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novaursa · 4 months ago

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The Wolf's Flame

- Summary: When you take your son flying, Cregan keeps fires warm for your return.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is only daughter of Rhaenyra, has silver hair and violet eyes and is bonded to a dragon. These events happen after Fires That Never Freeze. To read all parts in chronological order, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @21-princess

Your fingers gently trace the downy softness of Alysane's silver hair, a mirror of your own. Her tiny eyelids flutter as she breathes steadily against your chest, her warmth a comfort in the quiet of the nursery. The light filtering through the windows casts a soft glow, making the strands of her hair shimmer like moonlight on water. She stirs slightly, letting out a small, contented sigh, and you can't help but smile, though it is tinged with sorrow.

You can still vividly recall the first time Jace held your son, Killian. He had been so careful, so reverent, as if the boy was made of the finest glass.

"He's got your spirit," Jacaerys had said, cradling Killian in his arms with a grin that could have brightened the darkest day. "And a bit of Cregan's stubbornness too, I reckon. He's going to be a strong one."

You remember how his brown eyes had softened, his usual warrior's stoicism giving way to a tenderness that was rare to see in him. You had laughed then, a light, joyful sound that echoed in the stone halls, lifting the spirits of those around you.

But now, that memory is a dagger to your heart. Jace is gone, another brother taken by the cruel hands of war and treachery. The Battle of the Gullet claimed him, like it claimed so many others, leaving behind only a hollow ache where once there had been warmth and love.

Your grip on Alysane tightens ever so slightly, as if you can protect her from the world that has already taken so much from you. She shifts in her sleep, her tiny fists clenching, and you wonder what kind of life she will have in this world that seems so determined to tear your family apart.

The door creaks open softly, and you glance up to see Cregan standing in the doorway, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts. His presence is a comfort, a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions. He steps into the room, his boots barely making a sound on the cold stone floor.

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion as he comes to stand beside you. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, a warm, steadying presence. "Just like her mother."

You smile faintly at his words, but it's a fragile thing, easily broken. "She reminds me of Jace," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "The way he looked at Killian… it was as if he could see all the good in the world reflected in him."

Cregan's jaw tightens, and he nods, his eyes darkening with shared grief. "Jacaerys was a good man," he says after a moment, his voice low and filled with respect. "He would have been proud to see how you're raising our children, Y/N. Proud of the mother you've become."

His words are a balm, easing the sting of your loss, even if only slightly. You lean into him, resting your head against his chest, drawing strength from his steady heartbeat. "I just wish he were here to see them grow," you admit, your voice thick with unshed tears. "To see the family we’re building…"

Cregan wraps his arms around you, careful not to disturb Alysane, who remains peacefully asleep in your arms. "We'll make sure they know who he was," he promises, his voice strong and resolute. "We'll tell them stories of their uncle Jace, of his courage, his kindness. He won't be forgotten."

You nod, a tear finally slipping free, tracing a path down your cheek. "I just miss him so much," you confess, the words breaking like waves against the shore.

"I know," Cregan whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For a long moment, the two of you stand there in the quiet of the nursery, holding each other close, sharing the weight of your grief. Alysane stirs again, and you look down at her, at the peaceful innocence on her tiny face. She is a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, life continues, new stories begin.

As you gaze at your daughter, you feel a small spark of determination flicker within you. You will protect her, protect Killian, and ensure they grow up knowing the love and legacy of those who came before them.

"I'll make sure they know," you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. "I'll make sure they remember him."

Cregan nods, his grip on you tightening just slightly, a silent promise that he will stand by you, no matter what. Together, you will keep Jace's memory alive, woven into the very fabric of your children's lives, a legacy of love and courage that even death cannot erase.

The chill of the northern wind bites at your cheeks as you stand in the courtyard of Winterfell, the ancient stones of the castle walls towering around you. The sky above is a pale, wintry blue, the kind that stretches on endlessly, promising the first snows of the season. Thraxata, your beloved dragon, is a dark silhouette against the sky, her massive form casting a shadow over the courtyard as she awaits you with the patient stillness of a creature who knows her place in the world.

Cregan stands nearby, holding Killian in his arms. Your son's violet eyes are wide with excitement, his small hands clutching at the fur-lined collar of his father's cloak. His breath comes in quick, excited puffs, visible in the cold air, as he watches you secure the last of the straps on Thraxata's saddle.

"Is Mama ready?" Killian asks, his voice high with anticipation, his gaze flicking between you and the towering dragon.

"Almost, little wolf," Cregan replies, his deep voice softened with affection. He adjusts his hold on Killian, allowing the boy to lean forward slightly, getting a better view of the magnificent creature before him.

You finish tightening the final strap and turn to face them, your heart swelling with love at the sight of your son’s eager face. "She's ready," you confirm, walking over to them with a smile that feels more natural now, more present. The cold air feels invigorating, as does the promise of the flight ahead.

Killian wiggles in Cregan’s arms, his excitement barely contained. "Can we fly now, Mama? Please?"

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and reach out to take him from Cregan, who hands him over with a tender smile. "Of course, we can, little one," you say, holding Killian close for a moment before lifting him up to press a quick kiss to his forehead. "But you must hold on tight, alright? Just like we practiced."

Killian nods eagerly, his little hands gripping your cloak as you turn to face Cregan. Your husband’s grey eyes are filled with warmth, the kind that always makes you feel grounded, no matter how high you fly. He steps closer, wrapping an arm around your waist as he bends down to press a kiss to your lips, a slow, lingering gesture that speaks of love and longing.

"Fly safe," he murmurs against your lips, his breath warm in the cold air. "And bring him back to me in one piece."

You smile against his mouth, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "Always," you promise, your voice soft but filled with the certainty that comes from years of shared battles and shared love. "We'll be back before the sun sets."

With a final kiss, you turn back to Thraxata, your heart thudding with a mix of excitement and the familiar rush of anticipation that always accompanies a flight. You cradle Killian with one arm as you approach the great beast, who lowers her massive head in greeting, her violet eyes shimmering with intelligence and recognition.

“Hello girl,” you whisper, your free hand brushing against her polished obsidian scales, which glimmer faintly with hues of violet and blue in the sunlight. Thraxata rumbles in response, a sound that vibrates through the ground beneath your feet, as if she’s sharing in the excitement of the day.

With practiced ease, you swing yourself up onto the saddle, positioning Killian in front of you. His small hands reach out instinctively to grasp the pommel, and you secure him with a careful, reassuring grip. He giggles with delight as he feels the warmth of Thraxata’s body beneath him, the thrill of the impending flight already bubbling over.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice a blend of both motherly concern and the thrill of the adventure ahead.

“Ready!” Killian exclaims, his voice filled with a joy so pure it sends a spark of warmth through you, despite the cold.

With one last glance at Cregan, who watches you with that same steady look, you give Thraxata the command to take flight. The dragon responds immediately, her powerful wings unfurling with a sound like thunder. She launches into the air, her great body rising smoothly from the ground as the wind rushes past you, carrying the scent of pine and snow.

The world below falls away quickly as Thraxata soars upward, the chill of the wind tugging at your hair and cloak, but the cold is nothing compared to the exhilaration of the sky opening up before you. Killian’s laughter rings out, a bright, joyous sound that echoes across the open sky. He turns his head back to you, eyes wide with pure wonder. “Mama, we’re flying! Look, we’re really flying!”

You tighten your grip on him, feeling the steady thrum of Thraxata’s heart beneath you, the power of her wings carrying you higher, above the walls of Winterfell and the endless expanse of the North. “Yes, we are,” you say, your voice filled with the same awe you see reflected in your son’s eyes. “Just like I did with my mother when I was your age.”

The dragon’s flight is smooth, a testament to the bond you’ve shared since her hatching in your cradle. She’s been with you through every trial, every loss, and every victory. Now, she carries your son just as faithfully, as if she understands that he is a part of you, a continuation of your legacy.

As Winterfell grows smaller beneath you, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. Up here, with the sky stretching out infinitely above and the world below far removed, it’s easy to forget the weight of your grief, the loss of Jace, the uncertainty of the future. Up here, there is only the sound of the wind, the warmth of your son in your arms, and the steady, powerful beat of Thraxata’s wings.

You glance down at Killian, whose eyes are now glued to the horizon, a look of pure wonder on his face. “What do you see, little one?” you ask, curious to hear his thoughts.

“Everything, Mama,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe. “I can see everything.”

You smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “Then let’s see where the wind takes us, my brave little dragon rider.”

As Thraxata glides effortlessly through the sky, you let yourself enjoy the moment, the rare freedom it offers, the bond between mother and child, between rider and dragon. And for a time, as the cold wind whips past and the world falls away beneath you, you are simply Y/N Velaryon, a daughter of House Targaryen, a mother, a wife, and a rider of dragons. The rest of the world can wait until your feet are back on solid ground.

Cregan Stark watches as Thraxata’s obsidian-black form rises higher into the sky, the great dragon’s wings beating with a rhythm that reverberates in his chest. He stands in the courtyard of Winterfell, eyes locked on the shrinking figures of his wife and son as they ascend into the endless blue, until they become little more than a speck against the pale sky. The wind whips through the courtyard, carrying with it the scent of pine and the distant promise of snow, but Cregan remains still, his gaze unwavering as long as they are visible.

There’s a sense of awe and pride that fills him every time he watches Y/N with her dragon. Even after years of seeing her soar above the battlements, it never fails to stir something deep within him. She is a true daughter of the Targaryen line, a force of nature bound to the skies, and it amazes him that she is his—his wife, the mother of his children.

As Thraxata and his family disappear from sight, he finally lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, a mix of contentment and longing. He knows she’ll be back before long, but there’s always that small pang of separation, as if part of him takes flight with her every time she ascends into the heavens.

With a final glance at the now empty sky, Cregan turns and heads back toward the Great Keep. The stone walls of Winterfell rise imposingly around him, offering a stark contrast to the boundless sky from which he has just watched his wife and son disappear. The weight of his responsibilities returns to him with each step, grounding him in the reality of the world below.

As he enters the Great Hall, the warmth of the hearth fires greets him, a welcome change from the crisp air outside. The hall is quiet this time of day, the usual bustle of Winterfell subdued, with most of the household attending to their duties. He makes his way down the familiar corridors, his boots echoing softly on the stone floors, until he reaches the chamber where his daughter, Alysane, is being tended to.

The door is slightly ajar, and as he steps inside, he is greeted by the sight of a nursemaid cradling the infant in her arms. Alysane is awake, her bright violet eyes—so much like her mother’s—tracking the nursemaid’s movements with the curious intensity only a baby can muster. The soft, cooing lullaby being sung to her halts as the nursemaid notices Cregan’s entrance.

“Lord Stark,” she says with a respectful dip of her head, adjusting her hold on the child. “The little lady has been a delight today, though I daresay she misses her mother already.”

Cregan crosses the room in a few long strides, his gaze softening as he looks down at his daughter. “She’ll have her back soon enough,” he replies, his voice a low rumble of reassurance. “Let me hold her.”

The nursemaid carefully transfers Alysane into his arms, and Cregan feels the familiar, grounding weight of his daughter settle against his chest. She’s so small, so delicate, and yet she has a strength in her grip that makes him smile every time she reaches out to grasp his fingers. Alysane’s eyes, so much like Y/N’s, meet his, and he can’t help the rush of love that fills him.

“Have you been good for the nursemaid, little one?” he asks, his tone lighter, more playful as he gently rocks her. Alysane coos in response, her tiny fists waving in the air as if to say, Yes, Papa, I’ve been very good.

“She’s taken to her feeding well, my lord,” the nursemaid informs him, a smile tugging at her lips as she watches the interaction. “And she seems to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Perhaps she takes after her mother in that regard.”

Cregan chuckles softly, nodding. “She has the blood of the dragon in her, no doubt. But she’s a Stark, too. She’ll grow to love these cold winds, just as we do.”

He spends a few more moments with his daughter, savoring the simple joy of holding her, of feeling her small heartbeat against his chest. It’s a different kind of peace than what he feels when he’s with Y/N, but no less profound. Alysane is a part of them both, a perfect blend of fire and ice, and he treasures these quiet moments with her.

After a while, he gently hands Alysane back to the nursemaid, who resumes her gentle rocking and humming. “Thank you,” he says, his voice warm with gratitude. “Keep her close to the fire. The day will grow colder before it ends.”

The nursemaid nods. “As you wish, my lord.”

Cregan leaves the chamber, his thoughts now turning to the evening ahead. The wind outside has picked up, and he knows Y/N and Killian will appreciate a warm welcome when they return. He heads toward the Great Hall once more, this time with purpose in his stride. The fires need to be tended, more wood brought in, and the hearths stoked to a roaring blaze. Winterfell might be a cold, unforgiving place at times, but it was also a home—a sanctuary for his family—and he would see to it that they returned to warmth and comfort.

As he reaches the Great Hall, he calls out to a nearby servant, a young man quick on his feet. “We’ll need more wood for the hearths,” Cregan instructs, his tone commanding but not unkind. “Bring in what you can carry and see to it that the fires are stoked high.”

The servant nods eagerly, hurrying off to fulfill the request. Cregan moves to the main hearth himself, where the fire is already burning but not nearly to the level he desires. He takes up a heavy iron poker and stirs the embers, watching as the flames leap higher, their glow reflecting off the stone walls.

As the fire roars to life, filling the hall with a warm, golden light, he steps back, satisfied with his work. The crackling of the flames, the scent of burning wood, and the comforting heat are all reminders of why he fights, why he endures. It’s for these moments—for the quiet, peaceful evenings after the storms have passed, when his family is safe and together under one roof.

He can almost hear Killian’s excited laughter already, the way his little boy’s voice fills the hall with joy whenever they return from a flight. He imagines Y/N’s smile, the way it lights up her entire face, and how her silver hair catches the firelight as she steps inside, Killian in tow, both of them flushed from the cold and the exhilaration of the sky.

The servant returns with an armful of wood, and Cregan helps him stack it near the hearth. The warmth is already spreading through the hall, driving away the chill that had begun to settle as the day waned. He can feel the sense of home building around him, the very thing he’s fought to protect, to preserve for those he loves most.

With the fires now blazing, he takes a moment to himself, standing in the center of the hall and letting the warmth seep into his bones. It’s a simple pleasure, but one he doesn’t take for granted. The flickering light of the flames plays across his face, casting shadows that dance along the stone walls.

He glances toward the door, knowing it will soon swing open, admitting his wife and son back into the safety and warmth of Winterfell. He’s ready to greet them, to hear about their flight, to listen to Killian’s breathless recounting of the view from above and to feel the reassurance of Y/N’s presence beside him.

As he waits, the fire crackling at his back, Cregan Stark feels a deep sense of contentment. There’s a storm coming, as there always is in the North, but for now, his world is warm, his heart full, and his family is safe. And that is all he could ever ask for.

The warmth of the fire mingles with the lingering heat of your bodies, still flush from the passion that had just consumed you both. You lie nestled in the soft, thick furs of your bed, the heavy pelts providing a cocoon of warmth against the biting cold that lurks just beyond the walls of Winterfell.

Cregan's strong arm is draped around you, his hand tracing lazy, soothing patterns on your bare back. Your head rests on his broad chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he takes. The intimacy of the moment is profound, the kind of peace that only comes after such intensity, when every barrier has been stripped away, leaving only raw, unfiltered affection in its wake.

His fingers slide through your silver hair, untangling the strands that had become tousled during your lovemaking, and you feel a contented sigh escape your lips. The connection between you is tangible, a bond forged not only in love but in shared trials, in the promises whispered in the dark and the strength you find in one another.

"Sometimes," you begin softly, your voice barely more than a murmur in the quiet of the room, "sometimes I wish I could be down there, in the thick of it, fighting alongside my mother. Facing the Greens with fire and blood, like we were meant to."

Cregan’s hand stills on your back for a moment before he resumes his gentle caresses. He knows how deeply the conflict weighs on you, how much you struggle with the separation from your mother and the battles you were born to fight. "You’re a warrior at heart, Y/N," he says, his voice low and full of understanding. "It’s in your blood, in your very soul. But you’re here now, and there’s strength in that too—in being the heart of this family, in raising our children with the knowledge of who they are and where they come from."

You nod against his chest, taking comfort in his words. It’s not easy to be away from the fight, to know that your family is out there, risking their lives while you remain here, safe in the North. But Cregan is right—there is strength in what you’re doing here, in the life you’ve built together, in the legacy you’re creating.

"I know," you whisper, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his chest, right above his heart. "I know. But I’m grateful, Cregan. For this, for you, for everything we’ve found here in Winterfell. It’s more than I ever imagined for myself."

He shifts slightly, turning so that he can look down at you, his grey eyes dark and intense as they meet yours. There’s a tenderness there, a love so deep it nearly takes your breath away. "You’ve brought light to this place, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "You’ve made it a home, not just for me, but for everyone within these walls. You are the heart of Winterfell now, just as much as you were born both of Dragonstone and Driftmark. And I will always be grateful for that, for you."

You smile up at him, a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the fire. "And I, for you, my love," you reply softly, lifting your hand to trace the strong line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard beneath your fingers. "I never thought I could find such peace, such happiness, in a place so far from the warmth of the South. But here with you, it feels like I’ve found something even better. Something that feels like home."

He leans down to capture your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, one that speaks of love and promises, of the future you’ll face together. When he pulls back, his gaze is serious, his expression thoughtful. "Winter will come soon," he says, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "The snow will fall heavier, and the North will sleep beneath its blanket of white. But when the spring sun melts the snow, when the rivers flow again and the ice recedes, the North will rise. And we will march south, to deliver the justice that has long been owed. Just as I promised you, Y/N. The time will come."

You see the resolve in his eyes, the fire of his conviction, and it stirs something within you—a spark of hope, of purpose. You’ve always known that the North was a place of endurance, of long winters and even longer memories. But with Cregan by your side, you also know it is a place of honor, of loyalty, and of promises kept.

"And I will be ready," you say, your voice firm with determination. "We will be ready. For whatever comes."

He nods, the tension in his expression easing as he presses another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal the promise between you. "But for now," he murmurs against your skin, "we have this. These moments, this peace. And we will hold on to it for as long as we can."

You close your eyes, letting his warmth and the steady beat of his heart lull you into a state of calm. The world outside can wait for now—the battles, the struggles, the uncertainties of the future. Here, wrapped in Cregan’s arms, you find solace, a reprieve from the weight of the world, and the strength to face whatever comes next.

As you drift off to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of the furs and the security of Cregan’s embrace, you feel a deep sense of contentment settle over you. The future may hold its challenges, but in this moment, all is well. You are together, and that is all that matters.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd cregan #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark

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boiohboii · 2 years ago

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What's a soft launch? (Lando Norris x Leclerc! Reader)

YN Leclerc is dating Lando Norris in secret, and they had been keeping it really quite for the past 9 months, but unfortunately she is dating an idiot who forgot to close his stream.

in which YN Leclerc and Lando Norris make everyone watching his stream need to bleach their eyes.

N.B: this is something for fun and has no relation to real life people. Also, I'll be doing a sm fic based on this cause a meme picture is what started this for me.

WARNING: suggestive, no actual smut. Making out. PDA cause lando forgot to close his stream. Mentions of breast, nipple and bra. French not used properly?... if i missed anything else let me know!

Sighing, Lando stretched his back while calling for his girlfriend- letting her know that it's okay to come in.

"Hey handsome."

username: is that who I think it is!

username: ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

username: someone call 911 lando no rizz pulled YN Leclerc

username: I want yn to call me handsome too

Unaware of the fast chat the couple smiled at each other as YN sat on Lando's lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, wrists staying still at the nape of his neck while her fingers play with the soft curls of his hair.

"Hello ma chérie."

And that's all the older boy got to say as the young girl latched her lips onto his, tightening her grip around his neck while his arms rest at her hips, squeezing them as he lifts her up a bit trying to reach as much of her as possible.

username: AY YOOOOOO someone tell my man he is live and we can see that

username: THE GRIP HE HAS ON MY GIRL

username: ooofffff, Lando's funeral is gonna be tomorrow my dudes

username: F in the chat for lando

username: F in the chat for charles, he having a heart attack rn

username: my girl gonna wake up with bruises

Breaking away to catch their breath Lando's hand caressed her hips, moving until they rested on her ass

"Ohhhh, okay, are we going there."

"I don't know gorgeous, are we?"

Shifting around in the chair, Lano placed his back to the arm of the chair moving YN in front of him- unknowingly, making the viewers have a perfect view of their interlocking lips which were quickly followed by a gasp from YN as Lando pressed his hips into hers- thus allowing a perfect entrance of his tongue into her mouth.

username: OKAY THIS IS A FULL MAKE OUT SESSION.

username: LANDO IS DYING AT 25 MY DUDES

username: FFS SOMEONE CALL THEM OR SEND A SUB OR SOMETHING, WE DON'T WANT LANDO TO DIE

username: Holy shit, YN have mercy on your brothers

username: how to be Lando rn

username: THIS FEELS SO WRONG, THEY LITERALY HAVE THEIR TONGUES DOWN EACH OTHER'S THROATS

username: please lord, let Lando still be able to have kids after seeing the Leclerc brothers

Being interrupted by her ringtone did not deter the couple from their steamy activity, in fact it was like they didn't even hear it as Lando's right hand slipped into the girl's shirt roaming around her stomach as it rested in her breast.

Another ringtone...... Lando's left hand made its way to her bra's clasp, opening it with swiftness that made it evident it had not been the first time he had done that.

The way their tongues moved and their arms explored places they were already familiar with only comes with expirence. A lot of experience.

As the ringtone got repeated for the third time, Lando decided to slow down, removing his lips from hers while his right hand pushed her bra downward a bit, making him feel her hard nipple under his fingertips.

Moving her left arm from around his neck while balancing herself with her right arm, YN reached into her back pocket getting her phone out.

"Oh, it's Danny"

The cheerful voice of the girl filles the room

username: of thank god!

username: FINALLY

username: Lando, you will be missed

username: this has been the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life

username: I wasn't even doing anything and I'm out of breath

Answering the phone YN couldn't even get a word out before Daniel is screaming into her ear

"IT'S LIVE! YOU'RE FUCKING LIVE."

Snapping her head towards her boyfriend's set up, she quickly balanced the phone in between her ear and her shoulder while removing his hand from under her shirt, tipping as she attempted to close the live while holding her bra in place as much as possible.

