he already memorized the lyrics of the song.

"I spend too much time on my phone. I know I’ve said I liked being alone. But I care way too much about what they think So I spend too much time on my phone."

Nico kept on playing the guitar. And Will kept on singing.

"My mama don’t like my tattoos So I had to act like I do The only thing that I learned in school Is life treats you well if you’re cool.

The song didn’t really have a chorus. And just like Will said, the lyrics were not exactly talking about sunshine and unicorns and happiness. But the way Will sang it, how his voice seemed to be filled with raw emotions, it was something that sent a shiver down Nico’s spine. Will sang along as Nico played the guitar, seemed to have memorized all the lyrics.

His voice somehow sounded even softer when he was singing the last verse of the song.

" Sometimes I still think about you I don’t tell you all the things I used to Don’t like to admit that it’s bad for me But I spend too much time in my room"

Nico put the guitar away on the floor and stared at Will in amazement.

“Oh wow,” he said. “Will, that was…really nice.”

Will turned his head away from Nico for a second, but it could not hide his cheeks from blushing.

“Thanks,” Will said as he looked back at Nico. “But really, Nico. I love that song so much. It’s really…” he paused and chewed his lower lip, like he was trying to find the right words. “Relatable? I don’t know. I just feel like that song really speaks the words that I don’t think I could have said by myself.”

“And you sang it perfectly, Will.”

Their eyes met in silence for a moment, and Will’s eyes were so blue, so bright, so beautiful, Nico was breathless for a second. He suddenly had this urge to cradle Will’s cheek with his hand, to ran his fingers through Will’s blond curls, to slowly trace-

“Yo! You two already here!”

Austin’s loud and cheerful greeting jolted them both back to the reality. Nico quickly picked the guitar back just so he had something that he could hold on to, as he tried to tell his doubling heartrate to go back to normal. Will jumped off the couch. He seemed to incidentally spill some of his coffee to his shirt as some small dark spots were now staining his shirt.

“Oh! Austin! You’re here!” Will greeted Austin, voice suspiciously a pitch higher than usual.

“Yeah, it’s almost 11 already,” Austin said as he walked down to the couch. “We should start at 11, right?” Austin asked and sat on the couch.

“Right! Right!” Will said, nodding his head so quickly, it was almost like his head about to fall of from his neck. “I’m just… uh… gonna get more coffee.”

The next second, Will already left them with wide steps, then disappeared behind the door.

Austin turned his head to Nico, who absently fiddled with the guitar.

“Is he okay?” Austin asked.

Nico made a non-committal sound before he answered. “I think so?”

Austin shrugged his shoulders. “Okay,” he said. Then he grinned and playfully punched Nico’s shoulder. “Anyway, we’re recording the vocal today. I’m pretty sure that Lee would let us hear the final mix by tonight. Exciting, huh?”

Nico lifted his head to smile at Austin. “Yeah. It is,” he said.

In fact, he couldn’t wait to hear the final version of the song.

***

Nico put the headphones on and stared at Will through the glass window that was separating them. Next to him, Lee leaned forward a little.

“Ready, Will?”

Will stretched his lips into a small smile and gave them a thumb up.

“Great,” Lee nodded. “Three, two, one.”

Nico’s hand flew to earphone as the Will started singing along the first note of the instrument.

"The weight of a simple human emotion weighs me down More than the tank ever did The pain it’s determined and demanding to ache But I’m okay"

Nico’s chest contracted as Will’s voice softly turned a bit louder as he sang the chorus

And I don’t want to let this go, I don’t want to lose control I just want to see the stars with you And I don’t want to say goodbye Someone tell me why I just want to see the stars with you

They have practiced the song a couple of times in the pre-production process. But this time, listening to Will singing it, it just felt…magical.

Will kept on singing. Nico knew for sure that Will had this soft singing voice that was also strong enough to reach higher notes. But as Will reached the bridge, with the instruments slowly intensified, it was like an angel slowly floating down from Heaven, singing for the stars hanging in the sky.

