#the missing bloodhound bug | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuna542 · 1 year ago

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[3]<-

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›Bad Idea<

Pairing: Hong Woojin × Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Enemies with benefits to Lovers

Warnings: 18+, explicit Smut, under 18 DNI!, Fem!Reader, suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names,, hate sex, ANGST, overstimulation, thigh riding

Word Count: 8.5k

Note: That’s the last Part of a Story that I really enjoyed writing. No worries I‘m already working on another Story about Bloodhounds. The chokehold these guys have on me is unreal… Hope you liked the Story. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always a blessing. Stay healthy and much love! ~Sky

Summary: As Gunwoo‘s little sister he wanted you to finally meet his best friend. Unfortunately you don't get along. He gets on your nerves, you fight all the time and yet you can't stop messing with each other. One evening you get into a dangerous situation and end up bruised and bloody at his apartment. And you suddenly have to ask yourself: Why do you feel so attracted to that idiot?

Chapter 7:

The Secret

The very next evening you were waiting in front of his apartment and when he saw you there, he frowned.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and you braced yourself from the wall you had been leaning against.

"I'm bored," you said monotonously, and his gaze was already glued to the hem of your short skirt.

"So what?"

"Wanna fuck?"

"Sure."

Already you stumbled into his apartment, ripped the clothes from each other and between heated kisses and greedy touches, you threw aside your cell phone where Gunwoo tried to call.

A few hours later you came moaning on top of him as you rode his dick. As he painted your walls white with a hand around your neck, pressing you onto his throbbing dick, you climbed off of him and snuggled up to him.

"You know..fucking you almost made me reconsider whether i hate you or not," he said, pulling you into his arms and leaning his chin into the crook of your neck as he stroked his fingers over your bare stomach.

"Oh really? What's the verdict?" you asked, wiggling even closer to his chest. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and his hair tickled your neck as he did so, making you giggle.

"Hmm..nope not even a little less."

A little offended, you turned around so you could face him. You pouted and stroked your fingers down his chest.

"Not even a little? Let's see if we can change that... Round two?"

Your suggestive smile and the way you raised an eyebrow made him smirk. The warmth in his eyes enveloped you and you never wanted to get out of his bed again if he stayed here with you.

"If you're asking me that naked and all sexy, I don't think I can resist," he replied charmingly, stroking the contours of your face as if it were an expensive sculpture he couldn't get enough of.

You winced with a chuckle as he pinched your side and pulled you closer again. Your lips collided and you kissed him until you couldn't breathe.

That's exactly how it went every time.

You were still a trio. You Gunwoo's annoying little sister and Woojin the chaotic good-for-nothing best friend. You argued, pounced at each other and never missed an opportunity to show that you didn't like each other.

But as soon as you were alone, you leaped upon each other.

The fact that your meetings were a secret between you made it even more exciting.

You slept together all the time. The smallest arguments made you tear off your clothes and throw yourselves on each other, fucking in heat and with no hesitation. It was the best sex you ever had and you were actually happy when you were with him.

However, it didn't go unnoticed for long. It started one night when Gunwoo was looking for a movie in Woojin's room to borrow from him and instead pulled out your black lace bra from between his pillows. That combined with the scratch marks that were increasingly reflected on Woojin's back, and was mockingly acknowledged by his training partners, Gunwoo put one and one together.

"Who is it? Who is this girl? Are you together?"

He had been bugging Woojin until he admitted that there was indeed someone. However, he would die before he told him that it was his sister.

"So like... Do you like her or something?", he asked out of nowhere a few months later as he helped Woojin train. He held the punching bag and looked at his friend, who froze in motion.

"Why would you think that? How could you think that?" asked Woojin, the sweat on his forehead doubling.

"Because you keep daydreaming and you barely have time outside of training... You must spend a lot of time with her," he said and Woojin shook his head as he punched a little stronger than necessary.

"We're just fucking. Nothing special. I don't even like her, actually."

Gunwoo had nodded, wanting to let the subject go. After all, he didn't understand it anyway. Woojin was so secretive that he didn't want to bug him further. Still, Woojin kept talking, between strained gasps as he punched the punching bag:

"I don't know. Really. This has been going on for a while now. The sex is incredible, but she keeps driving me crazy. We can't be in the same room without me getting restless and my heart jumping out of my chest."

The younger one pressed his lips together and tried to stifle a knowing smile. Later, as they sat together on the rooftop, winding down the day with protein shakes and fresh dumplings, Woojin said:

"I think I have come to a conclusion".

Gunwoo looked at him and asked with his mouth full, "Which is?"

"I am allergic to her"

He snorted in disbelief and choked on his shake.

"Wait... what?" escaped him between gasps and coughs.

But Woojin just nodded insistently, "I am allergic to her..."

It was almost like being in a bad romance movie. You couldn't be with or without each other. Endless arguments over the stupidest things every day, that ended with the most amazing sex every night. One minute you were ready to kill each other and the next you were sneaking off to have sex.

No matter when and no matter where.

You were addicted to each other and at this point, you could say you were only arguing and maybe even using each other just to fuck. You tried everything to keep it a secret from your brother. But you also became careless as time passed.

Finally, in addition to your underwear, he found a shirt that he had given you, where you had left it in Woojin's bed. Of course, he had recognized it immediately and before Woojin could explain anything, Gunwoo snapped and had given him a strong punch in the face.

He was furious that you had kept it a secret from him for so long and he was very very stunned that such a thing had happened behind his back all this time.

Now Woojin sat on your couch and you pressed a bag of frozen peas on the bridge of his swollen nose.

"He got you pretty good..." you said affectedly, and you felt guilty. After all, you were partly to blame.

Gunwoo and Woojin had randomly come in, Woojin had bled all over your apartment after your brother had hit him unannounced in the middle of the nose, and after that he had brought him here to have someone take care of his bloody nose and most likely to confront you.

Since then, your brother had been pacing back and forth in front of you, trying to calm himself down. He could have guessed it. At the latest when Woojin was so interested that one afternoon. Gunwoo and he had made ramen on the roof of his apartment. A little ritual where they just chatted and let the training day end.

"I can't stand it at home anymore," he sighed, dropping into the chair next to Woojin.

"What's wrong?" asked Woojin, stirring the pot.

"Y/N's girlfriend is visiting and they talk all day! Without a break and I have to listen to everything even in my room... They're so loud!", he sighed exhaustedly and Woojin patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Even in the kitchen, you're not safe from the chatter... I hear things really I don't want to know."

Interested, Woojin raised his eyebrows and paused.

"What do you mean? What are they talking about?"

"Don't make me remember," Geonwoo sighed, and that's when his best friend elbowed him in the side.

"You can't start and then not tell the details."

Gunwoo stretched, groaning, as if the coming words would cause him physical pain.

"I suspected she was seeing someone. She's rarely home. Sneaks at her room abnormally early in the morning and lately she's even humming when she's working at the store. It's really creepy by now," he began, and Woojin had to bite his tongue to keep from grinning widely.

"Anyway, I overheard her talking about it with her friend in the kitchen. She said it was the best sex of her life, but wouldn't say with whom..."

Gunwoo shook himself in disgust and took over stirring the ramen. The corners of Woojin's mouth slowly lifted and he tried not to ask too suspiciously.

"Best sex of her life? That's what she said?"

"Yeah... It was disgusting enough, can you please not repeat it?" he asked and Woojin nodded quickly, though he would have loved to hear more. Inwardly, he was as happy as a little kid who got an ice cream cone as a reward for a good grade.

Even as he had beamed the rest of the evening, Gunwoo had suspected nothing. You could both see how sorry he was. He really hadn't meant to hurt Woojin. But it had also been wrong of you to lie to him for so long.

The two most important people in his life had lied to him for months and abused his trust.

"Gunwoo..." you began carefully, meekly, but he interrupted you:

"No! Don't! I'm not angry... But I can't be around you right now. I need to focus on the fight."

That came on top of it, too. Gunwoo had an important fight in the next few days that he had been training for for months.

"That's okay. Talk to me when you're ready, bro. I'm gonna go now...", Woojin said and stood up.

He looked at the peas in confusion and held the bag out to you a bit dorkily.

"You can keep those," you said in an occupied voice, and he nodded. When he disappeared through the door, you stood up too and gave your brother a worried look.

He ruffled his hair and ran both hands wearily through his face.

Chapter 8:

The Date

Over the next few days, things calmed down a bit. Gunwoo seemed to come to terms with it. At least he didn't mention it anymore. At his boxing match, you were both there cheering him on. The friendship between the two boxers was too strong after all and the they needed each other. They were inseparable and even you couldn't destroy that.

Later that day you celebrated his victory and while you ate pork belly, laughed and carelessly spent time together as before, your guilty conscience gradually faded away. Before you could say goodbye to Woojin in front of the restaurant and run home with Gunwoo, he held you back by the hand.

Questioningly, you looked up at him and that's when Gunwoo said:

"I'll go ahead and wait for you."

Gratefully, you gave him a curt look, which he returned with a smile before walking out of earshot.

"He's not mad at us anymore. That's good," Woojin said, kicking a pebble into the road.

"What's wrong?" you asked curiously, watching him squirm around for a while before he managed to look you in the eye.

"Do you want to do something tomorrow?"

You furrowed your eyebrows in wonder.

"Sure. I can come over if..."

"No... Not just to fuck. I'd like to spend time with you. Outside, get something to eat, and then go to the park?"

Completely perplexed, your mouth was open and you looked at him as if he'd suggested you jump off a cliff.

"The weather is supposed to be nice..."

Since you didn't answer, he became more and more uncertain. You looked for sarcasm or some malice, but nothing came. He just looked nervous. He cursed himself and swallowed hard as he stared at the floor. Why the hell was he so restless?

"Nevermind. That was a stupid idea. Just forget about it," he dismissed it, wanting to turn around and just disappear.

Unconsciously, you grabbed his sleeve and he turned back to you. Confused, yet with hope in his eyes that sprouted like the first snowdrops in spring.

"No. That's a nice idea. Will you pick me up?"

His face lit up and he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"Uh, yeah. At two?"

"I'll help out at the store until three, then we can get going."

"Sounds good."

Silently, you just looked at each other. Nothing around you seemed to matter. The traffic, the people pushing past you on the sidewalk, and even the cloud pushing in front of the sun.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," you repeated, and as soon as you caught up with Gunwoo, your cheeks glowed and your stomach did flips. He said nothing. He just smiled and put an arm around your shoulders as you turned into the street to your apartment.

While you waited for Woojin to pick you up, the same question played incessantly in your mind:

Was that a date?

Something inside you hoped so. As you took off your apron and checked your hair in the mirror, you heard the store door and Woojin's voice.

You almost cried out, you were so tense.

You had put on some makeup, were wearing a red summery dress because you knew that was his favorite color, and when you heard how happy your mom was about his visit, you felt warm. When you stepped out into the store, his eyes were immediately on you. His face lit up and his eyes wandered endlessly along your curves.

"Hey..." you said a little meekly.

"Hey. You look beautiful," he said, not knowing what to do with his hands. It was weird not meeting just to sleep with each other.

"Thanks... You too," you replied, and he really did. He was wearing ripped jeans and a tank top, so you could probably stare at his muscular arms all day. Your mom was obviously surprised by the sudden niceness between you and looked back and forth, puzzled.

"Shall we?" he asked, and you nodded. Before you could say goodbye to your mom, she came rushing out from behind the counter and thrust a bag into your hand.

"There's a little snack in there. Have a nice day," she said, placing a hand affectionately on Woojin's cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you very much Mrs Kim." he said enthusiastically and it was heartwarming how happy he was. You knew by now that he didn't have a very good relationship with his parents. That's why he looked up to your mother and enjoyed the affection she gave him.

As soon as you walked side by side through the streets, directly towards the park, a strange silence spread. It was completely absurd to spend time with Woojin without arguing. Birds were chirping and the park was decorated like a painting in various shades of green.

On the way, you picked up an iced coffee and eventually chatted as if it were a normal thing to be together. Only without Gunwoo. It was new how much you laughed even just the two of you and before you knew it half the day was over.

In the park, you spread out your jackets and lay down under a tree, through whose branches scattered rays of sunlight hit the earth and warmed your faces.

Although you thought it was supposed to be weird, it seemed perfectly normal as he put an arm around you and you snuggled up to him. You ate the donuts your mom had packed for you and teased each other until you fought over the last piece.

He may have been a good boxer, yet you were winning. At least that's what you thought as you proudly shoved the last piece into your mouth and he watched you, fondly smiling.

After a while, watching the sky, you asked:

"What do we do now?"

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at you.

"What do you mean?“

"I mean, what is it between us?" you asked, as that question circled you over and over.

"I think we're friends?"

Friends? Was that really the right word? Did you want you guys to just be friends? You tried to tell yourself it was so perfect. With no obligations, no extra thoughts, if everything just stayed the way it was. But it felt wrong and something in you resisted it. By now you were sure: you wanted more than that.

You just didn't know what. You wanted more days like this, where you laughed together, got talked about nonsense, looked together in the sky. You even wanted more fights and arguments, if that meant falling into bed with him at the end of the day.

"Friends who sleep together regularly?"

"Exactly..."

He played with a strand of your hair and wrapped it around his finger, lost in thought. You looked up at him and his absent look made you suspicious. It was as if he wanted to say something, but didn't dare. You intertwined your fingers with his and leaned your cheek against his chest.

A couple with a dog walked by, talking animatedly.

The sudden silence became more serious than either of you wanted. You indulged your thoughts and it was almost intimate as you enjoyed the last rays of the day's sunshine snuggled together.

"I'm sure you have other people you can sleep with. You have the pretty face for it," you said to lighten the serious mood. You didn't want to deal with what could be.

What if he really just saw you as a friend? Someone to blow off steam with, but nothing more. But then why had he brought you here today, and why had the day been so nice? Was he already bored having sex with you?

"Additionally, you're a possessive little freak, but it's very endearing," you added, and he grinned in amusement.

"But I only want you."

Stunned, you looked at him and when your eyes locked, it took your breath away.

"I've gotten too attached to you already," he added quickly.

Woojin flashed another, kindly mocking grin. Teasing, as ever. He tried to keep it light. Better that than wanting too much, knowing he would never get it.

You averted your eyes again and followed the couple, arm in arm, as they watched their dog run across the park.

Was that disappointment squeezing the air out of your lungs?

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

You played with the hem of his tank top, and he slid his hand down your sides until it was firmly against your hip.

"Why do you put up with me? You obviously can't stand me. So why?"

You didn't dare look at him, afraid he might read your true thoughts and feelings from your face.

"The sex is good," you murmured, and that's when he looked up at the sky and laughed, chuckling and your body shivered excited.

"Is that all it is? Then why did you come today?"

So many questions you didn't know the answer to. You didn't know why you agreed, you just knew you wanted to. You wanted to spend time with him outside of your bed or his room.

Why wasn't clear to you.

"I don't want anyone else either. I may have started to like you," you finally blurted out and he thought his heart would burst.

"Really?"

He looked at you incredulously and straightened up a bit. Immediately you blushed with shame. All this could not be, but you could not lie. Your body betrayed you anyway.

"Stop staring at me like that, creep!" you drove at him and pushed him so that he fell on his back and looked into the leaves with a smile.

"I don't believe it... Did Y/N Kim really just admit that she likes me?" he gasped, running both hands through his hair as if you had just revealed to him that you could fly.

Immediately, you regretted being so honest with him and rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"Shut up. I said maybe. You just ruined it again," you grumbled and crossed your arms. Why did he have to be so annoying anyway?

You felt vulnerable and that was a scary feeling.

Woojin sat up again and when he saw your tense expression and the sadness you were trying to hide behind a carefree mask, the grin died.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and turned you so that you were looking at him. Then he pulled you to the floor with him until you were on top of him, his leg between your thighs, pulling you into a deep kiss.

He was gentle, loving, running his hands down your sides and letting his tongue slide over your lower lip as light as a feather. By now he didn't care at all that you were in the middle of public.

Especially when your lips were too kissable and he just wanted to litter you with kisses all day.

You buried your fingers in his hair and melted in his arms as you opened your lips and he slid his tongue into your mouth. This time, it wasn't a contest. Not a race either of you wanted to win. You were moving in unison.

Your body was made for him as he curved perfectly into his. The kiss was more intimate than anything before and full of tenderness.

You could feel his heartbeat and it was reassuring that it was racing just like yours.

Between kisses, you felt him smile and pull you closer by the hips in a demanding way. He ran his hands under your shirt, over your back, so that his fingers left a trail of heat on your soft skin.

When he lifted his leg between your thighs and brushed against your middle, you gasped involuntarily into his mouth. You almost couldn't help rocking your hips just a little. You were desperate for some sort of friction and relief. Just hearing his voice, his body so close to yours, made you tense. You began to slowly rock and sway your hips, letting out small groans and pants.

As your fingers pulled at his hair, he moved his thigh teasingly and gave more pressure directly on your covered cunt. Immediately you got wet and the desire made you roll your hips against his leg.

Embarrassed, you bit your lower lip as he bobbed his leg and grinned as he felt you heatedly rubbing your cunt against him.

"Look at you... All desperate and needy. And in public," he whispered in your ear and you whimpered softly as he rubbed his thigh harder against your cunt.

To outsiders it just looked like a couple cuddling and whispering loving words to each other.

"Woojin I can't...," you murmured tensely and he watched as your lustful face tried to keep its composure.

"Take what you need, sweetheart," he murmured to you, guiding your hips against his leg with one hand. With the other he pushed your head to the side to kiss your neck.

Time began to stop and you rolled your hips harder against his thigh. The thought that someone could catch you only sent more arousal between your legs and made your skin tingle.

He was peppering kisses down your throat, stopping to suck a pretty red mark over your pulse point.

Every shift of his hips bumped up against your throbbing core and he held you tightly by the hips as you lost yourself in pleasure. Even clothed the drag on your clit was brilliant, you knew you were going to ruin your panties but the orgasm that was coming your way was worth it.

He bounced his leg just right and watched as your hips stuttered slightly and ran one hand under your shirt to knead your breast. Too inconspicuous for anyone else to notice what he was doing, but you felt every little movement so intensely that you buried your face in his neck. With a sharp curse, your hips continued to roll against those muscular thighs and your eyebrows pinched together from the unbelievable pleasure.

Your lips traveling to his collarbone as you squeezed your cunt against him, the friction on your clit sending electricity through you and as he grinded your hips intensely against his thigh a few more times, you came with a gasp and your body trembled on his.

Satisfied, he stroked a few strands of hair out of your forehead as you calmed down and kissed your temple.

"My good girl," the boxer praised, "Do you feel better now, dollface?" he asked and you nodded slowly and sunk against him. You were too sensitive now but your hips continued to roll lazily, trying to chase the powerful release.

"Thank you..." you said and snuggled closer to his chest. He bit your neck gently, then murmured suggestively:

"You can thank me at home with your sweet pussy. After all, it's mine."

You shuddered and your eyes met. Lasciviously you grinned and you played with his waistband.

"Shall we go?"

He nodded and the lust grabbed you like a tornado, pulled you with it and left no hesitation. You walked together to his apartment, your hand firmly on your ass and as soon as you were through the door, you took off your clothes.

You didn't even made it to his bed this time.

Instead, he ended up on top of you on the couch and the romantic kisses got hot and fiery. As soon as you had your underwear off, he said impatiently:

"Turn over! On all fours!"

With glowing cheeks you did as he said and before you could prepare yourself you felt a hand firmly on your hip and him slipping out of his boxers. The sight was intoxicating as you waited on all fours, ready and willing for him. Your elbows and knees were propped up to support your weight.

"Let's see how much my doll can handle."

He licked his lips before pressing his throbbing tip against your entrance, rubbing and tapping. Fear and excitement filled your body, his tip at your entrance stretched you out already and made you gasp.

"Less talking, more fucking", you snapped.

"You little bitch," he laughed and when his tip entered you, your arms weakened immediately.

Your hands gripped tense, into the padding as he thrusted ruthlessly into you, a rasping gasp escaping him.

"Asshole," you hissed, your voice trembling with pain.

"Fuck... You're so hot when you're angry," he moaned with his hands firmly on your hips, he tucked himself deep inside you, giving you no mercy with his vicious movements. Your nosy moan echoed throughout the apartment, but you didn't have enough self-awareness to stop it. His thick cock stretched out your walls so deliciously, your pussy constricted snuggly around him. He groaned at your tightness, wet and warm all around him.

His thrusts were brutally quick, as if he was trying to win a race. Or prove a point. Your eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy as you lost reality. You felt your mind leave your body. You feared your brain would melt and run out of your ears as he slammed into you from behind. You swear you were dangling above yourself. His pelvis slamming against your ass, the sound of skin slapping and the squelching sound of your aching cunt filling the room.

He noticed that you've been almost cumming all over his cock, your tight walls spasming around him. With your lack of oxygen, the world slowly slipped away from you in a lustful haze. Your pussy tightened around his length as your orgasm suddenly waved over you. Your body and mind submerges into a blissful fog as your climax surrounded him. His thrusts became chaotic and messy as he felt your cum soak his cock and you moaned his name incessantly between unholy whimpers. Heavy breathing, hearts racing, muscles trembling, and sweat glistening. You were trapped in your world of lust and passion.

He let you catch your breath for a moment as he turned you around by your hips and pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"Your perfect. So perfect for me. I want that forever. I wish I could have that forever," he said, his voice wavering dangerously.

Your hands were tight against his chest and you wanted to ask what he meant, but you didn't get to as he thrusted into you again incessantly, your nails dug into his muscular shoulders, and the way he fucked you forced uncontrollable sobs from your swollen lips.

You wanted to hide your face against his chest as the next orgasm threatened to tear you apart, but he pushed you back by the shoulder and his eyes bored into yours caught in a swirl of bliss.

"I want to look at your pretty face when I cum," he gasped, and somehow the moment felt final. There was something strange in his eyes and briefly you thought you saw sadness flashing in them.

But then the next orgasm sent you into a bright light until you saw stars.

As soon as your walls clenched around him, he gasped sharply and his lips crashed against yours. He bit your bottom lip and his thrusts became incoherent as he was about to cum.

Simply kissing him in your dizzy state felt euphoric, your insides contracting,

„Fuck." he sucked in a sharp breath "Still so fuckin' tight for me."

You stared overwhelmed into his eyes, they were filled with so much passion instead of lust. But there was something else. Something that weighed heavier. It felt warm, loving and engaging. The word was on the tip of your tongue, but it weighed far too heavy to speak it or even to grasp it in your thoughts. It was a feeling you had only read about in books or seen in movies. Your heart fluttered, his stare was gentle yet his thrusts were rough as he came inside you and his eyes nearly rolling back. By now it felt like he knew your body more than you did. His tip kept on kissing your g spot, causing you to let out stuttering whimpers as he spilled into you.