"What? What's wrong?" Upon seeing his girlfriend's frantic behaviour Lando became alert, worried something might be wrong.

"YOU DIDN'T CLOSE THE LIVE!"

"WHAT!!"

In a hurry to get up from his position and close the stream he tripped over his own feet just as his hands reached the desk, and as an attempt to save himself from the fall he gripped the first thing within his reach- his keyboard and his mic- making them fall right on his head.

The sudden scream of Lando's and the quite comical fall (in YN's opinion) made her forget about the older man on her phone and about the entire issue. The only thing she did was double over in laughter that within seconds turned into a sound similar to that of a car's windshield wiper.

"Oh, I'm glad my pain is amusing you."

username: this is the best stream of my entire fucking life man

username: I have no idea what is going on, but I love it

username: this is hilarious.

SOCIAL MEDIA REACTIONS

THE BROTHERS' REACTIONS

THE FAMILY DINNER

#f1 x reader #f1 #landonorris #lando norris x reader #lamdo norris x leclerc reader #charles leclerc x sister reader #arthur leclerc x sister reader #lorenzo leclerc x sister reader #leclerc reader #leclerc sister #leclerc daughter #lando norris #charles leclerc #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #lando norris imagine #lando norris x leclerc!reader

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silverryuan · 1 month ago

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TWST with an Ubuyashiki Child reader (Part 3)

Warnings: Suicide, Angst

"Thy soul... Is empty."

"WHAT?!"

{NRC – Mirror Chamber}

• What did the mirror say? Empty? What does that mean? Everyone seemed alarmed, especially that Crow Demon. What could it mean?

Crowley: "Empty? What do you mean empty?!"

Dark Mirror: "Despite their soul's sharp and clear shape, it is trapped and lacks motion and color. It does not contain anything else. Therefore, it is empty."

Crowley: "B-but...! But the carriage! They brought them here...!"

Ubuyashiki! Child: "I have told you already, Mr. Crowley. I was brought here by mistake."

Crowley: "Impossible! Not even in my years of teaching have I encountered a problem such as this... Oh, whatever shall I do?"

Ubuyashiki! Child: "Escort me back. As simple as that."

Grim: "Ff...Fuwahh!!... If they ain't got no magic, then lemme enroll instead! I got magic! Powerful magic too! Just watch this!"

Ubuyashiki! Child: "Everyone, take cover!"

• As the beast breathed in a large amount of air, your instincts immediately alerted you to protect yourself. Not everyone reacted fast enough from your shout, some students' robes became singed on the outfit's edges. A tanned boy with silver hair received the most burns as he still has his rear on fire. You took off your robe (surprisingly your kimono is still intact) and ran to the boy to use it put out the fire. He thanked you with a relieved smile that reminded you of...

• .... The boy with hanafuda earrings.

?????: "Woah... thanks for... fire.....

{Demon Slayer Corp – Ubuyashiki Estate}

• Suddenly, you remembered the last things your father said to you. In the estate, he called you and your siblings to listen to his final orders. You could still remember his smile...

Kagaya: "I need all of you... to listen to my instructions clearly... my children..."

Hinaki: "Yes, father."

Nichika: "Yes, father."

Ubuyashiki! Child: "Yes, father."

Kiriya: "Yes, father."

Kuina: "Yes, father."

Kanata: "Yes, father."

Kagaya: "That boy with the hanafuda earrings... Tanjiro Kamado... and the demon girl, Nezuko... The Hashiras... Everyone... Together, we can... Put an end to Muzan Kibutsuji. Never tell the others this... I will sacrifice myself as bait... The time is near when he will coming here himself... He is after me... Go far... Hide and be safe..."

• Your father has become weak. He can barely form a sentence without rasping and coughing. Your mother held his hand in a firm but gentle grip. She did the best she could to help him live this long, it was all because of her and your siblings' help that he will see the day that he can finally kill him. Your dear sisters and brother have tears welled up in their eyes, threatening to drop. Your mother was no different. Neither were you.

Amane: "... I will stay here with you, Master Kagaya."

Hinaki: "Me too, mother."

Nichika: "Me as well."

Kiriya: "Father, we want to stay with you."

Kuina: "We'll be here with you."

Kanata: "W-We won't leave you."

Ubuyashiki! Child: "Please let us join you, father."

Amane: "Children..."

• All of your siblings gathered around and held his arms delicately, desperate to be by their parents' side even in death. The sickly man smiled and opened his bloodshot eyes. You knew that look in his eye. His final decision was made. Your tears did nothing to let him make you stay. For even if you stayed, he will face an early death either way.

Kagaya: "... You're all very kind to me... If I could hug all of you one last time... I'll die with happiness... I am sorry..."

Kiriya: "Then please let us stay with you--"

Kagaya: "No, my son... I'm afraid you mustn't... For my final orders... I need you to be a good brother... Protect your sisters... Get as far away from here as you can... I need you to be a leader... To lead Tanjiro and the Hashiras to victory... Only then we can be safe from his grasp..."

Kiriya: "B-but what if I... F-fail?... I'm... I'm cowardly... I know nothing about being leader...!"

Kagaya: "Please... Kiriya... I know how difficult of a responsibility... and heavy the weight... Of the title of leader will be... but I can no longer lead... To this day... You are the Corp's only hope... To continue guiding them... In my place..."

Kiriya: "..... I... I will do my best, father."

Kagaya: "... Thank... you.... My daughters, Kuina and Kanata... Please help your brother...Love and protect one another..."

Kuina: "... We will, father."

Kanata: "... sob... We'll do our best to help."

• Your poor brother Kiriya. Barely called a boy, much less a man. He was only a child who was not ready for the task but he is still willing to try and win. Just like him, you thought that your older sisters were more suitable for being the heads of the Ubuyashiki clan and managing the demon corp. But you thought wrong.

Kagaya: "Listen... Only me... And your mother... Shall stay here... And detonate ourselves and this estate... Everything will be destroyed... For an explosion will not be enough to kill him... But it'll slow down... His regeneration speed... Enough for the Hashiras to catch him..."

Ubuyashiki! Child: "If that's how it is... then I insist to stay by your side as an additional distraction..."

Amane: "Ubuyashiki! Child...!"

Hinaki: "Yes. Since we are the older ones, we will sacrifice ourselves as well."

Kuina: "... Sister...."

Kanata: "...sob...sob...."

Nichika: "Right. Muzan will think that it's only us unguarded. He will not think that you're willing to sacrifice us children."

Kiriya: ".........Father? Mother?"

Kagaya: ".........."

Amane: "...His vulnerability will increase if he thinks that it's our entire bloodline he will kill... Master?"

• For a split second, you can almost see your father's smile falter. You knew your father more than on the surface. He secretly had an unquenchable bloodlust that rooted from the king of demons that he hid with skill. The goal of beheading that man became his entire life after witnessing the horrible deaths of his parents and brothers. But even so, he refused to involve innocent people and preferred to live humbly. If there's a chance that comes into his life to make his plan take effect on Muzan instantly, he will grab that chance. But as a father, he hesitated...

Kagaya: ".... I can never bring myself to ask you... It greatly pains me to make this choice... I had hoped that you choose to remain safe..."

Amane: "... I deeply apologize for this as your mother, Hinaki, Nichika... Ubuyashiki ! Child... Are you sure?"

Hinaki: "We live with you. We'll die with you."

Nichika: "So you and mother won't be scared."

Ubuyashiki! Child: "Yes."

Amane: ".... They are willing to stay and perish with us, Master..."

Kagaya: "... Very well then... Thank you all... My children... Remember... To never tell anyone... For the sake of me... That is my final wish... Beheading Muzan is our top priority..."

Kiriya: "Y-yes... we promise you... we will avenge you...."

Kagaya: "... Don't cry, my child... We will always be with you... Even in the afterlife... But for now... You must endure... We will see each other again... I'm glad to have all of you as my family... We love you..."

Amane: "Be strong and save the tears after victory, my dear. Please live on for us. We love you all... Very much. Farewell..."

• And with that, your younger siblings gave you a final hug and fled the estate. You, your sisters, and parents are left alone to prepare yourselves for your final moment. Your father told you to play with your sisters to face death without fear. To not mind the man who will be intruding. To spend the rest of your time in the joy of a missing childhood experience.

"..ey!.....h.....!"

"HEY!"

Ubuyashiki! Child: "!"

?????: " Hey,watch out!"

• The same boy with the used-to-be flaming rear snapped you back to reality by quickly dragging you to the side just before the monster breathed out another wave of flames. It seems that Grim rampage is still ongoing, no one's stopping him.

?????: "Are you okay? Your sleeve's been burnt!"

Ubuyashiki! Child: "I'm fine, thank you."

Kalim: "That's good to hear. I'm Kalim by the way!"

Ubuyashiki! Child: "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kalim. I'm sorry if this is rude but are you perhaps... human?"

Kalim: "Uh, yeah. Why?"

Ubuyashiki! Child: "I--"

Crowley: "WHY IS NO ONE STOPPING HIM?!!"

Azul: "Do not worry, headmaster. I will take care of the beast myself since no one here has the heart to capture it. Of course, I won't hurt the poor thing, that would be very cruel of me."

Floating Tablet: "That's Azul for you. Always reaping the points and showing off whenever there's a chance."

??????: "I shall also assist in handling the situation."

• A man with glasses and a short man equipped what looks like a... pen? And all of a sudden a collar appeared around the monster's neck.

??????: "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

• The beast stopped blowing out fire in an instant when it felt the weight of the collar and the tightness around its neck.

Grim: "Fnyaagh?! W-what's with this collar!... Fnyagh...! It won't let me do magic!"

??????: "That collar is my own unique magic. You can't do magic unless I release you from it. With this collar, you are simply as helpless as a housecat."

Grim: "Fnyagh?!"

Azul: "My, my. That's Riddle's unique magic for you. Very handy... I want it... but I don't want it to work on me..."

• ... ?

Grim: "Fnyaaagh! Take it off! I ain't nobody's pet!"

Riddle: "No. But don't worry, I won't keep you. It'll be a violation against the rules and your behavior is erratic."

Grim: "Fnyagh..."

#twisted wonderland x reader #Twisted Wonderland x GN reader #Twisted Wonderland x female reader #Twisted Wonderland x male reader #Twisted Wonderland x child reader #Twisted Wonderland x prodigy reader #Twst x reader #Twst x GN reader #Twst x male reader #Twst x female reader #Twst x child reader #Twst x prodigy reader #Twst x kny #Twisted Wonderland x demon slayer

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heechwe · 23 days ago

Note

Could you do Heeseung with

❝ You should be mine. I don’t care what they say, you are mine. ❞

❝ Make love to me. ❞

I don’t care about action or place. Just not threesome.🤍🤍🤍

Anyways, this is such a good idea for making ff🫶💕

Heeseung may have a plethora of duties to uphold as the prince regent, but that does not mean he has to give up the only thing in his world that paints the humdrum of life in color rather than shades of grey.

You, a handmaiden to his childhood friend—a friend who would be expected to become his wife—were not in any of his plans when you met. You shrugged him off as a spoiled brat and he saw you as beneath him immediately due to your status.

Who thought it would end here, you naked in his bed and him adorning you with kisses and confessions of love? It's easy to pretend when you're together that the the world outside his chambers doesn't matter. That his expectations don't exist at all.

But they always call him back eventually.

"You should be mine," he whispers as he presses against you, his cock pressing past the start of your walls until he's fully inside of you. "I don't care what they say, you are mine."

He grips you tighter and presses hard kisses into your collarbone. "You deserve better, but—"

You touch your fingertips to his mouth, forbidding him from going on another diatribe about the harsh realities of his world. "I don't care about that, Hee. Just make love to me."

So he does, in spite of all his instincts to release you and not ruin you further. A better man would, but a man in love—prince or commoner—will always have a hard time letting go.

hosting a drabble game; come request one! 🤍

#heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #enha smut #enhypen smut #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enha fic #enha fics #enhypen fic #enhypen fics #[ lexi's works ]#[ lw - sugar and spice drabbles ]

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myownwholewildworld · 4 months ago

Text

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 9

chapter 8 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 10

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: "only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love" ― george elio.

a/n: uhmmmm... yeah... i did tell you guys i love drama, right? well, this chapter has a dangerous amount of angst. i'm sorry?? i really hope you guys like this one, i have put a lot of effort into it 😭 as always, all interactions welcome. thank you all for reading and generally being amazing! xx

warnings: 18+, mdni. angst, angst, ANGST. have i said angst already? discussions of death, suicide and assisted suicide. sarah makes an appearance. soft!joel. lovemaking. there are some "i love you"s thrown around. crying. smut. oral (m and f receiving). masturbation (m and f). creampie. goodbye sex?? if that's even a thing to tag. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n. joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~5.3k.

tags aka the drama wagon (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

“Joel, please, I beg you. Don’t do this, please”, Sasha pleaded with him.

She was on her knees, imploring him to spare her life. But he couldn’t do that. She was infected ― she was wearing the proof on her forearm, the bite bleeding shades of red and yellow.

It was just a matter of time before she lost herself, before she was truly gone. He was just being merciful with her, he thought. Ending Sasha’s suffering before it became too great to bear was the right thing to do. She was dead anyway, speeding up the process was lenient of him.

He gripped the gun tighter, his index caressing the trigger. If it was so rightful, why was he hesitating? The barrel kissed her forehead as she shut her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, mouthing a silent prayer. Joel noticed a familiar scar on her right cheek ― it had almost faded, but he knew it all too well. He had stroked it many times in the last few months.

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why did Sasha have the same scar you did?

“Daddy? Don’t kill her, please”, Sarah’s voice rang in his ears.

Joel’s attention quickly turned to his daughter. Sarah materialised, standing right there in front of him at arm’s length. She felt so real to him, he thought himself mad. Her bright sad eyes pierced through his resolution. She was as beautiful as he remembered ― curly brown hair, big green orbs, a sweet soft smile, the most soothing voice known to man, to a father.

But her features were torn with sorrow. In fact, her eyes were dotted with thick tears, her lips pursed in a grimace. He felt the urgent need to calm her down, to tell her everything was going to be alright. This time he could protect her. He would. He had to.

Joel knew he would not survive this all over again. It would break him for good, shattering the last remnants of what made him human.

“I have to, baby girl. I need to keep you safe”, his voice faltered, filled with emotion. A knot in his throat so dense he could not even swallow. “I won’t lose you again, baby girl, I can’t.”

“Daddy, no!”, she cried, touching his forearm ― a light, comforting pat that made his skin crawl with nostalgia.

The lump in his throat spread to his chest. An overwhelming sensation threatened to rip his torso apart. Oh, how much did he just want to embrace his Sarah tight, to feel her warmth again, to know such unconditional love one more time. To cry with pure relief, letting go of that daunting feeling that had been haunting him for over a year.

Joel knew he would do anything to protect Sarah. And so he did.

A loud bang ricocheted, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s.

“No, daddy, what have you done?”, she muttered, holding onto his forearm, digging her little fingers in his flesh.

She was weeping uncontrollably now. Joel dropped the gun to the floor, cradling Sarah’s face between his murderous hands. He swept away her tears, and his heart ached with longing.

“What I had to, baby girl. I’m keeping you alive, no matter what the cost”, Joel’s voice was so low, it was almost a whisper.

For the first time in four hundred and fifty-one days, he allowed himself to cry his eyes out. He let go of all the bottled-up emotions, knocking down the walls that contained all the misery and despair that he had felt for so long.

Sarah’s hands wrapped around his wrists, her sobs and his flowing in unison.

“But you’ve killed her, daddy.”

And then she vanished, leaving a trail of warmth on Joel’s fingertips. She was gone.

His heart jolted against his ribcage. Darkness engulfing his senses once again, casting away any feelings he had, leaving him as empty as he ever was.

He composed himself ― something in her tone, in her emphasis in the word “her”, forced Joel to look away from where his daughter had stood a minute before, down to the woman on the ground.

But it wasn’t Sasha. It was you.

You were dead. Because of him.

Grief swallowed him whole. Chewed him, spat him.

Joel startled awake, his heart racing so fast he could feel it pressing against his throat. Panic strangled him, forcing him to swallow the hard lump in his throat. He blinked rapidly, realising he had been crying in his sleep. With one hand, he brushed away the tears as reality set in once again.

He was going to lose you and there was absolutely nothing he could do to prevent it from happening. Your fate had been unfairly sealed. The future he thought he had with you… gone. Joel had allowed himself to dream, dooming you in the process of doing so. He should have known by now that happiness was meant to escape him forever. Joel tainted everything and everyone he touched, leaving a trail of lingering darkness that would eventually catch up with those he marked.

He looked around, for a second forgetting where he was. You both were in a flat on the second floor of an apartment building on East Lake Shore Drive, with views to Lake Michigan. He guessed it was around midnight, a couple of hours after the whole debacle.

Joel barely remembered how you both got here, his memory was hazy, unable to recall much after seeing the bite mark on your wrist. The part of him who was built for this world ―unattached, steadfast, unwavering― took over, guiding you both to safety.

It was weird how he used to space out in those moments of high anxiety. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. He barely remembered the days after Sarah’s death either. The brain fog was so dense it felt like swimming through murky waters.

He shook his head and glanced down. Sitting on the couch, you were laying down on your side, with your head on his lap. Your hands were tucked away under his thigh, your face almost completely leaned against his jeans. One of his hands was buried in your hair ― he massaged your scalp lightly, his other hand resting on your hip.

Joel just wished he could take all of it away. Had he never known you, you would not be in this position. If your paths had never crossed, he was convinced you would have lived a full, happy life. And, as always, he fucking ruined it. Ruined you.

As if his conscience was not tortured enough, little Ava popped in his mind. Another failure, a very grave one. The little girl had unearthed a side of him he thought dead: the longing father.

The one who would worry to death every time Sarah fell to her knees while learning to walk.

The one who felt extremely proud when she took her first steps unaided.

The one whose heart would flutter with anxiety on her first day of school.

The one who spent hours deciding what to get his baby girl for Christmas.

The one who tried baking a cake for her fifth birthday.

The one who trained with her for her first soccer match.

The one who cheered at the top of his lungs every time his baby girl would score a goal.

The one who couldn’t protect her.

The one who hugged her desperately while she took her last breath.

This felt like a second punishment. Joel shouldn’t have had let go of Ava, but what was he supposed to do? Watch you fall in a river full of furious clickers? He couldn’t. He had to choose and chose you. It was fucking wrong, he knew that ― he was so selfish he condemned an innocent toddler without giving her a second thought. Losing you ― this was karma. A twisted payback endorsed by the universe.

You had cried yourself to sleep, caving in to the irrevocable fate that awaited you. Your dreams were besmirched with haziness ― a whirlwind of clickers, people running directionless, Joyce and Ava falling to their demises, death everywhere.

Your heart wept at the memory. Joyce’s blank eyes haunted your dreams, as well as Ava’s small voice, begging her nana to come back from the dead. Life was so unfair you could not wrap your head around it. They were innocent. Joyce was the type of person who would give her everything for everyone ― so thoughtful, attentive, always willing to lend a hand or an ear. She had been a light for you, healing that part of your heart that missed your parents. How much you had wished that your sacrifice would have had worked out. To trade your life for hers. Joyce should be eternal.

And then little Ava… you felt agony just thinking about her reaching out to the darkness below. Her imploring her nana to get back to her, to hold her. Her life cut so short ― it was too cruel.

You had lost too much, too soon, too fast.

When you woke up, your emotions were weirdly in check. Defeated, you understood there was nothing you could do. About Joyce, about Ava, about yourself. The dice had been cast and nothing could change the end result. So you had to accept your destiny and make the most of what little time you had left with Joel.

You momentarily shut your eyes, feeling Joel’s fingertips rubbing your scalp. Swiping your tears, you turned your head ninety degrees to your left, looking up at Joel. He was blankly staring into the distance, lost in his own train of thought. He reminded you of when you two first met and that scared you. You didn’t need to read minds to know what was crossing his.

The worst part about dying was not death itself, but the devastation it left on its wakening. Those left behind had to deal with the drowning grief of losing a loved one ― the sorrow, the regrets, the lost opportunities, the what if’s.

You grabbed his hand to kiss his knuckles. His eyes slowly drifted down to you, stained with affliction and unspent tears. His thumb ghosted your lips, a caress that tugged at your heart. He bowed down to replace his thumb with his mouth, a light peck that tasted of goodbye.

You stroked his jaw when the kiss broke off and reluctantly sat up on the sofa, nestling against his side. He wrapped you with his arm, holding you tight, his chin resting on your crown. Your hand was placed on his chest ― his heart beating steadily, calming your inner panic.

You closed your eyes. You didn’t want to do this, but you were scared out of your mind. You had trusted Joel with your life, so you would trust him with your death too. It was so fucking selfish of you, it made you sick. You had seen what a prolonged death did to people and didn’t want to suffer the same fate. Withering away like a flame on a thunderstorm was not something you wanted to experience. You wanted it to be quick, painless.

You knew it would break him and you hated yourself for it. But fear, as overwhelming as it was, had a tight grip on your ability to think clearly.

“Joel”, you whispered, rubbing his chest. You didn’t dare to glance up, your eyes fixed somewhere in that tiny living room. “Please don’t hate me, but… when my death is near, would you… could you… please… just… put an end to it? To me?”, you wept, tears flowing again. “I know it’s cruel of me to ask this of you, but please understand… I don’t wanna come back as one of those things, I don’t wanna hurt you. Or anyone. I just want to rest knowing I didn’t cause any harm…”

You felt his heart picking up a wild pace under your fingertips. A very long silence ensued, which forced you to look up at him. His jaw was so clenched you could see the muscles straining.

Joel was making a titanic effort to keep his emotions at bay. A world of past demons, of rotten feelings and of secret tears overran his mind. Facing his own death was easier than accepting yours. How could he be a victim of fate, a witness to death and the executioner of it as well? He couldn’t, he didn’t have that many faces ― he just was a simple man whose life got complicated too easy, too fast.

As intricate as his thoughts were, as many atrocities as he had committed in the last year to keep you safe, he detested being the ghoul to those he treasured. You had asked him to be the worst version of himself ― one he did not know if he would ever come back from. Once the afterlife sullied his soul, Joel would lack the strength to wash it off himself. It would forever taint him, marking him as the grim reaper’s lackey.