Don’t give it up just yet, stay grand for one more minute Don’t give it up just yet, stay grand Don’t give it up just yet, stay grand for one more minute Don’t give it up just yet, stay grand

Will kept on singing to the chorus, right after the bridge. He had his eyes at Nico, and even with the distance between them, and the glass window, it was like Will staring right at him, through him.

And as Will sang the words, for just that moment, Nico felt like Will was singing for him, only for him.

And I don’t want to let this go, I don’t want to lose control I just want to see the stars with you And I don’t want to say goodbye Someone tell me why I just want to see the stars with you

Will’s voice was so soft, almost like he was whispering as he sang the very last line of the song, still with his eyes at Nico

With you

And at that moment, Nico realized how wonderful, how delightful it would be. To watch the stars above them with Will.

Only with Will.

***

Author’s Notes:

The song quoted in this chapter: I Spend Too Much Time in My Room by The Band Camino, and The Fault in Our Stars by Troye Sivan

Kudos, comments and feedbacks are always highly appreciated <3

The next chapter will have another one of Troye’s songs. Any guess on what song will it be ;p?

#Solangelo #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #Solangelo fanfic #Solangelo fanfiction #pjo #pjo fanfic #our songs #that song from the Band Camino was like me in my not so good days

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flslp87 · 8 years ago

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The Promise

A Captain Swan AU

Killian and Emma, two people longing for love. Come along on their journey of True Love, filled with romance, passion, and challenges as they fight for their Happy Beginning in The Promise.

Special thanks to @duathadun @hellomommanerd @linda8084 @juliakaze

Can be found on Tumblr (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) Christmas Eve Christmas Day

Can be found on FF (Rating changed to M) Can be found on AO3 (Rating will remain T to T+)

Chapter 1

Words ~ 5400 Story Rating ~ T++

August 2014

Killian Jones had been born on the right side of the tracks on a night when the stars were in perfect alignment. He lived a life having parents who were overjoyed by his birth because they had given up hope of having a second child, a brother who allowed him to tag along wherever he went, and friends he loved and whom he could depend on whenever needed. He also had a solid head on his shoulders and grew up with such a thirst for all types of knowledge that he kept his mother busy taking him to and from the local library, where he would check out books on everything from ‘How to Grow the Best Orchids’ to ‘Making the Most of a Design’. Killian wasn't a one-dimensional child either, for he had inherited his mother's appreciation for beauty and could describe a painting as easily as he could recite poetry. From a very young age, he loved visiting all types of museums and asking questions of his parents and, eventually, of his teachers and their answers satisfied him for a time. But as he grew, while he continued to strive to learn and understand the world around him, he always felt that there was more out there. A part of him that was always searching for that elusive something that he knew was out there; but what or whom it was, the search continued.

As a young boy, his parents had been inseparable, and their love and affection for each other and for their children was apparent to anyone they were around. There was a sense of the Jones family against the world and, in a way, it had always been that way, as Katherine's parents never warmed up to the boy from the wrong side of London, whisking their daughter away from the society where they thought she belonged. Even after Brennan had made his way as a successful banker throughout Europe, a distance still existed, and for that reason their small family remained isolated, spending their summers together picnicking, boating and playing football, and skiing, skating and visiting museums in the winter.

Since learning had always come easily to Killian, he had high marks and found his way into the Imperial College London to study engineering at the young age of eighteen. Moving away from home and into dormitory life, where he met his best mate Robin Locksley, gave him a freedom that he had never known, and much to his mother and father's consternation, he had ended up on academic probation after the first year. A stern lecture by his father and the threat of being forced to join his brother in the Royal Navy seemed to be just the motivation he required for not only his status within the program but also his behavior in general. During his second and third year, his standing improved, earning him top awards. But then tragedy struck, taking both parents in one fell swoop and he had spiraled down, no longer caring about himself or anyone else, and wishing the person responsible for his parents' death hadn't died with them so he could extract his own revenge. Only well-placed guilt from Liam had pushed him to complete his final year and graduate.