"Shit..." he huffed, panting heavily. Your chest raised up and down, catching your breath.

Still buried deep inside you, he collapsed on top of you and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You stroked your fingers along his back, along his tattoo, and he wrapped his arms around your body so tightly that you gasped.

"Woojin... Babe you're crushing me," you chocked and he immediately eased up a bit.

Without further ado, he turned so that you were on top of him, but continued to hold you as if he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn't careful.

He did not pull out of you. With your pussy still squeezing him and sucking him in so good, he just couldn’t.

"I don't want to lose you," he sighed, stroking through your hair. Looking at him a little puzzled, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more behind his words.

"I'm here," you assured him, taking his face in both hands before kissing him lovingly.

"Let's stay like this for a while. You feel so warm," he murmured and you nodded, resting your cheek against his chest. He seemed more affectionate than usual. You also noticed how desperately he'd cling to you: how he'd tightly hold your thighs at his sides, how his fingernails were digging into your skin, how deeply he was trying to bury himself into you. Looking at your flushed face, all tired out, you couldn't look any more beautiful to him even like this. He looked at how you closed your eyes to give your body a break.

He absorbed everything: your expression, your touch, your warmth, your moans, your pussy, and most of all, your affection was his at the moment. The entirety of you was his and his alone and he would not change it for anything.

The next time you looked into his eyes, there was this vulnerability that surprised you. He wanted to say so much and yet he couldn't bring himself to say a word.

He wanted to say how much he wanted you to be his, how much he had fallen in love with you. How he loved everything about you. Your laugh, the angry glint in your eye, every one of your strange mannerisms.

But that wouldn't be fair.

Not when he was soon gone.

Chapter 9:

The Dream:

Just a few days later, you walked through the door at home yawning, wanting nothing but sleep after a tiring late shift at the café.

But when you saw Gunwoo packing his bag through the door gap in his room, you became curious. You went to his room, jumped on his bed and watched him.

"What are you doing? Are you going somewhere today?" you asked, and he was already swinging his bag on his back.

"I'm just going to bring Woojin some things he left here and then help him pack."

Completely confused, you straightened up, slid to the edge of the bed, and asked:

"Packing? For what?"

Now Gunwoo looked at you just as uncomprehendingly.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Told me what?" you drove at him a little more briskly than you intended.

"Woojin has qualified for the Amateur Boxing Championship in America."

The info threw everything inside you upside down.

"That's great! He's always dreamed of this!" you said excitedly. Gunwoo nodded vehemently.

"If he wins there, both of us might be able to compete in the World Championships soon. Wouldn't that be crazy?" he exclaimed excitedly and you followed him into the hallway where he put on his shoes.

"But what does that mean? When is he going to America? The competitions are taking place in a few months, aren't they?"

Gunwoo looked up at you and replied:

"He got an offer from a famous coach who wants to prepare him for it. He's already leaving this weekend."

"What?" you gasped in disbelief, your throat instantly tightening.

"How long will he be gone?"

"That's still unclear. Half a year until the competition in any case. What happens after that, no one knows yet. If he does well, he can go straight to the next competitions."

As exciting as it sounded, to your ears it was just a disaster. Stunned, you dropped onto the sofa as soon as Gunwoo disappeared. Woojin would be out of your life in just two days, and maybe forever. And he had told you nothing.

All night long you tossed and turned in your bed. Your chest ached at the mere thought of Woojin going to America. At the same time, your guilty conscience paralyzed you.

It was his dream to box in the professional league and it didn't seem so far-fetched now.

When the first rays of sunlight broke through your window, you still hadn't slept a wink. Sighing, you sat up in bed and made a decision. You had to see him. You had to confront him and ask him about it.

So you slipped into your jacket and shoes and left the house early in the morning. Outside his apartment, you took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

It took a while, but finally he opened the door and looked at you in amazement. Actually, you expected him to look completely sleepy, his hair a mess and sleep still in his eyes like every morning.

He was not an early riser, and yet he stood before you, alert and wide awake.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked, letting you enter. In his living room you understood why he was already awake. There was an open suitcase on the floor and around it were clothes, his passport and other things. So it was true.

You turned to him with a tense heart.

"When do you wanted to tell me?"

He was obviously uncomfortable. Sighing, he ran his hand over his face and that's when you realized how tired he actually was.

"I was going to tell you... But I didn't think you'd care."

Stunned, you walked up to him.

"What, are you serious? You were just going to disappear without saying anything?", your voice automatically became louder and he stubbornly returned your gaze.

Actually, he had been incredibly afraid. Afraid that you really wouldn't care or that you were even happy when he disappeared. That would have broke him.

Since he had received the letter, he had thought of nothing but you. Instead of saying that, he shrugged.

"We're not together."

A lump formed in your throat. Did he really care that little? Your lower lip quivered dangerously, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

"Was it really that meaningless to you? Am I just a fuck toy for you that you could use at will?" you asked, and he would have loved to scream out loud. Would have pulled you into his arms and kissed the hurt expression from your face. But he was scared and frustrated.

He was afraid of what he would do if you rejected him and even more afraid of what he was willing to do if you didn't.

"Do you care, then? Didn't you just use me for your own pleasure? Or else you wouldn't come crawling back to me, begging me to fuck you so good you forget everything else," he drove at you and you took a few steps back as his jaw twitched furiously and he stepped at you.

"What do you want me to say?" you breathed, struggling to keep your voice steady.

You didn't dare give in. The anger, desperation, and frustration mingled into a sickening taste on your tongue. You didn't know why you were so angry. It only hurt to look at him. He was going to leave and there was nothing you could do about that.

"What you feel," he replied, anger reflected in his eyes as well. He hated that he felt that way. That you had done this to him.

He felt trapped in a spider web and every movement only made him sink deeper into it.

"I can't stand you," you replied, and every word hurt like someone was pressing red-hot iron against your skin. Maybe if you denied it, the feeling would go away on its own.

He came even closer, sparkling at you with mesmerising eyes.

"You don't mean that."

"You don't know what i mean," you shot back frantically.

You could see how hurt he was. But you didn't want to ruin his dream by being selfish. If you just told him, that he meant nothing to you, he could leave without wasting another thought about you and live his dream.

That's what you wanted for him and telling him the truth would only make things complicated for him.

"It's okay. Just leave! If I never see your face again, I'll be happy," you shot back at him, something inside you breaking more with each word.

"I wish i never-" but he interrupted you by grabbing your hand.

"Don't say something you don't mean. Don't you dare," he growled, desperately looking for something to prove otherwise.

"Don't you realize? This isn't working. We're going back and forth. When we're not fighting, we're fucking. It doesn't work like that. We're like poison for each other!", you retorted, the shards of what was left in your chest digging deeper and deeper into your flesh.

"You never change, do you? You never fucking change. Always so stubborn; always thinking you're right," Woojin murmured and you wanted to wrap your arms around him, tell him you didn't want to let him go.

But that would be selfish. He should chase his dream without another worry. You wanted him to be happy.

"I wish you all the best Woojin," you said, your voice finally breaking treacherously at his name. You turned quickly so he wouldn't see the first treacherous tears roll down your cheeks.

He sighed in anger before following you.

"Don't fucking walk away from me!"

He grabbed your hand and you pulled back as if he burned you with his touch.

"Stop telling me what to do!" you yelled back at him and he took a few steps back.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe all of this was a mistake. We would never work and all this is a big fucking mess. But please, before you go, tell me to my face that there's nothing between us. That I imagined all of it so I could have closure!"

All you wanted to do was cry and lash out. It felt like you were bleeding to death inside when you said:

"There's nothing there, and there never will be."

Every word was heavy as lead on your tongue and you feared your legs would give out if you looked into his desperate face for one more second. You wanted to tell him that there was so much you felt for him. That you believed you were seriously falling in love, but it would be selfish and dumb.

"All right..." he murmured, and the sadness in his eyes robbed you of the last of your hopes.

"I'm leaving now," you pressed out, and he watched as the door slammed shut behind you.

He didn't know how long he stared at the door, hoping you would come back and end the argument with a kiss, but that didn't happen.

Not this time.

Chapter 10:

The Love

With a curtain of tears obscuring your view, you stumbled home and as soon as you bursted through the door, past the confused Gunwoo, into your room, you collapsed on your bed sobbing.

Every muscle ached and you feared dying from the pain in your chest.

Putting his ear to the door, Gunwoo winced at the heart-wrenching sobs and cautiously walked in.

"Y/N?" he whispered, sitting anxiously at the edge of the bed.

You couldn't form a word, so tense was your body consumed by anger, rage, and grief. You didn't have to.

Gunwoo soothingly placed a hand on your back and pulled you closer until your head rested on his lap. Silently, he stroked your hair soothingly and was just there. Your big secure rock in the painfully raging waters. The anchor that kept you from sinking into the deep black tides of your mind.

For the next few days, you didn't leave your room. You couldn't bring yourself to touch the food your mom put on your nightstand and buried yourself under your covers, hoping you'd never have to leave your bed again.

By Saturday night, Gunwoo had had enough.

You felt the mattress beside you lower as he sat down.

"Woojin's flight leaves in an hour..." he said into the silence, as if you hadn't been counting the minutes.

"Why are you telling me this?" you grumbled into your pillow, trying to ignore the way your heart contracted painfully.

"You should tell him how you feel before it's too late."

Gunwoo's words made you look up, and as you looked at him, you realized he was dead serious.

"What, how.?“

"It's obvious. To everyone but you two idiots. You like each other and I want you to be happy. To do that, you have to tell him how you feel before he's gone."

"It's too late," you howled into your pillow as Gunwoo suddenly yanked the covers off you. The cool air against your bare legs gave you goosebumps.

"What are you doing!" you snapped at him, but he also ripped the pillow from under your head, causing your face to slam into the mattress.

"Get up! I'm taking you to the airport. Now!"

You stared at him, stunned, and slid to the edge of the bed.

"Are you serious?" you asked uneasily, and he was already tossing you a pair of jeans from your closet.

"I've never been more serious! Come on hurry up!"

So you picked yourself up, took new courage and got dressed. Excitedly, you kneaded your hands the entire car ride. At the airport, you already felt so sick that you wanted to throw up.

With Gunwoo, you ran past the many people. Like in an anthill, tons of people were scurrying around. Businessmen with suits, families with a convoys of suitcases, and groups of young people visiting relatives or were on vacation.

Hurriedly, heart pounding, you kept a lookout for Woojin, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe we're too late," you gasped as Gunwoo stretched his head and kept a lookout. He was taller and thus had a better view.

But there he suddenly pointed to a counter where Woojin was about to walk through the gate.

"There he is!" he shouted. His curly head and broad shoulders clearly set him apart from the other people.

You didn't have to think for a second to sprint. Like a maniac, you pushed past the people, earning indignant stares, but nothing would stop you from reaching him.

"Woojin! Wait!" you shouted, almost running over an old man. You apologized hurriedly and kept running. He turned around in amazement and when he saw you, he took a step out of the crowd.

Your feet seemed not to touch the ground and as soon as you reached him you threw yourself into his arms so violently that he staggered back a few steps, but he held you so tightly that that you lifted off the ground.

His smell and touch glued the pieces that had once been your heart back together.

You held him so tightly and swore never to let him go. By now you had attracted the attention of most of the people around you, but that didn't stop you from sobbing in relief.

You broke away from him slightly, but only to look him in the eye. He set you down carefully and his amber eyes scrutinized you in complete wonder. You wrapped your arms around his neck and began to chatter away like a waterfall:

"I'm so sorry. I was so stupid. It's totally fine if you don't feel that way, but I'm pretty sure I fell in love with you. You mean so much to me and I can't sleep, eat or breathe without you... I just didn't want to mess up and get in the way of your dream.“

"Y/N..." he tried to interrupt you for the first time, but everything that had been building up burst out of you.

"You’re an amazing boxer and I didn’t want to make things complicated for you. Also I've never felt anything like this before and I was afraid you wouldn't want me."

"Sweetheart. Y/N?"

Sobbing, you didn't realize you were crying until he wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs and cupped your cheeks lovingly. Breathing hard, you looked up at him and he smiled warmly.

"May I say something now?" he asked quietly, and there was so much affection in his eyes that you just nodded, sniffling.

"I'm in love with you. For quite a while now. I didn't know this feeling. When I was near you I felt things I had never felt before. But now I know: I'm deeply madly and head over heels in love with you."

"Really?"

He laughed at the look on your face. You were too cute with those puffy lips, reddened eyes, and beautiful affection in your eyes.

"Yes. Can I finally kiss you now?"

You nodded and that's when he pulled you by the chin into a kiss that blew away all the pain of the last few days like a violent whirlwind. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you snuggled up to him and deepened the kiss.

Now you knew what this strange feeling was that floated between you like a lukewarm summer wind. It was love.

The word suddenly didn't feel so far away anymore.

With closed eyes you slowly separated from each other, smiling and savouring the moment. You blushed when you saw how many pairs of eyes were directed at you. Nevertheless, you could not stop smiling at each other.

Then an announcement rang out, announcing Woojin's flight in a few minutes.

"I have to go..." he muttered in anguish, and you stroked his chest with your hands.

"Yeah I know."

He didn't want to let you go and it was obvious how much he was fighting with himself.

"Just to make sure: You're my girlfriend now?" he asked with that typical cheeky grin.

Your heart fluttered and you wanted to squeal with delight. You laughed blissfully and overwhelmed with happiness. He wanted to bottle up that sound so bad and keep it with him forever.

"Yes. All yours..." you replied and he looked at your features dreamily.

"All mine," he murmured and pulled you by the hips into a kiss again. It was getting harder and harder to separate from each other, but you managed somehow.

"You have to go! Otherwise you'll miss the flight," you gasped breathlessly, pressing your forehead to his.

"Will you call me?"

"Of course. After all, we're officially together now. We'll cheer you on from home until you get back," you said, and along with the joy, a little wistfulness now crept in.

After all, this was still goodbye. A temporary farewell, but still devastating now that you finally stopped being stupid and found each other.

"Take care of Gunwoo for me!" he said and that's when you noticed your brother standing behind you, smiling broadly but with teary eyes.

"Come here Bro!", Woojin said then and spread an arm invitingly.

Gunwoo literally jumped into the embrace and so you three squeezed each other tightly.

"Show them and win!" said Gunwoo and you thought you heard a muffled sob.

When you broke away from each other, you all had tears in your eyes and yet you were grinning broadly.

"We see each other soon...Maybe you can visit me?" said Woojin, and neither of you would move, nodding while sniffling and pouting.

When your brother pulled him sobbing into his arms once more, you laughed softly and wiped the tears from your eyes.

Then the idiot that you somehow fell in love with turned to you again, pulled you closer by your face, and gave you one last, loving kiss.

"I love you, dollface"

"I love you, idiot"

With that, you let go and watched Woojin disappear through the gate. Gunwoo put an arm around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. That wasn't exactly what your brother had in mind, when he wanted you two to know each other but having your best friend as possible brother-in-law wasn't that bad either.

Before Woojin disappeared completely, he saluted Gunwoo, which your brother returned with a laugh. Then he was gone and there were only the two of you again.

With a muffled sob you hid your face in your hands, while Gunwoo led you outside the airport.

„I‘ll miss his stupid face“, you cried and Gunwoo chuckled slightly.

He shook is head and looked at you with a healing smile.

„Who would have guessed…“

The End

——

@marked-unknown @littlebaby-bunbun @officialshania @choisoorin @fanaticnae @hoe4wonwoo @lola2004sworld @penny44224 @artisticbirb @amnmich @spaggedy @tasteskz-sworld

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desert-horned-lizard · 1 year ago

Text

A squadron of bug-eyed police officers with binoculars, three veteran detectives working round the clock, a pack of sniffing bloodhounds straining against their leashes and howling into the night, a swarm of camera drones, a human chain of volunteers combing the area, The Neighborhood Watch, two rival news helicopters competing to broadcast the best live coverage to people all around the globe, twenty searchlights stapled together, crowd of curious onlookers prone to uttering "oohs" and "ahs", a paranoid drug dealer across the street who's freaking out about all the cops, two spy planes working in shifts to ensure constant surveillance, a colony of cockroaches trained to report back to the CIA, a vast coalition of CCTV cameras, a security guard snoring in front of the monitor, an old fogey with a dousing rod and a plumbob, a horde of purposeful paparazzi weighed down with expensive telephoto lenses, somebody hiding in the grassy knoll, a carrot-eating eagle, a panoply of reliable eyewitnesses, a dubiously-effective psychic with downright unreasonable rates for divination, a peeping tom peering eagerly through a gap in the blinds, a heat-seeking missile that has never once missed in its entire career, a spotterless sniper, a sniperless spotter (a conflict of personalities, you see), a grizzled tracker numbed to life after a man-eating shrew tore his wife to shreds, a cocky crewman in the crow's nest, a band of Ostrogoths who have been waiting for 1600 hundred years to ambush a Roman patrol that never came, a sinister pair of disembodied eyes that can float wherever they please and gaze upon whatever they desire, a tourist just taking in the sights, a sparsely-manned border outpost built long ago in case an ancient enemy should one day return, a seasoned referee whose impartiality is legendary, an astronaut looking out the window and squinting - really squinting, The Panopticon, a powder-faced woman leaning over a balcony with a pair of opera glasses, a curious cat, a periscope poking up out of the local pond, a frustrated father who pauses occasionally to scratch his head and exclaim "Where in the hell...", an optometrist gone mad with sight-enhancing power, an omniscient godhead with perfect knowledge of the universe from the largest galactic superstructure down to the smallest quark across the entire expanse of time, and a nervous guy waiting outside the drug dealer's house with a wad of wrinkled ten dollar bills in his pocket

vs.

Someone standing behind the curtain and trying not to giggle

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hockeytrashgoblin · 2 years ago

Text

Give Me A Chance -Mitch Marner

A/N: Hi everyone, sorry I’ve been missing for so long. Shit’s been crazy but here is a Mitch story to hopefully start the beginning of me posting more again.

Alexis dragged me to the party. Well I shouldn't say dragged, I knew a lot of the other players that were there and it was nice to see them. Finding out he was my cousin had it's perks. However I knew when I came that there were people I wasn't fond of and that he would disappear pretty quickly, leaving me tipsy and alone.

And that's what I was, tipsy and alone. It wasn't the end of the world I just didn't know who to spend time with. I saw Auston refilling his drink alone so I decided he was who I'd hang out with for a while.

"Hey Aus, congrats on winning that award!"

"HI! Thanks (y/n). I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"Yeah Alexis convinced me it could be fun."

"And is it fun?"

"I suppose it's pretty fun." I said in an exaggerated nonchalant tone, making him laugh.

"Does Mitch know you're here yet?" He teased.

"No I don't think so. He hasn't bugged me yet so I'd say no. There's lots of people around. He's not gonna spot me in the crowd."

"You wanna bet?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm positive he'd find you in less than 10 minutes."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because I don't know if you've noticed but our dear Mitchy is quite smitten with you."

"Ew don't say it like that." I said, making him laugh.

"Well it's true!"

"He's not smitten Auston, he's horny. There's a difference."

"There is a difference, yes, but apparently you can't tell the difference."

"How do you know?"

"He talks about you all the time!"

"Oh shut up no he doesn't."

"He does."

"I've only spoken to him like 4 times. 2 very briefly because the second time I met him he was drunk and told me I was hot and would be fun to try out. I'm not interested in being 'tried out' Auston. Those days are far behind me."

"Well I promise you he doesn't just want to bang you. He asks everyone about you and wonders out loud."

"Auston come off it. You expect me to believe that? Besides he's dating that girl, it's absolutely not fair to her."

"Oh Mitch broke up with Stephanie aaaages ago. He didn't think it was fair to her either."

"Ah I see." I said trying to seem like I didn't care about that information.

"I still bet that if I told him you were here he'd find you in under 10 minutes."

"You're on Matthews."

"Okay, you go wander around, when you're confident in your place text me. It's gotta be in a party room though, you can't go hide in my guest room or something."

"Fine. We'll see how this goes I guess."

"Prepare yourself for an overly excited slightly drunk Mitch."

"How's that any different than usual?"

"He's drunk this time." He said laughing as he turned to go into the crowd. "Let me know when you're good."

He left and I started wandering around. I tried hard to find a good spot but eventually gave up and made myself another drink after texting Auston to let out the bloodhound. I looked at the time and made a mental note to check again when he found me. I moved from the drink area back to the living room and waited. After a couple minutes I felt arms jump and wrap around me.

"(Y/n)! I didn't know you were here, where have you been hiding?"

"Hi Mitch." I said, patting his arm then getting out of his arms ignoring his pout. "I haven't been here all that long, I ran into Auston and was talking to him for a bit."

"Yeah he's the one who told me you were here! I had to come say hi, see how you were. It's been a long time since last time I saw you and got to talk."

"I'm good! How are you?"

"Been kinda down honestly." He said with a shrug as he casually took a sip of beer. Curiosity got the better of me.

"I'm sorry to hear that Mitch, you okay?"

"Yeah of course, I mean I did break up with my girlfriend and my team did get beat in the first round again but it's fine, I've been managing. What about you though what have you been up to? We haven't seen you around much."

"I had finals and stuff. That kinda had to take a front seat for a while. My social life just had to wait. I've got an internship which is exciting! It's at the aquarium and I'm really excited to be working with the team look after the animals. I get to prepare food, feed them, clean, transport…it's been so much fun." I looked up and saw him listening intently with a smile and I panicked, looking away back at my drink. "Sorry I'm rambling, you don't care about all that."

"What do you mean?" He asked in confusion.

"I'm just blabbering about nothing important, people don't care about it I'm just over excited."

"(Y/n) what are you talking about? Of course I care. I could listen to you talk about stuff like that for hours." He said giving me a small smile. "So the aquarium huh? That means you'll be right downtown right?"

"Yeah I've got a place probably 10 minutes away walking. It's really nice, I love it."

"That's great! Maybe we'll see you around!"

"Maybe! Although I'm sure you guys are way too busy to entertain me."

"Don't be silly! Never too busy." He winked and I had to look down to keep him from seeing the blush on my face. "I'm out of beer so I'm gonna get another one, you want anything?"

"No I'm still good, no worries." I smiled as he left before walking around trying to lose him.

"Well look who it is! How's it going?" Auston said with a huge shiteating grin. "Did Mitchy find ya?"

"Oh fuck off you know he did." I mumbled.

"We should've put money on it."

"I wasn't willing to lose money."

"So you knew he'd find you?"

"Not 100% but I was pretty sure he would."

"Does he know why you're here?"