But what was one more death on his conscience? Your death? He had already branded you for slaughter the moment he landed his eyes on you many moons ago. It was only fair you solicited he finished what he had started, after all.

Ending your suffering before it became too great to bear was the right thing to do.

You were dead anyway, speeding up the process was lenient of him.

If it was so rightful, why was he hesitating?

The irony of his dream would have struck him to his knees had he been standing. If he loved, really loved you, he would not vacillate. He would greet your death compliantly, certain his would quickly follow.

You were a fucking monster for asking that to the man you loved, for laying such a burden on him. How could you be so damn tactless? You knew how he thought of himself, how he believed he spoiled everything he touched. And here you were, reinforcing that idea for him.

Your sobs grew louder, your hand travelling from his chest to his jawline as you straightened your back to reach his cheek so his vacant eyes would meet yours.

“I’m truly sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know what overcame me, I just… I’m scared”, you muttered through trembling lips. “I’ll do it myself. Please, forget what I said, I didn’t mean to. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

Joel finally blinked, coming out of his trance. He cupped your chin, fear and grief swirling in his irises. He tilted his head down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll do it, sweetheart. I’ll do it”, he whispered breathlessly, and you just shattered in his arms.

You embraced him and cried until your eyes stung and ran dry ― until you flushed out such dreadful feelings from your system. Joel held you throughout, stoic and unfaltering, brushing your forehead with his mouth from time to time, whispering reassuring words in your ear.

You had noticed the difference in his voice, as if your request wholly broke him. How you wished you could retract yourself, travel back in time to restore the trust you thought you fractured. “No, I will. I will”, you repeated, inflicting your words with determination, one you didn’t feel.

This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your last hours on earth, lamenting yourself, wasting the little time you had left. This wasn’t you. You needed to show him you loved him, make him forget your sickening petition. A thought formed: you never replied to his confession ― a wrong you could right before you lost your mind to cordyceps.

You stirred in place to uncoil your back, your lips lined up with his. “I love you, Joel Miller. Since the moment I met you, I knew you were the one”, you mumbled with a sad smile before closing off the distance, your mouths crashing in desperate need.

Feeling his hesitance, you insisted with your tongue, stroking his with long brushes until Joel relaxed into your mouth. His hand slipped under your t-shirt, caressing your back, drawing invisible lines on your skin with the light touch of his fingertips.

“I heard you the other night, I thought I dreamt it”, he admitted in a hush when your lips detached.

“The other night, you mean yesterday?”, you teased with a small grin, and he nodded in reply. It did seem like an eternity away. “You didn’t dream it, I said it. I’ve been wanting to say it out loud for a while.”

“Me too, been thinking it for a bit, but didn’t know when it was the right moment, if there was a right moment. And then it felt like that moment was gone, that I was too late”, his tone became sombre as he spoke, your heart shuddering and breaking and healing and crying.

“You didn’t need to say it ― I knew, believe me, I really knew. I’ve known for so long now, before you even realised. I only wanted you to say it when you were ready”, you reassured him, your noses nuzzling.

It was a very little consolation, but you both held onto it.

This time it was Joel who resumed the kiss ― his lips were softer than usual, his mouth more begging than dominating. The caress of his tongue was affectionate, not demanding. You slid your feet from underneath and climbed on top of him, straddling him. You sat on his lap and peppered his jaw with little pecks. He hugged you by your waist, bringing you closer to him. You softly moaned when he trapped your mouth with his again, your crotch flush with his groin. You involuntarily rolled your hips against his, friction awakening your desire.

“I want you to make me feel alive one last time, Joel”, you sighed against the corner of his mouth, your palms against his cheeks.

He stopped and looked at you for a long second, probably debating himself. But whatever doubts crossed his minds, he put them to rest. Sometimes you wished you were a telepath ― Joel was a man of few spoken words, but you knew his inner talk was loud and loquacious.

With his forearms, he pressed your thighs around his waist. Placing his hands on your butt cheeks, he stood up with you in his arms, holding you tight against his body. Joel walked you both to what you assumed was the bedroom. It was quite minimalistic, white walls and spiderwebs decorating the corners. The bed seemed comfy with a very thick mattress and silky bedsheets.

He set you down on the bed before kneeling to undo the laces of his boots, throwing them to a side. Your shoes quickly followed his to the same corner. Joel stood back up and undid his belt, his eyes never leaving yours as you helped him. The unspoken words were loud in your head, neither of you needed to say anything else.

In silence, he undressed, leaving a pile of clothing on the floor. You admired his body ― his broad shoulders, his strong arms, his chiselled pecs, his slimmer waist and softer tummy. You traced the scar on his right hip, the one he got for defending Tommy. Ah, Tommy, another loss. You casted that thought away quickly.

He was gorgeous and he was yours. All yours. You loved this man with such passion, it sometimes startled you. The way he cared for you in all meanings of the word warmed your heart.

You caressed his sides, your fingers wandering to his ass cheeks to push him towards you. You kissed his belly button, his happy trail inviting you down, which you gladly followed. His erection was creeping up but was still soft, so you kneaded his testicles tenderly ― your free hand pumping him unhurriedly, teasing him, while your lips brushed his V line.

You looked up at him with adoring eyes before your tongue rippled around the plump tip. Slurping the precum off his slit without breaking visual contact, Joel tucked your hair away behind your ears and let you do as you pleased at your own pace. Closing your eyes, you took his manhood in your mouth, slathering your saliva on him. His cock was hungering for your touch, weeping, throbbing ― you could feel the heat hardening him under your tender hands and darting tongue. He tasted musky, but also sweet. Your favourite flavour. You heard a deep rumble coming from Joel’s chest as his glans caressed your uvula.

You took him out of your mouth when you felt the pulsation ― he was ready for you, whenever you wanted to take him in in your slick warmth. You slid your tongue across his whole length before leaning backwards to meet his eyes.

You saw lust, but also raw love. Joel motioned his hand in an upward gesture, and you stood up in front of him. Tasting himself in your mouth, he helped you undress completely. When you were both bare naked, Joel hugged you tightly. Oh, how you wished you could stay like that forever, frozen in time.

Joel gently pushed you to bed again, his lips never abandoning yours, and dug a knee on the mattress as you laid down on your back. His body was hovering over yours, his frame covering you.

He showered your neck with pecks and licks while your dewy lashes fluttered like butterflies. A soft, liquid whimper grew in your chest, breaking free. His calloused fingers cupped your breasts, his thumbs ghosting your nipples ― a light touch, electricity thundering down your spine. Your back arched, lifting off the mattress when his thick fingers were replaced with the welcomed wetness of his mouth. He did not linger for long though, set on a downward path.

Joel came off the bed, dragging your hips with him to the edge of the mattress. Knelt before you, you unconsciously parted your legs to make room for him. He marvelled at the sight, the proof of your passion pearling your velvety fold, the core of your pleasure begging to be paid due attention.

With the back of your knees resting on his shoulders, he kissed your mound while his thumb caressed your dripping entrance, circling it tentatively before drowning in it. You gasped at the sweet intrusion. Then his tongue scurried down, licking your clit with a languid, long stroke.

He lapped your creamy slit, gulping your fluids down ― everything you had to offer, he took. His tongue worshipped every crevice in your silky pussy, not even an inch was left unattended ― Joel made sure of it. He alternated between fingering you slowly with his thumb and introducing his tongue in your tight opening, stroking your g-spot the way you liked it. It was too much. The tense knot in your belly melted with no warning, releasing a spurt of lava into Joel’s mouth. You wailed, clutching the bedsheets, gushing for him, only for him, eyes averted.

Like a thirsty man in the middle of the desert looking for an oasis he could drink of, Joel made you come with his tongue over and over again. You lost count of how many times you orgasmed ― your skin pearly with sweat, your cunt overstimulated, your dusky nipples hardened, your limbs shaking, your heart burst with love.

Joel emerged from in between your legs and crawled on top of you as he dragged you to the centre of the king size bed. Holding his weight off you on his elbows, he blanketed your body with his ― his hardness intimately resting against your swollen mound. You slipped a hand between your bodies, your fingertips teasing the head of his column. You pumped him slowly as his mouth invaded yours with lazy strokes.

You bathed his cock in your slick, swiping it on your puffy lips ― drenching him in your arousal. Then you wielded him from the base and broke off the kiss. You wanted to look into his eyes as he possessed you one last time. As he loved you and you loved him back with your whole heart. Guiding his tip to your needy hole, you encouraged him to push it in with your heels on his butt cheeks, never breaking eye contact.

Both of you moaned as his cock found its way to your cervix, kissing it gently. You draped your legs around his waist, taking him in as far as you could house him. The connection you felt to him was eerie, almost unreal. His orbs were transfixed on yours, none of you able to look away. Your mouths were parted in unspoken awe, then he lightly bit your chin to stop himself from groaning like a madman.

You laced his neck with your arms to pull him towards you, your lips crashing as he rolled his hips into you. In, out, in, out ― very slowly, so slowly it just enhanced the intensity of his swaying.

“I love you, Joel”, you husked as his cock dragged along your anterior wall, pulling out to then ripple back into you.

Joel’s thrusts were lethargic, as if he didn’t want the moment to end. “I love you too”, he replied as his hips undulated like waves between your thighs.

Joel kissed the scar on your cheek as you foraged for his mouth. The façades had fallen. There was no roleplay, no dominance nor submission, no “sirs”, no dirty talk, no begging ― none of that. There was only two people showing their love and affection to each other. It was the first time you actually made love.

Because you were head over heels for him. Had been for a long while. And you just knew he loved you to bits, there was no denying that. The overwhelming sensation flooded you, tears welling up and shedding. You cradled his face and realised the apples of his cheeks were soddened too. Both of you were crying your love and your regrets ― your tears mixing with his, wetting your lips with a salty taste that got diluted in the shared dampness of your mouths.

Your heart wept for the time you didn’t have with each other. You hugged him closer to your chest, nipples kissing, when the soft hammering of his pelvis against yours picked up a faster but controlled, smooth pace. Way more intense too, his pulsing cock driving in as far as it could reach.

One of Joel’s tears fell on your neck when he kissed your chin, then slid down and gathered at the centre of your collarbone. His mouth dropped to lick it off your skin, leaving a different type of wet trail behind. You whimpered heavily, his tongue now attending the crook of your neck while Joel’s hand darted down, quickly finding your buttery button and stroking it dextrously.

Your moans grew louder ― your legs gripping tighter around his waist, your nails digging in the skin of his back, your back arching, your mouth open so wide it was an inch away from dislocating.

Joel didn’t contain his passion either, heaving notoriously, his chest rumbling with a deep, guttural growl. His dick was diving in you so smoothly, it even felt mythical. He was throbbing for you, your creaminess cloaking his manhood. He could feel your heartbeat contracting your inner walls every single time, his own pulse drumming in his cock at the same time. Your pulsating sexes were fully synchronised, in complete harmony.

You yielded first. Your overstimulated clit sent the signal across your whole body, a potent wave uprooting a high-pitched shriek off your lungs as you reached the best climax of your life. Your quivering cunt clamped down around Joel’s hot cock, squeezing him uncontrollably ― you could not get hold of your own muscles, they just spasmed around his pounding dick. You felt his manhood twitch violently inside you, announcing his own orgasm ― your pussy heartening his cock to come.

Joel felt his balls tense up, his lower belly contracting so hard it was painful. He was so turned on, a prolonged howl escaped his mouth, cavernous and thundering. His dick writhed in your welcoming hole, his hips stuttering with measured effort. He placed the palms of his hands to each side of your head to lift his torso off you, his hips still waving against yours, and caught a glimpse of your heavenly face: half-lidded teary eyes, O-shaped mouth, your eyebrows relaxed. You looked so damn beautiful, the most beautiful he had ever seen you, so much so his heart tugged with longing, with love, with adoration.

With a painful groan and out of habit, he tried to pull his cock out of you to come outside. But you quickly shook your head no, raising your arms to lace your hands behind his neck, forcing his head down towards you. The heels of your feet pressed against his butt cheeks again, your legs locking around his waist to keep him in the place he needed to be ― inside you.

“Please, Joel, I want to feel you, I need to feel you”, you urged him, his breath mixing with yours, mouths agape.

With such plea, Joel finally let go at the same time he claimed your lips with his, moaning into your mouth. Devouring you, his cum spurted out into your inviting, slick cave, in several waves. He filled you up to the brim, his cock still throbbing, painting your inner walls white. He remained still between your legs, his dick slowly softening inside you, until he finally pulled out, both of you grunting.

You squashed your cunt to keep his warm spent in your pussy for as long as you could.

Joel kissed your cheeks, sweeping away your tears with his lips while your hands cradled his face, your thumbs brushing his away too. You had never seen him cry before. It killed you knowing that he felt so safe with you, he could let his walls down and be himself without any repercussions. His teary brown eyes pulled yours into their orbits ― you were unable to look away.

Joel closed the distance and sweetly kissed you. Again, that heavy, goodbye feeling nested in your chest, squeezing your heart and your throat.

This was goodbye. You would never see him again and that broke your heart into tiny little pieces that could not be glued back together.

Don’t think about it.

Joel laid on his back and you quickly curled up against his chest, hiding your face from him. Silence ensued, each lost in their own thoughts. You pecked his chest while your fingertips lightly traced every line on his tummy.

“Promise me you won’t do anything rash, please. Go look for Tommy after… after I’m gone. Please don’t even consider… following me.” You whispered, slowly looking up at him. “Please.”

His eyes wandered on your face, then he sighed heavily, looking away. “I can’t promise you that, sweetheart.” His orbs slowly locked on yours again, your bottom lip quivering with sadness. “I may or may not consider it, but Death is capricious and, sooner or later, it always comes knocking.”

“I hope it’s later rather than sooner. You deserve happiness, Joel.” Your words, albeit stammering, were sincere.

“This is my happiness, right here with you in my arms. If Death came looking for me tomorrow, I would die a happy man”, he admitted in a whisper.

Your heart exploded at his confession. You laughed and cried at the same time, kissing his jawline. “You do know how to make a girl feel special.”

“That’s because you are.” He shrugged, hugging you closer to his chest.

“I love you ― to the edge of the atlas and back.” Your hand caressed his left cheek, bowing his head towards you so you could capture his mouth.

You made love twice more that night, none of you wanting to fall asleep. You made sure every minute counted, showing and telling each other how much you loved one another.

You also cried together to purge your sorrows. When you thought no more tears could be shed, one of you would prove yourselves wrong, breaking another invisible dam. You both felt vulnerable, but also loved.

Soon enough, dawning colours painted the sky ― shades of red and orange filtering through the curtains, tinting the white walls of the bedroom with warmth.

You sighed, resting your cheek against his pec, feeling heavy and cold. Very cold. Suddenly, you shivered. Joel noticed your trembling, instantly worried. He pressed the palm of his hand against your forehead.

“Honey, you’re burning up.” His voice seemed to be far away.

You felt so drowsy you only managed to hum, “Mhmm?”.

Then you blindly plunged into darkness, unaware of Joel calling your name, panic in his voice.

107 notes · View notes

eatmycodbetty · 6 days ago

Text

{You again?}

part one! . . . two. . three

pairing: anthony lockwood x gn!reader

word count: 5.3k

summary: As a former Fittes agent, you have honed your craft well on your own. You would never expect an old friend to call you, nor would you ever expect to be so curious about this so-called agency he’s in.

notes: it has been a longggg time since i’ve written ff and i understand that this is a dying fandom, but here are the goodies. shout out to my two weird friends for pushing me to do this. tell me any critiques!! i wanna get better :)

One . . .

4:23am. The North Bank, London.

Silence.

Then…ringing?

The void of noise, of air. It swirls around you and suffocates.

You feel nothing other than your heart beating, the wind knocked out of your lungs. The pounding in your ears only resurfacing once the ringing stops. You are running. You can’t remember from what, all that matters is that you get out.

As the pounding starts to subside and the air comes back to you, the shouts from fellow agents bite at your senses. Nothing but “Run!”...and that is what you are doing, so the voices blur back out to focus on your feet. You have a gnawing pain growing there as you keep going, almost numb from your shitty stiff soled shoes.

This has to end soon. You have to stop at some point...right?

Suddenly, a door appears in your rushed view, slightly ajar at the end of a hallway you've hastily turned down. Finally, you think, an end to this bad dream.

As you near the small wooden door, you let your hand fall on the edge of the opening, being able to catch some oxygen and breathe it once more. However, the door turns almost to ice- you freeze.

Just being able to lift your hand off the door, a horrible gelatinous face appears through the handle, pushing you backward in a cold force. You hit the ground with a thud, and the air is yet again gone from your lungs.

Right. Now you remember. You were sent to investigate an old and dilapidated flat by the Thames. Something strange considering the location, the water should have warded off anything too strong.

You were wrong, the whole lot of you were. Something much more sinister resided deep within the floorboards of this rank building.

Your team is dispersed, and you have no knowledge of how they are faring. All you remember right now is that you turned a corner and had to run, nothing else to aid your cause as a Type Two spirit had you in its vicious sights.

Malaise setting in, you found yourself running with anything you had left, being drained as you try and fight your way out of this bloody shitshow.

But...now you’re locked. You can’t move, you can’t look away. The figure melts through the door, like thick, murky water. There appears an apparition of a man, jaw stretched so far down you can't bear to look- but you're forced to. His sunken eyes have you gripped in some horrifying way. It seems that even if you weren't being ghost-locked, you would freeze under the sheer terror that is inflicted upon his gaze.

How idiotic, you think in this moment, assuming you could outrun a Type Two with all of your supplies, everything, out of your reach. Now you are here, laying back on the ground as a Visitor forces you into a ghost-lock. You feel a stone on your chest, like the dreadful ghost itself is standing on your body, forcing your consciousness into submission.

Then...a kind of peace wavers over you. Although, the air leaving your lungs leaves a part of your active brain scrambling to get away from something impossible. Wavering dangerously close to calm, your body is giving up. Weak, you finally quiet the active part of your brain as the lock is settling in nicely- a solemn goodbye. . .

. . . then, a snap.

A flash appears before you.

You feel a hard tug on your body- then you're suddenly sitting up, feeling so dizzy you could faint. Your vision blurs as you get a hard punch of air back in your lungs and start to feel the cold of the hallway. You’re being pulled up on your feet now, being able to hear the familiar ringing in your ears again, followed by the pounding.

As your focus finally settles, you are face to face with Kat, one of your teammates. She gives you a hard smack across the cheek as she's trying to talk to you, but you can only hear mumbling. You wipe your face and as you look at her again, your hearing starts to seep back in.

But, before you have the chance to fully regain your senses, she pulls you away from the hallway. Feeling your feet, you stop stumbling after a few seconds as another wind hits you, and you’re back.

You two eventually find a window, the frame broken and glass crumbling. This has to do. Before Kat can get something to bust it out, you're kicking it out. You do it rather messily, however, as your pantleg is torn up by the glass and new scars are made along your right leg. You can't feel much of the bleeding, but you can see its residual on the moldy window frame through your hasty kicks.

When it is broken enough for you two to slip through it, you gauge what floor you're on- the second. It isn't that far down, and you see a large, open rubbish bin with various bits of bags and a half termite-eaten mattress. You two look at each other, then you jump.

A loud metal pumph sound, then pain. You can feel better now, the air from the outside making you regain more of yourself. Despite that, you landed bad, and you can't be sure that you didn't break something from that fall. You look over, and Kat is starting to leap over the side of the bin, hand clutching her ribcage as she falls over the other side. You find some abominable strength from inside you to push up on a rotting box and climb over the bin, falling on the other side soon after Kat does.

Sitting up in some dingy patch of grass, you find yourself towards the back of the flat, facing the Thames. The sun is starting to rise, but only enough to disturb the deep black of the night sky. You two are on the ground, but by helping each other up you eventually stand. You feel a twinge of pain in your torn up leg as you put your weight on it finally. Something worse must have happened to it in the fall, but you can't focus on that now.

You both rush (hobble) to the front of the flat, and as you turn the corner you see only one other agent back. As your vision settles and you call out, you see it's Bobby, your researcher. You are almost relieved, but by the look on his face at you two and the nervous looks he gives the building, something is desperately wrong. As you catch up to him, you quickly realize that the two other agents in your team are missing.

You take a deep breath in, mostly cognizant again as the malaise seeps out of your body. Instantaneously you take a shaky stride towards the front of the house, ignoring the shouts to stop from the two behind you. As you reach the cracked front step, a tottering figure suddenly stumbles out of the doors, holding something.

You ready yourself, not prepared to go out without a fight. But, this isn't a ghost...you then suddenly relax your fighting stance at seeing your leader, Quill Kipps.

Kipps is holding one of the new recruits, sent with your group by your supervisor, on his shoulder. There's a pause as he takes what seems to be his first breath, and you all realize the event unfolding in front of you.

He then suddenly staggers down the steps and sets the kid down a good ways from the front door in front of the three of you. He stands back up and runs a shaky hand over his neck. He is bleeding, bruised, and looks like he also went through the same kind of hell. The kid, however, is still. His eyes pasty and spread open, staring at the fleeting stars. Kipps finally speaks, but almost in a hush.

“He’s locked.”

Silence fills the night air once again, and you all hang your heads and rush to help the two boys. Whispering curses as you quickly realize the young boy is too far gone. Then, away from the madness, you and Kipps lock eyes. He is terrified.

Placing hands on each other's shoulders as the other two call aid, you stumble to the ground. Whilst the numbness from the adrenaline starts to drain away, the pain in your leg, in your body, and in your mind, is all too much to bear to keep standing. He seems to feel the same, and you two just lie there on the pavement. As the sirens whirl, you both watch the sunrise light up the stars, observing how they fade with the coming light.

Then, exhaustion finally takes you over and all that’s left

is darkness.

2 Years Later. Saturday morning. Your flat.

Working by yourself has its perks. Sure, it could be better with some help, but you don’t ever peck above your grade. Besides, a lot of normal, everyday people have issues with spirits that don’t have the means or time to go through a real agency.

You enjoy these smaller cases anyways, it feels more relevant and actually helpful than the expensive cases you pursued at Fittes. You have also grown your connections by a substantial margin. You know all of London better in these two years than you ever did during your almost 8 years at that blasted organization.