Once it was official and he was an engineer, he found it brought him no joy and he had set off to find himself. Thankfully, his fairly level-headed mate, Robin, had followed and managed to keep them both from causing too much damage. Then one night they sat around after too much rum and too little sleep listening to music when a classic rock song came on and both started singing. For the next several years, they wound their way through Europe, joining in with other musicians they met along the way, playing gigs at bars and pubs, taking responsibility for only themselves, and that was in a very superficial manner. And then life had once again taken a dive and the brother that he had always known as a happy, loving, caring and emotionally connected person had become a jaded, bitter shell of his once charismatic self.

Over the course of the next few years, their father’s best mate since college, Dakkar Nemo, had taken Liam under his wing, finally convincing him that a change was needed, and he had quickly left his old life behind and moved to the States. Once Liam had felt settled in his position with Nemo’s business, every correspondence between them called for Killian to give up his vagabond lifestyle and move to New York. It had taken another year, but there was something about staring thirty in the face and having nothing to show for it that made him feel it was time to wake up and be the man his mum would have been proud of. It had been almost ten years since his parents' death and while he finally had his priorities straight, to smoothly integrate himself into what Liam and Nemo were creating, he needed to further his education. Because he wanted what his parents had, and their romance had begun at Harvard University, he applied and when accepted, everything seemed to click into place. Something was telling him that, if he was open to what life held, the time to fill the empty spot in his heart was now. Now that he was here, he couldn't wait to see where the journey led.

Arriving at the Harvard campus, he was curious to retrace his parents’ steps and after strolling the campus found himself back where they told him it had all begun. As he walked out onto Harvard Yard, he slowly turned a full 360 degrees taking in the buildings and the trees around him. There was so much history, not only history of the school itself, but the history of his family. His parents had met and fallen in love right here, outside the Widener Library. His mother, Katherine, a young 18-year-old British woman away from home for the first time and his father, Brennan, a roguish older gent of 25 who was working on his graduate degrees in business and finance, with plans to take the international banking world by storm. Two individuals, who on paper should never have met, much less fallen in love, but to hear their story, one look had been all it had taken for them to fall for the other and stay that way until their death at far too young of an age.

Killian remembered he had been around five and was sitting on his father's lap, waiting for his mother to finish dressing when he had heard their story for the first time. He had been looking at the chunky ring his father wore on his right hand, admiring the gold coloring and trying to read the letters written on it when his father had asked him, "Killian, my boy, did I ever tell you the story of how I met your mother?"

"No, Papa," he had answered, but inside his head wondering why this information was important because, like every child, he had assumed that there was no beginning of his parents, just like there would be no end. They were and always had been together.

"Well, Killian, sit back and listen carefully. It's quite the love story," he had replied. His mother had walked through the room then and when his father had winked at her, she had smiled that special smile of hers that she reserved just for Brennan; the one that always made Killian feel as though he were walking in on a secret that they didn't want to share with anyone but each other.

After she had left the room, he had leaned back against his father's chest. "Alright. Papa, I'm ready.

"I had just moved into my new place of residence for the next few years, Weld Hall, one of the freshman dorms on the Harvard campus, where my job was to be a Proctor. That, my boy, is similar to my being your father, except it wasn't as much fun." He had tickled his stomach, which had earned a giggle and then continued. "In my twenty-five-year-old infinite wisdom, I decided that a good way to get to know my new charges would be a pick-up football game, the American kind. Little did I know that my life would change forever that day."

Brennan listened for the cadence and as soon as the center had hiked the ball and it was in the quarterback's hands, he took off. His goal was to get around the others, catch the ball, make the winning score and then meet up with his mate Nemo at The Burren for a pint. He watched the ball as it spiraled toward him, wrapped his hands around it and instead of putting his head down and running for a touchdown, he ran into a wall. Thankfully he had the wherewithal to drop the ball and twist his body so that the wall landed on him and not the other way around.

"Bloody hell," his wall spit out. "Let me go you beastly ponce!" Long legs and arms moving simultaneously to untangle from his.