"At the party?"

"Don't act dumb, you know what I meant. Can we all hangout again or what?"

"He knows I'm here semi-permanently. I told him about the internship."

"Finally."

"It's been less than a month, Auston."

"And it's been killing me trying to keep it from him. He's like a fucky puppy (y/n/n), you get near a door he's coming too and is so dejected when you say no especially without giving a good reason."

"Well I'm sorry but he knows now. You don't have to do that anymore."

"You guys have kept this a secret from me for a month?" Mitch asked from behind me.

"Fuck." I muttered.

"Why?" He asked looking between the two of us, but mostly at Auston.

"Mitch I just wanted to get settled in, that's all." I said quickly.

"Well that's obviously a fucking lie." He snorted.

"It's not. I did want to get settled in before you knew I was here."

"What why? I'm that annoying and overbearing that you couldn't get settled in and chill if I knew?"

"Mitch I-"

"Don't even worry about it. Point made." He said turning to leave.

"Mitch come on." I tried but he just kept going to the kitchen, giving me the finger as he went. "What the fuck was that for?"

"He's really upset."

"I know that Auston but why? We've barely ever spoken!"

"He really likes you (Y/n)."

"I don't want to believe that." I mumbled.

"Why not? Why can't you just accept that he likes you and all of this is hurting him?"

"Because Auston, I don't want to hurt him. But if I start to believe that then I'm gonna start to get hope and then I'm going to be hurt."

"You're such a fucking idiot. Like I love you don't get me wrong, but goddamn. You're lying to yourself and hurting Mitch because you refuse to admit he might like you?"

"See it sounds rational until you say it. Maybe it's your tone?"

"You know damn well that this isn't rational."

"Neither is Mitch liking me! It doesn't make any sense! Why? What? I just don't get it."

"It doesn't need to make sense to you. Go talk to him! You're hurting two of my favourite people for no reason."

"What if he doesn't listen right now?"

"Then you deserve to wait until he's ready."

"That's fair. I'm going to try and find him."

"Just try to fix it. He's drunk but you are one person I fully believe he'd listen to right now. You can go up to your guest room to talk if need be."

"I'll see you later!" I called as I turned to find Mitch.

It took a while, I think he was purposely avoiding me. I went through all the party space twice and didn't see him. I thought about going upstairs to look but just as I got to the stairs I saw him in the kitchen he saw me and started trying to escape but he was behind the island so he was kind of trapped.

"Mitch come on, let me explain."

"I think you've really said enough."

"Please? I really haven't." I tried to go around and he tried to escape but i caught him by the arm. He shook me off. "Mitchy please stop running from me and let me explain."

"I don't want an explanation."

"Please just listen because it's not what you think at all."

"No! Why would I give you the chance to just make yourself feel better?" He asked looking angry.

"Mitch it's not just to make me feel better."

"Yes it is. You've made your point, I'm a fucking burden to you, I've been bothering you every time I come up to you these last few months."

"That's not true, I want to talk to you, I want you to approach me."

"No you don't!"

"Yes I really do!"

"Lying isn't helpful (y/n)."

"God, I'm not lying right now!" I said getting angry. "I wanted to finally be honest with you and explain why things have been the way they are but Auston was wrong, you aren't going to listen and don't give a shit about what I have to say just like I fucking told him you wouldn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't give a shit what I have to say. Like you said last time you drank with me around, you literally just want to fuck and that's it. I told him that too and he told me I was wrong but obviously that's not true because you don't give a single fuck." I tried to leave but he grabbed my arm.

"Give me a chance!" He exclaimed loudly making everyone close by stare at us.

"Mitch shut up." I said as quiet as I could to still be heard above the noise.

"No (y/n)! Give me a chance!"

"Fucking come here." I grabbed him and dragged him to Auston's guest room. I slammed and locked the door. "What is your fucking problem tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"What the hell was that out there?" I exclaimed gesturing to the party on the other side of my door. "I get upset that the situation is exactly what I thought it was and you start yelling and making everyone stare at us!"

"The situation is not what you think it is. Like literally at all." He scoffed and laid down on the bed I always sleep in when I stay over.

"That's my side of the bed." I said stupidly.

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"Not really." He said with a lazy grin that had me smiling at him.

"Can I sit?"

"Of course." He didn't move out of my spot so I just sat at the edge facing him, our knees were touching because he kept his feet off the bed when he laid down. He sat up a bit straighter but he kept our legs touching.

"Can I please try to explain? I completely understand if you don't want to and I deserve to wait until you're ready so please don't feel like you have to hear me out right now. Or ever really I guess if you don't want to." I said shrugging.

"I guess you can. I'm fucking mad though, let that be known."

"That's completely fair."

"Like a month? Seriously? You kept it from me for an entire month?"

"Well to be honest it's only been about 3 weeks but yes."

"Why? What on earth made you think that was the right move?"

"I meant what I said when I told you I wanted time to settle in, but not at all because you're a burden or annoying. Nothing like that, ever." I had put my hand on his leg to try and let my words really sink in. Or at least that's what I told myself.

"Why couldn't you have done that with me knowing you were living close by?" He crossed his arms as I got up. "What are you doing?"

"I can't look at you while I say this right now." I looked at the ground and he just stayed quiet so I continued. "I couldn't have you know I was there because of me, not you. If you had known I was that close I would have wanted you around every day. If you'd asked to hangout or something I would've said yes and I wouldn't have ever fully gotten everything done."

"I can still give people space, you know?" He asked getting up and standing in front of me.

"But that's just it, I don't want you to do that. I don't want space."

"This is a big change from the beginning of the night. How can I believe that this isn't a lie so I'm not mad."

"Mitchy I've been lying to myself the entire time I've known you. I lied to myself because of Steph, I lied to myself because of Auston, I lied to myself over what you said last time you were drunk. I'm not interested in being 'tried out' as you put it and I've been telling myself for a year that you don't actually like me and you just want to fuck so that I don't like you but I fucking like you dude. I always have and it's scary."

"Why's it scary?"

"I haven't felt like this in a long time and it's scary. You're incredible and I'm so fucking ordinary. Plus what you said before. I can't like someone that just wants to try me out."

"(Y/n) you absolutely sweetheart, you're so not fucking ordinary. I don't want that, I never wanted that. I literally broke up with my girlfriend for you."

"Wait that was for me? You didn't even know I was here."

"Of course it was for you. You're so special. It didn't matter where you were I couldn't stop thinking about you and it wasn't fair to anyone. I was ready to try and make a long distance thing happen."

"Auston told me that you guys broke up and it was mutual. I'm sorry I caused that pain in your life."

"Don't be sorry." He said reaching out to cup my cheek and get me to look at him. "I'm not sorry. I couldn't stay with her, it wasn't fair."

"But you're not doing good, you said."

"Not about that. I said it with the things I was sad about as a way to casually drop the information that I was single now and had been for a little bit. I'm bummed out about the playoffs. And I'm still bummed out you didn't tell me you were here." He walked back from me and sat down on the bed again, laying back in the middle of it.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to reach out to you so many times to see if you were okay but I didn't think it was my place. I meant what I said before though, I never would've finished dick all if I knew you were willing to hangout with me a lot."

"Come here." He said softly holding his arms open for me.

"What?"

"Come here. Stop denying me what I'm sure will be one of life's greatest pleasures." He said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes before slipping off my shoes and my flannel shirt leaving me in a t-shirt and shorts. I crawled into the bed trying to get situated on the other side of him but he pulled me down right on top of him. He took a deep breath and kissed my forehead. We stayed laying there in silence for a while and it was comfortable.

"Why have you been denying this?" Mitch asked.

"Mostly because of Steph. It just wasn't fair and I saw how it hurt her having your attention on me. I felt so guilty."

"Well there's nothing to feel guilty about. Let me be around. Let me prove that this is for real and that I really want to be everything you need." He said softly, moving a piece of hair from my eyes.

"Okay." I said, boldly shifting up to give him a kiss before teasing him "I suppose I could give you a chance."

#leafs #toronto maple leafs #mitch marner #hockey #hockey story #hockey imagine

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dreamsy990 · 1 year ago

Note

also i want to preface this with the fact that i know literally nothing about kingdom hearts except for the stuff you've reblogged but i think it's absolutely hysterical that these anime boy protagonists and the MICKEY MOUSE CREW are in the same game and interact often. like the fact that he prefaces the "they put bugs in him" line with "hey mickey :D" is the funniest thing ever. why is mickey fucking mouse in a fighting(?) game

EHEHEHEHE its an action game i think anyways uh. iirc god is a capitalist mouse in kh. his hobbies include going missing out of nowhere, training his dog to run away with plot related letters (that look suspiciously like smash invites) to lead people into plot important locations, sealing the door to darkness, and teaching riku how to sniff darkness like a goddamn bloodhound

#kingdom hearts

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beetboxx · 2 years ago

Text

the leather jacket effect - billy hargrove x reader

part 2 ; masterlist here

WARNINGS; sexual tension, language, douchebag billy hargrove, drinking, let me know if i missed any!

you once heard about a myth about fairies when you were little. it made you stay up for days out of the fear that some mythological being would sneak in your room late at night and steal your body. they’re always depicted as being apple-cheeked, giggling and joyful little critters, adorned in flowers and shades of green. but they were also known to be hideous to natives- vengeful, mischievous, wanting nothing but to create chaos with bodies of grey-green skin and white bone and yellow fingernails that drag across your floorboards with a disgusting creaking sound. the myth that you remember the most- because you made the mistake of asking your grandmother if she’d ever seen a fairy- was, if you give a fairy your name, you give up power to them. then they could trick, lure and enchant you.

what this meant, and why you knew it, was kind of a mystery. all you knew is that it seemed relevant to your current situation, after you gave the new star of hawkins, billy hargrove, your name. it seemed like after that morning when he interrupted your smoke break, he couldn’t get out of your way. it seemed like even the idea that you weren’t interested in swooning over him was driving him insane, making him feel the need to prove himself and everyone around him.

after first period, you tried to shake the very strong scent of his gum mixed with tobacco off of your nose and the image of his smile out of your head. you had never actually sat through your entire life skills class, but with billy guarding your usual spot, you had to today. you didn’t know why you couldn’t just.. stand next to him. you weren’t scared of him, and you didn’t have anything to hate him for, you just.. couldn’t. and it was bugging you. big time.

but first period came and went, and then second period, and then third period, and then soon enough the fourth period bell rang and you made your way to your english class, stopping at your locker to grab your overly heavy textbook that you would barely use the entire year and your copy of animal farm, a book that all teachers were pushing their students to read with the sudden increase in hostility between the US and the USSR. to you, it was just a pain in the ass. but, you thought the book was kind of cool. the concept, at least, giving farm animals human characteristics in their plot to create a communistic society within their home.

and you were excited to read it, too, as you sat down in mrs. campbell’s class. she was an older lady, not elderly but not a yuppie, of course. she was super passive to you- you weren’t sure if she even knew your name. you could excuse it because of her age, but she wasn’t nearly old enough to use that excuse.

as you sat down, the usual chatter of the pre-tardy bell seemed to be a bit louder, a bit more excited than usual, from behind you, you heard whispering and giggling from several people that you passed off as the usual hawkins gossip and judgement.

“oh my god, did you see-”

“yes! yes, i know, right?”

“it was so crazy,-”

“jesus, jason is being such a drag-”

“hey, are you going tomor-”

“oh, for sure. i hear that new hottie is going- billy hargrove.”

you don’t know why, but that collection of sounds put together in the form of a name made your senses tense up, like a bloodhound looking for a trail. like a reflex, your neck twisted to look at the group of gossipers, unfortunately coming face to face with “the popular kids.” you froze as they stopped talking, eyes widened without your knowledge. tina raised her eyebrows at you, tilting her head and waiting for you to talk, say something besides looking like a deer in headlights.

“can we.. help you?” tina asked sarcastically when you didn’t answer, earning a snicker from the other girls.

you swallowed, “uh- no no, i was.. looking at the.. poster, behind you,” you lied, pointing an unsteady hand behind the group to the poster of kindergarten-level grammar rules.

tina let out a laugh, the others following suit until she spoke again. they knew you were looking at them, but it was entertaining to them to see someone else struggle. sadists, you thought.

“riiiighhhtt, yeah. totally,” tina continued, looking at her friends as they laughed, waiting for you to turn around to continue their gossip.

you sighed, planting your elbow on your desk and holding your forehead in your palm, already wanting this stupid class to be over.

“alright, class! tardy bell has rang, please get your books out,” mrs. campbell announced, her tired voice sounding already irritated with her students. you understood why, hawkins high students had a tendency to be incompetent and careless. you honestly felt kinda bad for her, having to teach a bunch of teenagers that wanted to go out and do keg stands about the dangers of the soviet union.

you heard the shuffling of bags and papers, and then the thick sound of books planting on desks with small groans of dread.

“now, today we will be independently,” she emphasized, glancing at the group of basketball players in the front of the class, “reading chapters four through six. i want you all to focus on the stylistic choices today- i have a worksheet up front to fill out wh-”

the wooden door labeled with “mrs. campbell” and various stickers slowly pushed open just then, interrupting mrs. campbell’s instruction and throwing the class into a curious silence. the sound of boots thudding against tile seemingly bounced off the walls of your small classroom, and with each sound, dread filled the pit of your stomach. you needed this to not be what you think it is. if it is, maybe a transfer is something to think about.

but, of course, it was exactly what you hoped it wasn’t.

“ah, mr. hargrove, how nice of you to join us on your second day of school,” mrs. campbell sighed, folding her hands together and turning to face the character entering the classroom.

“oh, mrs. campbell, so sorry about that. i uh- got lost and ended up in E hall. it won’t happen again. promise.”

billy hargrove. there he was, trying to charm his way out of trouble with the same smile he gave you, when all you wanted was to have nothing to do with him or what he represented. his stupid, cold puppy-dog eyes made contact with mrs. campbell’s, and her stern face dropped, just like that. you could’ve sworn you saw her knees buckle, too. gross.

“that’s.. fine.” oh, come on mrs. campbell! you thought she had way more bite in her than to submit to billy’s manipulation. “this will be a warning, though. i expect you to be on time.”

“of course,” billy nodded. he then held out his ring-clad hand for mrs. campbell to shake. what a douchebag. “i’m billy hargrove, miss.” she took his hand, giving him a weak handshake, her usual frown twisting into a polite grin.

“i am mrs. campbell, your english teacher. please, take a seat- we were just getting started,” she explained, tired tone becoming welcoming and accepting as she extended her arm to gesture billy to an open seat as she dropped his hand. billy’s eyes examined the terrain, seeing what people he could bully for homework and what people would do it willingly and what people weren’t even worth asking. and eventually, as he scanned desk by desk, his blue eyes landed on you. he smirked. a quiet smirk, one barely noticeable and would’ve seemed like it was directed at the popular girls wearing bright colors behind you. but you knew, it was directed at you and the name you gave him. you could feel his gaze even after it left you, like a lazer that burned a hole in your head. it was sharp, like he was holding a knife to your acrobatic stomach, threatening you with a secret even you didn’t know about. as soon as his eyes landed on you, your eyes snapped another direction, letting out a heavy huff, hurrying to open your book and appear busy with the hopes he wouldn’t bother you.

he opted to sit right in front of you, much to your distaste. maybe you could move seats tomorrow and mrs. campbell wouldn’t notice. you didn’t need to be around him and his basketball team buddies, sandwiched between them and the group of gossipmongers behind you. and especially not near him. you knew that his public acknowledgement of your existence meant that you became another person that hawkins high saw as prey to hunt and degrade at billy’s new command. and you really, didn’t want that to happen. you didn’t want to be popular, not by any means, but you couldn’t stand to be bullied as harshly as the band nerds or that one fantasy board game club. you felt like you needed to hide, shove yourself inside a locker so no one else could. was it too late in the year to get a complete schedule change? maybe change your name, too?

the entire class you were on edge. everytime billy shifted or talked you felt your stomach drop and the need to clench your eyes shut, like you were expecting the fall on a rollercoaster that you definitely did not want to be on. you couldn’t comprehend why you cared so much. why you were so.. uneasy about him. it wasn’t just the consequences that could appear if you became one of billy’s inside jokes to his friends, but him as a whole. the way he walked, the way he talked to you that morning like your attraction to him was guaranteed, the way you could see his biceps flexing when he shed his leather jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. you hated that he was so.. hot. it was infuriating. he was dangerous. you could tell that the moment you saw him walking from his car. and for some goddamn reason, and as much as you would like to deny it and bury it deep, you were curious.

but, nothing happened. that class ended after forty five extra long minutes, and for the first time in the school year, you had to finish your english work at home. you just couldn’t seem to focus for some odd reason. you knew that billy and his goons didn’t do any work, though. they just fooled around and made fun of people and talked about basketball, keith’s new hot babe, praising billy for his new found basketball skills, et cetera. and everytime billy whispered the first sound of your name in any word, your face shot up, ears sounding in carefully to their conversation, until you realized it was nothing and looked back down to your book.

the rest of the day, thankfully, went completely normal. lunch, your last three periods, and then you got to go home. it was a friday, and your parents always went to bed early, so you could do your homework and then watch tv until you decided to go to bed. maybe you could catch that new show miami vice cathy had been talking your ears off about.

well, that’s what you expected, but just as everything else in the day, it went exactly the opposite. cathy stopped you as you left the school, obviously determined to get her way. you could tell by the way she hurriedly walked to you, no bounce or giggle, just a “stern” face that still morphed into a grin.

“i am picking you up at 9, we are going to that party. got it?” she demanded, obviously set on her goal.

“but-“

“no buts! come onn, let’s have a little fun-! you’ve never been to laurie’s party’s, they are toootally bitchin.”

you sighed, your lips parting to protest more, but cathy had you figured out.

“you have little to no homework, it’s a friday, there is nothing to study for. AND,” she exclaimed, holding up a finger to emphasize her point, “there is going to be legit so many dudes there. like, fiinnneee ones.”

“i- i don’t have anything to wear,” you interjected, trying to come up with any excuse to get out of this. “it would be like.. hella embarrassing for you to show up with me, caths.”

“bullshit!” cathy laughed. “you are a total babe, trust me. just find something cute to wear, if you’re luckyy-“ she said, a little sing-songy. it made you chuckle. “it won’t be on you for long.”

“you’re trying to get me laid?” you laughed, beginning to walk to your school bus.

“yes! well, no, not just that- i just want you to take a chill pill and have fun, (y/n)!” cathy returned your laughter, her trying to be intimidating and demanding long gone. she was a good person. for sure a dumb blonde, but she wanted the best for you, and wasn’t ashamed of being friends with someone so unknown.

you stopped, sighing with a grin at her excitement and wholesome desperation.

“fine.”

cathy gasped happily, clapping her hands giddily.

“YAY!” she squealed. she then spent the rest of the walk to your bus giving you all the details, the vibe, who she was hoping to see there. and billy hargrove was never mentioned. a good sign.

she gave you a tight hug, whispering a thank you into your ear before playfully pushing you into the bus.

————

cathy arrived at your door promptly at 9, holding true to her promise, making sure to honk her horn at least three times, as if telling you ‘there is no backing out now!’

you didn’t really intend to back out, but you were nervous. you couldn’t tell why, but your stomach felt like it was twisting and jumping in anticipation. to be honest, you had only been to one highschool party before, your sophomore year, and it was the lamest thing you’ve ever seen. you went with your then boyfriend, who didn’t make eye contact with you and was way too scared to hold your hand. there was no drinking, barely any music, just a pizza and a couple cokes. everyone just played board games the entire time, and then you were home by 11.

but you were playing in the big leagues this time. popular kids, including cathy, stoners, jocks, preps, all of those people. and you, the one that atleast 95% of the party couldn’t recall your name. you ended up wearing something that cathy would approve of, but still shield you from any unwanted attention- which was most attention. a pink dress and a denim jacket, and your black converse. cathy gave you her thumbs up of approval, and then you two sped away to laurie’s house. cathy sped through atleast three stop signs.

it was almost fully dark when you got there, that october moon shining over hawkins, reaching out her arms to hug you in comfort as you walked up to laurie’s door. cathy was tugging at your arm so forcefully you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been pulled from the socket at your shoulder.

and as she pulled you up the steps, it was like she could smell your anxiety. she turned to you, placed her hands on your shoulders in an encouraging manner. she saw how your eyebrows were furrowed, eyes constantly shifting to anything but her, your hands fidgeting with eachother until one raised up to place a fingernail between your teeth.

“hey,” cathy said, grinning at you. “this will be the most fun you will ever had. promise.”

you just nodded, giving her a smile that definitely didn’t affirm your confidence. she rubbed your shoulder for a second, and then turned to the door and slamming her finger on the doorknob.

the door opened after a couple long seconds, cueing you to remove the hand from your face and plant them at your sides, swallowing nothing but the dryness in your throat. when the door swung open, no other but tommy fucking hagan stood there, leaning in the door way with a red solo cup in one of his hands. immediately you could hear music and voices blaring. laughs and yelling made a rick james song you didn’t know the name of barely audible, even though it was obviously at full volume. it was like the house was bouncing back and forth, up and down, shaking as high school bodies wondered around, danced, and participated in other drunk activities. his glare landed on cathy, giving her a small simper and a nod of his head in replace of a wave.

“hey caths. glad you could make it, henry’s out back,” he explained, way too calmly for your liking. you knew tommy from.. well, him being tommy. you knew him and steve harrington used to be friends, and you knew that tommy hagan was a capital D, Douchebag. everyone knew that he was apart of the posse that vandalized the theatre, and everyone knew that tommy was overall an asshole. you held your breath when his eyes shifted to you, looking you up and down, like he was judging you for entry.

“and who are you?”

seriously? you had been in school with him for like.. ever.

“uh- (y/n). (y/n) (l/n), we have history together,” you hurried out, refusing to make any eye contact with tommy, instead opting to look at cathy for help. “i can go if-“

“tommy, (y/n) is like.. my BFF forever, she’s super cool!” cathy, without you even asking, defended you against tommy’s instant judgements.

tommy nodded, pressing his lips together, “cool,” he said, simply. and then he moved to the side, allowing a pathway straight into the bullpen. it was pretty tame in terms of high school parties. basically exactly what you expected. drinking, dancing in ways that prom supervisors would disapprove of heavily, girls being tugged to rooms, guys wrestling for no reason but to prove their strength. cathy left you alone pretty early, basically as soon as you got in the house. she blew you a kiss, told you to have fun, and ran outside to go spend time with whatever that tool’s name was.

so, you wandered around, got a coke can, found a couple of people to have very short talks to, and eventually you landed yourself in the kitchen. it was quiet there. it was just a guy holding ice to his forehead, a couple making out, two girls chatting and giggling, and now you. none of them acknowledged your presence. you sighed. you hate to admit it, but.. someone’s attention would have been very nice. to be noticed within a crowd of pretty girls and attractive guys, to have a spotlight on you for just a second.

you leaned on the kitchen counter, taking a sip of your coke, looking around the kitchen and just zoning out. have you wasted your high school life? if you stuck with cathy, all day every day, would you have been invited to this party yourself, instead of being a plus one? did you rush everything? you wished that there were guidelines or a handbook to navigate hawkins high. one that told you how to feel like you belonged, one that told you how to not just survive. you wanted to rush back out to the living room-turned-dancefloor, but you just.. couldn’t bring yourself to do it, out of fear that your feet would catch aflame and everyone would stare at you, not helping to put you out, until they start laughing and pointing when you start rolling around and trying to get the fire off of your clothes.