Growing a kind of reputation for closing a plethora of ghost cases by yourself, you are rivaling even Fittes and Rotwell in numbers. Agents like to jeer at you when you make your presence at certain events for higher agents. It could be from jealousy or intimidation, yet either way you don’t tend to care because you suit your occupation just fine. They would be less inclined to detest you if they could get out of their own pretentious skulls and use their Talent to the fullest whilst they still have time. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Your flat could be better, but for someone who doesn’t need much or occupy much space, a one bedroom works out just fine. It is much better than living around snobby arseholes like every other agent. You would rather move the country than have to do that ever again, to have to go back to that place.

As you're thinking about this, you start to stir in your bed. Waking up has always been a bit hard, but you've found a good routine. Before you can even open your eyes, you feel the sunlight from between the curtain shades peeking out and dazzling your bedsheets.

You finally open your eyes, taking in the same room you've seen for the past two years. It is kind of comforting, or claustrophobic, either way- it's home. It's decorated with bits and bobs from your travels and time spent over your almost 17 years of life. You see old family portraits and pictures with old friends- stuff that makes you a bit teary if you think about it for too long.

Which is great, because you are immediately distracted and tuned into a certain buzzing on the other side of the room. As you wake up a bit more quickly, you sit up and find that it's your telephone ringing.

Oh no...what time is it? You quickly check the clock beside your bed, only 10:38am.

You sigh and start to get up, chasing the phone before it hangs up. You cannot miss a call from any potential clients, it's been a bit slow recently as other agencies have caught onto your tactic for gaining clients. Pricks.

You pick up the phone, barely being able to utter a "Hello, this i-" before a boy begins to yell at you on the other side of the line.

“Y/N!! I saw you in a small clipping in the back of the paper, I can’t believe it! A solo agent?? Oh wait.. sorry for the intrusion...and the yelling. It's George by the way.”

You pause for a moment, confused as to which George in your life might know you and nevertheless YELL at you after not speaking for so long. You think for two seconds until it hits you.

It's George Karim, a smart boy you knew from Fitts who got fired on biased and unfair grounds, you were one of the only people to defend him. You two were kind of inseparable at some point, so you reply with haste in a similar overly-friendly manner.

“GEORGE KARIM!! It’s been so long...you startled me.” You tiredly laugh. “Also don’t apologize, you are always welcome to call me whenever. What’s up mate? How have the years been to you?”

You rub your crusty eyes and smile lightly as it settles in that you still do have one friend from Fittes. It’s easy to get lost in everything bad that came from there. On the other end, you hear some yelling and...things being thrown? He gives a small sigh, then a hesitation before continuing.

“I’ll get straight to the point. You should come over for tea. Today, preferably. I’ve been working with a smaller agency that I think you would work well with. I’ll let you know why when you get here, I’m afraid I must go. Does half past one sound alright?”

You snicker a little, missing his awkward tangents, but also a bit uncomfortable with what chaos you hear on the other line. Wait.. “What agency? And tea sounds just fine then, but what cafe should we go to? The same one next to that fountain on Clermont?” You find yourself reminiscing on your younger exploits, you two certainly shared some fond memories before he left.

He pipes back up, now more hurriedly, “No, no. You should come here. Lockwood & Co on 35 Portland Ro-”

You are so surprised you cut the poor boy off in an almost shout, “LOCKWOOD?? George I-”

He cuts you off with a quick, “OKAY BYE SEE YOU THEN!”.

You’re left with the sound of a dead line as he hangs up. Sighing, you put your phone back on the wall and lean against the wall, still weak from waking up so suddenly and pondering the new day that has been spread for you.

There is no way that George left to work for Anthony Lockwood of all people. You didn’t actually know the guy personally, only heard rumors and quips from Kipps.

From what you’ve gathered over the years, he’s an egotistical geezer that fits right in with the rest of those types at Fittes. Yet...his one thing is that he hates them just the same as you. And they hate him, or rather they did when you were there.

As much as you have a kind of disdain for those kinds of men, you trust George. And you also were going to spend this Saturday doing absolutely nothing, so you technically have no excuse.

You check the time. Quarter past 10. You push back on your feet and make your way to your dresser to get ready for the day. He said it was 35 Portland Row right? That's just a little ways down a few blocks.

“...It can’t hurt” you mutter as you pick up a comfortable and clean sweater. You get dressed and make sure you have your errands list ready. Grabbing your rapier as you head out the door, you stop for a second and ponder on the situation. Why did George Karim of all people call you? This can't just be to hang out, he's too weird to be so forward like that normally.

Whatever, you think. You lock up the flat and start to head out for whatever this day may bring. One final thought crosses your mind as you shift out of the building,

"I can't believe I am visiting another fucking agency."

1:25pm. 35 Portland Row. Still Saturday.

You've been staring at this house for about a minute now. It's nicer than expected, but also smaller than you might have thought. For as much as you have heard about Lockwood & Co, you would expect a headquarters that's kind of...well...greater.

You finally give a hearty knock on the door.

...Nothing.

You think for a second, you don't want to disturb a neighbor so you check to make sure you're at the right place- and you are. You take a quick sigh and go to knock on the door again, but your hand hesitates. Is that...yelling?

You hear things being knocked over, running, people shouting. Your heart tenses as you think of the possibilities of either an intruder or some insane ghost mishap occurring on the other side, and you quickly reach for your rapier.

But then suddenly, the door opens with a gust of wind and you welcome the sight of a seemingly safe, slightly older, George Karim. He looks kind of swept up, it seems whatever made him hang up this morning is still going on. Your sigh of relief is met with his welcome.

“Y/N! You’re early.” He smiles meekly and steps aside in the doorway. “Please ignore the mess, we’re not always living in a barn...it’s been a rough day.” Wearing an orange hoodie and some joggers, he really hasn’t changed that much.

He shies away from your curious gaze, which he seems to read as more judgmental. You smile at the boy and take your hand off the rapier to put it on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “George, I’ve known you for most of my short life. I could care less about the state of your house.” You stifle a laugh, “I’ve seen your room before, nothing scares me.”

He looks back and meets your eyes now, a smile creeping back onto his face. “I’m glad you’re here, y/n..”, he gestures into the hectic house, “..but please come inside and watch your step, it’s a circus in this place.”

He moves a bit more as you shuffle inside, moving quickly to shut and lock the door behind you. Before he's done, you take in the sight of the house for a few seconds. You spot a shorter girl with medium length brown hair and a blue sweater running down the stairs and into a distant room, yelling about something you can barely make out. Just as she leaves and George comes to lead you away from it, a taller, slender boy in a suit makes the opposite strides from a far room up the stairs, also yelling?

George is on your right now, patting your arm to follow him. "I told you to ignore the circus, y/n, come on through here."

You shudder your head to focus on George, now leading you into a sunny kitchenette, somehow untouched by the storm in the other rooms. It's a quaint area, like people live here quite comfortably. It's nice. Sunlight stretches across the windows and reaches just to the back edge of a small dining table.

You notice the sharpie sketches on the table cloth. Three distinct figures...maybe more...are depicted. You can see the one that is meant to be George, a figure with glasses and notes about being nerdy and complaining. Yup, has to be him. Along with the George stick figure is a boy in a suit, a girl with short hair- maybe the two you just saw?- and then two other names mentioned here and there- Holly and Flo. Must be associates, their names aren't much mentioned.

As you analyze the table cloth, George comes back with two cups. "Please actually sit, y/n, you don't have to stand like you don't know me- do I have to remind you of our preteens? I could blackmail you into anything at this point."

You laugh and act offended, sitting at the table. "I can't believe you would ever use my childlike wonder against me, G." You put a dramatic hand to your forehead, peeking to see him roll his eyes as you two share a chuckle. As you put your hand down you remind him, "Besides...who would you even share it with. You're like my only friend now you tart."

He nods in thinking, setting the two cups down. "I mean you're in my home with my agency sooooo~" You try to grab him as he laughs and narrowly evades a fake punch, "I'm kidding! Just kidding." He laughs and grabs a small pot. "Before you kill me you want only one sugar right."

You sit back in the chair and respond, "Yes! Wait how did you remember that?"

He sits down across from you and dips a cube into your cup. "You really haven't changed that much...I was worried you'd be a bit more annoyingly stoic after you left and started to work on your own." As he sets the sugar back down, you take the tea, starting to stir with growing curiosity to his thinking. "George. Karim. You've known me since I was like 9 years old. Who could ever make you think I'd be that different, huh?" you quip. You inhale the tea and blow just a small bit before taking a sip, perfect.

He takes his own teaspoon and stirs around the cup, thinking, before he looks back up to you with the cup in his hand. "People tend to do that. It happens- I don't know. I mean right now I can think of a person or two that can be rather...neurotic." You snort, "More than you??"

His face drops to his usual sarcastic sneer, jaw kind of dropped to feign shock with a scoff. "As a matter of fact yes, y/n. Oh I am sure you and Lockwood would get along great." He sneers at you, his voice laced with a hidden joke.

That damned guy again. Why does George give the same impression of Lockwood that others have in the past? Isn't that his literal boss? You respond, more withdrawn than the previous jests, "...Well then. Until that happens I am sure you're fine company- with all of your neuroticism." You start to snort but stop, opting to pick up your cup again. You stop for a second as you do this, taking a breath and continuing, "Why did you call me here, George. What's really going on."

As you take your sip he stares, only a small bit hesitant to begin this conversation. “So this is my new agency. I don’t know what you’ve heard about Lockwood & Co. from arseholes at Fittes but I can guarantee I wouldn’t be here if any of those were true.” He takes a short breath, sipping on his tea as if he couldn't wait to get that statement out.

You respond, picking up on his nerves. He really does care, not just about your potential judgement but his team. “I would mind more if Lockwood was someone I knew…but to be very honest I have only heard rumors. I trust your judgement George, you’re one of the few left with a good head on their shoulders- including me of course.”

You go to take a sip. He brightens at this response and goes to speak, but you cut him off. “But! I can still exercise caution. You of anyone should understand the issue with trusting other agents these days. Especially in their expertise.” You take the sip.

He sighs, but an understanding look softens his features. “I get it y/n, but this is why I called you. You told me yourself to get in contact if I ever needed a hand whenever I was thrown out, and now we need a hand more than ever” You nod, and he continues, picking up his face as he explains.

“It’s only a few of us. I do research. Holly Munro is our new assistant, but she’s in and out. Right now she’s out because we don’t have too much to deal with, so it's only 3 of us in the house.” One of the lesser mentioned names on the table cloth. You turn to look at her little stick figure portrait before responding.

Turning your brow, “Right...because not too much still entails turning the house over…” you prod.

He ignores you and continues, “Lucy Carlyle has an incredible Talent for Listening, and she’s strong in the field. You two would get along.” He has a smile attached to the end of this statement.

You turn your nose up inquisitively, “I’d like to meet her,” and just as you finish speaking, the same girl in the blue sweatshirt from earlier comes busting through the other door.

“GEORGE!” She shouts as she almost slips on the way to the table.

He sighs and turns, telling you ‘one sec’ with a roll of his eyes. “What, Luce.”

“We still can’t find th-”

She stops for a second once she reaches the table, realizing the stranger in the room. She straightens her sweater and quickly holds out her hand for you, her movements fastened with hesitance. “Hi. I’m Lucy. George’s friend.” You take it as she leans to George, “…is this the old colleague you-”

He cuts her off with a hushed and agitated, “YES.” This new girl, Lucy, seems to be a bit standoffish or shy. She talks like she's trying to keep you at a distance, but you can notice the fact that she is actively trying to be polite and welcoming for George's sake. They must have spoken about you beforehand, you shy away at the thought.

She smiles out of formality as she waits for your response. “Nice to meet you Ms. Carlyle, my name is Y/n L/n. I've just heard great things from George. What can’t you find..?”

She thinks for less than a second before she’s back in her hurry, turning to George again. “OH! We still can’t find it, we’re going out tonight to see if one of us dropped it.”

He withholds a panic, simply nodding, “Fine, but…do I have to go..” he complains. You notice a new cut on his eyebrow, and a patch on his hand- something you didn't have time to notice beforehand. Remnants from recent battle, you assume from the conversation.

“If you think for a second we’re leaving behind our eyes then you’re better off working the Tesco down the road.” He scoffs and agrees as she is whisked back out the door, yelling a hurried “Nice to meet you Mx. l/n!”. Then with a shaky thud she exits back to the flurry in the other part of the house.

“Sorry about that, we’re all a little stressed right now...obviously." He huffs in annoyance as he ends the sentence, thinking on something distant.

You speak up, “yeah..is this why you called me?” You glance out towards where the girl had left, wanting to know what is happening behind those doors.

He takes his tea again, “Yeah.. I couldn’t think of a more qualified person to help us. We have been getting stronger and stronger cases, and without some sort of saving grace we barely make it out alive each time. I just want us to have the reassurance of a trusted and skilled agent when we go on these higher risk contracts.”

You nod and take a large sip, seemingly startling the boy who ended up staring at his cup. “I’m in. Not in the company or anything, but I could use the money and being hired help isn’t too bad- I'll even stake out if you need it.”

He gleams, standing up and extending his hand, “We only need you on call for certain nights. If you keep those nights free so that I can contact you if anything goes to shite, that would mean the world.”

You shake his hand, “It’s a deal then, do I need to meet your boss or-”

He shuts you off, “oh no, Lockwood doesn’t really know that we’re hiring some peace of mind. He kind of insists that we don’t because of his pompous thick skull, but Luce and I agreed that it would be safer. He knows you’re over and-” then doing his best posh impression, “-a friend of George’s is a friend of mine.”

You both chuckle into the table, something tells you that Lockwood is a real treat of a person. A fanciful trio, from what you can gather. You pipe back, “Well it isn’t the first time we’ve done some undercover work. When do you need me first?”

He sinks back into the chair, delighted, “Well, apparently we might need you tonight…if that’s okay. We lost a potential source at a hotspot in the middle of a park. There was a nasty cluster and I guess it just sort of slipped when we were escaping. If you can’t that's okay I-”

You cut the boy off excitedly, “That’s fine! I have nothing to do for the rest of the week. Somehow, I think the higher agencies are trying to steal my cases. They're appealing to lower classes in ways I have never seen, and I get less and less calls as the days drone on. I can never escape those dicks, huh.” You scoff and sit back down, setting a reminder on your phone as you two discuss the details of the reconnaissance mission.

He stops the planning to reply, “If it makes you feel any better, you are still considered a saint for the locals right now. We’ve heard you mentioned a few times in our own contracts. Fittes’ pedestal might be crumbling from your work over the past year or so. Keep making them scared. You've got our support.”

You smile at each other warmly as you set down your teacups in the sink and both go back to the front door. The house seems quieter, and you secretly hope you could have some more time to meet his new colleagues. They don't seem horrible, just interesting characters. You can handle that.

As you are saying your goodbyes, smiles and laughs abound between the old friendly pair, you catch a figure in the staircase. For a moment you smile lightly at the slender boy out of formality, and you seem to think he starts to smile back.

But, just as quickly you’re now out the door and heading back to your own flat. You find one standout emotion whilst walking out the door and back to your place. Excitement.

11:28pm. Your Flat.

Tying the final knot around the stalks, you stand on the edge of your bed to hang a fresh bundle of lavender on your window. You climb back down to check your phone, still no call.

The silver blade from your aunt lies next to your go-bag, and you sit in your room in comfortable underclothes, your work outfit folded next to the supplies and ready for a quick leave.

You do worry for George, whether you would like to admit it or not, but you’ve always been like that. He was one of the only people there for you as a person, not just as an agent.

You used to have shared bracelets, labeled as the “Ghost Siblings”, a snide remark from a former teammate turned point of pride. Somewhere between the two of you leaving you lost touch, but it was nice to see the sentiment never left.

RING RING RING

You almost jump out of your skin as your telephone rings, disrupting your thoughts. You answer it immediately, putting it on a kind of speaker as you hurry away from it, starting to button up your shirt.

George sounds sort of breathless, but hushed on the other end. “Hey y/n, I was right. Be quick!-"

He hangs up, or rather something happens to make him hang up. Your heart starts to race, it doesn’t matter if it is down the block- what if you don’t make it?

You’re out the door as soon as you get your shirt on, barely grabbing your supplies as you lock your door.

What did they get themselves into?

~fin~

I hope you all enjoyed this!! There is MUCH MORE coming, hopefully soon,,, thank u for reading <3

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to clear it of any stupid mistakes and lulls that appeared bc I made this at 3am. toodles! - ives :p

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x y/n #lockwood x you #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co reader insert #reader insert #lockwood and co x you #lockwood and co fic #love writes #xreader #george karim #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood

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brittscafe · 11 months ago

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HIIII HELLO HOW ARE YOU?? I LOVE UR WORK SKNEKDKD BLEACH FF'S ARW RARE SO THANK U FOR UR SERVICE 🧎

I wanted to request some delicious, mouth watering, nail scratching Jugram smut. FULL ON ROUGH, DEGRADING AND ALL THAT. I'm in love with this man it's unhealthy 🤞😍 ALSO VOICE KINK, CUZ HE HAS SUCH A HOT VOICE OMG?!?! Sprinkle some 'you're enjoying this so much, aren't you?' SBWISJSINIW HIHIHI :twirls my hair:

Can I be ❄ anon plssss

THANK UUU <33

OMGG HIIII!!!! I'm good, thanks for asking! I love Jugram soooo much, it's not even funny 😭 and ofc you can be ❄ anon! <3

"Are your eyes covered, Jugram?!" you call out from the bathroom, dressed in your lacy, silky lingerie set that you had just bought.

"Yes, I promise, my love," he replies, sitting on the edge of the bed with his eyes closed. He's only wearing his boxers, his muscular chest glistening in the lighting, patiently waiting for you.

You poke your head out of the bathroom and see Jugram doing exactly what you asked.

A smile tugs on your face and you walk out from the bathroom. You stand in between Jugram's legs, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Ready?" you ask, biting on your bottom lip. Jugram smiles, letting out a tiny huff and nodding his head. You tap his shoulde twice, indicating that he can open his eyes.

Jugram's eyelids slowly flutter open, eyes gluing onto your body. The way your lingerie hugs your curves, ass, and breasts make Jugram's mouth water.

"You're beautiful, my love," Jugram comments, his voice deep and lingering in your mind

His cock grows hard inside of his boxers and he inhales sharply. He grabs onto your hips and pulls you on top of him, falling back onto the bed.

You giggle as you land on top of him, straddling his lap. He grabs onto your jaw and pulls your face towards him, locking his lips with yours.

His warm tongue slides into your mouth and you moan, closing your eyes. His hand slides down to your underwear and he starts to rub your clothed clit.

He slowly pulls away from the kiss, flipping you over onto your back so that he's on top of you.

"Gonna be good for me?" Jugram dips his head down next to your ear, whispering and you nod your head, holding back a whimper.

His voice is so hot, especially when he's whispering in your ear. You can feel his breath on your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe. You arch your back, pressing yourself into him.

Jugram hums with content, wasting no time in getting rid of the pretty lingerie you had on. It's now thrown across the room.

"Go ahead and get on your knees for me," Jugram demands, sitting back and giving you enough room.

You obey, getting on all fours and arching your back. Your bare ass is up in the air and Jugram discards of his boxers, his hard cock springing out, the tip red and raging.

Jugram postions himself behind you, on his knees with his hands on your hips.

"This pretty pussy is all mine," Jugram growls out, hand slapping your bare pussy and you whimper. He leaves his hand there, rubbing it against your folds for a minute before pulling away.

His hand slaps your ass and squeezes the fat flesh. You press your ass back into Jugram's body. You can feel his hard cock pressing into your ass and he lets out a tiny chuckle.

"So pathetic and needy for me, my little slut," Jugram spits out, reaching down and stroking his cock. He spreads the pre-cum out along his length before lining it up with your entrance.

You cry out as Jugram fully shoves his cock inside of your hole fully, no warning.

"J-Jugram!" you whine out, your pussy stretching out in a painful, pleasing way.

"You're enjoying so much, aren't you?" Jugram chimes out, thrusting his hips against your ass. He drives his cock deep inside of you, hitting your precious bundle of nerves.

You grip onto the sheets and respond with a filthy moan, your back arching even more.

Jugram pounds into you from behind, balls slapping against your bare ass. Gasps, moans, and whimpers leaving your mouth as he drags his thick, veiny cock along the walls of your cunt.

Your pussy sucks him in and he clenches his jaw, trying to hold himself together. Thick cock sliding against your g-spot each time he pulls his hips back and snaps into you.

"Oh my god, Jugram. Please, slow down," you beg him, clenching around him.

"Shut up and take it," Jugram groans out, feeling your walls hug around his cock and squeeze it. He grabs onto your head and pushes it down into the pillow.

Your body folds as Jugram presses his chest down on your back, panting heavily. Your shaking and whimpering underneath him, ready to come undone.

"Jugram, please!" you moan out. A white ring of cum forms around the base of Jugram's cock as lewd sounds of his skin slapping against yours fill the room.

"Gonna cum for me, you slut?" Jugram asks through gritted teeth and you bob your head.

"Yes," your voice is muffled by the pillow. He feels your pussy flutter and your cum gushes out onto his cock. Jugram's eyes roll into the back of his head as he continues to pound into you from behind.

Driving his cock deep inside of you, the head hitting that gummy spot inside of you makes the knot in your stomach break. You moan loudly as your cum gushes out, painting Jugram's cock.

The action of you just cumming on his cock makes him to want to come undone as well.

He runs his hand down your spine to your head and grabs onto your hair, tugging on it. You whimper from his action as he hips drives into your ass.

Jugram drops his head, eyes squeezing shut and he groans loudly. He grits his teeth, his cock twitching inside of you and releasing thick, hot ropes of cum inside of you.

His cum paints the inside of your walls and start to ooze out from your stuffed hole. His weight presses you down into the bed and he collapses on top of you, panting heavily into your ear.

Jugram props one arm up, making sure not to crush you. "My good little slut," Jugram whispers into your ear, hand grazing over the side of your stomach.

His lingering touch and voice dripping with lust makes you squeeze your thighs together.