Brennan looked up into the bluest eyes he had ever seen gazing back at him. Rimmed by long, dark lashes under the gentle arch of thin brows, her eyes shone like beacons, igniting a fire within his soul unlike any he had ever known. He smiled at her, watching as her eyes followed the line of his lips and darkened with something that could only be described as awareness. When he glanced at her mouth and could see the tips of her white teeth between perfectly pink lips, it was as if a lightning bolt had come out of the sky right then, for he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was the woman he was going to marry. He opened his mouth to introduce himself and what popped out was, "Will you marry me?" instead.

Her eyes went wide and this time she was able to push herself up. As she bent over to pick up the books that he had knocked out of her hands, she tossed over her shoulder, "You might be dishy, but you are quite dim!" And with a toss of her head that brought her glorious mane of dark hair to his attention, she flounced off.

Brennan looked down at Killian, "And that my dear son is the story of how I met your mother."

Killian licked his lips and furrowed his brow. "But Papa, what about the game? Did your team win?"

His mother had walked into the room as he finished the question and started laughing. "Killian," she came over behind his father and leaned over his shoulder, "your father doesn't care for that part of the story. Am I right, my love?"

Brennan kissed her hand and a self-deprecating smile crossed his face. "You are right, my love." He cut his eyes to his son. "Alas, we did not win that game. While I was falling into your mother's eyes, I had dropped the ball and the other team picked it up and scored. Not the way I wanted my charges to see me, but once your mother allowed me to court her, I no longer cared."

Coming back to the present, Killian noticed that since he had been sitting various activities had taken over the yard. There were people tossing Frisbees, kicking a football, and throwing an American football; nubile young men and women, many their first sojourn away from home. They made him feel old, really old. Checking the time on his gold watch, the last gift from his parents before their deaths, he realized hours had passed instead of mere minutes as he had thought. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to Robin.

K: Where are we meeting again?

R: The Burren in Davis Square, it's open mic night.

K: Alright.

R: Want your Gibson?

K: You want to play tonight?

R: The ladies do love it.

K: Wanker

Pocketing the phone, he took one last look around the square, wondering if he would be as lucky in discovering love while at Harvard as his parents. With hope on his side, he left to meet up with Robin.

cs~cs~cs

The stars had not been perfectly aligned when Emma Swan had been born, ostensibly on the wrong side of the tracks. She had been born on an unseasonably warm night in the middle of fall, not far from the group home in Boston where she grew up. Hours after her birth, she was left in a basket, wrapped in a blanket with the name Emma embroidered on it. The only other item in the basket was a note tucked inside that read, "For your best chance," which Emma kept tucked inside a box with other mementos. She didn't have a family by blood, and most of the people that she knew growing up were individuals whose paths crossed hers as they would move in and out of her group home over the years. Ruby and Ashley had lived in the home as long as she and were the only two she called friends. They had her back, just as she had theirs. A family of sorts, if only in the minds of lost little girls who seemed to be searching.

The home where Emma lived was presided over by Sister Blue, a rather austere woman on one hand, but on the other, one who could be very kind. She had taken it upon herself to help the girls grow up to be the women they were meant to be, and as such had encouraged the girls to read and challenge themselves, often pushing them to think outside the box; to expand their horizons and make dreams that they never thought would come true, but ones that inspired them to never stop trying. Because of her tutelage, all three girls excelled in school and higher education was not an insurmountable dream, but one that was theirs for the taking.

Emma’s younger years were spent inside her head, as in there she could create the perfect world and a perfect family with parents who loved her and never would have thought to leave her to grow up alone. When she turned five the Sisters gave her a gift, and that gift gave vision to her dreams. The gift, a copy of Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales, filled her dreams with faces and places that, even though she knew were never real, made the loneliness bearable. She imagined her parents were Snow White and Prince Charming and the reason they had abandoned her was that they were cursed and that someday they would be reunited. Ruby and Ashley quickly became Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella and she filled pages with simple drawings, often drawing her thoughts instead of using her words until they teased her that she was the mouse in Cinderella's story. She didn't agree with them, though, for she saw herself as the ugly duckling that would someday grow up to be a beautiful Swan. So enchanted was she with the story that she asked for it as a last name, and was granted her wish when she was ten.