“hey.”

a familiar voice. a voice you had been unfortunately thinking about way too much that entire day. billy. god fucking damn it. you quickly snapped out of your thought train, blinking rapidly as your mind grounded back to reality, away from the flame in your imagination.

“(y/n). i didn’t think i’d see you here,” billy remarked. he had changed clothes, too. a button up, half buttoned that proudly displayed his toned chest, and somehow an even tighter pair of black jeans. and again, that leather jacket you saw him wearing that day. he held two beer cans.

you shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. you shifted a little, crossing your arms over your chest, like it would shield billy’s blaring gaze away from you. but you knew he was smirking, that stupid fucking smirk that made you want to slap him silly. without asking if he was welcome, or even considering if he was welcomed, billy leaned up against the counter right next to you, extending the beer can to you.

“here. i was gonna bring it to my buddy, but.. i found something a lot more interesting.”

his words, no matter what they were, slid off of his tongue like velvet. he had to be a product of some sort of sorcery or something.

“no thanks. i don’t drink,” you stated, blankly, hugging yourself tighter.

“aw, come on,” he snickered, refusing to move his hand. “too strong for you, sweetheart?”

“n-no, i just-”

“no?” he pushed back, raising an eyebrow. “you ever had somethin’ stronger than a beer?”

you paused, furrowing your eyebrows. “..yeah, yes i have,” you confirmed, turning your head to look at him finally, but still refusing to meet his eyes.

he didn’t say anything then, just held a challenging grin with the can still in his hand. you sighed and reluctantly took the can, knowing you couldn’t win. you would just pour it out after he left. but for now, you just took a sip, fighting so hard to keep your face from scrunching up in disgust. beer tasted awful, and it kind of burned your throat.

he nodded his head, his eyebrows raising with satisfaction. he was winning this.

“watcha doin’ hiding in here all alone? waiting for someone to come find you?” he leaned his hand on the counter, just behind your back, to lean in closer to you. it was uncomfortable. even though he wasn’t even touching you, you felt like your skin was burning.

“no, i’m just.. taking a break.”

“riight, right, taking a break,” he joked. then, his eyes scanned you up and down, and you could feel every inch of your body itching, screaming at you to get up and leave.

“you look fine as hell, (y/n). didn’t know if you were able to get out of that frumpy-nerd look,” billy chuckled. “dress kinda looks like you got it at GAP kids, though.”

you stopped, eyebrows furrowing even further, but this time with a different emotion as you processed his comment. did anyone ever tell this guy to shut up? your mouth opened to speak, and then closed again, your words getting tangled on your tongue, and then opened again, and then closed again, and t-

“do you.. do you think that’s charming? like, does being a demeaning asshole really work?” you asserted, with a tone you didn’t know was possible from you. was it getting stuffy in here? it felt like there was ash filling your lungs.

billy’s smirk fell from his face, slowly. he chewed his gum, and you heard the smacking between his teeth as his jaw set. he obviously didn’t like to be told no. he fell flat, for a while, having no words to respond with. you two engaged in a very intense staring contest for a while, both of you challenging, rather begging, the other to look away.

to be honest, billy didn’t understand his feeling towards you either. you seemed so.. simple. boring. but the fact that you weren’t throwing yourself at him, even when he showed any sort of interest, frustrated him beyond belief. he got use to being able to flirt with any girl and her panties instantly dropping. he could figure out those girls, figure out a formula that worked every single time to get what he wanted and leave her wanting more. but he couldn’t figure you out. he saw you, just this morning, throwing a cigarette on the ground and smashing it with your shoe to hide anyone knowing of your habits. it made him wonder what else you were hiding, what else he could find by digging into you. and of course, he couldn’t deny, you looked.. amazing, at that party. so innocent, quiet, a contrast to the other girls wearing loud colors and hair that rivaled skyscrapers. it’s not that he found the other girls unattractive, they were all gorgeous, hot, but you were just.. something new. a challenge.

“yeah. it does, usually, when they’re not a prude,” billy snarked. a quick transition from the charming facade he entered with.

“i’m not- i’m not a prude, i’m not interested in you,” you argued, your tone gaining steadiness with your growing confidence, fueled by the need to beat this douchebag at his own game. because you weren’t his game, you weren’t something he could play and win.

but then, his smirk returned. it was different this time, though. mischievous, scheming. his eyes darkened, you saw it, a storm washing over the blue ocean that swirled in his eyes. he set down his beer can, pushing himself off the counter.

“not interested, yeah?”

you nodded, pursing your lips together. you hugged yourself tighter.

his eyes stared at you, waiting for you to meet them. you finally did, waiting for him to say something, do something, storm out and leave in shame and leaving you your victory. he just stared at you with that smirk for longer than you could tell.

slowly, like he was approaching a deer and didn’t want to scare it and run it off, he peeled the beer can out of your palm, setting it on the counter near his.

his big hands floated to you, slipping between your denim jacket and your dress and landing against your waist, fingers digging into the pink fabric.

“so.. you don’t care if i do this?” he challenged, his voice low.

you blinked, rapidly, breath picking up and your chest rising and falling quicker. you hoped he didn’t notice.

he did.

“nope,” you huffed out, shaking your head. but that wasn’t enough.

he pulled you towards him, away from the counter, so quickly that your hands ripped away from yourself and landed on his chest, one catching grip of his bare skin, and you swore your brain was spinning.

you were close, so close that you could smell the beer and the smoke and the mint on his tongue. you felt the heavy, cool huffs of his nose on your face as he studied you and your expression, like he was waiting for your legs to give out and he would have to carry you to the nearest bedroom. but you didn’t. you just stood there, blinking. he saw you gulp, saw your jaw tense up and your eyes rip away from him, to the side and to the ceiling. he didn’t like that. so, he took your chin between his thumb and his pointer finger, anchoring your gaze to look at him.

“not interested, huh?”

you just nodded. your mouth was dry. you guessed the beer took all moisture from your mouth down with it, and it wasn’t because of billy. of course not. you weren’t interested in him.

you felt his thumb lightly rubbing your chin. he was thinking. you saw his jaw set to the side, his tongue press against the roof of his mouth as he laughed. it made your stomach turn, made you flinch.

“you’re not a good liar, you know that?” his eyebrows burrowed together in a condescending leer.

“don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i know you wouldn’t want anything more..” he started, pulling you even closer to the heat of his body. his face hardened, sharp and heavy. “..than for me bend you over these counters, huh?”

your face was burning. your intuition was right, you were definitely going to be set on fire tonight. you felt like you were going to throw up and cry and.. rut against his leg and-

“barf me out, billy hargrove. i would never,” you snapped. your tongue betrayed you. they were stern words, for sure, but they sounded so weak, the protective layer of your skin breaking down.

billy let out a little gasp, taunting you. “never? that’s a long time, (y/n),” he chuckled darkly.

billy then leaned in, pulling your face to his, until your lips were almost grazing. and then he swerved to the side, lifting your chin up so he could reach your ear, so close to the point you could feel every sound vibration his voice made.

“you’ll be on your knees for me in no time,” he muttered. it made you shiver, and he took note of that. you couldn’t tell if it was his words or the dark tone of his voice. he let his lips linger against your skin, making sure to let them make slight contact with the soft skin of your jaw, before slowly pulling away from your face with an overly conceited smile. he studied you and your features, even being as cocky as to glance down the top of your dress, before he let go of you.

and he was gone.

you had already given him your name, and now he could lure and enchant you. and you realized, within seconds, you quickly became billy’s prey. but definitely not the kind you expected yourself to be.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fluff #hawkins high #stranger things x reader #billy stranger things #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things fic

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junk-jester · 2 years ago

Text

Here's a quick thing that I somehow completely missed before so I'm doing it now.

It's my take on @jennifer-10nyson's Omnitrix Challenge. Simple as that.

Rules: [For each alien in the Ben 10 franchise (OS-OV), rename the alien to give it your own unique twist! Simply copy the list below of all of Ben’s transformations and replace my name with the name you’d use yourself! You’re allowed five cheats (bold them so it’s obvious which ones) where you simply steal the name Ben used for his transformations. You’re also bound to have different adventures then Ben and unlock your own aliens, so you can replace any two of Ben’s aliens with unique creations of your own! Just give them a name, brief description of their appearance, and their powers!]

Heatblast = Novaspark

Wildmutt = Bloodhound

Diamondhead = Jade

XLR8 = Quickdash

Grey Matter = Savant

Four Arms = Atalanta

Stinkfly = Smugonfly (Dragonfly + Smog + Bug)

Ripjaws = Wavebreak

Upgrade = Network

Ghostfreak = Spectra

Cannonbolt = Highway

Wildvine = Weedkiller

Spitter = Bileblaster

Buzzshock = Wildcharge

Articguana = Ice Age

Blitzwolfer = Howlclaw

Snare-Oh = Kleotomb

Frankenstrike = Stitchbolt

Upchuck = Bellyache

Ditto = Copycat

Eye Guy = Glareclops

Way Big = Everestta (pun on Mt. Everest)

Swampfire = Everblaze (pun on Everglades)

Echo Echo = Beatbox

Humungousaur = Wreckasaurus

Jetray = Stinglide (Stingray + Glide)

Big Chill = Sub-Zero

Chromastone = Crystalight

Brainstorm = Mastermind

Spidermonkey = Mairachni (Don't remember what this name means exactly, but it is a pun.)

Goop = Slick N' Slime (pun on Slip N' Slide)

Alien X = Athena

Lodestar = Ferroguide

Rath = Aggro

Nanomech = Replacement #1

Water Hazard = Floodgate

AmpFibian = Replacement #2

Armodrillo = Digsite

Terraspin = Turtlefan

NRG = Geigaton (Geiger Counter + Megaton)

Fasttrack = DashCat

Clockwork = Timetwister

Chamalien = Invisimander

Eatle = TerBite

Jury Rigg = Scrapheap

Feedback = Sparkplug

Bloxx = BlockOff

Shocksquatch = Thundra (Thunder + Tundra (where Yetis are seen sometimes))

Gravattack = Asteroid

Crashhopper = Crickatapult (Cricket + Catapult)

Ball Weevil = RollerBomb

Walkatrout = Fishlegs

Pesky Dust = Sleepwalk

Mole-Stache = HairieDog (Prairie Dog + Hairy)

The Worst = D.S. (Short for "Damage Sponge")

Kickin Hawk = Razorhawk

Toepick = Slobbergore

Astrodactyl = Airborne

Bullfrag = WarToad (Wart + War + Toad)

Atomix = Apocalypse

Gutrot = Biohazard

Whampire = Bloodbite

Replacement #1:

Name: Cooth (based on Cthulhu)

Description: A Chimera Sui Generis (Vilgax's Species). Tall, humanoid cephalopod with tentacles intersecting all over to make his limbs, while several extras drop down from his chin to form a beard.

Powers: Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Intelligence, Ink Generation, Tentacle Whips, Boneless Body

Replacement #2:

Name: Cure

Description: SCP-049's species. Humanoid wearing leather robes and beaked mask, like that of a Plague Doctor. Robes and mask are actually part of skin and bones.

Powers: Enhanced Intelligence, knowledge of all things medical, empty internal body for storing tools (scalpels, syringes, a bonesaw, etc.) and a fatal touch.

#ben 10 #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 omniverse #omnitrix #scp 049

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

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Fall Is Dick Riding Season

A commission for someone who does not want to be tagged. GN reader/Bloodhound for the one post of ‘It’s fall, which means it’s riding someone’s dick in their hoodie weather’.

Reblogs > Likes. It cost zero dollars to Reblog fics you like :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, werewolf strap makes a come back which means KNOTTING, biting, bruising, feral Bloodhound, Bloodhound having their signature oral fixation, uhhh piercings?, Reader is gender neutral but explicitly written with a vulva!

Words: 2.8K

_________________

When autumn comes, it comes in slow like most seasons on this planet. The Apex arena changes beautiful colors, the normal green tones turning into warm oranges and yellows. The Leviathans that called the arena home didn’t seem bugged by the colder weather, happily chewing on the trees that changed color and not putting up a fuss.

When fall comes, it means that the legends have a month to relax. The season wouldn’t start back up until early spring so the wildlife would be just as lively and itching to go as the legends. However, this meant that your partner, Bloodhound, was itching for something to hunt after.

You didn’t blame them. They weren’t made for the domestic and quiet life. They preferred an active role. The games brought them a sense of accomplishment, both for their gods they worshiped and for themselves. Quite often you’d be left with one raven, whichever one was up for the arena that day went with Bloodhound, and know if they were having a good game or a bad depending on how the second raven reacted.

But, of course, when autumn comes, it means downtime.

~Rest under the cut~

The first few days are nice. Bloodhound doesn’t stay in the dorms and instead comes home to the little cottage deep in the woods you two shared. Munnin and Arthur greet you as usual by latching onto your shoulders and fighting over who gets to be held like a baby first. But, not before you’re able to see Bloodhound tug off their mask and helmet. Approaching to kiss you softly with full, chapped lips and murmur against you adoringly in greeting of; “Hello, beloved.”

Once it finally starts getting cooler out, you open up the windows much to the ravens’ delights. But, much to your own dismay, Bloodhound starts to feel cooped up at home. Kissing you one morning and telling you that they won’t be gone long, that the Allfather wills their hands elsewhere.

And as always, you nod understandingly and sigh as they part from you with a loving rest of your foreheads together and their gloved hands brushing your waist.

That was five days ago they set out. Arthur was left behind this go around, settling down on the window sills or going about his own business. He demands cuddles quite often and treats you don’t let him have (except a few under the table that ‘slip’ from your grasp), but otherwise he provides nice enough company.

You get lonely on day five. Already itching for their company yesterday so you’d taken to raiding their closet.

You do it again today with less worry of it, tugging on one of their older, cozier hoodies. It’s big even on them and reaches mid-thigh for you. Black with the Apex logo on the back as you lift the collar and inhale their scent. Much to your delight they must have worn it a couple of times before deciding it was still clean and putting it away again.

To try and distract yourself from missing them, you have soon set out on your shared bed. Tucking your body against the window that you had open with the curtains pulled back. Letting air flow run throughout the room in a small, chilly breeze that caresses your bare legs that rub against the many furs underneath you.

You huff a bit as you lie down, settling on reading a book and trying to keep your eyes focused on it. Tucking the collar of the hoodie up to your nose to inhale the scent of it as you read.

Bloodhound always smelled good, similar to pine and something akin to violets and cinnamon. You smile at the thought, tugging the collar closer and sighing against it.

You think of them with a lazy, growing smile. Their red curls had been getting longer, about mid-back now and getting a bit less tame. You think about the way their lips feel on yours, softly molding and sharp teeth capturing your bottom lip. How their hands, rough and calloused from their hunts caress your hips as soft as ever to drag you closer. Hungry growls out of their throat if you press closer to them to fit your hips-

Your breathing is getting heavier, eyes fluttering as you let the book fall from your grip and off the bedside. You try to settle down, resting your hand on your abdomen and drumming there. However, your mind is hungry for it.

And what’s the matter with indulging anyway? They weren’t here- and if they were, you’re sure they wouldn’t mind you indulging IN them as well.

Your hand sneaks down, pulling the hoodie up and teasing at the edges of your underwear. You do as they would, toying with yourself as you rub at the slit of your heat through your panties. Tracing upwards and applying just enough pressure over your clit.

Your breath hitches and your head tilts to the side, biting your bottom lip as another breeze runs through the room and reminds you that you’re doing this right in front of an open window. Truly, that part didn’t matter, your home was far too into the woods to worry about neighbors. But, gods know if Arthur popped his little head in you’d feel mortified.

That is, until you hear the front door open and hear tell-tales boots. Your eyes snap open, pulling your hands away from yourself and perking up.

In no time you’re prodding down the steps, far more interesting in seeing your partner than jacking off. Peeking around the corner to see them pulling off their helmet. Shaking their long braid free as some curls frame and curl onto their face.

The steps creak as you take the next one, and their head shoots up to look at you. Eyes tired, but their singular good one trained on you like the predator they are.

“Is that my clothing?” They tease, a smile on their lips already as you smile sheepishly back. Bare feet padding on the ground as you reach them, wrapping your arms around their shoulders so they may do the same to your waist. They bury their nose into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent. You know they can smell it with the way they grip at your firmer.

You hear the edge of a growl and just about laugh as they try to pull a bit away, but you tug them closer. Urging them to tilt their head with your hand laced at the braid at the nape of their neck, pulling so you can kiss at the now exposed flesh.

“Elskan-” Their voice warns, and you hum in response. Letting your teeth catch their pierced lobe before kissing down their neck and nibbling over their pulse point.

Their claw-like nails dig at your hips through their gloves and you make a playful sound in reply.

“I can do the work,” You insist, voice low as you suck a hickey against their neck just to hear their breath hitch. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lie there and enjoy the view.”

“Tempting,” They breathe out, shuddering when your tongue flicks over the bruise blossoming on a peachy patch on their darker flesh. “Would you still wear this?” They murmur, letting their own hands gently tug at the hoodie.

You hum in affirmation and let your hand drop to toy at the bottom of their few layers of shirts. Parting your lips so you can nip just beneath their ear. “As long as you aren’t wearing any of this in return.”

The journey to the bedroom is quick and hurried with your insistence. Bloodhound laughs at you as you help them out of their clothing, at least down to their tight muscle tank and boy shorts. They insist you keep wearing the hoodie again, as you dig around for one of their strap ons.

You don’t even realize which one you have in hand. Just helping them pull on the boy short-like harness and fitting the cock through. That is, until you recognize the bright red visage of said cock.

It’s one they very much enjoyed. Themed after a werewolf, a beast fit for someone like Bloodhound. It’s rather large, seven inches long not including the knot and as thick as three of your fingers. The knot was about baseball size and the ability to attach a syringe to the underside of it to fill with cum lube. Depending on if you wanted to get stuffed full more than with just a knot.

You swallow thickly and think about your decisions briefly as you lube it up. Making a show of jacking them off and applying extra lube as you tuck your now lubed up fingers under yourself. But before you can even get to do that, Bloodhound is pawing for you.

“None of that, my love. I can do this much for you.” Their voice is soft and adoring as you nod your head quickly. Letting them urge you up onto them, straddling either side of their head and pulling the hoodie up and over your chest. You hold it there with one hand, the other resting on the top of their head.

If there was one thing that was certain, it was that Bloodhound loved giving oral. Proof as their eyes flutter open half lidded, peering through thick lashes up at you as their mouth opens. Their pierced tongue licking from hole to clit and nosing at you afterwards.

They moan against you at the same time you whine. Bloodhound, for finally being able to taste you. You, for finally getting the stimulation you wanted.

Their clawed hands come up and over your thighs, locking you in place and digging the points into your flesh. Idly, you scritch at the top of their head and breathe out, “Good dog.” More on instinct than anything, but it makes their eyes flash dangerously. Their slit pupil widening as they lap at your clit hungrily.

It isn’t long before your grip in their hair is now two handed. Riding their face and eagerly moaning when their tongue presses into you. Their nose against your clit and their eyes closed, looking like they’re enjoying a meal intensely with the way they whine into you.

Eventually you’re begging, pulling at their hair and grinding your hips messily against their face. Bloodhound moves with you, gripping your thighs tight so you hold still and moaning low when you yank at their hair. They focus their tongue on licking feverishly against your clit until you’re cumming with a weak cry and small jerks of your hips.

Kitten licks are left on your clit as you shake and try to push at their head. “H-Hound- no, please- want to ride you- can't if y-you- you- you-” You try to sob out, but get cut off by your own high-pitched cry when Bloodhound licks at your slick hole, getting every bit they could out of you.

Greedy bastard.

With a few more begs and a few more pushes, they let you off. Allowing you to straddle their hips so you can finally catch how they look at you. Hungry eyes trained on your body, their lips shiny and wet, matching their chin before they wipe their mouth off on the back of their hand.

They briefly flash you canines as they laugh at you. “Well? Come, show me what you have been waiting for since I have left, pretty one.” They coo towards the end as they gently tug at your hips with a relaxed stance about them. As if they were royalty and you were the entertainment.

They don’t rush you as you settle onto their cock. Easing the first few inches into yourself with a mewl. Your body is relaxed and certainly wet enough for it from Bloodhound’s talented tongue.

It takes a moment or two longer than you intend before the rim of your cunt is pressed to the larger beginnings of the knot. Stuffed full already as your arms shake, pressed to either side of Bloodhound’s head as you try to get your bearings.

“Too big?” They almost take a mock cooing tone for you. Bloodhound’s hands caressing underneath the hoodie to brush at your hips and sides, gently squeezing at the softness around your middle in appreciation.

You shake your head, huffing through your nose as you adjust to the size. Making a show of lifting your hips up and pressing back down with a choked breath and bowing your head at the sensation.

Goddamn it.

You can feel them grinning at you as your arms shake. But, determined as ever to get what you wanted and let them rest, you begin riding them in earnest. Pulling your body back up to grab behind you at their toned thighs. You let your head fall back, shamelessly whining as your cunt is stretched around the size of the cock again and again with each rock of your hips.

You can feel their gaze on you. Intense and predatory as their nails dig into your hips. They gently pull at you, urging you to ride them faster, just a little harder. Just to watch you struggle as your body twitches and your fingers grip tighter at their thighs.

They watch you with an intensity of a starving wolf. Seeing how your neck strains, how they can watch your pulse from here. Oh, how your body curves so beautifully- and they swear if they move their hand to your lower abdomen they can feel the thickness of the cock inside you-

It’s all too much. They cannot sit here and be a toy for you, or a pillow princess in a sense. They have to have you, claim you, it’s too intense of a feeling.

They push themselves up into a sitting position. Snatching your hips as you yelp in turn, almost falling but they pull you against their body. Their hands cup under your ass just as your arms go around their shoulders, choking out their name before they begin pistoning their hips up into you.