#bleach #jugram haschwalth smut #jugram haschwalth #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #bleach x you #bleach x y/n #bleach x female reader #bleach anime #bleach x reader #bleachichigo #bleachanime #bleach jugram #jugram x reader #jugram x female reader #smut #bleach smut

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yaekiss · 2 years ago

Note

no thoughts just dragon dan heng in heat being horny 24/7. like you'll have to physically DRAG this man off your dick so he doesn't kill you of exhaustion. i will take my leave now

꩜ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! Reader x Sub! Bottom! IL Dan Heng, no gendered terms for reader, reader has a cock, mentions of IL Dan Heng having 2 dicks, breeding kink, mating press, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: ANON UR BRAINNNNNN, this brainrot plagued me for like a week as evident from this other ramble I wrote for Dan Heng orz... THE GRIP THIS MAN HAS ON MY BRAIN (and my dick) !! KEEP UR IDEAS COMING ANON (just like how Dan Heng keeps you coming in him I MEAN WHATTT)

Under the influence of his heat, Dan Heng is near insatiable.

You can always tell when his heat is coming up with the way he’s constantly trying to rile you up. Trailing a hand up your thigh under the table when you sit next to him in the parlor car, sinfully whispering about how he needs you inside him right nowwww! He becomes increasingly clingy, dragging you off to his room to cuddle and wrap his tail around you like he’s trying to press every inch of him onto your skin. It’s not surprising if the cuddle session turns a little more heated when he tries to rut against your thigh as he crams his face into the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.

If you thought he was bad before his heat, you’re ill-prepared for the whore he becomes during his heats. Really, it’s as if he can’t live without your dick inside him 24/7, always whining and begging, close to tears when you need to stop and pull out of him to catch your breath. Normally, Dan Heng wouldn’t behave like this. However, one must not underestimate the neediness of a dragon in heat. Need to go shower? It’s ok you can fuck him in the shower, he can suck you off as he kneels on the tiled floor. Need go to the kitchen to grab something to eat? He’s following you and spreading his ass so you can eat him out. Huh, that’s not what you meant??

“Let’s go for hhah… one muh- more round, please [name]!”

It’s a little ridiculous how slutty he gets, all the knowledge he’s gained from the erotica he secretly reads every time he misses you at night is finally getting put to good use. He wants you to fuck him in every position possible but he absolutely loves it when you manhandle him into a mating press, the feeling of you reaching unthinkably deep in him gets him all shaky with lust. The searing grip you have on the back of his thighs as you push his knees up to his shoulders combined with how your length slides into his warm hole has him giddy with pleasure. He’s purring loudly at how your cock hits all the right spots in him and his tail is flicking wildly on the bed. Stuffing him full of your cum isn’t enough, he needs to get bred.

“Hnngh! You ff- fuck! -feel so sososo good in mE!! Breed me breed me pleaseplease [naME]!”

Nothing is stopping him from wringing out every single drop of cum from you, if you tire easily, no problem, he’ll just ride you! As much as you’d like to complain, the sight above you is fucking gorgeous. Dan Heng has his head thrown back in pure ecstasy, his makeup is smudged, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he moans and cries. When he bounces on your cock, his own dicks slap up against his tummy and he whimpers so beautifully at the added stimulation. His walls clamp down hard on your length to try to milk you for all you’re worth. He doesn’t have to worry about not being able to walk tomorrow because as far as he knows, the two of you will be fucking alllll week! (Dan Heng’s line of reasoning is: No need to walk if all you’re gonna do is fuck uncontrollably like bunnies!)

He only has one thing on his mind: getting bred by you ♡

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

#📜.qi rambles #📜.qi chats #chats with 🪻 anon!#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #sub honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr smut #sub hsr #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut #sub dan heng #dom reader #please don't disappear from the tags please please please #📜.qi writings

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sanspuppet · 1 year ago

Text

GENRE: fluff, smut w a lot of romance (?)

PAIRING: Heesung x afab! reader

W/T: university au, lil bit of jealousy, unprotected sex, biting, swearing, pet name (princess)

A/O: i know that Hee doesn’t have much to do with my blog but this is the ff i wrote for my bestie and i’m just gonna post it so yeah, remember that i’m a multi-stan so i write for many other groups apart from ateez

enjoy <3

———

"come on! it'll be fun!" Jeongin tries to encourage you, his hands begging at your pissed expression because of his hundredth attempt to invite you at his party.

"i don't want to! i don't know anyone of your friends" you reply back with a sharp tone, it’s almost a week that he keeps asking you to come, and he can’t comprehend that you have no intention to go.

"Oh yeah! there's one: Heesung! that guy from class 3B" he winks at you with a smirk already trailing on his face.

"Another reason not to go there!" you quiver, body stiffening the same second he pronounces his name. Actually, if there’s Lee Heesung too, you could think about it a couple times and accept. Through all, he’s the finest man at your university, no doubts he’s your secret crush, well not that secret because it seems that Jeongin has already found out.

"But it's a good opportunity to talk to him!" his voice booms inside the classroom, all of your classmates turn back to look at you, your professor violently slams his palm on the desk: "You two! Better keep those mouths closed during my classes!" you hush a quick "excuse us" before turning back to focus on algebra.

Hours later, when the last school bell rang, you leave the university, arm crossed while walking down the street, with Heesung's smile pictured in your mind and dangerously lost in yourself while fantasizing about him. The stoplight turns red, which unfortunately you don’t pay attention to, you’re about to cross the road when someone thoughtfully grabs your waist, fingertips gripping at your skin, trying to stop you. Your heart flutters intensely, goosebumps on your body as you hear a familiar voice beginning: "you should pay more attention while walking" oh no, you perfectly recognize that voice, sweet but at the same time extremely attractive, you can’t help but turning your face to look at him, panic already flowing into your body. "U-uhm... sorry" Heesung smiles for a millisecond before turning back to his serious expression: "you don't have to be sorry, just wanted to warn you darling" maybe how he called you is the reason why you keep stuttering and trembling like a shy kiddo: "Y-yeah..." you suddenly grimace, confused: "w-why are you here?" you question. "Oh, you didn't notice? i live near your house" you mouth a small "o" before you could even realize what he actually said: "Wait- what?!" he blinks twice, his hands involuntarily still gripping at your waist, a strange feeling intensifying inside the core of your stomach. “i. live. near. you.” he repeats, marking every word, not in a arrogant way, but in a beamy one. When he realizes that you aren’t going to say anything, he approaches you with an another argument: “Well, wanna walk together? I.N. told me that you’ll come at his party” you wide your eyes, following him hesitantly as he crosses the road. “What? No! Nono i don’t like that kind of party” He raises an eyebrow:

“…what kind of party do you like then? like a… uhm” he bemuses, you shake your hands, trying to clarify: “No! I mean… I’m the only girl in the group and i’m quite worried about it” when he turns his head to face you, you can’t believe he purposely holds your hand. “I understand, don’t worry! You know i wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right? Such a good girl, you don’t deserve to get into that kind of shit” you can hear your heartbeat booming inside your head, mind blank as you keep repeating his last sentence to yourself, barely capable to think at any reply. “Please, i want to know you better! Come with me, and you’ll be sure no one will make fun of you, or touch you in any way” he insists, tightening the grip on your hand.

okey, are you dreaming? are you in a coma, after a car invested you? What the hell is happening? All of your day dreams about him seem becoming reality as he’s begging you to accompany him. You’re not conscious of your blushing state in this moment, smiling pathetically, lost in yourself as you’re trying to realize your current situation. And you finally cooe: “Well, if you say so… i’ll be more than glad to come!”

Heesung raises a fist happily: “That’s my girl! i mean… happy to see you again y/n” he stops in front of a small, cute little house. He sighs, taking a heavy breath before continuing: “i live here… alone, so if you need something, you can find me here.” you bow slightly, smiling uncontrollably. “Got it! See you at the party, then.” He keeps staring at you without leaving: “What? So i’m not gonna pick you up?”

“Oh… uhm, yes! yes, sure. Sorry” you beam back.

“Okey, shall we share our phone numbers?” he asks, taking his phone in his hands, ready to take notes. When you’re both sure that the other has the contact saved, Hee shakes his hand and heads towards the door of his home.

The evening of the same day, you can’t help but keep fantasizing about how would it be to spend hours with Heesung at your side. Having him that close to you, would probably drive your mind nuts, but what if he was talking seriously hours before? He seriously wants to get to know you better? Well, if so, you’d surely go to that party. Knowing that it’s quite easy to convince you in anything when it comes to Heesung, you already start choosing what to wear at the party of the next day.

“Mmm” you scratch your chin, looking at your dresses hanging inside your wardrobe. “What should i-“ the loud sound of your ringtone makes you suddenly hop. You check the name written on the screen, snorting when you see the name of your best friend.

“What do you want?” you tilt your head to squeeze your phone between your ear and shoulder, picking your favorite dresses and throwing them on your bed.

“You’re coming?!! God, you fucking drool for Heesung, don’t you???” you hear Jeongin beaming through the speaker.

“Me? No, no absolutely.” you find yourself staring intensely at one dress in particular: the fabric of a soft white, its skirt’s quite short and has elegant lace sleeves. You choose that one, while keep listening to Jeongin freak out from happiness.

“Well, whatever. You’re gonna come too!!!” he starts to giggle joyfully.

“Yeah, now please calm down. Also, i have to go now, bye!” you end the call without even waiting for him to say anything else. The only thing you want right now is staring at the selfie of Heesung that he has set as his profile picture. So you did, laying on your bed, after putting carefully in place your dresses again.

“Ooh… he’s such so handsome and cute”

You whimper seeing the notification of someone texting you appearing from above the phone screen. A pang hits your heart when you realize it’s Heesung.

< Hey, tomorrow the party begins at 6 p.m. Imma pick you up by 5.45, is that okay? >

You smile like an idiot while texting back: < Perfect! >

That night you fall asleep, lost again in the thought of his cherishing smile and how simply gorgeous he always is.

And as soon as you do, as soon you wake up, squeezing your eyes from the warm light of the sunrise. You suddenly grip at your hair, your heartbeat starts accelerating as you process: “The party is today!”

Now that you have realized it, you can’t stop waiting impatiently for afternoon to come. You force yourself to distract your mind, doing chores and your homework, listening to music and practicing the dance steps you learned at your last dance lesson. Doing that you don’t even feel the hours that have passed, making you bounce slightly on the spot as you read what time it is.

“God i have to get ready!” you jolt while running towards your bathroom, starting to do your makeup. You keep checking the time on your wristwatch, and once you have your look done and prepared all the stuff you’d need, you leave the house and chuckle shyly as you see Heesung standing in front of his car a few meters apart from you.

“Hi y/n! How are you?” He approaches you, giving you his hand to help you get inside of his car.

“Pretty fine” you affirm after he joined you inside it.

The short journey was something you could define totally embarrassing, you were frustrated because you couldn’t do anything but stare outside the window and tap nervously your fingertips on the handle. He was the one that after some minutes that seemed eternal hours find the courage to speak:

“Uhm… that dress is so beautiful, matches your vibes a lot” he turns his head to take a quick look of you before his gaze could go back at the road. “Thank you, Heesung” you smile genuinely. He giggles back: “Oh please, just call me Hee. We’re friends after all, right?” what your previous smile seemed full of happiness, it quickly turned into a wounded one. “Yeah… friends”

———

Once you enter the apartment, you didn’t expect it to be so well organized: cute colorful balloons fill the living room, yummy snacks all over the table followed by soda and other drinks, background music to keep the welcoming atmosphere. When you step out the entrance you immediately see Jeongin’s friends casually chatting on the small couch.

“Naur way look who’s here!” Jake exclaims as he notices your figure standing in front of them. You chuckle at his funny Aussie accent.

“Yeah personally i know you couldn’t wait anymore to see me” Heesung smirks, heading towards Jeongin who’s trying to inflate other balloons. “Hyung i think these are enough, yeah?” he whispers at him, noticing his red, overworked cheeks.

Jake turns his head to look at Hee, grimacing: “What? No i meant y/n! Didn’t expect you to come” He approaches you, with the intention of hugging you friendly. After he pulls away, the other boys stand up to do the exact same. You thank Jay, Chan and Beomgyu as they compliment your curated look.

You spent a couple hours on watching a comedy show and laughing together. Your body stiffened any time you felt Heesung’s hand resting (apparently) innocently on your knee, when you saw him facing you while giggling as he enjoyed the film, it seriously looked like you were a couple, and you weren’t the only one who noticed that:

Chan’s gaze suddenly went to your knee, as he saw Heesung rubbing his hand on your skin.

“Are you hiding us something, guys? Seems like you’re very comfortable together.”

Chan’s your ex, so you could tell that his voice had some point of annoyance when he spoke.

“Yeah! I was about to say the same thing” Beomgyu smirks, moving his eyes on you and the fine guy who’s sitting next to you.

“Oh, it does? Sorry if i might stole her from you” Heesung appeals with his cocky smile.

“It’s not up to you, Hee” Chan replies, a slight look of arrogance on his face surprises you. “Right, y/n?”

“Uhm… well…” you struggle to find any appropriate answer, but nothing comes to your mind. Jeongin fortunately saves you from that embarrassing situation:

“Let’s play a game!” He stands up, turning off the tv. Jay and Jake that were still focusing on the program, whined at him.

“Fine” Heesung stands up, searching for your hand and heading towards Jeongin. A smirk pops into the childish friend’s face, he crosses his arm looking intensely at the both of you through his hooded eyes.

“Y/n, truth or dare?”

The moment after the other guys heard that iconic question, every one was sitting on the rug in a circle, waiting for their turn as they joined the game. It was quite fun, most of the dares were hilarious that got you almost rolling on the floor from laughter, but once it got repetitive and your friend seemed bored, Jeongin once again proposed you:

“Y/n, truth or dare?” this time his gaze is mysterious enough for you to suspect he planned something.

“Uhm… dare?” you murmur, not sure if you chose the right answer to keep your dignity.

“I see” Jeonging looks straight at Heesung on your left, before moving his gaze on you again. “Kiss Heesung”

Loud “Uuuh” fill the atmosphere as the guys find finally a captivating idea, everyone but Bangchan, who seems about to kill Jeonging with his stare and choke Heesung before he could touch you.

Panic starts to rush inside your veins as you turn your head and see Heesung smirking, you can feel the eyes of all the others stuck on your lips, waiting impatiently for you to make a move, but nothing, you couldn’t even elaborate any conscious movement. You’re like a greek statue, immobilized, your eyes focusing on nothing but Hee’s lips, your hand standing steady on the ingenious intent of wrapping it around his waist. Heesung chuckles: “y/n? are you’k?” he snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

What it took least than two seconds, felt an entire minute for you.

You feel Heesung carding his fingers through your hair, before falling on the nape of your neck to pull you closer to his face, the tip of your noses rubbing against each other as he’s moving his lips closer and closer to yours. It felt warm, and soft, something you never experienced in that way, you could immediately tell that you would be addicted to his lips, if only he could be yours.

Heesung pulls away, exhaling a soft laugh as he holds your hand. “You good?” he asks, you nod: “Yeah. Yeah i’m good” you murmur, smiling a little before turning your head to face the others. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay an Jeongin are hyping the both of you, on the other side you can notice Chan squeezing his fists as he keeps staring at you. “What’s wrong with him?” you question yourself.

Jeongin giggles at you and Heesung: “I meant a peck on the cheek but well, this proves that you like each other! Thank me later guys” he stands up, taking the bowl of chips and starts to chew a few.

“W-wait- What?” your mouth hangs open, while Hee is simply smiling at you.

The rest of the party went great, you had funny conversations and ate tasty food.

Later, you head towards the exit, where you left your jacket and phone, you barely even check your new notifications, that you feel a hand resting on your shoulder, you expect it to be Heesung and uncontrollably smile, but once you turn your head to see his face, you find yourself a few inches away from Chan. He’s moving closer to your lips to steal a kiss from you. You pull him away, smacking your palm against his face.

“What the hell are you doing? Huh?” you screech.

“Come on, don’t act like you don’t want it, we were so perfect as a couple, you look better with me than Heesung” He gets closer to you slowly once again, but you’re too concerned to move. You jolt as you see someone pulling Chan away from you by grabbing his shoulder.

“What’s going on here?” Heesung looks at you before moving his annoyed gaze to Chan. “Why would you care?” he replies, with his arms crossed.

“Because she just rejected you a few seconds ago, don’t you get that she doesn’t like you anymore?” you can’t articulate anything before he wraps his arm around your waist and yell at the others in the living room.

“Guys, it was fun but now i have to take y/n home, see you on Monday” Heesung takes your jackets and leaves the house with you squeezed in his arm.

Not long after he stops in front of his house, you’re still confused from why he reacted like that before, you don’t realize that it isn’t actually your house. Heesung gets out of the car. “Come with me” he called you, heading towards the door.

Once you’re both inside, he turns to look at you, taking your hands in his. “You’re not interested in Chan anymore, right?” you nod: “Yeah, i’m not.” he lets out a relieved sigh. “Good, because i like you” you start to mumble incomprehensible words. “U-uhm…” Heesung notices that your cheeks are turning into a blushing state, making him chuckle. “You don’t need to say anything, just kiss me already, okey?” he slowly approaches you, getting closer enough for you to feel his warm, deep breaths against you nose, his hands are trailing soft lines on your back, sending you shivers down your spine. You automatically raise on your tiptoes, holding yourself onto his shoulder. You start to leave small pecks on his hot lips, struggling to stop because of the warm feeling of his body. Hee chuckles between every kiss: “i see, you love me, don’t you?” you giggle against the crook of his neck: “Yeah, so much.”

“May i take care of you? Show you how much do i love you, too?” he leans over you neck to inhale your sweet scent. “Mark you as mine, so you won’t get bothered by other guys?” you take a few seconds to realize what he actually meant with those words. “Uhm… i don’t know…” He caresses your cheek, attaching his lips on yours another time. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Please, let’s be each other’s first” You chuckle: “I can’t believe you’re still a virgin” he wides his eyes, smiling: “Why?? I had only a girlfriend when i was 14, you’re the one i fell for, after a long time.” you bite your lower lip, looking down to avoid eye contact. “It’s just that… i’m worried i won’t be good enough” he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he walks backwards, heading towards what you figure to be his bedroom. “You’ll be perfect as always, my little princess” you can’t help but blush at that new petname, that stole another smile from you. A few seconds later he’s opening the door with you still holding at his waist. He sits on the edge of the mattress, looking up at you with doe eyes. You suddenly get shy as you realize that you started unconsciously to strip, hiking up slowly your dress as you expose your bare legs and stomach to him, the man that you craved for three years. He holds himself on his wrists, watching carefully every detail of your body, already struggling to contain any reaction from his body. “Oh god, you’re so beautiful” he murmurs, biting his cheeks to avoid any flustering sound. You jump onto his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist, Hee starts to kiss you deeply as you busy yourself by unbuttoning his shirt. Your tongue dives into his mouth, while trailing your hands all over his naked chest. You push him, getting him completely layed on his bed. You’re still asking yourself where did you find enough confidence to do all of this, when you bite on his neck, smirking against his red skin. “Untie it, Hee” as soon as he hears you, you feel your bra falling off of your body, hearing it thrown on the floor. Heesung grabs your waist, forcing you to switch your positions. You see his unmistakable smirk glued onto your face, but it doesn’t take long before he moves it down your breast. “Are you sure you’re ready, princess?” he asks you, caressing your waist side. “i trust you” “Glad you do, baby” he stands up, untying his belt before unzipping his jeans. Not long after he throws them on the floor, then focuses again on nothing else but you. Hee leans over you, making his way down your body with small kisses, once he reaches your lower abdomen, he slowly drags you panties down your legs. “So pretty, tell me…” he stops by biting slightly on your hips. “Want me to wear a condom? I’m clean, just to let you know.” you shake your head. “I’m too, and on a birth control” Heesung nods, positioning himself between your wided legs. “Got you” you breathe heavily, when you watch him dragging down his boxers, inhaling the air deeply to force yourself to slow down your heartbeat. You squeeze your eyes when you get to see his cock standing between your wet core. It’s just about a few seconds that you finally feel him burying himself inside you. He lets out a sweet groan, holding his breath when you involuntarily squeeze around him. “Fuck, didn’t expect it to be this good” he slowly pulls out, trying to feel every sensation. “Do you like it?” He watches your aroused face. “Yeah, please, go on” You watch him smirking through your eyelashes. “Didn’t hear you, may you repeat darling?” you sigh, smiling. “Huh, please i want you”

Heesung holds onto your knees, making sure you stay spread for him, while he slides into you another time, then out, repeating the same movements as he speeds the pace. You try to stay still, gripping harshly at the sheets beneath you, your eyes roll back as you feel him touching your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Fuck- just like that, please” you mewl, letting out whimpers when the pleasure builds tension inside your lower stomach.

He moans back once. “Never thought you could make such sweet noises.” he smiles, eyes shut as he feels himself getting closer to his climax. Surely the way you keep clenching around his length doesn’t help him to last longer, and surely the fact that his tip’s kissing your g-spot continuously from minutes is getting you to the edge very quickly. You let out a broken, high pitched moans when you feel pure arousal hitting your body, making you arch your back from pleasure. “Fuck- faster, now!” he does immediately as you say, slamming his pelvis against your thighs gap as fast as he can, the sound of your skin slapping against each other’s booms inside the room, followed by nasty, squelching sounds at every pump. Heesung leans over you to help himself thrusting into you better. “So close~ cum for me princess” Your breathe loudly, as soon as you cream around him you feel hot ropes of his cum shooting inside you. His thrusts become sloppy when he slows down, pulling out after a few more pumps.

“You’re so beautiful right now, all fucked out because of me, i think i like you better like this.” he leans over to steal another deep kiss, his hands reaching instinctively your bare breast. “You did so good for me, you need a treat babe” you smile the best you can, still trying to get down your high. “Like…?” Heesung leaves a small peck on your right cheek. “What about a warm bath? I said i’m gonna take good care of you.” he cards his fingers through your hair, caressing your forehead.

“Will you let me do it forever?”

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beautifulplaceofyouth · 6 months ago

Text

JJK FF | ROYAL GUARD

CHAPTER THIRTEEN | SERIES

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Ch. 7

Ch. 8

Ch. 9

Ch. 10

Ch. 11

Ch. 12

Ch. 13

When you keep bumping into your personal royal guard by accident not knowing he is your guardian angel

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook!fallen angel!royal guard! × fem!reader!virgin!princess

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+

Genre + warnings: Fluff, angst, paranormal romance, historical fanfiction, Kook being cold and mysterious, and just being his sexy self. Possessive over his princess. Y/n parents disapproves of their marriage but they still going with it so a little ceremony is prepared. Happily married, they make love under the stars and maybe there's pregnancy going on 👀. The story isn’t real, just my imagination running wild so just enjoy reading!

a/n: I was on hiatus for a long time because of some private stuff but here it is. This is a little short because we are making to an end for the series so I hope you still enjoyed it!