She saw herself as a woman who was of average height, her body weighing slightly more than she wanted, and topped by a round face, slight overbite, and blonde hair that she wore parted in the middle and straight. She was neither happy nor unhappy with the way she looked but she did like her eyes. They were dark green with flecks of gold and brown in them, and they darkened when she was sad and lightened when she was happy. And inside where it counted, Emma was comfortable with the person she had become, because her life experiences had served in making her into the person who looked back at her from the mirror, and that was someone of whom she could be proud.

Her ability to draw paved the way to several awards at her school as well as at a local art museum, which held contests for children's artworks in the summer. As her confidence grew with her artistic abilities, so did her confidence in other aspects of her life, except when it came to allowing others to get close to her. Some called them walls, but she called it self-preservation. After all, what can't touch you can't hurt you. And protecting herself from being hurt became even more important as she moved through her teens and watched Ruby and Ashley fall in and out of love over and over again. Allowing herself to be vulnerable enough to fall in love with anyone was not something that she could even imagine at sixteen unless the vision that was her secret crush walked into her life, and then, she thought with a smile on her face and a flutter in her chest, all bets were off.

The possibility of that, she knew, was minuscule as he was someone created with her vivid imagination. He wasn’t someone that she had conjured out of thin air, but that she had created from the detailed description that J.S. Barrie had given his version of the one and only Captain Hook. After numerous readings of the story, her mind's eye kept creating a face for him, until one day she pulled out her charcoals and sketched what she envisioned: Dark, wind-tousled hair that constantly fell over a high forehead, a strong jaw that was never quite clean shaven, and blue, blue eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes that pierced her very soul. And his smile was one that involved his whole face, causing his eyes to crinkle and deep grooves to appear in his lean cheeks. So enamored was she with her dream man that the mere mortals that she saw in school every day didn't stand a chance, which gave her friends something else to tease her about. What could she do when her heart wanted what it wanted?

The part of Boston, Dorchester, where Emma’s group home was located, had its share of difficulties, yet Emma and her friends tried to stay away from the groups of rougher individuals, which often created tense situations. None more so than when she was fifteen and one of the boys, Neal, tried to get her to date him, not taking too kindly to her refusal. For weeks, afterward, he had followed her, attempting to intimidate her enough to make her change her mind until he was just gone and her defenses had dropped. Unfortunately, that was when he was the most dangerous, setting her up to take the fall for a crime he had committed. But with the support of Ruby, Ashley and Sister Blue, the real story came out and he was sent away to prison.

When they had turned eighteen the three young women had moved out of Dorchester area, leaving behind the only home they had ever known, in search of a new home. They ended up not far away in Brookline Village. Financially bolstered by a few scholarships and jobs, the girls were able to live in a nice apartment and go to school studying the areas they loved. Emma was at Massachusetts College of Art and Design pursuing her interest in art, and Ashley and Ruby at a local small private college, one taking education classes and the other trying to decide between being a healer of animals or to be a healer of people.

When they had all graduated with their bachelor’s degrees, it had been a joyous occasion but also a sad one, as for the first time in many years the girls would be going their separate ways. Ashley and Ruby were moving on to take graduate courses at Boston College and Emma was going to work full time at the Museum of Fine Arts. After several years, Emma found herself getting bored and, deciding she wanted more for her life, applied to and was accepted to Harvard University, where she planned to get her MBA, and where she was going to be able to get back into painting. Her grades from Mass Art and a generous recommendation from her employer helped her get a top fellowship which not only paid for her school but left enough for her to live in a small apartment on her own. And her experience from the museum helped her achieve a position as a teacher's assistant to one of the art professors, allowing her to pick up a brush and create, something that she had missed deeply.

“Earth to Emma,” snickered Ashley.

Emma glanced up quickly from the box she was taping shut. "Sorry about that," she gave her friend a sheepish smile, "just remembering."

Ashley smiled softly, her eyes twinkling, "We had some good times here didn't we?"

"We did, and then you and Ruby moved off and Phillip and Sean moved in." She looked around the room to see what else needed to be done. "This is the last box. Is everything else loaded?"