The bed creaks with their effort, hardly heard as you cry out and moan. Your hands fly up so one can grip at the back of their neck, the other clawing at their back as they use their muscles to thrust up into you. Their snarls are loud in your ear, followed only by the feeling of their teeth against your neck. Lips kissing away at bruises they leave behind with each growing hickey and bite.

When their hips grow tired, they use you like a doll and fuck you on their cock. You feel sloppy and far too wet, feeling it sticking to your inner thighs as you try to keep up with the motions. But, they won’t stop. Their hands just insistently push and pull until you’re rocking against the knot and sobbing into their neck, “Hound- Hound- fuck I can’t- it’s too much-”

Your voice is shaky with each hard, heaving breath you take. You’re absolutely throbbing on the edge by now, everything alight and far too hot. Yet, they don’t relent.

“You can take it,” They huff out, voice low and almost growling it out possessively. “You will take it.” They repeat, stressing out each syllable with a tug of your hips. Pressing up against you and pushing you down as the knot presses and stretches.

Your scream is muffled in their neck, your hands desperately clawing at their back as the knot presses into you. It’s all far too much, especially when their hand moves from your hip to instead rub at your clit. Using your own wetness to slide over your clit easily. You cum as they growl their native tongue into your ear, only managing to make quick translations in your head. Making out; ‘Mine’ ‘Love’ ‘Little whore’.

There’s just a few moments where they let you rest like this. High on your orgasm even as their fingers tease at your hardened clit, making you give weak jerks and whines in response.

“Do you wish to be moved?” Bloodhound murmurs against your sweaty temple, pressing a warm kiss there even as you hum your negative in response. They laugh, gently shifting you in their lap. “You are heavy.”

“Tough.” You murmur back, nosing deeper into their neck to feel the vibrations of their chuckle.

Carefully, they move both your bodies as one. Shifting to lie on their side and keeping your leg thrown over their hip so they can stay locked inside. Their hand lovingly strokes down your side, petting you as you lazily roll your hips just to feel your inner walls squeeze.

“You are a greedy little thing, my love.” They tease at you, their hand coming under your ass to tease at the outer rims of your pussy, completely stretched out. “I am gone for five days, and you cannot manage yourself?”

Tiredly, all you can reply with is a negative hum. Lightly shaking your head with a yawn. “Nah, you do it better.”

Way better.

#Bloodhound #Bloodhound x Reader #Apex legends #apex lemons #lemon #nsft #commissions #princess writing

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kkulmoon · 4 years ago

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ROOM 2020 | knj ✦ m

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : It's finally graduation! You have just earned your master’s degree, but it's 2020 and onsite graduation and celebration isn't an option. However, Namjoon still wants to make sure you celebrate and scream at the top of your lungs. And what better way to celebrate plenty than in room 2020?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Namjoon x Reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smut, fluff

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 18+

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : brief mention of airborne disease similar our current situation, alcohol, biting, unprotected sex (you better wrap it up!) , blindfolding, breast play, pussy slapping, a lil spanking, groping, cunnilingus, fingering, mushy and sappy fluffy behaviour is present (I just couldn't contain myself OKAY), slight edging. I think that’s it, pls let me know if i forgot to add anything :))

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐲 : three lovely people, Angie @scvkjin, Coralie @seakay05 (an editing queen!!!) and Bee @inkedxclouds (another editing queen!!!!!)

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 : the talented Danica @dee-ehn

𝐚/𝐧: i want to preface this by saying this is the FIRST smut I have ever written, so lowkey don’t know how to feel about what I just wrote. Anyways,,,, I want to give a big thanks to the person who went completely feral with me once I saw Joon during the 2020 graduation commencement, she and Joon are the reason I felt the need to write this, Danica love u babes 🤧💞. I also want to thank Bee, @j-sope @bangtiddies and @jeonggukingdom, for being such amazing pillars of support, love u 💞. Other than that, enjoy I guess 💆‍♀️🤪

Namjoon has done it again. You are going into full overdrive, ears operating at their full capacity, in hopes of figuring out where exactly he's taking you. “Don’t wear any eye makeup.” That’s what he had requested through text the night before. A request that hasn’t manifested much in you, except for the sudden realisation that Namjoon usually does not care about your makeup habits. That should have been warning enough. But that was then and you’re here now.

The roughness of Namjoon’s tie massages your eyelids as your body registers the gravitational drag before the ding sounds. If the swooshing doors and the slick card in your hand aren’t evidence enough, the sound lets you know that you’re indeed currently at a hotel. You jump slightly at the touch of his hands at the back of your head where the knot lies.

“Just checking; wouldn’t want you to peep.” The voice is sweet and the thrill it arises in you even sweeter.

It’s summer time, graduation day and it would have been like any other day of celebration had it not been for the current state of the world. Everyone is faced with an airborne disease that threatens the livelihood of society and stifles everyone's plans for fun days lit by the never-ending golden rays. That’s your current reality and yet in the midst of all the uncertainty there are two sure facts: today, a Friday, you have just graduated and today, over 730 days since you let longing gazes turn infatuation into a relationship, Kim Namjoon loves you enough to have sat beside you to attend your streamed graduation ceremony.

You’re left to walk alone, Namjoon trusting you enough to do so. You have just earned your masters in engineering and with honours at that, walking straight should not be a problem. It wouldn’t be one did you not have his looming breath caress your bare shoulders every time he shifts closer to you as if he is some bloodhound able to smell your state. The clacking of your sandals and the soft thud of Namjoon’s steps fills the air to let you know that he is walking a few steps behind you.

The day had started with a heretic phone call from your mother screaming at you for oversleeping on your graduation day. The wifi had been funky and you had spent a whole thirty minutes trying to build a stand with a proper height where you could prop your laptop. In the middle of all the chaos you had managed to spill water on your dress that Namjoon had to blow dry. You were left with a scorching thigh and to say the least, you felt crispy. The morning was chaotic but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Well, except for the stand. It’s wobbling had given you too much anxiety. The prospect of your laptop plummeting to the floor in the middle of the stream to reveal the mess in your room made it very hard to focus on the ceremony.

The only upside to the stream had been the fact it was much shorter than an usual graduation celebration. Before you knew it, you were required to give your speech as the class’s valedictorian. As creative as you consider yourself to be, you decided to not deviate from the usual template, starting with a sweet thank you, mentioning your countless hardships through ‘the most formative years of your life’, thanking your favourite professors and even managing to slip in a suggestive comment aimed at that man that has your heart, just to make him happy.

“I would also like to thank Namjoon for all of his nightly motivation. I truly could not have come all this way without him,” you had said with a wide smile, squeezing his palm into your hand, not because you wanted to be affectionate but because it was heading south of your thighs into the moist valley between your legs.

Namjoon’s hand lands on your shoulder bringing you back to the present and you feel heat in its placement, what you don’t know is whether it is his hand or your body. You can’t help but quiver at his unseen touch of your arm, fingers tracing their way to your loose fist where they snatch the damp keycard away.

The soft click of the electronic lock unlocks something in you. What in the heck did Namjoon have planned for you? Was this one of his few adventurous moments? You were the one who always suggested places to go and planned your activities not because he wouldn’t but because he couldn’t. Anytime he tried planning anything, something was missing. At first it was the picnic where he forgot the cutlery then it was the camping trip where he forgot to bring bug spray. So as excited as your body feels, your mind can’t help but be cautious.

You are kept waiting for something, anything. A soft push or maybe a calm order, but Namjoon gives you neither and yet you feel secure in continuing your walk. You are allowed a few steps forward before Namjoon makes you stop, once again. The door is shut with the same suspenseful click and all you can think is: Show time!

The room is quiet except for the soft whooshing of the ventilation. Only then do you take notice of the increased tempo of your breaths. You breathe in deeply, teeth munching on your bottom lip. The effects of your quiet calming ritual crumbles as soon as Namjoon closes the gap between the two of you, lips on your shoulders, hands holding on to yours as he engulfs you into a back hug.

“Oooh,” you shiver, coiling into his chest.

At first, there’s one kiss in the middle of your shoulder, followed by another at the crevice of your neck. Your stuttering breaths, encouraging him to give you a warm wet lick up your neck to your decorated earlobe. One that he bites as he grinds his hips into your clothed ass. “How are you feeling?” Namjoon asks fingers caressing your interlocked digits. All you can do is stretch your head back to come into contact with his shoulder and grind back onto his crotch in response. You feel great, better than great in fact, yet you know he is the only one able to make you feel you even better.

“Come on babe, you are a big girl and you just graduated. Use your words with me.” He says, composed as always as his kisses travel up the side of your face to stop at your temple where you sense the slow but evident stretch of his lips. “You know how I’m feeling,” you whine.

It’s the chuckle, it’s the small consecutive rumbles of his chest and it's your undeniable devotion to him that makes you squirm in place, head shifting side to side on his shoulders, waiting for him to continue. His hands spread across the expanse of your stomach as he kneads at the flesh making you inhale in hope that he would reach lower. And lower he goes, palms spreading to touch your heat.

“Yes, right there!” You hum in accordance with his action.

“Here?” he inquires. You nod, head still back as you curve it to the side once Namjoon’s soft warning bite scrapes at the skin of your ear. “What did I say? Words, babe, words.”

You reach your hand to place it on top of his, keeping it rooted in place, as you buck into the sweet roughness of the pad of his fingers. “Yes, Joon, right there.” You try to sound collected yet it all comes out in a pitched mewl. You bite down on your lips, the rhythmic stimulation of his hands inducing a steady rocking of your hips, small gasps rooting themselves at the top of your throat, mouth running dry from Namjoon’s sporadic choice to delve deeper between your thighs.

”Hmmm, Joon. Please stop teasing,” you whine, inching your mouth with your tongue out towards him. Anything would do, you would take anything he wanted to give. His pulsating neck, his parted lips, his cool fingers, or his throbbing dick.

”I am just giving you some motivation,” he smirks alluding to your graduation speech. Your cringing expression humours him and you gasp, body growing tenser by the minute. You now know that it was all planned. He had been touchy all day, slipping a couple of stolen kisses and sneaky squeezes throughout the ceremony. You couldn’t manage to act right, your leg almost kicking the stand down. Your eyes should have been wet, not your pussy. His own innuendos didn’t go unnoticed. You were quite frankly overwhelmed. Namjoon was nasty but never that public about it and certainly not during a live online graduation. You’re brought back to the present with a stinging slap to your sex.

At this point, your wriggling is at its max and you can feel the burn of his suit jacket at the back of your neck. You try your luck with a tentative turn to your right and to your surprise he lets you take over. Your nose is now buried into his chest and you can hear the thumping of his frantic heart and it’s your turn to smile. The faint smell of your lemon scented detergent fills your senses. You give his torso a small kiss, arms locking themselves around his upper body. The pressure of the firm protrusion in his pants makes itself known on your body and it takes everything in you not to beg. You just need to be more patient. That’s what Namjoon has taught you; good things come to those who wait.

And good things do come once he palms your ass cheeks, gripping hard at the soft flesh. A small squeak leaves you as he scoops you up, legs encircling his hips. “What do you want babe?” It’s a simple question, really. Yet the answers are endless. You more than want, you need him to give in to your advances and lose himself in you the way you are losing yourself in him even when he has barely touched you. Through all of that and the other thousand scenarios that flash by in your mind your lips settle for something they can themself profit from.

“Kiss me.”

Still blindfolded, your mouth gapes at the air hoping to catch his full lips once they are close enough. His hot breath fans your face as you exchange panting breaths that have your head inching forward, an action that earns you a pinch to your behind. Namjoon seems to take pity in your eager behaviour and finally closes the distance. The instant your lips touch, you exhale deeply, sinking further into the vicious grip of his hands and he manages to increase the span of his exploration. Hungry for more, you overtake the kiss, hands cradling his face as your tongue floods the warmth of his mouth, legs squeezing him closer evoking a soft croak from him. Your movements are frantic. Long gone is your attempt at being collected as you let it be known, let it be felt that you needed him glued to you in all places imaginable.

Your noses bump in the middle of your furious exploration of his lips. You taste the champagne you had after you officially graduated in your tiny one room apartment and you hope that there will be more times like this where you would get to celebrate with him and be able to close your eyes and still taste those memories on the tip of his tongue. Along the way as you keep devouring his now wet lips, your makeshift blindfold, Namjoon’s tie, unravels itself to fall between your faces. In that moment, he opens his eyes, “Hi,” he says, lids half away open but enough for you to feel the warmth from his deep brown eyes.

“Hi!” you giggle, forehead falling down to touch his.

A few instances ago you felt ready to unleash your ferocity on him and force him to pick up the tempo and find his rightful place inside of you. Yet, here you are, now somewhat calmer.

“God, how are you so cute?” Namjoon questions, nose scrunching up. Despite the cuteness overload your body craves to be handled in a way that’s nothing short of passionate and all consuming.

The two of you are now slightly more composed, your desires still itching deep within you but your actions have now taken a calmer route as he puts you down. Your tunnel vision for Namjoon subsists and you’re able to take in the dimly lit room. If the invigorating makeout session wasn’t enough to let you know that the celebration is still going, the ice filled bucket with champagne does just that. You walk past the inviting cream coloured bed to reach the side table with the champagne. Your heated hands touch the perspiring green glass bottle, holding it out to Joon while you raise your brow at him.

“That’s for after the ceremony,” he makes it known.

You let out a mellow ‘oh’, “I see.”

You place the bottle back where you had found it and walk to the end of the bed, where you sit down, kicking off your heels and reaching up to take off your graduation cap.

“Well then, we better get started,” you say enthusiastically. Namjoon who had found his way to stand in front of it lets his soft palm weigh down your wrist, stilling you. “Wow, you really have a way of killing the mood, huh? And I think you should keep this on. Isn’t the cap usually removed after the ceremony?”

With grinning lips you lean back on hands, the cool and slick sheets sliding under your hot palms. You shift your gaze to Namjoon’s feet, for once he decided to ditch his sneakers, which he had swore he would wear to your graduation, probably just to annoy you. You let your naked foot trail against the leather of his shoe, sliding it up his cream slacks all the way to his right calf. Your eyes lift up to his, calm and attentive.

He had already discarded his suit jacket to be left with a white shirt, one you had advised him not to wear, Namjoon had a habit of managing to dirty his clothes even in the cleanest of environments. Staring right at him, you push forward behind his knee hoping he will get where you want him, need him. For a second you’re hopeful as his knees slightly give in. But Namjoon shakes his head, side to side, with a soft smile, “Not yet, we wouldn’t want your dress to get ruined now would we?”

You looked down at your attire. Yeah, you think, maybe he's right. Your mom had made the ivory white lace and tulle knee length dress and she would definitely ask to keep and store it. You don’t exactly want her to guard and treasure a sweat and cum covered dress. You take a deep breath as you let his warm hand guide your body back up, tugging harshly at your wrist to draw you closer to his body.

Namjoon hunches down and his fingers dance on your thighs, the anticipation making them stutter. He reaches the hem and softly ruffles the material. “You looked really cute today, by the way.”

You’re left cheesing, hard, hands covering your face as you give a muffled ‘stop it’ before you huff and add a faint ‘thanks’.

He heaves the rustling material all the way up to take it off, humming softly at the result as you try to figure out what to do with your hands. Being shy around Namjoon isn’t a regular occurrence, yet today, when his eyes have made it their job to observe your every movement, chasing your reactions to his light hearted teasing, you feel more bashful than ever. Now they look content, they sparkle, happy to be able to see what they had been imagining all day. The view is just as enticing as any of the other times he has the pleasure to undress you and have you standing barren ready to be clothed with his fervent skin.

With two steady fingers, he presses against your sternum to push you back down onto the bed. He approaches the space between your widened legs to stroke your chin, tightening his grip as he dives back into your mouth. You let your spine extend to its fullest length, pushing back against his wet hot appendage. Your grip on his slacks deepens, scrunching the textured material as you continuously tug on it, hopeful that it will let him know his advances are too calm for your liking.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to agree, slapping your hands away the moment his reddened lips leave yours. As furrowed brows adorn your face and puffed breaths do their best to recuperate the oxygen the kiss stole from you, you clench your fists thumping your legs. You need to do something with your hands, and therefore you let your arm span across the little space between your face and his crotch. Despite the lack of full light in the room, you can see the outline, the impatient longing of his cock, as it strains against his pants. You really want to touch it. And touch, you try. But no matter how much you push, Namjoon doesn’t let you through.

“No, no, no, no. It’s your graduation, not mine. I got you.” With a small wink his head is now levelled with your chest as he plants the same smouldering pecks that are only reserved for you on your eager hands.

The drag of his palms against your thighs burns sweetly, the sensation etching itself within your most private area to drag a needy call for him to ravage you. The pecks keep travelling from your hands down your pulsating chest and to your thighs, which are tense with unattended lust. You have the time to take a couple of full breaths before the next is trapped within your pressed lips, anticipation stilling your fidgety state.

It’s the hot and electrifying breath of his focused body hitting your drenched panties that compulses a sudden wave of rapture through your anticipating physique. Now it’s too much. You can’t help but reach for the short deep brown strands of his head to smash his face against your wet centre. The humming resurfaces to ripple through needy walls as you shove him even closer to your throbbing heat, as impossible as it may sound. Namjoon rewards you with a firm lick to your clothed slit coating the drenched cloth ever more.

He licks again only to leave you needy as the cool air hits the scalding area. Fingers hooking around the thin material that covers your lower half, Namjoon calmly removes the barrier, contrasting with the quick shimmy of your legs. He throws the ruined piece of clothing onto his discarded jacket.

Now, this is it. You’re impatient, somehow managing to spread your legs further apart as to flaunt your unprotected dripping center. Namjoon has a history of losing it once he saw the state he put you in. You’ve noticed the slow blinking of his eyes once his knees have scooted closer to the edge of the bed.

His head migrates forward towards where you need him most as his hand pushes against your jitter filled stomach, prompting your head to bounce against the plush pillows as it settles down ready to be ravished. Namjoon’s affirmative arms lift your legs onto his shoulders as they hook you in place. He continues to fan his flaming breath over your shivering thighs, lips occasionally bumping against the goosebumps printed on your skin.

“Joon pleaseeeee...”

You scramble for his head, the wait agonising. Your hands never reach their intended destination as they spread against your hip bones whilst he dives in. Just like the past moments, he comes in soft. Gentle licks from his tongue, as his slurps at your dripping pussy lips. Lips that meet his in a slow and torturous game of push and pull. To hear you moan and swear is the kind of motivation Namjoon needs to let his tongue snake its way into your tight pussy. “Oh shit,” your pleasure ridden fingers curl around his tight forearms. Your hips move on their own accord meeting the deep plunges of his strong muscle. Namjoon responds with a rougher approach, nose burying itself in your pubic bone as he reaches his hands to wrap them around your neglected breasts.

His own ferocious pace sets you off, the lewd wet sounds of sucking and slurping mixing with your combined needy moans in the naked air to create a melodic sound that drives the both of you deeper into your pleasure. The increased intensity of your tugging and scratching at his scalp tells Namjoon that you’re close, close to where he wants you to be, in that place where he believes he gets to experience your most enticing beauty. With that in mind, he licks his lips coating himself with your arousal and letting those same lips circle themselves around your clit. He’s met with a sudden jerk of your hips, hands pressing against your stomach to keep you in place, letting his enjoyment of your current state encourage him to spiral his tongue around the sweetest spot.

Once your strained moans manifest themselves, he brings one of his hands to your gaping hole. Warm thick fingers, plunge into your sloppy heat, slowly delving in and out determined to bring you over the edge. “Look who’s so wet for me.” You respond with an uncontrolled tug of his hair. Namjoon continues the sluggish pumping of his hand as his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit. His fingers curl inside of you, teeth scraping against your lips before hollowing his mouth around your seeping slit. His coated fingers whirl around your sensitive bud, palms kneading at the tender tissue, squeezing and releasing to the rhythm of his laps at your soaked lips, engorging himself on your sweet juices.

“Come for me, babe,” he says as the palms of his strong hands stroke your stuttering legs. His tongue takes one last plunge, muscle tense, probing in and out of your pulsating warm pussy. All it takes is the harsh supporting pumps and curls of his fingers to make you writhe and shake as the knot in your stomach winds itself tighter and tighter. Your sweet lips keep inviting him, sucking his tongue and fingers in and Namjoon lets it all go, a satisfied groan rippling through his lips and into your agitated form.

Even in the increasing darkness of the room, you do not dare to keep your eyes open as your body convulses into a twisting mess once you can’t handle the curling of his fingers and the gentle biting of his hungry teeth. The scream comes before the reactions as you let it all out, feet kicking out, thighs trapping Namjoon’s smiling face as you ride out the wave of pleasure that just hit you. The distinct yet tenuous swing of calming hips encourages Namjoon to lay down affectionate pecks across the expanse of your slit migrating to the top crease of your leg to lay small pinching bites. Bites that tell you to get ready, there’s more to come.

The mattress sinks deeper into the supporting structure of the bed as Namjoon slides you farther up the bed to hover over your panting chest.

“Can you please let me see your pretty eyes?”

All you need him to do is request and you shall give. You promptly remove the arm that is laced above your eyes to give a lopsided smile. A smile that stretches as you notice the way Namjoon’s expression mimics your own, small valleys probing his cheeks. The calm staring of his eyes has your tongue dancing around your mouth, arms extending themselves to unbutton his damp shirt. Despite your haste you manage to undo the buttons at such a painfully slow paste that his hand has to lay itself on top of yours to guide you slowly and steadily down the row of small round obstacles shielding your palms from his radiating and glistening chest.

The undoing goes by slowly, yet it feels as if it was done in a flash. Even now you seem to forget Namjoon’s ability to distort time for you. Knowing hands travel to find their rightful place on his taut chest, moving beyond the watering views to scratch at the deprived skin of his clenched back. The deep rumbling that leaves his throat leaves you rapt, your ass responding as it has you bucking into his hard member. The innocent movement starts a string of hisses, hisses that echo in the air, leaving you even more entranced with his reactions to your craving heat.

Impatient, and unwilling to obey, your feet scramble to undress his loose slacks. Namjoon’s still perched over you, the strong stance of his arms wavering with every swipe of your wet pussy over his clothed cock. Your toes hook onto the sides of his pants pushing down to reveal his tight grey underwear, the front part decorated with small darkened spots that have you biting your lips.

Mimicking your previous movement, he is left bare, his dick bobbing up as it’s released. It’s common procedure now for you to reach, with excited hands, for what is rightfully yours but this night happens to be filled with reminders. His ordering hand wraps around yours, bringing them to his drenched lips, “Tonight’s about you.” You get that he wants to treasure you, but you like giving and not being able to deplore all of your current ecstasy on every inch of his body has you whining, shoulder shimming side to side.