Your father was hesitant to walk you down the aisle to the one creature powerful enough to destroy everything in his path so you understood his concerns as he held your arm in a deadly grip, feeling his discomfort for allowing his only daughter to marry a dangerous being.

As you saw your mother standing at the first row of pews, your heart clenched painfully when you saw her expression.

A mixture of sadness or even disappointment and fear crossed her face before she turned away with an expression that told you that there was no way you would ever see her again if you keep going with this marriage.

Your father's fingers dug into your arm even harder when he felt it as well but nothing else mattered when your eyes locked with your soon to be husband.

His gaze held a promise of full life of pleasure and happiness. His love for you was like an endless and eternal obsession which would never fade.

The ceremony went on smoothly, the priest saying words about the power of heavens above to bless your union and wish your happiness until death. The vows were exchanged, rings were placed on your fingers and it was time for the groom to kiss his bride.

Jungkook didn’t even wasted a second to lean in and press his lips against yours. His tongue danced against yours in a way that sent shivers through your body. It was slow yet passionate as if he had all the time in the world to make each moment count.

Pulling away, the throne room was silent after the kiss you shared and your king’s eyes were only focused on you.

“Now you’re really mine …” he murmured, pressing another kiss but this time on your forehead, “...for eternity.”

The only thing which bothered you was how your parents looked at you now, like they’d seen a monster rather than their daughter who has fallen head over heels in love with this man who could do such things with her mind.

They were disappointed because they thought that the king is just using you but you knew better. He loved you like you were the moon, brighter and brighter each day until finally, you shine more beautifully and brightly than anyone can ever hope to achieve. You knew that he loves you like you are someone special and someone he doesn’t want anyone to take from him but still, you couldn't shake off how your parents looked as you walked out of the throne room to start your new life together.

The same night after your wedding, you were sitting in the beautiful garden under the moonlight. Your dress sparkled in the moonlight while the grass was illuminated by its glow. The garden wasn’t particularly big but it was beautiful nonetheless. It overlooked the lake and the mountains surrounding it with the forest beyond.

In a soft cushioned swing you were sitting in your husband’s lap, his strong arms around your waist and his wings wrapped around the two of you protectively.

Nuzzling your neck, his deep voice rumbled softly in your ear,” How are you feeling, my love? Are you still sad?”

“A little, but not for much longer. I have you to make me feel better and you’ll always remind me of everything we’ve been through.” You replied softly, resting your cheek against the soft fabric of his cloak.

“It will be hard at first knowing my parents are against our relationship but I hope they will forgive me and accept you as my husband. I hope you’re not upset about them,” looking up at him beneath your lashes, you caress his cheek, his eyes glowing in the dark when he met your gaze.

“It’s cute that you think I’m upset over what they think of me. What matters now that your officially mine and even your parents will never stop me for having you,” before you can worry about his possessive tendencies, his lips brushed yours softly before continuing, “I can’t wait to make love to you every single night, darling.”

You flushed and leaned back against his chest with an embarrassed chuckle. “You just can’t say that, Jungkook. It’s not very gentlemanly for the king to speak in such a manner,” giggling shyly as he pressed light kisses along your collarbone.

Feeling his smirk, his hold tightens around you while his wing cocooned you both protectively and he murmurs,“It sound like you’re challenging your king to try something inappropriate to you.”

Before you could reply, he rips your dress open and you feel his warm fingers on your bare back. You hear a low amused chuckle behind you,” No bra?

Embarrassed and breathless from his bold moves and remarks, your skin feels hotter when Jungkook pulls the dress down over your shoulders till you’re bared to the cool air. Now you were naked from your neck to your hips, the poor wedding dress pooled around your waist while his large hands explore your back.

“Jungkook, someone might see us…” you whisper in a warning but still let him trace his touch along your waist until it reaches your breasts.

Taking them in his hands, he thumbs the small pink buds gently, smiling as you groan at the sensation, his thumb brushing across the nipple teasingly.

Reaching your waist again, he rips the dress completely off of you when it falls from your legs to the grass beneath you and the swing you were both sitting.

Gasping from the sudden cold, his wings shield you from the wind, the feathers tickling you gently when he spreads your legs to touch your clit with his fingers.

“Oh God,” you moan in delight, the wet friction creating goosebumps all over your skin. His fingers were gentle and slow at first until he starts stroking faster, adding heat to your already burning flesh.

”Ah...” you cry out when his teeth sink into your shoulder, biting down to leave a mark.

Your hips buck into his hand without your consent and you' sure that he could taste your arousal when his tongue licks your tender flesh.”Jungkook -ah….”

He pauses in between kissing you and nibbling lightly on your neck. You feel like you’re floating with him and you know it was probably the adrenaline that coursed through your system.

“Do you want to please me, mate?”

“Mate?” you question with wide eyes when you glance towards him.

Smiling with a glint in his eyes and his lips still covered with your scent, he replies, “My mate, of course. Don’t you know?”

Staring deeply into his black orbs, you nod slowly,” Like a soulmate,” you breathe out shakily with a blush forming on your cheeks.

Jungkook laughs, his lips curving into a sexy smile when he realizes your excitement.

Before he continues with what he was doing before, he kisses along your shoulder and neck, giving your mark his full attention when you feel it glow in the dark.

“Why does it light up like that when you touch it?” you ask quietly.

His fingers pause when you mentioned your mark for a moment as he looks at you with a strange expression but his tone remained gentle,” The magic that connects the two of us forms a sort of bond that only mates can share when touching a mark or marking each other like this. This mark proves that you’re mine and everyone who will see it, will know it too.”

Your heart beats rapidly when his long finger traces your inner thigh. It takes all of your willpower to stay as still as possible instead of moving closer to him to feel his heated touch.

"If you get hurt," he whispers huskily while nipping on one of your shoulders and then the other. "This mark will show it.”

Your breath hitches when he starts sucking your shoulder with his hot mouth.

"Jungkook…." you whimper as your back arches.

"Shh, my love... don't move. Stay still."

His hands roam your sides, fingers playing with your breasts until you're panting with desire.

“Do you want my cock, Y/n? Do you want to feel it inside you?" His words sent chills down your spine and made your body tingle with need, the butterflies fluttering around you making you giggle nervously.

Breathing out heavily, you tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on the stars above,”I want to do anything and everything, my king.”

Feeling him unzipping his trousers, you gasp sharply when you feel his thick length pressing against your ass.

You can’t even scream when he inserts himself in you with one rough thrust, sinking inside you so deep that you see another kind of stars above you.

That night all you did was chant your husband’s name on repeat.

Two Weeks Later

It was raining in the morning when you woke up in the big bed next to your husband.

He was still asleep, his handsome features relaxed without any trace of stress but you knew that it would change if he knows the truth about you.

It was five days before when you got the news and now keeping it from him like a secret made your stomach twist uneasily, your mind wondering how he’s going to react.

With a sigh, you slowly sat up and rubbed your tired eyes with the palms of your hands. Looking down at your naked body, you smiled sadly when you felt your body ache and wanted nothing more than to take a nice bath right now.

Bringing your hand to your stomach, you rubbed your belly gently and smiled softly but sudden feeling of sickness caused you to jump from the bed to run to the bathroom.

Throwing yourself at the toilet seat, you dropped on your knees and dry heaved for what seemed like hours with your stomach hurting like hell. Your eyes sting with tears as you tried to keep yourself together and when you’re finally done throwing up and you’re left alone in the bathroom, you collapsed onto the floor next to the toilet.

Letting your head fall back against the wall with a sob, you heard footsteps approaching and quickly wiped away the last few streaks of tears on your cheeks, forcing yourself to stand up and meet Jungkook's concerned gaze with red rimmed eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Baby? Are you okay?” He crouched in front of you, frown deepening as he noticed the tear tracks streaking down your face.

Sniffing as your nose ran and he held out a damp rag which you gratefully accepted, you wiped your face carefully with the cloth. When you were certain that you were presentable enough for him, you glanced back at him through hooded eyes and offered a weak smile.

��I’m okay. Just feeling sick,” you lie with a shaky voice, looking down ashamedly when he raised an eyebrow at you.

“You’re the worst liar in history, sweetheart,” his eyes darken when he steps closer to you.

Pulling you into his chest, his wings springs out of his back, protecting you while tucking you into his embrace.

“I feel my seed inside of you. You can’t avoid me forever. You know that I can feel our bond and everything what is going on with you,” he whispered huskily, nuzzling the crown of your head affectionately.

You feel like your heart stopped at that moment,” And what is going on?”

“You’re pregnant, darling. You can’t keep that as a secret from me anymore. I would know because we are bonded after all.”

You bite your lip to stop the crying,” You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad? You are carrying our child!” he exclaims happily, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

You can hardly contain your joy now that Jungkook knew the truth,” Do you really want this?”

Chuckling in disbelief, he kissed your mouth without any care that you just vomited all your previous night’s dinner so with a sharp intake of breath, you feel his hand wrap around your delicate throat.

“Do I want this? You silly girl, of course, I want you and our child. I didn’t breed you just to reject you,” smirking at his words, your mouth falls open.

What he said sounded so wrong coming out of his mouth.

Did he mean…

No way.

“And knowing that you smell even better with my baby’s scent inside of you, it makes me want you more,” growling low in his throat as his free hand slips behind your head to grip both of yours tightly,”So tell me, sweetheart; why would I not want our baby?”

Tears started rolling down your face when he lifted one of your hands up to place a kiss on your knuckles while staring deeply into your eyes.

“You really mean it,” you whisper with wonderment filling your body as he nods and kisses your knuckles again.

“I really mean it. Now come here,” he murmurs with a soft grin before pulling you on top of him and burying his face into your hair.

“I should take a bath…I stink,” you grumble against his bare skin.

“Not to me.”

God, this man will be the death of you.

Be continued…

p.s. All images and gifs are not mine, some of the edits are mine edited but not every picture. All the credit goes to their rightful owners

DO NOT REPOST THIS WORK AS YOUR OWN BECAUSE THIS IS THE ORIGINAL OWNER’S STORY

If you like, please reblog or like the post so I can post the next chapters :)

Taglist: @lepau123 @the-princess-of-mischief-1998@11thenightwemet11 @khadeeeeej @almosttoopizza @jiminismine4ever (If you want to be tagged, please message me)

#bts #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfction #jungkook smut #bts fluff #fallen angel #historical romantic fiction #jeon jeongkook #kpop fiction #royal guard #virgin princess

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candyshin00 · 29 days ago

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Deceptive Beginnings - Ch. 1 Monday

A/N - I am really excited posting this fanfiction and I hope you all love it!! I am new to posting FF on tumblr so if you have any tips or advice feel free!

Deceptive Beginnings Masterlist

Next Chapter

Word count - 5.9k

Warnings - dead parents mention, anxiety symptoms, health issues mention

The shrill blare of your alarm yanks you out of sleep, echoing sharply from somewhere across the room. With a groggy whine, you fling a pillow in its direction—only to notice the noise is coming from your phone. You groan and peel yourself out of bed, checking your phone after turning off the alarm. The time blinks back at you mercilessly. Your first day back at university, after almost a week, you’ll be late if you don’t hurry.

Muttering a quick curse under your breath, you throw down your phone and grab some clothes from your closet: a red and black plaid skirt, fishnets, a random band tee you stole from Taehyung, and your well-worn, thrifted combat boots, a staple of yours. You quickly throw on some simple makeup with heavy and smudged black eyeliner and brush your hair with your fingers before grabbing your phone and bag and practically running out the door.

You barely make it to school on time, breathing a sigh of relief as you glance down at your phone: 8:00 a.m., Monday, October 4th. "I have about 15 minutes before my first class," you mutter.

Before you can tuck your phone into your bag, you feel it vibrate. You smile as you see ‘Yoon Man’ flash across the screen. You answer, unable to resist teasing him a little. “Well, good morning to you, too,” you say, knowing exactly how much he despises being up this early.

A low, annoyed groan filters through the line. “Don’t start,” Yoongi mutters, his voice thick with irritation. He pauses, sighing heavily. “Just calling to remind you we’ve got practice today.”

“As if I’d forget.” You scoff, feigning offense as you fall into step, strolling down the hallway. Yoongi chuckles softly on the other end before you hear the 'beep beep beep' of your call being cut short. He unknowingly helped calm your nerves about being back at school.

"Hey, you!" A voice sharply calls out behind you. Before you have time to turn around and react, you feel a firm grip on your wrist pulling you down the hall.

As you glance up, you spot the back of a boy’s head—his longer, wavy hair gathered into a loose ponytail. You barely have time to process it before being pulled into the bathroom. He slams the door shut, locking it behind him with a quick, decisive click.

You look up, and there he is—Jeon Jungkook. You’ve never formally met him, but his reputation precedes him, shadowed by countless rumors. He grins at you, a sparkle in his eyes that you can’t quite read and an air of casual ease that somehow makes him even more infuriating. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you rub the soreness from your wrist, still stinging from his grip.

He smirks, clearly enjoying your irritation, and leans in, his voice dropping to a smooth, playful tone. “I need you to do something for me.” His head tilts as he studies you, flashing a lopsided smile that’s a touch too practiced, a hint too fake—and it sends a chill down your spine despite the easy charm in his gaze.

You look him up and down, finally getting a good look at him before crossing your arms across your chest. "And the way you want to ask me this is by locking me in the bathroom?" You raise an eyebrow, your voice thick with irritation.

He lets out a low, frustrated groan. “I just need you to listen to me for a minute, okay?” He sounds as if he’s trying to keep his usual smooth charm intact. He steps closer, his playful smile fading just enough to reveal a flicker of annoyance beneath it.

As he moves closer, it’s impossible not to notice just how handsome he is. He has big, round, doe-like eyes that are a beautiful shade of brown. His nose is flat at the tip, and his fake smile is charming, even if it does creep you out a little. "I never said I wasn't listening." You reply, trying to mask your unease.

You feel the cold bathroom door against your back as Jungkook steps closer, his hands sliding to rest on either side of your shoulders. He takes a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. "I need you to do me this favor." He looks deep into your eyes, making you even more uncomfortable about the situation.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words. "A favor? I don't even know you; I only know of you." Your voice wavers slightly, frustration bleeding into the words. And what I know isn’t exactly promising.

You attempt to brush his hands off your shoulders, but he tightens his grip in response. You feel your chest growing heavy with anxiety and irritation. Seriously? Who does he think he is? The main love interest in a drama?

He’s close—too close—and the faint scent of him invades your senses: clean clothes fresh out of the dryer, undercut with a hint of musk, probably his deodorant. You feel your stomach twist, a mix of annoyance and something you’d rather not name. Focus. He’s not special. Not even close.

"It's not that deep, okay? Just hear me out." He rolls his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh before his gaze locks onto yours once more.

Your heart stutters in your chest, the intensity of his stare igniting a fresh wave of anxiety. Not that deep? That’s rich coming from someone who has me pinned against a door like this. What kind of ‘favor’ even requires this level of dramatics?

"Well, spit it out then." You almost hiss in response. You can feel your patience growing thin as that heavy feeling in your chest continues to grow.

I’m gonna vomit. Your palms feel clammy, your fingers curl into loose fists at your sides, nails digging lightly into your palms. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment before you force it out, trying to maintain a façade of control. He wouldn't actually hurt you. Right?

Your knees lock instinctively, as though bracing yourself for a fight-or-flight moment. A faint buzzing fills your ears, and you’re acutely aware of the heat creeping up your neck. He’s still staring at you, his dark eyes unwavering. Why won’t he just get to the point already? This is unbearable. What if he—

You shove the thought away before it can spiral further. Your jaw clenches, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though the weight of it makes your skin prickle. Don’t show him you’re rattled.

Just focus. Breathe. Just like Yoongi taught you. In through you nose out through your mouth.

He takes another deep breath and brings his face down closer to yours. "I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a week. That's all I need you to do." He flashes you another fake, award-winning smile, the kind that’s disarmingly charming yet entirely unnerving.

"THE FUCK?" You yell into his face. Did he really just ask you that? The absurdity of the request hangs heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless.

He groans at your outburst, swiftly covering your mouth with his left hand. “Be quiet, will you?! I need you to do this.” You glare up at him, but he remains unfazed, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear. “All I need you to do is pretend to be my girlfriend. Don’t overcomplicate it—just say yes.”

"Why should I?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Is he serious right now? Your mind races, caught between disbelief and irritation. Does he think I’m just waiting around for him to swoop in with his ridiculous demands? Who even does that?

Your stomach churns as you try to process what’s happening. Pretend to be his girlfriend? For what? And why me? There are about a hundred other girls in this school who’d probably jump at the chance. So why is he standing here, breathing down my neck like I’m his only option?

You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms as if that alone could shield you from the mess he’s clearly trying to drag you into. Whatever his reason is, it’s not good enough.

He groans and backs away from you, placing his hands on his hips. "I need a girl to pretend to be my girlfriend just for a week." He says with a weary sigh.

You huff, the disbelief bubbling in your chest threatening to spill over. “I want to know the reasoning behind this ridiculous request,” you can feel your muscles relax a little no longer feeling that you are in danger. “Because I’d be sacrificing my peace here at school for you.”

And peace isn’t exactly something I have a lot of to begin with. You internally cringe at the thought of the chaos this would bring—the whispers, the stares, the inevitable drama. Being the ‘Golden Boy’s girlfriend’? Yeah, no thanks. Your stomach churns as the reality of it settles in.

Everyone loves him. He’s good at literally everything. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect charm. But beneath all that ‘perfection,’ there’s a reputation that follows him like a shadow—his love of women.

Of all the people in this school, he picks me? Why? And why the hell does he think I’d agree?

Jungkook groans, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “It’s my parents,” he admits as he turns away from you. “They keep pestering me about when I’ll get a girlfriend, and honestly, I just can’t deal with it anymore.”

You blink, caught between disbelief and amusement. “Then go get a girlfriend? You’ve got tons of girls interested in you.” Your tone is sharp, almost mocking, because seriously—what is this guy’s problem?

You bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh. Does he really not see the irony here? Women practically throw themselves at him for even a sliver of attention. Hell, half the school would line up just for the chance to say they’ve kissed him.

Then a thought hits you, making your stomach churn. Wait, is he pulling that cliché ‘you’re not interested in me, so now I’m interested in you’ nonsense? You nearly gag at the idea. God, gross. Don’t flatter yourself, Jungkook.

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can tell patience isn’t his strong suit. "It’s complicated, okay? I don’t need my parents up my ass about a relationship right now, so pretend to be my girlfriend just for a week, and I’ll pay you." His eyes flick down to your wrist, lingering on the faint red mark left behind. His tone softens slightly. “And I’m sorry for being so aggressive. I couldn’t exactly bring this up in the hallway.”

You pause, studying him carefully. He almost seems genuine—or at least as genuine as someone making such a ridiculous request can be. Still, your gaze sweeps over him, searching for something—anything—that might betray his true intentions. His body language screams frustration. Is he always this impossible to read?

Narrowing your eyes, you cross your arms. "You aren’t exactly making me want to say yes," you reply flatly, watching as he closes his eyes tightly, clearly wrestling with his composure.

"Come on, I’m literally offering to pay. What do you want me to do?" He sighs deeply before turning his gaze back to you.

Your thoughts linger on his words. Pay. Your band could really use new equipment—Yoongi’s drum set is practically held together by sheer will power at this point. Yoongi and Taehyung have done so much for you; maybe you can survive Jungkook for just a week. Right?

A shiver runs down your spine as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Beg… on my knees?" He says it like a joke, but there’s a flicker of something desperate in his expression.

You smirk, tilting your head up at him. "That’s not a bad idea." You’ve already made up your mind to take his offer, but not without teasing him a little first.

His tongue presses into his cheek, his jaw visibly tightening. "You really want me to get on my knees and beg?"

You purse your lips, barely containing a laugh at his irritated expression. "God, no. Take a joke, dude."

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he replies, as you see his right eye twitch. “Anyway, will you help me or not?” He crosses his arms, shifting his weight in annoyance, the frustration clear on his face.

You heave a loud sigh. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today." You almost surprise yourself with your willingness to agree to this.

His face lights up as he realizes you are going to help him. "Thank you." He gives you a light pat on the head before walking towards the door.

"Uh, excuse me?" You raise an eyebrow at him. That’s it? Was he just going to leave with no other context?

He looks back at you cocking his head to the side, his hand already on the doorknob. "What?"

"Are there any terms and conditions I should be aware of?" You shift your weight from one leg to another, slightly uncomfortable and irritated.

He pauses, giving you a once-over before a smug smirk spreads across his face. “Don’t actually fall in love with me, alright?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, a look of pure disgust crossing your face. "Yeah, that’s pretty easy. Don't worry about that." Good to know he doesn't like you in that way, I guess.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound smooth and a little too confident; he raises his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying I’ve had girls fall in love with me for way less."

You roll your eyes, an annoyed scoff escaping your lips. “God, you’re such a prick. Let me out of the bathroom—now.” He opens the door and steps aside, motioning for you to go first. “Oh, wait. Hold on.”

Jungkook looks at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "What is it now?" You take a piece of paper from your bag and write down your number.

“If you need me this week, here’s my number. And after the week is over, make sure to delete it, Mr. Boyfriend.” You hand him the slip of paper, blowing him a kiss in your usual goodbye fashion before turning and heading off to class.

His hand wraps around your wrist for the second time. “Hold on—I want to set some ground rules actually,” he snaps, clearly annoyed.

"Well, you can talk and walk then because you will make me late for class." You growl back.

“So, other than not falling in love with you, what other rules are there?” you hiss, rubbing your wrist in annoyance as he finally lets go. He has a bad habit of grabbing you. You take a mental note.

Jungkook holds up his fingers, counting off each rule as he lists them. “One: no falling in love with me, duh. Two: no doing anything too intimate—no kissing or anything, just holding hands and cuddling. Three: be a convincing ‘girlfriend’; pretend to be all lovey-dovey and stuff.” The way he sounds so confident that you might fall in love with him really pisses you off.