"Let's hope so, as they already left with Ruby. We are supposed to bring the rest of the stuff in Sean's car." A dreamy smile crossed her face.

"How's that going?" Emma was happy for her friends, who had been dating several months. The women made a quick walk through the apartment and after loading the car started the drive to her new residence.

Once on the road, Ashley answered, "He's wonderful Emma. I think maybe he's the one," she giggled and her cheeks turned pink. "So, what's the deal with you and Phillip? Sean told me he asked you out."

As they drove, Emma filled Ashley in on Phillip and how she had told him they were just friends and before she knew it they arrived at her new apartment. She had been fortunate in discovering that the professor whom she was the teaching assistant for, Sarah Fisher, had inherited an old Victorian home in Cambridge and had converted it into apartments; three, one-bedroom apartments and one two-bedroom suite that she only rented to graduate students. Thankfully, one of them came available and Emma was going to have her own space for the first time in her life. A new apartment, a new position, and a new school. Wondering what else new was awaiting her, she exited the car and ran up the steps to her new home.

cs~cs~cs

Killian walked into The Burren, a popular pub in Davis Square, to see Robin was already up on stage warming up with the band. After arriving he was introduced to Leroy, the drummer, Walter, on the keyboard, Tom, who played bass and sang backup vocals, and the lead singer, Doc, who also played guitar. Collectively, they were known as The Minors, a rather interesting group of musicians who had met in college over ten years ago and were seen regularly around the greater Boston area club scene.

Lifting his guitar strap over his head Killian strummed a few notes, tuning his instrument before joining the band on a few songs. While Doc sang, he played mindlessly and was able to observe the patrons. The place was crowded, small groups, large ones, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Killian noticed Robin smiling at a few females and shook his head at his mate and his quick moves. There were many beautiful women in the pub, many obviously available but none reaching inside to touch that part of him that said, “I am worth your time. Know me,” and so he continued to play, getting lost in the music. He and Robin also sang a few songs, and as they moved seamlessly from Nirvana to David Bowie, he found himself relaxing more and more. As the set wound to a close, the band left the stage and moved into a back room to rest and regroup. Would set two be any different, he wondered?

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Emma waded her way through the crowd of people, hurrying toward the table in the corner where she was joining her friends Ruby, Ashley, Sean, Phillip and one of her new housemates, Elsa. Grabbing a beer at the bar, she scooted between Elsa and Ruby. "Sorry, I'm late. What did I miss?"

Ruby smirked at her. "Nothing. We were just trying to decide what to order." Once that decision was made they talked about innocuous things and Emma spent time getting acquainted with Elsa, who shared the larger apartment with her sister Anna. Elsa was a second-year law student and her sister was finishing her undergraduate studies and preparing for the MCAT. Emma found her to be a soft-spoken woman who was genuinely kind and also seemed to fit in nicely with her friends. She was even pleased to see that Phillip had turned his eye to the blonde. "Well, you must have not broken Phillip's heart too badly," Ruby whispered in her ear.

Emma rolled her eyes. "I see that. Think I should warn her about his wandering eye?"

Ruby peered around at the two and noticed that Elsa's attention had moved off Phillip and she was looking up at the stage where instead of the normal loud rock music, the music was soft, haunting almost. Glancing in the same direction, Ruby immediately noticed what had drawn Elsa’s attention as there were two new men, both playing guitar, "Forgive me, Father, for I'm thinking impure thoughts," she muttered.

Emma heard her comment and started laughing, "Since when aren't you thinking impure thoughts, Rubes?" When Ruby didn't answer, Emma turned in her chair to see what had caught her friend's attention.

~~~~~~~

Walking back up onto the stage, Killian noticed how loud the atmosphere had become as the night wore on. As he strummed a few chords, his attention was captured by the melodic laughter of a female sitting off in the corner with a group. He couldn't see anything but her profile, but the joy he heard in her laugh captured his attention unlike any other. Her friend on the right turned his way as did her friend on the left, sending a wolfish smile toward the stage. As they played the opening bars to his song, he decided he was singing to the mystery woman in the middle.

“I've been alone with you inside my mind And in my dreams, I've kissed your lips a thousand times I sometimes see you pass outside my door Hello, is it me you're looking for?”

He saw her turn in his direction as he continued to sing.

“I can see it in your eyes I can see it in your smile You're all I've ever wanted and my arms are open wide Cause you know just what to say and you know just what to do And I want to tell you so much, I love you.”