Yet Namjoon decides to turn a blind eye to your outcry, instead focusing on letting your tight entrance know that its favourite guest is waiting eagerly to get it in. Hooking a forceful hand on your right leg, he slides the blood rushed tip of his pre-cum coated member up and down your slit, letting the tip slip so as to let the entire length of his warm member bask in the wetness of your needy pussy. A wetness that he created, made for him to plunge into.

The squirming ends of your hands wind themselves around your exposed hair and ankles doing their best to prevent him from prolonging your burning torment by forcing him into you. Namjoon takes pity in your jolting hips as he hits his throbbing member against your tender nether lips, leaving your legs shaky. And for once you welcome the furrowed eyebrows on his concentrated face as he slides his pulsating dick, progressively stretching your needy walls, the thick member delving deeper into your slit. “Ahhh,” you sigh, content and full, walls clenching and dripping at the well-known stretch.

The minute Namjoon bottoms out, two simultaneously exhales rest in the ventilated atmosphere. Using the little force that you have left you lift yourself up, you let your abused lips catch his. You latch onto them, hands cradling his head to bring him even closer, as if that is possible. It’s your hungry exploration of a place already so familiar to your tongue that has him moaning into you whilst he delivers measured strokes into your oozing center. Despite his need to drag himself back to catch air, you don’t let go, mumbling into his clenched teeth, “Fuck me harder, Joon.”

The lapping kisses resume alongside the quick strenuous pounding of Namjoon’s hips. All together they have you breathless and dizzy basking in the overpowering musk of his body. You mewl, biting his saliva slobbered mouth to relieve the staggering friction from his rolling hips.

“Shit, they were right to give you that award. This honour roll pussy really is something else,” Namjoon huffs out and you let out a chuckle that morphs into squealing moans as he continues to lay down pointed strokes that keep pushing you closer and closer to the bed’s headrest. Your folds are reaching their limit, pussy clamming around the slamming thrust of his cock. Namjoon chews the inside of his cheek, letting the intimidating protrusion of his clenched jaw set you back in place. In place being pointed nipples lazily grazing his chest, arms grounding the last of your sanity on his steady form and panting mouth finding refuge in the deep crevice of his neck.

“Babe, come on,” he warns.

“Whattttt,” you whine. It’s not your fault your body can’t control itself.

He gulps a good chunk of your breast and bites it harshly. It has the adverse effect, what should have been a warning only has you more heated. A big slap sounds and your legs clench tighter around his ass cheeks as Namjoon completely bottoms out only to stop. His hands find purchase in your ruffled exposed hair, elbows trapping your head, as he mutters into your boiling ear, “Be still.” You can do nothing but whine and pout trying your best to be obedient giving him small nods despite your restricted head. Namjoon doesn’t flatter, he remains still as your composure wavers every few seconds. It all results in teasing bites along your ear and the sides of your face.

You feel like you’re dying, of bliss that is. He still won’t move and you have managed to not let your involuntary needs take over your motor skills. It’s the tender stroking of his hand on your cap covered head that lets you know you have done well. Yet Namjoon’s slight chuckling whisper confirms your beliefs, “Let’s graduate baby.”

The languid thrusts turn into audible pounding, squelching sounds feeling your ears as your multiple tries at breathing fail, the air stopping in your throat resulting in inaudible gasps. The rupture of your orgasm manifests itself in your bones, your arms and legs trembling, eager to let Namjoon’s own edged body know how the blistering attack his thick cock on your craving walls is an all-consuming experience that you welcome with a wall piercing moan, “AHHH… fuck.., Joon hmmm.”

The thrusts have now turned frantic, as they miss their intended aim. He’s almost there. You engulf him into your chest, placing soft encouraging bites along his uptight shoulder as his nails anchor themselves on your slippery back.

“Congratulations, baby, you deserve it.” Those are the words he uses to invigorate the warm spurt of his cum, coating your squeezing pussy as your hands, placing on the warm globes of his ass, press him closer to your bucking center. You want it all, to be filled to the brink and claiming what is rightfully yours. For sure, the best graduation gift you’ve ever received. You let the remaining ripples make their way through his body, caressing his arms as your faces drag against each other.

Namjoon opens his mouth only to let his slack body fall on top of yours, drained but content. You’re left to snicker as you thread your fingers through his sweat drenched hair strands. “Hmm, now would be a great time to have some champagne.” You point towards the bucket bottle. He shifts his head to have his chin right on your chest looking up at you.

He looks at you for a short while as if he was imprinting the sight of your makeup smeared and sweaty face on the back of his mind. His hand reaches to take hold of the visor of your graduation cap, with a firm hold on the leather covered material he tugs the cap off and throws it into the air. “Oh!” you exclaim laughing as you clap.

“Happy graduation, Y/N, you did it,” Namjoon says with a kiss between your cooling boobs. You place a chaste kiss to his forehead before pushing him off of you with the little remaining force you could conjure up.

Apprehensive steps take you to the chilled metal bucket. Before you can snatch the bottle into your hands, ready to allow your mind to become hazy enough to have another round filled with even more erratic cries, Namjoon reaches for the bottle from behind you. Knowledgeable joints fiddle with the metal string, thumb pressuring the cork top into the air. You twiddle with your tired hands to hold the two champagne glasses, however still swimming in your ecstatic mood you manage to spill some champagne onto the ground.

You take a big swig of the champagne, somehow behaving drunk even without the alcohol. Another one of Namjoon’s admirable characteristics. To put you in such a euphoric state that overwhelms your senses and solidifies his place in your heart. It could have been the champagne, your undeniable infatuation with the sweet man in front of you, or the gaze that he gave you as if he was seeing you for the first time once again, as if there’s still details for him to catch and memorise. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, not as you stand on the tips of your toes to plant a few pecks on his lips. And for good measure, in case the message isn’t clear, you slip in a couple of ‘thank yous’ and ‘love yous’, all while hoping your future reserves a whole array of ‘Room 2020s’.

Posted: June 18 2020 a/n: Hope you liked it, feel free to let me know your thoughts 🥺

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lady-o-ren · 4 years ago

Text

THE HUNGER OF MY HEART

//PROLOGUE// //PART ONE// PART TWO

PART THREE

For easier reading here’s the link for ao3 (X)

Jamie stepped into the Lallybroch stables and whistled melodically through his teeth. A wide-browed grey horse poked his head out from the corner stall, hitching his ears forward as he blew excitedly through his nostrils.

"Cobhar, ciamar a tha thu?" Said Jamie fondly, firmly patting the long dappled neck of the horse and scratching behind his ears. "Di' ye miss me, my wee laddie?"

Nothing was wee about Cobhar. He was a good-tempered, but spirited 14-hand gelding that had been the first foal that Jamie's father let him care for when he was a lad, still mourning his mother and needing distraction.

Cobhar's big head came down and mouthed affectionately at Jamie's curls then cheeks in greeting, as he always had done, then descended down to his knuckles, eager for the sweet treat he could smell hiding in his palm.

"Och, ye miss being spoilt is all then? Didn'a think of me once while I was gone, di' ye?"

Cobhar huffed impatiently and nudged his head against Jamie's chest, nibbling at the buttons, while swishing his dirt-blonde tail side to side.

"A'right, laddie," Jamie chuckled, patting him again. "Here ye go. No need to knock me over." The stallion's soft velvet lips plucked the whole apple from out his opened palm and devoured it in one loud and juicy crunch.

"Fattening auld Cobhar a'ready, Jamie?"

Jamie grinned ear to ear as he looked aside to see his best friend, and now brother-in-law, Ian, amble up beside him. He was tall and whipcord lean and strong, with an honest, good-natured face about him that had captured his sister, Jenny's heart when they were naught but bairns.

"Ye're one to talk, Ian. My sister didn'a get big as a house on her own, di' she?"

Face a rich blush, Ian laughed and bashfully scratched his nose, crooked from when Jamie broke it years before, having found him and Jenny in the most compromising of ways.

"Still a wee shite, Fraser. And still redder than a roosters arse," said Ian, as he playfully smacked the back of Jamie's head.

As had everyone else in the family since he arrived back home. His uncle's, aunties and brutally by his beloved godfather, Murtagh, for being away from Lallybroch for so long. But the real blackening had come from Jenny, a feat for a pregnant woman who had once been no bigger than his thumb. Thank Christ, he had a skull made of solid stone (though as predicted she had embraced soon after and kissed him more than what was decent for a sister to).

Rubbing the multitude of throbbing black and blue bumps on his head (but after having given Ian a hard punch to his shoulder), Jamie spotted what looked to be an envelope under his brother-in-law's arm.

"Plan on feeling the bills to the white sow, Ian?"

Ian looked at him quizzically before making an "O" with his mouth and pulled the envelope out.

"It came yesterday, before you di'," said Ian, handing it over to Jamie, who curiously flipped it over.

It was a letter actually. He grinned, almost laughing, as it was addressed to James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser and had been tied thoughtfully with twine and a sprig of greenery embedded (accidentally?) in its bow that he brushed a blunt forefinger to.

It was from Claire.

Jamie glanced up to see Ian smirking at him and felt his ears blush hot.

"Ye're damn lucky I saw that before yer sister di'. She'd be holding it up to the light and steaming the seams open."

"She'd do no such thing," Jamie retorted, with a glint of humor in his eyes. "Yer wife would tear it open wi' her teeth and wave it in my face."

"That she would," Ian agreed with a chest shaking chuckle. "But our lass is a bloodhound and will find out sooner than not about the puir lass that ye've set yer heart upon."

The last was said almost in question. A hope that maybe Jamie had found a way to balm his wearied heart, knowing that his travels were not just a simple bout of wanderlust and the outlandish reason why. He had the look of a man now awakened, as if he'd been reborn. Something Ian himself had experienced the day Janet Fraser gave him his first kiss at the tender age of six and had never recovered from.

Nor had his nose.

Jamie met Ian's hazel eyed gaze.

"Her name's Claire," he beamed, not bothering to hide the emotion in his voice that rivaled the reverence of a prayer to the creator above. "I met her in London a week ago. Spent every second I could wi' her."

And leaving the woman of his dreams had been like having his heart cleaved in two.

"Then you'll have to write to me," Claire had said, beneath her gates woven green with ivy, having clasped her fingers to his, while her other hand held his arm as if to draw him back to her marvelous world.

"Letters, ye mean?" He gulped, having felt himself sway to her power.

She nodded. "I prefer it. I can't stand the ringing and pinging of a telephone. Will you, Jamie?" Her voice had sounded unsure as if it were indeed possible he could ever refuse her.

"Who do I address it to?" He had smiled, while grazing a tentative thumb to the back of her palm. "The funny house no one can see at the end of nowhere street?"

"You're a smart one." She pulled her hand away to tap his nose but had let her caress linger innocently, cluelessly, down his ginger stubbled cheek as he shivered with desire, wanting to kiss the base of her thumb, count her freckles with his mouth. "Address it to this empty lot and your letter will find me. Just don't be forever."

Jamie had pressed his hand over hers, not knowing if he could ever let her go, feeling his breath stitch tight.

"Then until I see ye again, Sassenach."

She glowed at the name he'd given her the day they'd met. Had told him before it suited her better than even her given one.

Jamie hadn't agreed with that at all and wanted to tell her what Claire was in the Ghàidhlig.

One day he would.

Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart.

Tha gaol agam ort

But apparently a day had been far too long for her.

"I think she's the one," Jamie continued on, in almost startling disbelief as he grinned like the lovesick fool he was. "The one that's been calling for me all these years."

"Christ, man! She's real?!" Ian gripped his shoulder, matching his excitement. "Should we be expecting yer Claire for hogmanay with a wee one of yer own?"

Before Jamie could stutter a heart racing answer to that query, the two were interrupted by Jenny hollering for them.

“D’ye two want yer dinner, or shall I feed it to the dogs!?”

Said dogs, Luke and Elphin, Mars and auld Bran, howled in answer while Jamie groaned at his sister's impeccable timing.

Ian slapped his back though and gave his dearest friend and bràthair an encouraging smile and waggle of his dark brows. "Read the damn letter, man. I'll take care of yer sister. Just remember when yer wean's born to name him after me, aye?"

After watching Ian depart with a wink, Jamie threw a long leg over Cobhar's stall door (shushing the nosey beast with a promise of sugar cubes) and settled himself low in the hay.

After pocketing the bit of green to his breast pocket with a delicate hand, he carefully untied the twine and opened Claire's letter. The sweet fragrance of elderflowers and chamomile kissed the page where a simple request was written that had Jamie hopping over the stall door and running towards Lallybroch, with his pack of dogs yapping at his heels.

My Dear Jamie,

At the end of the week I'll be in Edinburgh.

Join me?

"Are ye ever going to tell me what's in this thing, Sassenach?"

Up and down the winding streets of Edinburgh, past the many sloping buildings and cafes and bitty book shops stacked beside one another, Jamie had been carrying a heavy and ornate wooden chest for Claire as she walked ahead of him, looking for the shop to deliver it to.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and her young apprentice, Elias, beside him, who'd taken quite a shine to the older Scotsman. He too had been tasked with carrying a package. It was strapped to his back, a long leather cylinder that could've held anything from mundane documents to a treasure map. Jamie wasn't sure at all.

"It's not for me to say. Besides it would only worry your dreams."

"That doesna make me feel any better," Jamie murmured, staring warily at what he held in his arms which amused Claire greatly enough to bite her posey lush lips from laughing.

"Then pretend it's a cake box."

Elias snorted, catching Jamie's attention.

"Ye ken what's in this thing don't ye, mo charaid?"

"Aye - I mean yes. But -" Elias flicked his round eyes to his mistress's straight back then cupped his hand to his round cheek. "I'll tell you later. It's downright awful and I nearly lost my -"

"You know I can hear you both? I'm not that old."

"And how old is that?" Jamie asked half teasing, half with genuine curiosity, while Elias pinked, snorting loudly once more.

Claire stopped in her tracks and spun on her heels, cutting a look at the younger lad who quickly cowered behind the much taller man.

"I'm old enough to remember Queen Victoria but not the Bonnie Prince. Is that enough for you?" She replied flatly, crossing her arms.

Jamie went a bit bug-eyed, mentally counting the decades since the little Queen's reign. Then his wide mouth twitched.

"And ye say ye're no' a witch?"

Claire rolled her eyes and continued walking but a smile had peeked on her lips that encouraged Jamie to tease her more.

"Ye ken," he began, walking beside her now and shifting the weight of the chest as he did so. "There are auld highland tales that say curls wild as yers are the mark of a Ban-druidh, and that the crows favor them to make their nests."

She tugged at her dark locks and watched as they bounced back on release with utter disdain written on her face.

"They're more of a tumbleweed curse if you ask me," she frowned, making Jamie quickly regret his words.

"I didna mean it that way, Sassenach. Truly. Yer curls are lovely. They're like the ripples in a burn when the rain and leaves fall upon it. Luminous as the sky rich in twilight. And yer eyes, Christ, they're. . ."

Jamie's voice trailed off when he realized they'd stopped walking and had the wide-eyed attention of both Elias and Claire.

As well as everyone else on the street alongside them.

How loudly had he been blabbering?

But then a smile of pure delight broke across Claire's face, reflecting brightly in her eyes, as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear, only for another far more impetuous to take its place.

"How has no one snatched up a charmer like you, Jamie?"

One had. A very oblivious one.

Jamie sheepishly shrugged and found unparalleled interest in the engravings of the wooden box he carried as his face blazed the very color of his beating heart. He looked very much like a schoolboy.

Unnoticed by them though was dear Elias, whose sea-grey eyes darted between them both, grinning sweet as pie.

Walking down another street, Claire finally announced they had arrived, and the men, sore footed and muscle strained, sighed in relief.

The shop exterior was hard wood and painted coal black while the door was a dark and flaking green. And written in gold on the long framed window beside the door, Jamie read to himself

THE WITHERED BONE

Potions // Trinkets // Antiques

The Finest Biscuits This Side of the Black Realm

"Biscuits?" Jamie murmured, knotting his brow. "What kind of shop is this? Like yers, Sassenach?"

"Not necessarily," she said, hand hesitant on the brass doorknob. "For one it's in plain sight. But if you want to call anyone a witch the three who own this place would fit the bill. I think they even have a cauldron."

"They do. I saw it with - uh, nevermind," Elias choked at the last, blushing beet red.

Claire arched her brow. "Now Elias -"

"I know, ma'am," he drawled, fiddling with the strap over his chest. "Stay away from Ms. Annalise and keep to your side."

"And Jamie -"

He looked at her smiling wryly. "Ms. Annalise?"

"Shut up," she said, playfully swatting his arm. "You stay at the front of the shop. There's nothing there that can bite your nose off."

Claire then ushered them both through the door.

Inside, it was a cluttered jumble of anything and everything. An elaborate display of lost treasures from Africa to France and most prominently the Jacobite resistance in all its doomed glory. There was an array of vintage costume jewelry, stacked stop tables against the walls and racks of overflowing clothing a group of young girls were pawing through, where one in particular, all flaxen hair and big doe eyes, was swaying to the melancholy chords of a record that crackled softly in the background.

What makes you think love will end?

When you know that my whole life depends

On you

It was a tune Jamie remembered his parents dancing to. His mother had been wrapped in his father's arms as he nuzzled her cheek, softly mouthing the words against her skin. The young girl hummed it too as she gazed dreamily at a dress in her hands.

Overhead hung a simple iron chandelier that seemed to have been ripped straight from a castle's dungeon, dripping hot candle wax to a metal bowl placed on the hardwood floors. One burning drop fell down Jamie's neck as he walked beneath them, that had him cursing underbreath as he scrunched his shoulders and knocked his knee into a table, rattling the knickknacks.

"Ye break it ye buy it, laddie," came a voice from the front of the shop. "I'll take cash and the blood of yer first born."

"Oh, Geilie," said Claire and crossed over to the counter, leaning over the glass display of dirks and sgian dhu (with a cookie jar atop) to kiss a rather wicked to the bone looking redhead's cheek. "You are terrible."

"It wasn'a as if I lied," Geilie snickered, turning her attention first to young Elias who flinched under her unnerving gaze then to Jamie, blatantly raking over his physique before Claire stepped into her view.

"Who's the clumsy stag ye've brought wi' ye, Claire?"

"A friend who I very much like as he is. No twitching your nose or feeding him your biscuits." She then mumbled to Jamie at her shoulder. "Hansel and Gretel, remember?"

"Ye're never any fun," she pouted, then pointed her chin. "Have ye a name, stag?"

"Jamie," he replied simply, not at all trusting the unsettling woman before him with more than that.

"Weel then, Jamie, ye can leave that in the corner there and you," she looked at Elias with a devilish grin as she propped her chin on her hand and drummed her fingers to her cheek. "Louise will be waiting downstairs fer ye, Annalise too. But ye kent that aye?"

While the young lad experienced a sudden shortness of breath, Jamie set the delivery down and rather dumbly asked, "What's downstairs?"

Geilie's eyes shimmered like the feral beast whose blood she probably bathed in, chilling Jamie down to his bones.

"Why? Are ye needin' an ill-wish like the wee lasses over there." She gestured over to the girls taking their leave. "Mebbe something far more entertaining and lethal like a summoning? Those require a blood sacrifice, ken. Nothing so tender as yer sweet lass here wi' her trade of bits and bobs.

She wasn't kidding.

Jamie glanced at the doorway that led downstairs, carved with cabbalistic symbols. A faint whiff of bitter herbs wafted through a pigeon blood red curtain that shadowed it, mingling with a coppery tang he could taste on his tongue, tainting the air. It churned his wame with sick.

"Or are ye wantin' - Oh!" She quickly shot a strange and startled look over to Claire.

"Leave him be, Geilie," Claire chided, unaware of the questions in her sometimes friend's eyes as she threw all her attention on Jamie.

"We'll only be a minute," she assured him with a hand running down his arm, sending a shock of steadying warmth through him that he knew came from someplace bewitching within her. "And don't worry about Geilie, she won't touch a hair on your head when she knows I can shrivel hers like a prune."

Jamie smiled at his own Ban-druidh. Must've whispered it too, to deserve the pinch she gave him before leaving with Elias downstairs to the witch's grisly lair.

"I ken what yer after, mo bhalaich," came Geilie's voice, softly speaking to him as if he were a friend. "I can see it festering in ye like hemlock, yer love fer the Sassenach."

Jamie nervously glanced over to the doorway. "I dinna ken what yer on about, woman."

"Dinna bother hidin' it, no' like she can see it anyhow. She hasn't the heart fer it, ye see. Hers was taken by her old master, the wee frog, who lived in that house of hers before she di'. She hasn'a a clue where it is, doesn'a even ken it's missin', and wi'out it she canna love ye back."

"Why - Why should I believe you?" Jamie asked haltingly, for his throat was being strangled by his heart, ripped from beneath his ribs.

"Why would I lie, ye puir wee fool? Save yerself, getaway, or that love ye carry will swallow ye whole, heart and soul and breath."

Only when she touched the tender spot on his chest did Jamie realize he was bent over the counter a hair's breadth away from the witch, close enough to see the harsh and earnest truth pooling in her eyes.

Then she pushed him away.

"All done," said Claire, coming through the curtain, and cast her gaze between the two in front of her.

"What have you two been doing?" She waved a finger at them both.

"Oh, a little talking is all. Nothing more," grinned Geilie, face a mask of perfect innocence.

Claire hummed, believing otherwise and tried to make light of whatever she saw troubling Jamie's face. "You should know whatever Geilie told you, it's probably only half as bad or twice as worst,"

"Och, I'm sure of it, Sassenach. Shall we go?" Jamie said hurriedly, not meeting her eye. Trying to forget what the witch had said.

She slowly nodded, her face lined with concern, but tucked her slender arm through his and gave Geilie a half-hearted goodbye. Immediately, Jamie felt the blood in his veins flow to his heart now beating in its proper place and air return to his lungs.

But somewhere deep inside himself, Jamie could feel the beginnings of a rotting ache bloom and take root. He was already too far gone.

"You didn't eat the biscuits did you."

He managed a weak chuckle and swallowed. "No lass." But then he swiveled his head. "Where's the wee lad?"

In five seconds flat, Claire had Elias by his arm like a child, his face a burning fever red and eyes bowed to the ground with Ms. Annalise leaning at the doorway, a beguiling smile on her face.

No time is wasted that makes two people friends

THANK YOU to everyone who reads and comments on this fic. You have no idea how much I appreciate it!!

!!MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Now Author Notes

*First off sorry for all the messy mistakes and eye gouging writing

*Thanks to @soinspiredbyyou/ @mo-nighean-rouge for help with the line tweaking "Perhaps strung together with the phrase stirring in his heart." Although hers was actually better "Perhaps preceded by a phrase stirring in his heart" but preceded sounded too smart and too good for my dummy words.