“Well, I also have some rules,” you say with a smirk, mimicking him as you list yours. “One: no falling in love with me. Two: you can only touch my hands, arms, and head; if you touch anywhere else, I’ll break your hand. Three: try not to be insufferable to be around.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “What the hell? I’m going to be insufferable? Don’t insult me like that! I’m charming to be around!”

You laugh, giving him a playful pat on the head. “Sure you are, sweetie.” Pausing in front of your classroom, you add, “See you later, Mr. Boyfriend.” You blow him a teasing kiss before heading inside.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll text you later,” he grumbles. Glancing back, you catch him adjusting his hair with a mildly annoyed expression.

You sat through your first class, barely registering anything the professor said. It wasn’t because of your new fake boyfriend but the excitement about band practice with Yoongi and Taehyung after such a long break. This was your fourth time out of the hospital this year. Any surge of stress or excitement left you fainting. Ever since your parents passed a few years back, those intense emotions have felt like too much to handle. You just wanted to sing with your friends again, to feel free—even if only for a while—without worrying about what tomorrow might bring.

After several mind-numbing classes, you barely paid attention to, three o'clock finally arrived—band practice time. You practically bolted out of class, but of course, things couldn’t be that easy. You ran face-first into Jungkook’s chest. Glaring up at him while rubbing your nose, you huffed, “What the hell, dude?”

He looks down at you, flashing a smug grin and raising an eyebrow. “What? I just came to pick up my girlfriend after her classes were over.” He emphasizes girlfriend, making sure everyone nearby hears him.

Oh, for the love of—. You can practically feel your classmates’ eyes boring into you.

Realizing that the fake relationship is officially underway, you slip your arm through his, pulling it close to your chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, baby!” you say, flashing him an exaggeratedly sweet smile. To your annoyance, his arm feels softer than you’d expected. Why does that irritate you more?

Jungkook glances down at you, trying and almost failing to hide a scoff at your sudden shift in tone. “Glad to see you’re taking this seriously,” he mutters, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

You give his arm a sharp pinch, making him flinch. “Let’s go, honey!” you say with a forced cheeriness, dragging him around the corner and away from the gawking eyes in the classroom. The moment you’re out of sight, your smile drops, and you scowl up at him. “Don’t ever surprise me like that again, Jungkook.”

He quickly pulls his arm free, rubbing the spot where you pinched him. “You know, if I’d known you were this mean, maybe I’d have asked someone else to play ‘girlfriend.’” He frowns, looking down at you with a mix of irritation and amusement.

“Maybe you should have done that, then,” you say, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, sweet as sugar but laced with sarcasm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have band practice.” As you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist, pulling you back to face him. You glare at him, hissing, “You really have a bad habit of grabbing me.”

He quickly releases your wrist, holding his hands up in mock apology. “Sorry. I was just curious about your practice—I didn’t know you were into music, let alone in a band.” His eyes light up and glitter with excitement. His eyes light up with genuine excitement, and for a moment, you pause. Why does he seem so interested? But you don’t have time to unpack it.

“Yes, I am,” you reply coolly, stepping back. “And because of your little stunt, I’m going to be late. So, I’ll catch you later.”

You turn to walk away, but then pause, glancing over your shoulder with a narrowed gaze. “Don’t you dare follow me,” you warn, your tone sharp.

You make a few turns, and with each step, you glance back—Jungkook isn’t behind you. You let out a quiet sigh of relief before pushing open the door to the spare classroom. As soon as you step inside, the annoyed glares of your bandmates, Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung, hit you. They're already looking at you like you’ve committed a crime for being late.

“Late, again,” Yoongi mutters, glancing from his watch back to you with an expression of mild disbelief. “You’re really going to be late on your first day back to practice? You have a bad habit of that.”

Taehyung groans loudly, throwing his head back in mock exasperation. “You’re late again! What is it with you and time?”

You wince, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, yeah, Yoongi. Thanks for the reminder this morning,” you reply with a roll of your eyes before giving Taehyung a playful glare. “And thanks for the moral support, Tae.”

You can’t help but laugh at their irritation. “Alright, alright, I swear, this time I’ve actually got a good reason.”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What, what was so important that you were late for band practice?" His gaze is intense, a sharp contrast to the concern that’s barely hidden beneath his irritation. While his words are harsh, you know better than anyone that Yoongi could never truly be angry with you over something so small.

"Apparently, I have a boyfriend now." You smile, crossing your arms as you glance between both boys.

Taehyung and Yoongi exchange a look before turning back to you, both clearly confused. "You have a what?" they ask in unison.

You double over, laughing at their stunned expressions. “Jungkook is paying me to pretend to be his girlfriend for a week.”

They both stare at you in disbelief and after a beat, Taehyung finally breaks the silence. “So… he’s paying you to be his fake girlfriend?” he repeats, almost as if to confirm he heard you right.

"Yup! Now we can get some better equipment." You glance at Yoongi's shabby drum set with a raised eyebrow.

Your chest tightens, remembering why he’s stuck with that old kit in the first place. He had to quit his part-time job just to help you keep it together—your mess became his responsibility. I have to do something for him in return.

Yoongi sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's already regretting being involved in this conversation. “Only you would agree to something as strange and weird as that. This better not blow up in your face,” he says, his voice a mix of exasperation and a hint of unspoken concern.

“Oh, please. Like you wouldn’t come running to save me if it came down to it.” You fold your arms dramatically and tilt your head with mock defiance. “You need your vocalist, after all.”

Yoongi snorts. "I’m just saying, this dude sounds like a creep."

"Oh, he definitely is. The most popular guy in school picks one of the only punk girls to pretend to be his girlfriend?” You laugh. “ AT LEAST I’m getting paid.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and leans back, folding his arms as he drops onto the drum stool with a grunt. “Of course, you’re getting paid. That’s the only way you’d agree to pretend to be his girlfriend.” He drums his fingers on the edge of the kit, clearly irritated.

Taehyung blinks, shaking his head like he’s snapping out of a trance. "Wait, how much is he paying you?"

“Oh my god, I forgot to ask!” Your jaw drops, and you slap a hand to your forehead in disbelief. Of course, you forgot.

Yoongi sighs, mirroring your gesture with his own hand against his forehead. “Of course you did. I’m not even surprised. Did you at least establish any rules with him?”

“Obviously!” You roll your eyes, counting off on your fingers. “Rule one: he’s not allowed to fall in love with me. Rule two: he can only touch my hands, arms, and head. And rule three: he cannot, under any circumstances, be insufferable to be around.”

Taehyung and Yoongi exchange a wary glance; eyebrows raised, clearly questioning your sanity.

You let out a small huff. “His rules? I can’t fall for him; we’re keeping it strictly PG, and I actually have to convince people I’m a real girlfriend.” How am I supposed to even be convincing? He better have a plan.

"So, all that’s going to happen is you hold hands and… No kissing?" Yoongi’s voice is casual, but there’s a hint of tension as he asks, looking visibly relieved when you confirm it.

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, raising an eyebrow. "Hell no," you scoff, rolling your eyes for emphasis. "I’d rather die than kiss him!" You scrunch your face in disgust. "Plus, he can’t get all touchy either—he’s got clear boundaries: head, arms, and hands only."

Yoongi sighs, clearly relieved. "Well, thank god for that. But isn’t it gonna be weird for you? Pretending to be in a relationship with some popular ass guy?"

"Oh no, it’s totally weird!" You scoff, shaking your head as the memory of this morning’s interaction floods back. "I still can’t believe he told me not to fall in love with him. Like, are you kidding me? Fucking ridiculous."

Taehyung’s fingers still over the strings of his guitar for a moment before resuming, the sound soft and almost hesitant. His voice is quieter than usual. "What if you actually do fall in love, though?"

The room falls deathly silent. You and Yoongi both freeze mid-motion, your eyes snapping to Taehyung as though he’s just spoken some forbidden truth. "Are you serious?" Yoongi’s voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and disbelieving, but there’s a weight to it, a subtle threat of unease.

Taehyung leans back slightly, meeting your gaze with an unsettling steadiness. There’s no playful quirk of his lips, no teasing spark in his eyes like he usually has. "What? It happens," he says plainly, his tone disarmingly calm. "People fall in love when they least expect it."

A chill snakes down your spine, cold and unrelenting, rooting you to the spot. The blood drains from your face, leaving you lightheaded. "Don't make me sick, Tae," you snap, but your voice betrays you—lower and unsteady.

Yoongi shifts in his seat. His usual nonchalant expression falters, replaced by something harder to read—something taut and uncomfortable. He clears his throat, his voice rough and clipped as he tries to steer the moment back to safer ground. "Enough of this crap," he mutters, his tone almost forceful. "We have work to do. Let’s get focused."

The weight in the room lingers a moment longer, thick and suffocating, before the soft hum of Taehyung’s guitar strings eases back in. But the tension doesn’t dissipate entirely—it hangs there, unspoken and unresolved, like a shadow neither of you are ready to face.

You all drop the topic of Jungkook and dive into band practice. Hours fly by, and it isn’t until the fading light outside catches your eye that you realize how late it’s gotten. Yoongi and Taehyung start packing up their equipment, while you gulp down some water, trying to cool the dryness in your throat. "Good job today, guys!" you say, grinning.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, you did good too, even though you were late—like always." He smirks, clearly waiting for your response.

You shoot him a playful glare. "I told you I had a good reason, didn’t I?"

Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. "Pretending to be in a fake relationship with the most popular guy in school is not a good enough reason to excuse being late to band practice."

You pout at Taehyung, exaggerating the quiver of your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. Could you ever forgive me?” You clasp your hands together, blinking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Taehyung has always been the softer one with you, and you know exactly how to play your cards.

Taehyung immediately bursts into laughter, clutching his chest in mock pain. “How could I ever stay mad at you? You’re way too cute when you’re apologizing,” he says, grinning wide.

You can’t help but smile back, the warmth in his expression settling over you like a hug. I hope Tae knows how much he really means to me. He always knows how to brighten the mood, even when I probably don’t deserve it.

Yoongi snorts from behind his drum kit, his eyes narrowing as he leans back with his arms crossed. “Cute? More like manipulative,” he deadpans. “You’re always asking to be forgiven. Here’s an idea—just show up on time for once, and maybe we won’t have to keep forgiving you.”

“Hey!” You whirl on him, hands on your hips. “I said I was sorry! You’re so grumpy, Yoongi. I swear, you act like being two minutes late is a crime against humanity.”

“It’s never just two minutes,” Yoongi retorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “And being on time is the bare minimum.”

“Hardass,” Taehyung mutters, shaking his head as he smacks Yoongi lightly on the arm. “Cut her some slack. She had a long day. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never been late before.”

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You two are impossible.”

You flash them both a radiant smile, stepping toward the door with a little bounce in your step. “I’ll try my best tomorrow,” you promise with faux sincerity, throwing a playful kiss over your shoulder as you reach for the handle. “Goodnight, boys!”

“Don’t trip on the way out!” Yoongi calls after you, shaking his head, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Once the door swings shut behind you, the room grows quiet, the faint echo of your laughter fading into the hallway. Taehyung’s playful demeanor softens, his fingers fidgeting with the pick in his hand. He glances at Yoongi, his voice lowering. “Do you think she’s okay?”

Yoongi looks at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he lets out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admits, his tone quieter, heavier. “But you know how she is. She won’t say anything until it’s too late. She never does.”

Taehyung nods solemnly, a shadow of concern flickering in his eyes. “I just... I don’t want her to burn herself out. She’s already got enough going on without adding this whole thing with Jungkook.”

Yoongi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m worried, too, Tae. But you know her. Once she’s made up her mind, there’s no stopping her.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared concern hanging in the air. Finally, Yoongi pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his bag. “Come on. We can’t do much about it tonight. Let’s get out of here.”

Taehyung lingers for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the door where you’d just disappeared, before slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and following Yoongi out. The two of them walk out into the night, their unspoken worry trailing behind them like a shadow.

Once you arrive home, you start getting ready for bed. As you’re removing your makeup and slipping into your pajamas, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. After climbing into bed, you grab your phone and check the message.

Unknown number:

Hey. It's Jungkook.

You hesitate for a moment before saving his name and number in your contacts, then finally respond.

You:

Before you can even lock your phone, another text comes through.

Jungkook:

Just wanted to make sure this is the right number lol 👍

You roll your eyes, setting your phone down as you start to drift off to sleep. But just as you begin to relax, another buzz from your phone jolts you awake. You groan and check it again.

Jungkook:

Wait, don’t leave me on read, I swear I have a good reason for texting at this late at night!

You:

What is your reason then?

He takes a moment longer to respond than usual, and just as you’re about to put your phone down, a new message pops up.

Jungkook:

I just wanted to talk to my 'girlfriend', can’t I do that? 🥴

You scoff at your phone, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debate whether or not to respond.

You:

well boyfriend if there isn’t anything to talk about then I’m going to bed

Jungkook:

But there is something to talk about, it’s about us 😏

You can physically feel yourself cringe at his message.

You:

what about us darling?

Jungkook:

We need to establish some more rules, there’s something we didn’t talk about this afternoon

You:

go on

Jungkook:

We never talked about public displays of affection. Hand holding is fine but we need to establish how much physical contact is gonna be allowed

You:

Why do we need to do PDA? I figured I would just meet your parents and then we are all good

Jungkook:

They tease me all the time for never seeing the same girl twice.

Jungkook:

They think something is wrong with me and I can’t keep a girl

You re-read his message a few times and think it over before finally responding.

You:

I thought this was for your parents not your friends

This time, his response takes longer. The text bubble pops up and disappears a few times before his message finally comes through.

Jungkook:

I mean yeah, but I need to show my friends also soooo, how’s a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, and having my arm around your shoulders?

You:

that’s fine but don’t get too carried away because i wasn’t joking about breaking your hand

Jungkook:

Wow you’re brutal, I’ll make sure to not do anything that’s too much for you, how could I possibly scare away my fake girlfriend, right? 😏

You groan and your fingers circle your keyboard a few times, frustrated, before you type out another message.

You:

I have a question for you boyfriend

Not even a second passes before he responds.

Jungkook:

Shoot

You:

Why did you pick the one punk girl in school to be your fake girlfriend?

Jungkook takes a while to respond, and just as you're about to lock your phone, it lights up again with his message.

Jungkook:

Well, you’re the only girl that’s attractive at this school that isn’t popular, plus, I’ve been lowkey obsessed with punk girls

You scrunch your face as if you just had a lemon shoved in your mouth.

You:

Gross.

He texts back immediately, his words seemingly laced with offense.

Jungkook:

What do you mean gross? Whats wrong with loving punk girls?

You’re done with the back-and-forth and decide to leave him on read. You lock your phone and set it down, only for it to light up again a few minutes later with another message from him.

Jungkook:

Oh hell no, don’t ignore me, don’t leave me of read again, I know you’re awake, answer me

Jungkook:

Don’t ignore me

Jungkook:

I know you’re awake

Jungkook:

I’ll continue to spam you if you don’t answer me

Jungkook:

punk

You can’t help but laugh at his irritation, finally deciding to send him one last message.

You:

I need my beauty rest, I’ll see you tomorrow 🖕

Jungkook:

Wow, that’s a mean response to your boyfriend, whatever happened to being all lovey dovey with me? 💔

You turn off his notifications and lock your phone, placing it face down on the table, finally allowing yourself to sleep.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is still sitting up in bed, hunched over his phone. He stares at the screen in disbelief. "Is she serious? How can she just stop responding to me?!" He continues to spam your phone with messages a few more times before he finally realizes you're no longer reading them. With a frustrated huff, he sends one final message.

Jungkook:

Whatever, goodnight 'girlfriend'

Next Chapter

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fiction #jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #fuckboy!jungkook

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

Broken by War (Continuation)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Aemond kneels before your mother, for you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

- A/N: Is this another unexpected post? Yes. Yes it is.

The sky outside rumbles as a dark shadow passes over Dragonstone. You watch from a window, heart heavy as Vhagar descends, wings outstretched like a stormcloud. The sea itself seems to bow beneath the ancient dragon's power, the waves thrashing against the rocks as if trying to claw their way to safety. But it isn’t the dragon that makes your chest tighten with unease—it’s him.

Aemond Targaryen, your uncle.

The heavy doors to the Great Hall are thrown open, and you see him dragged inside by two guards, his eye glaring defiantly despite the bruises on his face and the blood staining his tunic. His silver hair, once so perfect, is now disheveled, tangled with dirt and salt from the sea air. You can’t help but feel the pull in your chest, your worry for him rising above the rage boiling in the room.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, stands tall at the head of the hall, surrounded by your brothers. Her face is like stone, regal, unyielding, but you can see the storm brewing behind her eyes. Daemon lurks behind her, hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, ready to strike if she gives the word.

Aemond is thrown to his knees before her, and you step forward instinctively. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a brief moment, the tension of the room melts away. In his eye, you see something you had not expected—remorse, pleading, and something deeper, something that reaches back into your shared childhood. His lips part, and though his voice is raw, he speaks with conviction.

“Your Grace,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion as he keeps his head bowed, "I do not come to you as a prince of the greens, nor as the son of my mother... but as a man who has loved your daughter from the days we were children."

Rhaenyra's eyes narrow. “And yet you killed my son,” she hisses, venom lacing every word. Her hand clenches into a fist, her nails biting into her palm. The room tenses, the weight of Lucerys’ death still fresh in every heart.

You hold your breath. Your brothers shift uncomfortably, their rage palpable, but they do not move. Daemon’s grip on his sword tightens, his expression dark.

Aemond looks up, his face a mixture of desperation and grief. "I beg you to understand. What happened with Lucerys… it was not meant to be. It was an accident, Your Grace. A tragedy I cannot undo, no matter how deeply I wish I could. But I cannot kill her." His eye moves to you, and you feel the raw truth of his words pierce your heart. “I was ordered to, by my mother and grandsire. They sent me here to strike her down. But I cannot. I would rather die at your hands than harm her.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens ever so slightly, but her voice remains firm. “You think your love for her erases the blood on your hands? You think I should spare you, after what you’ve done to my family?”

Aemond kneels lower, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. His voice shakes, but his determination does not waver. "I ask not for your forgiveness, Your Grace, for I do not deserve it. But I swear to you—on my honor, on my blood—I will serve her. I will protect her, with my life if need be. I cannot kill her because... she is my heart. She has always been.”

Your breath hitches, a warmth spreading through your chest. Memories flood back—of a time when you and Aemond were children, playing together in the Red Keep. His laughter, the softness in his violet eyes when he looked at you, even then. You had both been too young to understand what it meant, but now, here, the weight of it is undeniable.

Rhaenyra steps forward, her eyes flicking to you. “Is this what you want?” she asks, her tone cautious, but there’s a hint of something more—fear, perhaps, that you might choose the son of her enemy.

You swallow, your gaze never leaving Aemond. He looks up at you, his face filled with an unspoken plea, a fragile hope that maybe you might still see the boy you once knew. And you do. Despite everything, you see him. The man who loved you, the boy who never stopped.

“I...” You falter, the words caught in your throat. The air feels too thick, the weight of everyone's gaze too heavy. But when you finally speak, your voice is steady. “I cannot deny that I still care for him, mother.”

Rhaenyra’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes flashing with pain. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if weighing the burden of her next decision. When she opens them, her gaze is locked on Aemond.

“Do not think for a moment this means I trust you, Aemond,” she says coldly. “But for her sake, I will spare you.” She steps back, but her voice hardens once more. “If you betray her, if you harm her in any way, I will not hesitate to make sure your life ends in fire and blood.”

Aemond bows his head again, the weight of the moment clear in his trembling voice. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will not fail her."

As the tension in the room loosens slightly, you step forward, closer to Aemond. He rises slowly, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. His hand reaches out, hesitating before lightly brushing your arm, his touch warm and familiar.

“I would have died before hurting you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter.

You don’t respond, not with words, but your eyes say enough. There's no simple forgiveness here, no erasing the past, but in this fragile moment, something rekindles. A silent understanding, a promise made long ago that somehow, against all odds, still endures.

And outside, as Vhagar rests near the cliffs, Vermithor watches from the heights of Dragonstone, the two ancient beasts as much a part of your fate as the blood that runs through your veins.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond

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ikykwklk-ash · 11 months ago

Text

"You hate shopping, but..."

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem reader

W/c: 2225

Synopsis: Your best friends (Hyunjin and Felix) force you to go shopping, but you don't know that it's all planned for you to meet their friend.

HI! It's my first ff that I write completely in English, I hope you like it and if there are errors please let me know!! :"

★★★★★★★

You hate shopping... You've always hated it. But your best friends dragged you into this "tragedy" because you lost a stupid bet.

So here you are, waiting for Hyunjin and Felix to come out of the dressing room.

You've spent 30 minutes waiting for them to get ready, and when they come out of the two separate small rooms you tell them they look fabulous, not paying attention to how they're dressed because you're getting bored.

The two of them stare at you for a few seconds and then they look at each other, and you, oblivious to what they are mentally saying to each other with that look, give them a bored look. Your friends, after giving you another look, look at each other again and nod without speaking to each other.

Hyunjin and Felix grab your arms and lift you up by the weight, at first you are confused by their actions, then you see that they are heading toward a dark clothing store, and you understand everything. You try to break free from their firm grip, threatening them to put you down. But they do not listen to you and continue their walk toward the store laughing.

When you enter the store a boy a little taller than you, with dark hair and chocolate brown almond eyes, turns to you and greets you: <<Hello and welcome to S Class, how can I help you?>> and smiles. Between you and you think he has a beautiful smile; he is cute after all. When the boy's gaze falls on you, your eyes meet for a split second before you lower it in embarrassment. You feel his gaze on you even as Felix speaks: <<We could use some dark clothes for our friend, Channie hyung!>>

You turn your head sharply toward the blond man. <<Do you...know him?>>

Hyunjin replies in place of the other <<Of course! He works with us for JYP>>

Oh. You didn't know your friends worked with such a handsome guy.

The raven smiles again (how beautiful his smile was....) and nods <<What do you like to wear?>> he says as he looks at you again.

<<Oh uhm...oversize things mainly, but not always yes here...preferably dark>> you reply feeling yourself on fire. You mentally insult your friends for taking you to a store with such a cute clerk. The boy nods and after a moment tells you to follow him.

Before you follow him Hyunjin whispers in your ear <<you know you're as red as a tomato y/n?>> you simply shut up and punch him lightly on the shoulder, and he, like a good drama queen makes a dramatic face and tells you that you hurt him, and you simply laugh.