~~~~~~~~

When Emma turned to see what had captured Ruby's attention, the waitress had been standing there with their order. Passing the plates around she heard a voice start singing Hello, a song she always enjoyed listening to, but this man's voice took the lyrics to an entirely different level. Smooth, rich and sexy quickly came to mind. Wondering if his looks matched, she turned and what she saw caused her pulse to race and her breath to catch, for she was looking at what came close to being her very own Captain Hook come to life. The face from her dreams after reading Peter Pan so many times was singing, and as their gazes locked across the sea of people, Emma felt his words were meant just for her.

“I long to see the sunlight in your hair And tell you time and time again how much I care Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow Hello, I've just got to let you know Cause I wonder where you are and I wonder what you do Are you somewhere feeling lonely? Or is someone loving you? Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue But let me start by saying I love you.”

Feeling her face flame, Emma turned back around, "Ruby, you see the resemblance too, right? I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"I see it." She clutched Emma's hand. "You know what this means, right? It's fate. He's your destiny."

Emma turned back around as he sang the last few bars of the song.

“Hello Is it me you're looking for? Cause I wonder where you are and I wonder what you do Are you somewhere feeling lonely? Or is someone loving you? Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue But let me start by saying I love you.”

As the music faded, he tilted his head in her direction, just a slight nod to indicate that he was feeling something too. But could she take a chance?

"My destiny? Right!" She finished her beer. "My destiny is school on Monday. I don't have time for anything else."

Ruby glanced at the stubborn set to her jaw and looked over at Ashley who shrugged her shoulders. "Can't fight destiny, Emma. But we'll play it your way tonight."

They finished their food and cashed out, all going their separate ways with promises to get together soon. Since she and Elsa were going in the same direction, they stopped at the ladies room on their way out and, as was usual in a pub, had to wait in line. Listening to the women around them, she learned that it had been the first time the man who had been singing and his friend had played with the band. She also learned that if he chose, he would not be going home alone tonight, which reiterated her thoughts that a man that nice to look at had playboy written all over him. There was no way he would be interested in an average girl like her.

"I hope this line moves faster or we won't make the next train." Elsa's comment stopped her wayward thoughts.

"Fingers crossed," she mumbled as they inched their way forward.

~~~~~~~~~

Killian saw her and her friends leave the table and head toward the exit, and really wished he could go after her. He had felt something sizzling through the air and he wanted a chance to see her up close and not through the haze of a dark room. When he saw her and the blonde turn in the direction of the facilities, he let out a breath and finished playing the song before following.

Turning the corner toward the hall leading to the ladies room, Killian was hit in full stride hard enough to take his breath away. Unconsciously he caught her arms and started to ask if she was alright but when she looked up at him, he got lost in the dark green of her eyes. "It's you," he whispered.

Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled "It's me," she laughed before she was pulled from his arms by the other blonde.

He reached out and caught the side of her bag. "But wait, what's your name?"

Her friend tugged again, pulling her bag from his grasp. She looked over her shoulder as she followed her friend out the door. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Killian watched her race off. "Perhaps I would,” he mumbled. “after all it is customary for the groom to know his bride's name." Looking down at his hand he realized something from her bag had broken off and he was holding one end of it. What he saw caused a huge grin to light his face, for he was holding a broken paintbrush, which he was sure might give him a clue about her identity. He started to toss the broken brush into the garbage until he noticed it had writing on it. "Emma," he read. Walking back to the stage, he finally understood what his father meant about one look being all it took for him to know that his mother was the one for him, and it seemed that there was a very good possibility that one son had just followed in his footsteps.

Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for Chapter 2. Also here’s the song Killian sang to Emma - Hello

#captain swan au ff #cs ff #cs crew #cs mafia #a love story #ThePromise

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