*The descriptions of Cobhar are from the book cause I don't know anything about horses.

*The song is Never My Love

*I may come back and fiddle with this chapter but I really wanted to get this done before Christmas.

*Next chapter will be the last

#jamie x claire #Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Photo

“Virgil, you smell.”

“Excuse me?” Pre-flight checks were running through his head, he did not have time for Gordon’s babble at the moment. It had been a nasty situation, it was well into the hour of the wolf, he just wanted to go home.

“You stink.”

“And you are as subtle as always. There was mud, there was swamp, I will be cleaning muck off Two for the next week. Your point?”

The aquanaut threw himself into the co-pilot’s seat muttering to himself. A click and he was secured. Virgil did the last of pre-flight and checked in with Bangladesh Air Control to get clearance.

Gordon wrinkled his nose. “Not swamp, too flavoursome.”

“The hell, Gordon?” He was so tired.

“Hey, I’m just reporting the facts here, Virg. You or something reeks in here.”

“It was a swamp, Gordon. ‘Reek’ comes with the territory.”

“And I said, it was too flavoursome.” The image that accompanied that statement was enough to roil his stomach. Fortunately, Air Control confirmed their ascent path and Virgil was able to begin the launch sequence. VTOL fired and within moments they were airborne. As soon as they were high enough, Virgil kicked in the rear thrusters and the ship threw herself forward, as eager to go home as her pilot.

As her flight stabilised, Virgil let himself slowly sink into his chair. God he was tired. Monsoon season was always a challenge. Flooding, mudslides and the storms themselves often ran them ragged and today was no exception.

“What the hell is that smell? You sure you’re not passing Grandma’s curry?”

“What?! I didn’t eat any of Grandma’s curry.”

“Oh, so that’s why Scott was looking so peeved. Got out of it did you?”

“Nice to know you noticed I was missing.”

“Nah, not a guilt trip, man. Our schedule is shit, you could have been anywhere.”

“Yet you didn’t ask.”

“Obviously didn’t need to.” Gordon slumped in his seat. “If it isn’t the curry, then what is it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Gordon. Swamp is swamp. Maybe you’re smelling your own butt. Apparently you had Grandma’s curry last night.”

“Are you kidding me? I sacrificed your pet bromeliad.”

“You did what?!”

“Hey, you’re the one who stuck the pot outside the kitchen door. Obvious target.”

“It’s an epiphyte, Gordon, it doesn’t have any soil. What the hell did you do with the curry?”

His brother blinked. “Oh, well that explains that.”

“What?”

“Why Grandma was yelling at Alan for this morning. She had the mop out and everything.”

“Gordon!”

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” His brother sat up straighter in his seat completely dismissing the topic. “We still don’t know what that damn smell is. What the hell is it? Sure it’s not you?”

Virgil just stared at his brother. Sure, they got sweaty and dirty and were far too familiar with each other’s ‘scents’, but come on. “Swamp, Gordon, swamp.”

Gordon climbed out of his seat. “Too juicy for swamp, Virg, how many times do I have to say it?” He wandered towards the back of the cockpit. “Hmm, definitely less of it over here.”

His brother then proceeded to sniff like some kind of half aquatic bloodhound around the cabin. Virgil still had no idea what he was babbling on about, but then his nose had been stuffy all day. Knowing his luck he had probably caught some tropical fever in that blasted swamp.

Speaking of which, a tissue wouldn’t hurt. Flipping on auto pilot, he pushed back in his seat and creaked to his feet. Damn it had been a long day. He frowned, then sighed. Two days if he counted the hours. Two days of sweltering heat, bugs and mud.

Reaching the overhead locker where he stashed all the personal items that might be needed in flight, he unlatched it and opened it.

“Oh my god!” Even through stuffed nasal passages, the reek watered his brain. “What the hell is that?”

“Shit.” Gordon had fingers squeezing his nose. “I think you located the source.”

“No kidding.”

“Gordon?”

“What?”

“Why is there a baguette in the supply locker?

“A baguette?” His brother looked completely mystified for a moment, but then a light bulb flicked on in his eyes. “Oh, um, yeah, about that.”

“It’s green.”

“Yeah.”

“And furry.”

“Yeah.”

“And it stinks.”

“That it does.” Gordon’s head tilted a little. “Might have something to do with the ham and relish and probably the mayo.”

“What is it doing on my ship?” It had been a very, very long day.

“Food supplies?”

“We have a refrigeration unit for that.”

“Yeah, well, that was too far away at the time.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “Even you are not that lazy.”

“Well, I was distracted.”

Virgil’s frown was going to cleave his face in half. “When?” He stared at the mouldy baguette and realised there was something shoved behind it. Reaching up and avoiding the fur as much as possible, he grabbed the hidden object.

And pulled out a wine glass.

He stared at it. “Gordon?!”

“Uh, I can explain.”

“Were you on my ship with Penelope?”

“Uh…”

“Oh god.”

“Well, she was such a good co-pilot and I was sick last time…” Yes, his brother was backing away.

Virgil felt like breaking something.

The stem of the glass snapped in his hand.

Gordon’s eyes widened and a wrinkle of worry twisted his eyebrows. “Uh, c’mon, Virg, you know how it is on the Island. Hard to find a little privacy and she did show such interest in your ‘bird. You were asleep after that mission in Paris and it just seemed right.” He managed a weak smile. “I didn’t think you’d mind.” And there were the puppy dog eyes of his little brother. Now in a body all grown up and definitely dating a very special woman, but still a puppy. Still the same eyes that had Virgil covering for him when he got himself into strife as a kid.

Damn it.

Virgil turned away and walked back towards his pilot chair. “Just clean it up.” Clipped and hard, mostly because he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. Reaching his seat, he stared at it a moment. “Gordon, what exactly did you do in my cockpit?”

God, please, not in his pilot’s seat.

“Um, lunch?”

Virgil groaned. “Considering lunch is now a very smelly science experiment, I’m finding that very hard to believe.” A sigh. “You know what? I don’t want to know.” His hands shot out in dismissal. “In fact, I wish I didn’t know any of it. Would be better for my mental health.” If he raked a hand through his hair, he could blame the mess on the swamp rescue. He sat in his seat and refused to think about it. Killing the autopilot, he began the approach for home and his beloved bed.

The miscreant was grinning at him. “Well, Virg, you know the devil’s in the details-“

“Shut up, Gordon, or I’ll help you eat your ‘lunch’.” A thought. “Also, I suspect Scott will be very interested in those details and how they apply to conduct aboard an IR vessel.”

The grin vanished and the puppy eyes widened. “Virg-“

As Thunderbird Two banked into land, Virgil smiled just a little. Oh, the blackmail material he now had at hand.

That he knew he would never use.

A sigh.

“Just clean up the mess and never speak of it again.”

There were some things he just didn’t want to know.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Pen and Ink #just a little #FishTank #alot #nuttyfic reblog

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years ago

Text

Self-Promo Sunday

When I wrote this, I never expected it to get much attention. After all, it was 95% my expression of love for a Disney cartoon that isn’t most people’s favorite. I was amazed to discover that I wasn’t alone in being a huge fan of Lady & the Tramp, and I was even more amazed that people actually liked this little 1,100 word fic. And this is a pretty good time for some pure, unadulterated fluff, right?

Summary: No matter how long Emma lived in Storybrooke, she knew she would never get used to discovering that yet another character was real. So the day she came home to find Killian and Henry scratching behind the ears of a beautiful, golden cocker spaniel, she wasn't prepared in the least for everything that followed. Aka a silly little drabble about another Disney cartoon coming to life in Storybrooke.

Rated G for fluffy fluffiness of the fluffiest kind

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan and selfishly @distant-rose because although she’s moved on to other fandoms, I know she loves this story and I thought of her when making the picset.

No matter how long Emma lived in Storybrooke, she knew she would never get used to discovering that yet another character was real. So the day she came home to find Killian and Henry scratching behind the ears of a beautiful, golden cocker spaniel, she wasn’t prepared in the least for everything that followed.

“Her name’s Lady, Mom,” Henry informed her as he bent down to kiss her furry head.

“Real original, kid,” she quipped as she knelt down to stroke the dog’s silky fur.

“No, Mom, seriously. I didn’t name her.”

“The lad’s right,” Killian put in, “look at her tag, Swan.”

Emma checked, and sure enough . . .

“You have got to be kidding me.” First Pongo, and now this?

“Poor thing had a muzzle on too when we found her,” Killian continued with a frown, “I couldn’t get it off, so I had to use my hook to slice the strap. She seemed grateful and has been a sweet little thing ever since.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at Henry who shrugged. No need to tell Killian he had taken the place of a beaver in this particular tale.

***********************************************************

Since the dog had a tag, Emma at first thought finding her owners would be easy. Unfortunately the tag only listed the dog’s name, and a trip to the vet proved unhelpful. She had a rabies tag that was current, but it wasn’t in the system for some reason, and she had no ID chip.

“Well,” Henry shrugged, “guess she’ll have to stay with us then.”

Emma could tell that her boys were already in love with the pooch (and Emma had to admit Lady’s demeanor lived up to her name), so she quickly clarified, “Temporarily. Until we find her owners.”

When they got home, the three of them made several posters to hang around town. Emma joked that they should look in the Storybrooke phone book for a listing for Jim Dear and Darling, but Henry very seriously replied that their names were probably changed with the curse.

What even was her life?

****************************************************

That night, Killian made a bed of old blankets from the Jolly Roger in the corner of the laundry room for the dog. She was house trained, so newspapers were unnecessary. Still, Emma chuckled.

“What love?” Killian protested. “This is a perfectly acceptable bed for a dog.”

Emma laughed again and shook her head, “It’s not that, babe, I just know for a fact she’s going to end up in our bed.”

“Nonsense, you must set firm boundaries to let the dog know you are in charge,” Killian argued. His penchant for order leftover from his naval days still took her by surprise at times. “Besides, why are you so positive?”

“I’ve seen the movie.”

*****************************************************

Sure enough, four hours later, after pathetic whimpering and flat-out howling, Killian was depositing the bundle of golden fur at the foot of their bed.

“Just for this one night,” he told her.

Emma snorted, “Yeah, right.”

*******************************************************

Weeks went by with no potential Jim Dear and Darling. Lady inserted herself into their little family and, eventually, into Emma’s heart. Her love for the animal, however, did nothing to abate her shock every time Lady emulated the movie she had apparently stepped out of. She woke them every morning, even nudging Killian’s slippers onto his feet. She fetched the Storybrooke Mirror each morning, all of the bad news amazingly ripped out by her teeth or claws. Lady even had a love for coffee and a donut, which Emma snuck into her bowl when Killian wasn’t looking. Emma’s jaw dropped the first time the dog daintily dipped her donut in the coffee. But the biggest shock came the day Emma looked through the window above the kitchen sink to find Lady in the back yard with a Scottish terrier and a bloodhound. If Emma didn’t know any better, she would swear they were having a conversation.

She dropped her coffee mug, which cracked in pieces when it hit the sink.

Emma moved to make herself another cup of coffee when it suddenly occurred to her that maybe she and Killian were Jim Dear and Darling. She reviewed the plot of the movie in her mind and suddenly gasped, breaking her second coffee mug of the morning.

She went straight to Dark Star Pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test.

******************************************************

Killian seemed confused that night when Emma not only wanted a movie night, but a cartoon at that. It was usually something they did with Henry, and he was at Regina’s for the week.

“I know how much you’ve come to love our four-legged family member,” Emma explained. “Don’t you want to know her story?”

Killian smiled in agreement at that, snuggling up on the couch with whom he had taken to calling his “two favorite blondes.” When the movie ended, Emma dropped her bomb casually.

“I hope our Lady deals with the new baby a little better.”

First Killian’s jaw dropped.

Then he kissed her, accidentally shoving Lady off the end of the couch.

And so it began.

******************************************************

Emma was nine months pregnant before Tramp made his appearance. Killian in dog form, she loved to say. She never knew dogs could swagger. Or smirk, but she swore this one could. It was obvious that Tramp (no tags of course, and skittish of humans) was smitten with Lady from the start. Little Miss Princess, on the other hand, played hard to get, turning up her nose and swinging her long, silky ears. It was rather comical, actually. Like their own love story: canine version.

It wasn’t until the baby actually came that something else occurred to both of them. They locked eyes before getting out of the bug, and both knew what the other was thinking. Killian was unnaturally nervous whenever Smee came around asking to hold baby Charlie, which hurt the poor man’s feelings. And Emma knew nightmares about a rat attacking a baby were neither normal nor healthy.

Charlie had only been home three days when they called an exterminator.

******************************************************

Neither of them could pinpoint exactly when it was that Lady warmed up to Tramp, but it happened (and without slurping spaghetti kisses or meatball nudges). Then Lady started acting sluggish, and her abdomen swelled, and soon the Jones home was graced with a litter of four puppies: three girls who looked just like their mother, and one exuberant boy who looked just like his father (who had long ago warmed up to this particular family of humans).

And Emma and Killian, the lost girl and boy that they were, kept every single one.

#cs ff #cs ficlet #fluff #fluff and dogs #lady and the tramp #cs domestic fluff #self promo sunday

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ditch-witches · 5 years ago

Text

Blue Peonies (Dean-Charles Chapman Smut)

PART ONE

requested: yes/no (this is probably one of my favorite AUs) peonies

pairing: country!Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: very very very light smut

word count: 3,080

a/n: So like farm!Dean really hits home for some of us over at headquarters, I'm sorry

Your hands tightened on the thin steering wheel in front of you as your radio hummed along to the sound of the tires crunching down the gravel roads. The sweet summer breeze tugged at your updo, threatening to pull your hair from its restraint as buildings began to disappear, throwing distance between you and the city. The peonies were finally beginning to bloom, dotting the sides of the road and bringing a nostalgic smell into the air that you had grown foreign to while you were at school. The sight of such a scene brought the thirst for your mother's sweet tea into your thoughts alongside the pond beside your father's land under a velvety sunset.

As the forest line belonging to your father came within eyesight, you sighed slightly, pulling your sunglasses on top of your head and checking your lipstick in your rearview mirror knowing it would be the first thing your mother would comment on even if half your ass was hanging out of your dress. At the thought of her dress code, you snickered, reminiscing about the time you had to apologize to your father's farmhands for wearing shorts around them. You slipped your suit jacket off your shoulders, combating the heat of the day as your heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing your father for the first time in months. Pulling into the long dirt driveway, you silently thanked yourself for putting on a skirt that wasn't as constraining as your daily attire as soon as you spotted the several bloodhounds thundering towards your car. Their flopping, joyful faces put you at ease, being a symbol for the simplicity of your time on the farm with your family. They attacked your vehicle like an army as you stood, bending down slightly to greet some of them before they finally identified you and cleared out.

You vaguely thought about how the dirt would cover your blue-tipped shoes, but as your sights settled on the group of men at one of the barns packing up for the day, your attention locked onto something more important. Hope fluttered in your stomach as you shut your car door and began to make your way towards the men. You attempted to focus on the soft fabric of your skirt flowing about your knees rather than your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Maybe if you thought of him enough, he would really be mixed into the crowd, not having been shipped off to another farm before you had the chance to see him again.

And then as if your silent prayers had been answered, a familiar head of curly, brown hair came into view. Dean threw a few shovels into the back of a truck and tucked his work gloves into his back pocket as he kicked at the dirt, listening to one of the other men around his age talk about something. You couldn't fight the smile as you picked up speed slightly and he looked up, his blue eyes sparkling as if no time had passed between the two of you. His smile grew and he took a few steps to meet you. You quickly closed the space between you, jumping into his arms and wrapping yourself around his neck tightly. Your feet dangled off the ground a few inches as you dug yourself into the crook of his neck, paying no mind to how dirty he was from the day's work. His shoulders seemed to relax in your touch as if he was relieved to be held by you once again.

He put you down after a moment and held you out in front of him, searching your face like he was attempting to memorize your features once again. He waved forward the few men waiting for him to leave and you dug your fingers into his hair, still soft and full like you remembered. "You cut your hair," was the only thing you could think of to tell him as he stood before you. You had pictured this moment so often to get you through the rough patches in school, but not once had you thought you would have been as overwhelmed by just how much he had changed. He had grown up since you had seen him last; his face more defined, his arms stronger, his smile somehow wiser and aged, yet his eyes still held the same child-like wonder you had remembered so fondly. In his eyes, you saw the countless nights beneath the stars and the hours spent driving around just to hear a song a few more times. The light in the blues of his irises was almost a direct image of the lightning bugs dotting the meadows between the gaps in the trees where the two of you would get lost for an hour or two.

Your fingers brushed against his jaw as his hands grazed across your body to affix on your lower back. "Miss me?" He coaxed with a small sigh in content. You shook your head teasingly, making him chuckle softly, a sound you had missed more than brightly colored peonies. You pulled him into your arms again, clutching onto him as if you believed that the slightest gust of wind would take him away from you again. Dean pressed his lips against your shoulder, your skin brustling beneath your shirt as if it were wanting to reach out and touch him.

"I thought you left," you hummed and stood back again, now obsessed with the subtle dimple at one corner of his mouth.

He leaned down to kiss one of your wrists, his rough hands settling on your arm and rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb. "No way. You still haven't married me yet, sweetheart," he taunted affectionately, making you roll your eyes and titter.

"If that's what keeps you around, I'll never marry you," you countered with a quipped eyebrow.

He grinned again, leaning towards you. "That's rough," he mumbled before his lips finally met yours. You nearly melted into his touch as he smiled into your kiss. You couldn't help pressing your body against his as you felt the tension of the year rolling off your shoulders, him drawing out your carefree self with each of his subtle breaths and his hands curling into the ends of your hair. It was like you were kissing him for the first time in the stables again, his treaty of passion once again evident in the buzzing of your lips with every touch and brush of his skin against yours. You pulled away from him reluctantly, earning a groan from the boy as he buried his nose in your hair.

"Do you wanna go swimming?" You proposed, your eyes locking on the sky beginning to blend into an almost buttery sunset, making Dean halt his actions and move to raise an eyebrow in your direction. Before you knew it the two of you were sprinting through the woods towards the pond and throwing off your clothes. The water was warm and glistening in the soft glow of the sun as you dove into its murky depths, Dean following close behind you, splashing enough to take you under the surface with him. You pushed off of him with a laugh, throwing a wave of dark cyan towards him as he shook out his hair and swept more water in your direction.

As the two of you settled, Dean swam closer to you, his eyes seemingly more magnificent in comparison to the greenery around the pond. Those eyes were nothing compared to the peonies. You felt stupid for describing them as such to your college friends. The willow trees curtaining the perimeter shielded some of the orange rays of light peeking through their branches as if trying to get a look at the two of you, creating stripes across Dean's soft features as his gaze focused on yours. He reached for you beneath the water, pulling you towards him as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Your fingers found their way into the curls at the base of his neck once again. His hand settled on your neck after tucking one of your disobedient strands of hair behind your ear.

Dean leaned on his elbows as you tied your wet hair into a braid, sitting beside him as you both lounged on a picnic blanket beneath one of the grand trees. You pulled your knees to your chest, your tank top finally drying out some as the sun dipped further into the tree line. You sighed, drinking in the remainder of the day beside Dean. You turned away from the scene before you to catch a glimpse of Dean as he sat up, crossing his legs before turning to you, a gentle smile on his lips. "What?" He raised.

You smirked slightly, leaning your cheek on your knees. "Your mama ever tell you you're pretty?" You mused, making him snicker.

"Cut that out," he mumbled, swaying to knock his shoulder against yours.

You snorted slightly, finally seeming to find everything you wanted to tell him about during your school days. "You know, you're the poster boy of what all the girls on my dorm floor daydream about?"

His eyebrows furrowed, a cocky grin sweeping across his face. "Oh really?"

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, enjoying his confidence blossoming before you. "Uh-huh. They all talked about this ideal man that was one that visited them in their dreams," you insinuated and he bit back a chuckle. "A man that really knows how to work with his hands."

A rosy blush warmed his cheeks and tips of his ears mildly as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "Hmm. Did you tell them about me then?"

You focused back on the sky as the breeze swept through the spindly leaves, the sound a hymn of summer nights like this one. "No, sir. I kept you for myself," you gloated, the sweet sound of his laugh rang through the air once again.

"Well, I guess we're even then because the guys are the same way." You turned to him, quipping an eyebrow at his sentence. You could practically feel the material of his soft t-shirt under your fingertips as you gazed at him in the low light. It was almost time for the fireflies to dance around the fields like fallen stars. "You're the farmer's daughter. You're every boy's fantasy with a job like this one."

"Am I your fantasy, Dean?" You leered as he leaned back on his hands to settle in closer to you.

His eyes jumped to yours with a small smirk. "That and so much more, my love," he answered definitively, making the both of you giggle loud enough to break up the music of the night's ancient rhythm. You tilted your head at the boy, catching your breath as his lazy smile looked forward, directed at nothing in particular. His gaze returned to you, looking at you like you were the only thing that existed to him at this moment. His hand brushed through your hair before moving to rest on the back of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly as his eyes fixated on yours. He leaned forward to smooth a kiss against your forehead, the corner of your mouth, your cheek, a map to your lips as the sound of cicadas blurred around you. The lavender sky enveloped you as he deepened the kiss, reclining the two of you to press your back into the silky blanket beneath you, his breath fanning over your cheek to mix with the smell of summer on his skin.

Your fingers delved into his hair, tugging softly to draw out a moan as his lips left yours to explore your jaw and collarbones. His calloused hand ran along your side, pushing your shirt up slightly so he could finally touch your soft skin. You indulged in the feeling of his hands after so long almost as if him holding onto you was the only thing grounding you to the Earth. He gently nipped at the skin just before the seam of your top, his hair brushing against your chin as you tilted your head backward to allow him more access. You reached for the hand he wasn't leaning on for support, him watching your eyes as you dragged it up to grasp at your breast. He sealed the space between you in another ardent kiss, humming against your lips as your hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt. He leaned away from you, helping you tug his shirt over his head, grinning at you as you pulled him back against you. Your hands caressed the soft skin on his torso, feeling every muscle that lay beneath it. His kisses continued to litter your body as his hands wandered from your breast to your legs to your face again. His wandering hands teased to remove the remaining clothing you had on. His blue eyes had darkened and now they were locked on yours eagerly, almost asking permission to remove your skirt.