You follow the raven, go through various sections of colourful clothing, genre that is not for you, eventually you come to a small section where there are garments that have all the dark shades you like.

The clerk teams you from head to toe, and you don't take your eyes off his dark chocolate eyes, you want to stay and look at him more, but you know you can't, because he turns and picks up a pair of ripped, baggy black jeans, smiles, and then tells you you should try them on. You look down, pick them up and head for the fitting room, your friends and the boy arrive a few minutes later with more short-sleeved T-shirts and oversized sweatshirts in dark shades, pick out the ones you like and enter the fitting room.

You come out of the dressing room, wearing the jeans he gave you, paired with a white shirt and over it a black T-shirt with AC/DC written in red and large in the centre. You see Hyunjin and Felix still talking to the boy.

<<So, we forgot to introduce you. y/n he is Chan hyung and Chan hyung well she is y/n>>

<<Ehm... nice to meet you Chan-ssi>> you bow feeling a little uncomfortable.

<<My pleasure y/n>> he replies to you.

<<O my god y/n! How good you look dressed like that!>> exclaims Felix, realizing that you felt uncomfortable.

<<Oh, thanks Lixie, I'd like it better with this oversized sweatshirt, though>> you reply, mentally thanking her. You show the sweatshirt you had decided on earlier, it was beige with a black rose at heart level, as soon as you had seen it you liked it immediately.

<<Oh, that's right you look very good dressed like that y/n>> Chan says blushing slightly.

You simply blush at the compliment and say nothing.

You try on other garments and finally choose the first outfit you had tried on that afternoon. You spent the last few hours chatting with Chan, because Hyunjin and Felix had decided to try on outfit after outfit, unfortunately for you, from the colourful sections. You knew they had done it on purpose, in fact they were your friends and knew you better than anyone else.

At first you do not know what to talk about, you are very embarrassed, and you realize that he is too since every time you look at each other you blush. So, you stay silent, and you listen to the songs playing on the radio in the store and without realizing it you start humming Growl by EXO and he looks at you <<Do you like EXO?>> and you start talking about their songs and your bias.

And from EXO you move on to talk about other groups, other singers, and music in general.

At the end of the day, he asks for your number, and you show him your cell phone so he could save your number. He sends you a funny sticker and you, as soon as you hear the notification that a message has arrived, open the chat, and laugh and shake your head. You pay for the clothes you bought and say goodbye.

Before you, Hyunjin and Felix leave the store, Chan calls you back and asks you to meet the next day at 10 a.m. at the mall.

You come home and throw yourself on the bed smiling, don't even bother to change, take off your favourite blue sneakers and fall asleep, there with a smile on your face and your clothes still on.

Months pass and you and Chan, who you found out is named Christopher Chan Bang, spend your days texting and hanging out together, sometimes with the addition of Hyunjin and Felix, sometimes with his friends who you found out were also friends with Hyunjin and Felix, and sometimes alone. One day he asks you to go out for breakfast together and spend the day walking, and you gladly accept. You write to your friends that the next day you would go out for breakfast and spend the day together. You don't sleep at night because of excitement and spend it on video call with Felix.

The next day at 8 a.m. you get out of bed, with a smile coming to your ears and feeling anxious about "the date," if you can call it that, you take a shower, get dressed in flared jeans, an oversized black sweatshirt with a print and the usual sneakers, put on your makeup quickly to cover your dark circles and make yourself presentable, and go to the bar you decided on. You arrive ten minutes early, so you check your cell phone while you wait for him and continue listening to music, sitting on a bench nearby.

Shortly after you feel someone touch your shoulder from behind, you jump in the air and turn around, to your great good fortune it's Chan <<sorry if I startled you>> he says in embarrassment and with that smile of his that gives you butterflies in your stomach.

You laugh and shake your head and tell him it's okay, his smile stays as he looks at you and asks if you want to go into the bar and you nod smiling back.

You enter the cafe and sit down at a table; a waiter reaches your table and asks what you want.

<<For me a coffee and a pistachio croissant>> he says, you instead order your usual cappuccino and chocolate croissant.

<<Coming right up guys>> said the waiter smiling.

<<Hey y/n tell me a little about yourself, passions, hobbies>> asked the boy to interrupt the moment of silence that had arisen from embarrassment.

<<Oh, uhm... I don't have many hobbies, but I love to read and, as you know, listen to music, do you?>> asks.

<<I write stories and take pictures>> he replies blushing.

<<Can I read something written by you?>> you ask with your eyes probably shining with curiosity and he replies that he'll see, laughing right back at your false pout.

Shortly afterwards your order comes to you, and you continue talking for a while. When you finish eating, pay for everything, and leave the café, you ask if he would like to go to the park for a while and he nods, smiling at you, so you set off lost the playground near the town square. When you arrived, he takes a camera out of his backpack and starts taking pictures of your surroundings and you look at him smiling <<you look like a child who has just been given the game he wanted>> you say laughing slightly.

At some point, however, you too end up in the lens and blushing you complain <<Channie please I can't stand someone taking pictures of me!>>.

He doesn't listen to you and takes the picture, and you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment, until Chris tells you to take them off and you glare at him, claiming that you are neither beautiful nor photogenic.

<<Y/n you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen come into my store>>

You blush and reply that he is more beautiful than you, at that sentence he begins to stare at you softly, you smile and look at him your turn, he comes up to you and arranges a lock of hair behind your ear.

<<You know that you have a beautiful smile? Every time I see you smile, I see the streets of Tokyo with its cherry blossom trees>> he says before his lips rest on yours in a gentle kiss that triggers a whole zoo in your stomach and makes you blush, it was a tender kiss. His lips tasted like coffee and pistachio and for a moment you think you might become addicted to it. When you part you, both look at each other and blush, but you notice that he has a slightly startled look on his face at what he had done, and you, to let him know you liked it, kiss him again, putting your arms behind his neck, and he puts his on your hips.

It's a beautiful, unforgettable moment, once you separate from the kiss, he tells you <<Y/n...I know it's early to say this, but I love you so much...>> you look at him and smile, you smile like an idiot and you know that because you feel you are smiling so much your face hurts.

<<I love you too Christopher>> you whisper so softly that Chan is not sure he heard you right and asks you to repeat and you laugh. You laugh and you are happy to have a kind and caring boy like Chan. You're glad you met him, you're glad because if it weren't for your friends, you would never have met him.

You spend the rest of the day holding hands, staying hugged sitting under a tree, and kissing each other from time to time in between. And toward evening he walks your home, holds your hand to the door and smiles at you, kisses you before letting you go, and you want to tell him he can stay, but you know it's too it's too soon to do that. That time will also come though, maybe tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.

You walk into the house with that silly smile that has never left your face during the day, take off your shoes and put them in place, go into the bathroom and put on your pyjamas. You smile. You get on the bed and text Chan asking him if he has arrived home safely; soon after that you text in the group chat with Hyunjin and Felix and tell them everything. As soon as you send the message Felix starts a video call and you accept it.

<<I can't believe it Y/n!>> your friends say at the same time.

<<Me neither! I'm not sure if it's a dream or reality!>> you smile radiantly. You tell them straight about the day and then ask how and what they did during the day. You talk some more with your friends and then decide to call it quits and go about your business. You close the call and see that Chan has answered that he has returned home safely, and you answer him.

You are so happy that if you could go back to the past, you wouldn't change a comma. "I love you" you text him and then you turn off the phone and get under the covers and close your eyes falling into a deep sleep.

★★★★★★★

Taglist: @foivestarrsketchez

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batmanie · 10 months ago

Text

Playing doctor - Scriddler ff

The two tons of metal fell down from the ceiling and crashed to the ground with powerful impact, shattering a nearby riddlerbot into tiny pieces and lifting a cloud of dust into the air.

Riddler viewed this scene seemingly unfazed, completely ignoring the fact that the heavy panel landed a mere three feet from him. If anything, Edward looked irritated.

"You useless piece of electronics, can't you be more careful when handling my machinery," he yelled at the other robot that was working on the hydraulic arm that was supposed to hold the pressure plate in place.

The riddlerbot turned its metal head to its master and blinked its green vision-diodes at him, but it didn't answer, of course, and Scarecrow doubted it was capable of understanding a thing.

Much like its creator…

"It could have been you, you know," the hooded man nodded his head at the smashed riddlerbot, now invisible under the heavy panel.

A loose screw from the wreck rolled across the uneven flooring and right in Riddler's direction, stopping at the tip of his boot. Edward kicked it aside, disgusted.

"Do NOT patronize me, Crane. I'm perfectly capable of keeping this place a safe work environment for myself, thank you!" He put his gloved hands into his pockets, now slightly offended, and not caring to look at his interlocutor at all.

Scarecrow would have sighed at this, if he had more fucks to give. "Are you sure about that?"

"What are you implying?"

"I think, you're not careful enough, Edward."

As gentle as Scarecrow wished to put that, it still must have felt like a punch in the guts for Riddler's giant ego. The man in green clenched his jaw, his shoulders tensed, and his arms trembled slightly. As he turned to grace Crane with a furious glare, Jonathan already knew he was walking on thin ice.

"Are you saying my work is sloppy?" Lips pursed, and with the corner of his mouth contorted by an angry grimace, Edward stepped forward, moving dangerously close to Scarecrow, his index finger ready to jab at him with an unnecessary force. "Do you, by any chance, accuse me of being unqualified to do what I'm doing? Are you doubting my skills? MY skills!" The finger was there already, jabbing at Jonathan's chest. "And what gave You, of all people, the right to judge my competence, doctor? Do you think you're better than me? What possibly made you assume I'm not…" The jab "Being..." Another jab. "CAREFUL!"

Before the last jab could ever come, Scarecrow caught Riddler's hand with his own. Edward pulled away, or at least he tried to, but Jonathan's grip was a force to be reckoned with.

"Perhaps, my way of wording it was a little misleading." His voice was as calm as possible, not betraying any of the amusement that sure was there, watching Riddler struggle to get his hand free. "It has nothing to do with your formidable skills. I just thought," He pulled at Edward's arm, pulling the man with it, forcing him to press his body against Scarecrow's toxin vials. "It would be a shame if you lose those skillful fingers of yours in some freak accident," he finished with a soft whisper, aimed for Riddler's ear.

Said ear got a little redder at this comment, and so did Edward's neck, and cheeks.

Scarecrow's grip lightened but Riddler stopped struggling with him anyway. He even allowed a moment of silence between them, wordlessly watching Jonathan.

After a short pause, Scarecrow let the other go, and Edward moved away from him, looking partially confused, and partially flustered, as if he had expected something more to happen.

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, Crane. But I'm careful, really."

This sounded silly, especially after what had happened to his robot just a moment earlier.

"You have burn marks all over your right forearm," Jon stated flatly, his eyes still searching Riddler's face for a reaction.

Edward shrugged. "I had a little quarrel... with my computer's transistor... But hey, you should have seen the 'other guy'," He let out a short, neurotic laugh, his attempted joke clearly a defense mechanism to brush the whole thing off. A method that didn't work with a qualified psychologist like Doctor Jonathan Crane.

"There is a band-aid on your neck," Scarecrow tried to make his point yet again, and yet again it failed.

"Merely a scratch from shaving."

"You're not shaved."

"What is this!?" Edward snapped. "An interrogation?"

"I'm simply worried about your well-being. Care to tell me where you got the cut above your left temple from?" He reached to touch Edward's fresh scar, but the man jumped away from him, as if Crane's hand was a white-hot iron.

"That's none of your business," Nigma barked back at him like an angry dog, obviously protecting himself from the painful facts. "A spring might have snapped and scratched my forehead," he added, apparently compelled to answer the truth.

"And you didn't wear a welding mask, did you?"

"I..." This seemed to be a dead end for Riddler's reasonable argumentation, and now he decided to change his tactics and attack. "Look who's talking! The man who had himself handed to a crocodile on a silver plate!" Riddler spat out quite hatefully, some spit shooting out of his mouth as he did.

Scarecrow knew Edward Nigma and this was rather expected, offending others when feeling threatened. Jonathan didn't mind. His skin was tougher than that, Edward's words, no matter how harmful, couldn't hurt him.

"I had the doubtful pleasure of experiencing the close proximity of your fully exposed body. I remember your every defect, I can recall every little scar on your broken frame, including the one on your left wrist, quite telling evidence of your weakness, I'd say."

As far as Jonathan remembered, this “doubtful pleasure”, as the man kindly phrased it, had been received by Riddler quite enthusiastically. By insulting his partner, Nigma was only insulting himself.

Despite all that, there sure was an unexpected pang of bitterness in Jonathan’s heart. He shouldn't have let this man under his skin like this, yet alone into his bed, but here they were, discussing one of the two most sensitive topics for Jon like it was Gotham’s yesterday weather.

Perhaps, he had been too trusting toward the other rogue, naively hoping Edward would be more decent than this?

Edward had been anything but decent. "Riddle me this, Scarecrow," the man went on, now fully confident of his victory. "Which one of us is not careful enough? Which one of us went into the sewers of Gotham without a decent plan, hoping for the best? Which one of us was stupid enough to get himself mauled by a mindless crocodile-man? YOU!" Edward ended his little tirade pointing a judging finger at Jonathan, a triumphant, unhinged grin stretched across his wrinkled face.

Inhaling deeply through his mutilated nose, Scarecrow tried to swallow his resentment toward the other. It wasn't Edward's fault, he told himself, it was simply how his fragile ego functioned. And Edward was a sick man, it was the only way he could operate at all. If anything, he needed help, not logical arguments, and not a heavy hand, but just a little support.

At this point, however, it was really a charity on Scarecrow’s side to even consider giving him that much.

"You're right," Jonathan told the man, not without some spite. It felt like a thousand and the first time he had done this same old thing. One of them had to be smarter, if they didn't want to end up tearing at each other’s throats, and unfortunately, it was never Edward. "I must admit, I didn't plan my sewer escapade as thoroughly as I should have, and it has cost me dearly, which you are aware of. But you're not like me, Edward, you know better than being reckless. That's why..." Slowly, he pulled a little paper slip out of the pocket of his brown, stitched-up coat.

"What's this?" Riddler eyed the slip suspiciously.

"Take a look for yourself," Jonathan offered, outstretching his arm, and handing the paper to the other man.

A mix of curiosity and distrust was painted all over Edward's face as he attempted to read the note in the dim light of an underground train tunnel.

"Are you kidding me? Is that a prescription?" Nigma's voice was basically shaking with anger as he figured out the words scribbled on a little paper slip. "Are you prescribing me medication, Crane? What are you? My psychiatrist?"

“More than you know,” was hanging on the tip of Scarecrow’s tongue but he didn’t allow it to slip through. "Well, I am a doctor, so I..." he wanted to explain but he was cut short by another one of Riddler’s angry outburst.

"I don't want your medical opinion, and I don't need your help," he shouted, enraged once again. "Not yours! Not Batman's! And especially not that from those dolts back at Arkham! When will it sink in to your two-cells brains! I'm-not-CRAZY!"

“Mentally ill.”

“What did you just…”

“I said,” Scarecrow kept perfectly calm, savoring the precious image of Riddler’s furious expression, “the correct medical term would be: ‘I’m not mentally ill’. ‘Crazy’ is not exactly the professional way to put it. And of course, you’re not crazy." Crane decided to dodge the incoming tantrum. He walked toward the man, placing his hand on the other's shoulder as if to console him. "But you're stressed, overworked, your body tense, I can sense that much."

It was unlike Edward, not to instantly fend away the intrusive hand resting on his shoulder.

"I'm just.." Nigma was searching for the right word to express himself, his anger getting in his way. "Since when are you so observant? You’re nearly blind, from what I know. Last time you had to ask me to thread a needle for you.”

“…so I could stitch up your favorite shirt.”

“That’s beside the point!”

“It’s fine if you don’t want it,” Crane referred to the prescription, now crumpled into a small ball of paper within Riddler’s clenched fist. “It was a friendly gesture, don’t read too much into it. I simply assumed you might want some of the good stuff to help you relax.”

He pressed a little harder, showing Edward how painfully tense his neck muscles were. Before it could start to hurt, he undid the pressure and gave a little massage instead, trying to release the tension.

Nigma exhaled audibly, his breath a gust of hot air as if he literally let out some steam from his overheating system.

Scarecrow watched him closely, observed how his eyelids lowered just slightly, and how his facial muscles relaxed, giving his otherwise sharp features a calmer expression.

He circled him, never breaking the touch, until he stood behind him with both his hands over Edward’s shoulders.

It was almost unthinkable, how the two cruel villains had learned to accept the touch of the other. As violent as it had been at times, as bizarre, or as clumsy – they both had grown to appreciate the attempted intimacy, and even to seek it in their lonely hours.

And accepting the touch didn’t come easy to people like them, to ones who had been abused, scarred, beaten, traumatized, and forced into straitjackets, or strapped down to a cot in the asylum one time too many. Physical proximity didn’t spark positive feedback in their brains, and yet, they somewhat craved the comforting warmth of another body.

“I can’t just…rest. I have so much to do. One hundred and seventy-five riddles to write, two more racetracks to finish, and the bomb needs to be tested…” Riddler rambled on, and Scarecrow could basically feel his stress, so tangible under his fingertips.

“I know, Edward,” He lowered his voice, making the words come off as gentle, almost sympathetic. His hands were still on Riddler, giving a small massage to his neck, through the soft fabric of his green cotton shirt. “It must feel like suffocating, this overwhelming need to finish what you started. And the thought of something going wrong…” His hands slid to the front of Edward’s chest, as Scarecrow rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder. “Does it terrify you?” He murmured into his ear, eyes narrowed like a content cat. “Do you want this to stop? To silence all those voices in your head telling you that you might fail again, and it will be your own fault?”

He could sense Riddler’s chest raising and falling with sharp in- and exhales. He could feel his heart rapidly pounding as he held him trapped in the cage of his bony arms.

Was his embrace pleasant to the other, he wondered, or was he just preying on Edward’s insecurity again, only making things worse? They both had their compulsions, and while Riddler’s were flashy, and all over the place, his own were more subtle but definitely present.

The way he interacted with people, always treating them like test subjects in his never-ending studies of fear, Jonathan would have lied to himself, if he claimed he controlled that habit. It ran deeper than his conscious mind, it was in his nature, just like it was in a wolf’s nature to devour a sheep.

Scarecrow was a monster who had to sink his claws into his victims, and slowly tear them apart until he saw their innards, whether he wanted that or not.

“You’re wrong, Crane. I’m not afraid,” Riddler’s lies came out a tad too weak to be believable. “I’m going to win this time, I won’t let him beat me…”

“He did us both enough harm.” Crane’s palms traveled over Riddler’s body, finding no resistance. “You work night and day preparing your challenge, letting him sharpen his mind on your ingenious contraptions like on a whetstone, and what do you get in return? Mockery, humiliation, and pain…”

He knew he should stop himself before he would send Edward’s mind spiraling into the depths of his worst intrusive thoughts, but it was tempting, so bloody tempting to explore his fear of failure, to see him crippled by it, unable to act.

“You deserve better than that, Edward,” Scarecrow surprised himself by saying this.

Perhaps he had some self-restraint left in him after all?

“You deserve some rest.” His finger brushed over Riddler’s lips and moved to stroke his cheekbone. It was this kind of soft gesture that Edward really hated, and yet, he allowed himself to melt under Jonathan’s touch. “You deserve a good night’s sleep, and a calm mind to work on your projects. That’s why you will send one of your goons to get you those meds I prescribed you. Can you do this much for me, Edward? And if not for me, can you do it for yourself?”

The man in his arms let out a small sound, something between a grunt and an incoherent confirmation.

Then he shifted his position to face Jon directly. “I don’t work with people anymore,” the man muttered, throwing his arms around Crane’s neck. “They weren’t worth my time. I prefer the company of my riddlerbots… Or you, doctor.”

Crane would have smiled at that, if not for his face. He had to admit, he had never met a man with a gaze so brutally intense as the one of Edward Nigma. But then again, everything about this obnoxious bastard was so damn intense, so vibrant and lively, screaming desperation and insanity. And Jonathan loved that with all his might.

“You must be awfully lonely, my dear,” he teased, holding the other close and gently rubbing his back.

Riddler’s left hand held the back of his hood, eagerly roaming across the thick fabric, while his right was still keeping the prescription.

Jon would have kissed him already, hell knew he would have – lack of damn lips could be a bitch sometimes.

“You have no idea,” Edward confirmed with a haunting whisper, his breath provocatively warm on Scarecrow’s wounded face hidden beneath the burlap. “In fact, I don’t think you can even begin to comprehend how lonely it is at the top, above everyone else...”

“Don’t worry,” Crane pulled him further in, forcing their groins to collide. “With me, you can indulge yourself with being at the bottom.”

“How generous,” Riddler sounded almost offended, however, that didn’t really stop him from rocking his hips slowly, creating more friction. “You may have lost your face, but apparently not your terrible sense of humor. Perhaps you could even replace the Joker?”

“I wasn’t joking,” Jon assured him as his palms found their way down to Edward’s backsides. “If you behave, I will offer you ‘something extra’ to help you relax. What would you say?”

The man in his arms smiled at him flirtatiously. “I… might take you on your offer, dear doctor.”

Would Nigma take the meds afterwards, or not – it didn’t really matter. Even if Jon could fix him, he wouldn’t change a single thing about Edward. He didn’t wish for Riddler to get better, he wanted him alive, yes, but not a compulsion-free, and mentally stable man.

After all, if not for Riddler’s mental issues, the two of them would never have ended up in this unhealthy relationship, and would never have shared any of their precious, intimate moments together.

Had Edward been sane, he’d have cut all ties with Crane faster than one could tell a riddle.

The Master of Fear was not a man easily frightened, but the sudden thought of Riddler slipping through his fingers filled his heart with dread.

Jonathan couldn't afford it. He was ready to suffer Edward’s horrible temper only to keep this thing between them going, because in all honesty, Edward was the best that had happened to Jon his entire life.

Ironically, Jonathan was one of the worst things for Riddler’s mental health.

Fortunately, Edward didn’t seem to mind that.

#scriddler #riddlecrow #scarecrow #riddler #the riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #edward nigma #arkhamverse #arkham knight riddler #arkham knight scarecrow #batman fanfiction #bat-mania #temarcia #my story

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