He could tell you were as eager as him just by your reaction to his touch, but moved slowly, taking his time and pacing himself to make sure he didn't seem disrespectful, despite having been with you several times before. It was almost as if he was savoring every second he got to spend against you. His calloused hands grazed over your skin and came to rest on either side of your head for support as you slipped his boxers off his hips. He positioned himself at your entrance and slid into you slowly resting momentarily for you to adjust to him, his lips feathering against your cheek. His icy, lust blown eyes connected with yours just as he set the relaxing pace for the both of your bodies. You knew it wouldn't be long until you were unraveling around him, just the sight of him made the fire within you burn brighter.

Dean leaned down to kiss you gently to seal the passion of the moment. You were wholly at the mercy of what he wanted, but he continued to keep you close, slowing his movements just to get a look at your face or press a kiss to your jaw, showing you how much he truly cared for you and your body. His head came to rest upon your cheek as he whispered about how beautiful you were into your ear and how long he had waited for your return. You couldn't tell if it was his sweet accent ringing in your ears or the care and precision he used when he was with you, but he was bringing you closer to your edge and you were not willing to waste the opportunity. Dean could see your approval of his actions, a small smile gracing his face in the soft light from the moon, and continued to fulfill your need until you were riding your high against him teasing him to do the same. His high followed and he rolled off of you being careful not to flop on top of your arms as he lowered himself.

You rested your head upon his chest, smelling the sweat of hard work mixing with his cologne from the morning. It didn't matter how much time had elapsed and how much he had changed, he still smelled like the summer breeze on a good day. You didn't think anything could be better than this, not even heaven. Dean wrapped his arms around you keeping you close. You both laid there taking in each other for what seemed like hours before he reached for your hand and looked down at you, locking his blue eyes with yours. "God, I'm glad it's summer again," he whispered to you, almost as softly as the wind as it ruffled the peonies.

You laced your fingers with Dean's as you strolled up to the old farmhouse, the warm glow of the kitchen light a welcome sight. You could hardly mask the fuzzy feeling of being pulled tighter against his hip as he pressed a kiss against your temple. The night loon called from the other side of your land to mix with the crickets and the windchime. Dean's eyes snapped up from yours slightly and you turned your head, following his sights to your vehicle. You smiled with pride as he began to speak. "That's sweet," he whistled, making you chuckle.

You turned to him as you reached the end of the sidewalk up to your back porch. "You like it? It's my boyfriend's back on campus," you jeered, making him wheeze and you smacked his chest. "Relax, I'm joking!" You giggled as he rolled his eyes. You pulled him towards you again and hugged him tightly, your fingers digging into the material of his shirt. Your lips hovered near his ear. "It actually belongs to the professor I'm fucking," you mumbled and he leaned away from you.

He shook his head at your devious expression. "Minx," he muttered, leaning towards you again to kiss you softly.

You heard the screen door slam open and a ghastly noise break into the air. "That's enough for tonight!" Your mother hollered, breaking the two of you up. Dean smiled and waved at her and you tugged his arm down.

"Do you wanna do something tomorrow?" Dean asked as he stepped away from you, heeding your mother's command. The moonlight bathed him in a cool tone, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you. Your heart seemed to beat harder as he smiled.

You leaned against the railing lining the sidewalk and crossed your arms, kicking at the dirt. "Definitely-"

"I'm serious!" She called again, cutting you off, and you looked over your shoulder.

"I heard you! I'm a grown adult, mama! Let me say good night!" You hollered back. She groaned loudly, mumbling to herself as she walked back inside.

Dean giggled slightly. "I'll pick you up then," he answered.

"You better," you mirrored, tugging him towards you again for one last kiss. He smiled against your lips, a sweet seal of love. "Goodnight," you mumbled between embraces.

"Goodnight, love," he cooed, breaking apart from you and inching towards his truck as you turned on your heel and climbed the steps of your porch. You slept deeply that night, your dreams filled with Dean and his magnificent blue eyes.

#dean charles chapman #dean x reader #dean-charles chapman #deancharleschapman #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman smut #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman fluff #au #country #farm!dean

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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 4 years ago

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libera nos a malo Chapter 4: The Victory of Pyrrhus

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 4/20

libera nos a malo masterpost+

unstoppable force/immovable object masterpost+

<< chapter three+

chapter five+ >>

“You’ve done very well today, Miss Miranda,” pronounced Healer A’isha as she ran her wand over Miranda’s body and studied the translucent diagnostic image that superimposed itself on Miranda’s skin as she did. “I am very pleased with what I see here.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without Severus dogging me,” replied Miranda with a wry smile, trying not to look at the sickening sight of her color-coded internal organs on display for the room to see. The examination table she was lying on was making her shiver, even as the acrid smell of the hospital room made her stomach churn. Severus seemed to sense her discomfort, silently taking one of her trembling hands and lacing his fingers through hers while the Healer did her poking and prodding. Like many people, Miranda hated anything resembling a hospital, and it bothered her how quickly being in one reduced her to a mass of overwrought nerves.

“Yes, and a terrible patient you were too,” Severus observed. By the glint in his eye, she suspected he was baiting her on purpose—he knew her well enough to understand that an angry Miranda was more grounded than a frightened one.

“Hmm…” Healer A’isha hummed. Internal examination completed, she vanished the grotesque spell and lifted the hem of Miranda’s robe in order to examine the scars sprawling over the American’s abdomen. Although they were still an angry shade of red, the skin was tightly closed over the wounds. One more set of battle souvenirs for her to remember her adventures by.

“Well, what do you think?” Miranda asked, trying and failing to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

“I think that you may resume light duties tonight. But if you receive any further injuries, I expect you to come straight here. The wounds are closed, but still inflamed by the căpcăun venom.”

“If it would be more prudent for her to continue to avoid active duty, perhaps another fortnight of rest would be advisable,” Severus said.

Miranda shot him a glare, but he was looking over her head at the Healer and avoiding her eyes completely.

“No, I think we can let you try your wings, Miss Miranda.” She pulled a roll of parchment out of her lime green robes and waved her wand over it. A florid script enumerating a list of potions and balms appeared on it, and Miranda was pleased to see that this new regimen was significantly shorter than the one she was currently subject to. “Please take this down to the apothecary, and wait for him to fill the order. We’ll cut back your healing potion to twice daily, and I’ve ordered a different balm for your scars that will not require bandaging. You understand the magical and physical exercises you should perform, and also the limits you should respect?”

“I do,” Miranda said.

“Excellent. Please return in two weeks so that I may see how you do with the increased activity. If all goes well we can lengthen the time between appointments again.”

“Thank you Healer A’isha.”

“You are very welcome. Good day, Professor Severus.”

“Healer A’isha,” he returned.

The door closed softly behind the Healer, and Severus helped Miranda sit up on the edge of the narrow bed. She let her hand slide up his arm, weaving her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and he gave her half a smile before leaning down to kiss her. His thin lips were hungry on hers, coaxing sighs from her and swallowing them eagerly until she felt quite boneless in his embrace.

“So you did miss me,” she teased, surprised by the ardor of his welcome, especially since a nurse or a Healer might wander in at any moment and shame them like a pair of naughty teenagers.

“Surprising is it not?” he replied, peppering her face with feather-light kisses that made her lean towards him; aching for more satisfactory contact. “If you are not otherwise engaged, perhaps we might retire to you cabin.”

Oh, right. Her cabin. The heat that his touch had inspired in her body snuffed out and she pulled away from him, swinging over the opposite side of the table and beginning to dress with business-like efficiency.

“Well, about that,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but one of my brothers decided to come back with me.”

His shoulders tensed up a quarter-inch the way they always did when she said something that he didn’t care for.

“I see.”

“Finn wouldn’t take no for an answer. I think he wants to vet you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s the funniest thing. Even though I’m a grown woman, he still sees me as his baby sister and gets inconveniently protective at the most inopportune times.” She sat down on the edge of the bed to lace up her boots, turning her back on Severus’s pointed gaze. “Anyway, he’s back at the ranch sleeping, and I’m honestly exhausted myself. My body has no idea what time it is anymore. I was thinking I’d go back and catch some sleep before my shift with Aaron, and maybe you could mosey over to the cabin later tonight, say 10ish, and get the worst over with.”

“I see.”

The enigmatic answer snapped what was left of Miranda’s paltry patience. Between the the portkey lag and the guilt that was weighing on her over not extending a proper Christmas invitation to Severus in the first place, she was rather done-in.

“Look, you don’t have to meet him if you don’t want to,” she said angrily. “He’s not all bad. I mean, he’s an ass, but so are you. You might get along.”

Her cheeks were flaming when she stood up to face him—just in time to see a flash of pain twist his expression before he could banish it behind an impassive mask.

“As you like, Miranda,” he shrugged, feigning indifference. “I am willing to meet your brother if you wish for me to do so.”

The victory gave her no pleasure—maybe she should start kicking puppies for fun in her spare time too.

“Great. I’ll see you after work then.”

“Yes. You will.”

His response was half promise and half challenge; and she was within a hair’s breadth of allowing a casual I love you to escape her lips. But she bit her tongue to trap the impish spark from escaping.

She’d learned the hard way what came of lighting a campfire with kerosene.

*****

It should have been a pleasant night. The mercury was well above freezing, and Shoreditch was still sporting her Christmas finery; with twinkling lights and holly wrapped around every lamppost and store window. But the mist that might have made the neighborhood blur into a sugarplum fantasy sat thick and muddy like cold pea soup—unyielding, unappetizing, cloying in the lungs until one wanted to gasp for air.

“Maggie was cute as a bug at Mass yesterday,” Aaron said as he and Miranda patrolled through the abandoned streets. “Good as gold too. Didn’t make a peep until the end when she started trying to sing with the choir.”

His cheerful voice grated on Miranda’s fraying nerves. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Naw, you were right to go home. The folks must’ve been glad to see you.”

“They were. Finn even insisted on coming back for a spell.”

“That’s great! Why don’t y’all come to Mass with us on Sunday?”

Aaron’s relentless good mood was beginning to warm her. “That could work. Finn was talking about wanting to go down to Landanwg in Wales that day. Seamus is sending him on a wild goose chase after some album.”

“Landanwg? I’ve been meaning to get back down there. Best cawl on the island in my opinion, and the church is something to see.”

“Sounds like it’s settled then.”

The wind picked up and Miranda wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. She could feel her left shoulder riding high, and even the basic Hominum Revelio she’d used earlier in the shift had been fuzzy at best. If Aaron was aware of her struggles—and she’d be surprised if he weren’t—he was polite enough not to draw attention to them.

“I couldn’t believe the number of dresses Rachel’s mother sent for Maggie. I doubt that baby’ll wear above half of them before she grows out of the duds.”

“You made a good baby, Aaron.”

“I think so, if I do say so my…”

His voice trailed off and Miranda shivered, the hair on her arms standing on end as though some electric shock at touched her skin. Aaron’s shift from doting father to deadly Auror was instantaneous, and both of them had their wands in hand as they searched the mist for whatever foul stench had disturbed them.

“Did you hear something?” Miranda asked in a low voice.

Aaron put a finger on her arm and tapped,

NOT DO YOU HEAR SOMETHING DO YOU SMELL SOMETHING

Her fingers tensed around her alder wand, and she fancied it clung to the palm of her hand, ready to defend her to the last. Beside her, Aaron’s body was going through a set of inhuman contortions, until he dropped down on all fours and sprang into the midst, his dapper suit exchanged for the form of a massive bloodhound. He restrained himself to a sedate pace that his partner, hampered by her merely human legs might have a prayer of following, and she ran lightly after him, flicking her wand at her feet to muffle the crunch of the snow beneath her boots.

The chase led them to a residential street, lined with townhouses and matched hazelnut hedgerows. Aaron made short work digging a path through one of the bushes, and Miranda was able to push through after him without any trouble. She stopped short on the other side, where she found her friend nosing the body of a young woman, lying close on the ground with a dark haired man. The blood on the twisted corpses had barely congealed, and a juvenile thestral was boldly snaking around the bodies, eager to feast on the scent of death. Miranda stared down the sulfurous creature, and it recoiled, distrustful of a witch that was willing to meet its burning eyes.

Aaron barked once in question, and the old rhythm of hunt and search imposed itself on Miranda’s bones. She quickly searched the bodies, discovering an unused wand, a Magical ID, and a handbag full of No-Maj paraphernalia, and shoving them into her pockets for later perusal. The wounds on their bodies were sickeningly familiar, and she wondered if this were Severus’s handiwork; or if he’d taught his signature curse to that many of his Death Eater comrades.

“He was a wizard. It looks like she was No-Maj,” Miranda murmured, digging four coins out of a pocket and placing them, one by one, over the eyes that would see no more. “Eternal rest grand unto them…”

She hit the dirt as Aaron, still in his animagus form, landed hard on her back, sheltering her from the vile green light that snaked overhead and splintered the hedge behind them. Before the bark could settle, Aaron had launched himself at their assailants, bounding towards the pair of black-clad wizards that appeared from shadows between the houses. Miranda covered the bloodhound’s charge, firing blasts of white that sizzled and sparked as they collided with the red bolts exploding from the wands of the Death Eaters. Within seconds, Aaron had brought down the taller of the two, snapping and snarling while the wizard yelped and struggled under the hound’s weight. The remaining Death Eater redoubled his attack, leaving his companion to fend for himself as he advanced on Miranda, red curses flying.

It was a duel that would have bored her to tears six months earlier, but tonight Miranda was hard pressed to keep up with the frenzy of deadly spells, and soon she was muttering her incantations through gritted teeth. Sweat poured from her brow as she forced hex after hex, humiliated by her puny efforts. At least Severus wasn’t here to witness them.

“Fuck!” she swore, crumpling to the ground as a nasty curse caught her square in the stomach. One arm went protectively around the wound as she rolled through her fall, and she could feel the skin crackling beneath her tunic as she gasped with pain.

By the time she managed to hobble to her feet, it was over. Aaron abandoned his barely moving prize to attack Miranda’s foe, and stumbled when the Death Eater disappeared with a violent crack; reappearing an instant later at his fallen comrade’s side. Another crack and the two wizards were gone; out of range and untraceable. Aaron sniffed his way over the ground for several moments while Miranda sat back on her heels, panting and holding her injured stomach. When the southerner was satisfied with his search, he snapped up the fallen wand of the taller Death Eater and trotted to Miranda’s side. A long, low whine emanated from his throat, and he shifted back to his human form, frowning down at his friend.

“Are you alright?” he demanded, stooping next to her. “Don’t answer that, I know you’ll lie. Just let me see where he got you.”

“Fine, I’m fine,” she protested through her panting; but she didn’t struggle when he gently pushed her back so that he could roll up the hem of her tunic and prod the blackened skin beneath.

“I’m calling Fisher and Hart, and then I’m taking you to St Mungo’s.”

She pushed him away and yanked down her tunic. “No! I’ve been there once already today. If I go back this soon, Healer A’isha will put me back on disabled and I’m not going to sit on the bench anymore!”

“Listen, you bull-headed woman, you’re barely off the disabled list because you nearly died. You’re going.”

It was time to switch tactics. “What if I go home right now?” she cajoled. “Severus is going to be there, and he can clean up this mess as well as any Healer.”

She could almost see Aaron’s internal debate raging. “And you have to take the rest of the week off.”

“But…”

“No buts! I don’t need you putting my ass in danger because you’re trying to run before you can crawl.”

“Will you come by and tell me what you and the others find here tonight?”

“I will.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“Deal.”

They spat on their palms and shook to seal the bargain, a remnant of their schoolyard days. She leaned a little harder on him than she liked as he helped her to her feet, and he did her the honor of pretending not to notice.

“Don’t worry, Mira,” he said when she was steady. “You’ll be up to speed faster than green grass through a goose. You’ve just gotta have a little patience.”

“You think?” she replied testily, giving the besmirched lawn a final look. If one more person told her to be patient, she was either going to scream, or hex the fool into next Sunday. Aaron wisely held his tongue, and she limped into the shadows to Apparate home before she could give in to the impulse.

*****

A quarter past the appointed hour was as late as Severus could force himself to arrive anywhere without breaking out in hives. He made his way up the footpath to Miranda’s cabin (he did not mosey—he never moseyed), well aware that it would likely be an hour or more before she would deign to appear. He’d spent the last half hour debating over whether or not he should knock rather than simply enter, as was his habit, and had at last settled on knocking—if only because it seemed imprudent to startle a man raised in a family of bounty hunters.

Three short raps brought his host to the door. Miranda’s brother was clad in ripped blue jeans (did the man not own proper clothing?) and a black t-shirt. His dark hair was sculpted into a somewhat taller version of the pompadour that Aaron favored, his sharp blue eyes reminded Severus uncomfortably of Conor Rose’s, and a cigarette dangled negligently from his lips. All this, of course, was overshadowed by the fact that the man seemed to have mislaid his right arm somewhere. Fortunately, Severus had plenty of practice maintaining an impassive expression while being subjected to unpleasant circumstances, and was able to keep his startled reaction to himself.

“Severus Snape, I presume,” the man said around his cigarette.

“Correct, Mr Rose,” Severus replied, shaking Finn’s left hand somewhat awkwardly with his right.

“That’s me. Guess you’d better come in.”

The window was thrown open to the winter night, and the fire was burning high in the fireplace to compensate. A supper of cold meat, cheese, and clementines was haphazardly set on the table, along with a tin of fanciful Christmas biscuits. There was a half-drunk Muggle beer on the counter next to a bucket holding a dozen more on ice. Several Muggle magazines littered the coffee table, and a racket the likes of which Severus had never endured shrieked from the turntable.

Charming.

“Mira ain’t back yet. You wanna beer?” Finn asked, pulling a bottle out of the bucket and passing it to Severus before he could reply.

Severus did not want a beer, but he suspected the alcohol might be a necessary social lubricant in the current situation. “Thank you.”

Finn sauntered over to the table, and sprawled out on one of the chairs like an ungainly cat. Severus sat down like a proper human being, and summoned a glass from the cupboard with a silent accio, pouring the dark brew into it while Finn drank directly from the bottle like his Barbarian sister. Severus took a bracing sip, and the smokey flavor pleased him more than he’d thought it would. Now if only he could drown out the caterwauling from the turntable, they might manage to feign some semblance of civilization.

“So,” Finn said, “how’d you meet my sister?”

It begins. “She, shall we say, conscripted my aid in subduing one of her marks last summer,” Severus replied with a touch of irony.

“Obliging of you. You must’ve done a decent job if she kept you around. How long’ve you been a teacher?”

“Fifteen years.”

“That sounds God-awful. Do you like it?”

“No.” He did not like this one-way interrogation either. “I take it you are part of the Rose family business?”

Finn was not going down quietly. “Yep. You’ve done a good job, by the way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not asking about my arm. I saw you gape at it, but most people would’ve missed that, you covered it so quick. You’ve got a decent poker face.”

“So I’m told.”

“Go ahead and ask.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” This was worse than sparring with Miranda—all of the irritation and none of the pleasure.

“I mean, go ahead and ask about my arm. Most people are bustin’ at the seams to know.”

Severus was in no mood to give the man what he so clearly wanted. “I don’t see why I should care about any of the limbs you have managed to lose.”

Finn laughed and dropped the end of his cigarette into an empty beer bottle, while Severus took a long drink from his glass to steady his temper. Before either man could regroup for another tilt, the door banged open and Miranda limped through it, face pale, one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other moving from the wall to the sofa for balance. Both men were on their feet in an instant.

“What the hell happened to you?” Finn demanded.

“Nothing. A couple of Death Eaters,” Miranda replied, sinking down on the sofa.

Severus flexed his left arm involuntarily, and quickly closed the door as though he were concerned his fellows had followed Miranda home.

“Death Eaters?” Finn asked. “You mean those punks you were telling me about?”

“Yes. They got away, but one of them left his wand behind. Aaron and a couple of the other Aurors are going over the crime scene. We’ll catch them. It’s only a matter of time.”

“That still does not explain why you are limping,” Severus observed pointedly.

“I was getting to it.” She winced, pulling up her tunic to expose the blackened skin beneath. “I got hit in the fray. It feels like an adusto, and a clumsy one at that.”

Severus thrust Finn out of the way and dropped to one knee beside her to examine the wound. Fury coursed through him, causing his fingers to tremble as he ran them over the injured skin.

“What are you doing here?” he said angrily. “You should have gone to St Mungo’s. What was Aaron thinking, letting you come home in this condition?”

She flinched under his examination. “I’m not going back; I was just there. I thought you could take care of it.”

“It’s not an option. You’re going.”

“Come on, please? It’s only a little curse; no big deal.”

Her cajoling snapped the remaining thread of his patience. “Apparently nothing short of dying is a big deal to you, you daft woman! Perhaps you were not paying attention to Healer A’isha this morning, but I was. You were to return to the hospital immediately if you suffered any further injuries. Perhaps I do not wish to be a party to any more of your reckless, juvenile behavior!”

She blinked at him, obviously surprised by his unusual outburst, and he cursed himself for losing control in front of his infuriating lover and her wretched brother. A tense silence fell over the room while Severus caught his breath. Finn, seemingly unconcerned by his sister’s condition, produced a cigarette for her and a fresh one for himself, which he lit deliberately before voicing his opinion.

“Seems to me you don’t need to go pickin’ at my sister,” the American said. “Either fix her up or don’t; but there ain’t no call to be fussin’ her like a flustered ol’ school marm.”

Severus glared at the siblings and bit back the growl that was threatening to escape his throat. How it was that Miranda managed to reduce him to this level was beyond him; and he knew that the only way he would get her to St Mungo’s now was by throwing her over her his shoulder and dragging her by force, probably after stunning her fool of a brother first. He was too angry to enjoy either fantasy, especially when he found himself storming into his lover’s potions closet to gather the supplies to tend her wounds. No wonder she treated him like her faithful cur—he was so quick to play the part it made him sick.

“Thank you, Severus, I knew I could count on you,” she said.

“I don’t want your thanks,” he bit back. She ran her fingers through his hair while he worked, and he shook off her touch like it burned him.

Finn brought over a plate of food and a fresh beer for the patient; joining her on the sofa to enjoy the evening’s entertainment of Severus the Nursemaid. Soon they were talking over his head while he applied counter-curses, balms, and dittany, coaxing the skin back to a healthy shade of pink; a servant forgotten.

“What were the punks doing when you broke up their tea party?” Finn asked.

Miranda frowned at the piece of salami she was rolling around a mozzarella slice. “They offed a couple of people up in Shoreditch; a wizard and a No-maj woman.”

“That’s a cryin’ shame. Remind me what those shits are up to?”

“They’re stooges for some dark wizard who wants to take over the world.”

Finn snorted. “Is that all dark wizards ever want to do?”

“They are pretty unoriginal that way, aren’t they?”

“If I were a dark wizard, I’d just want my pantry full of fixin’s, my fridge full of beer, an endless supply of cigarettes, and eternal youth.”

“And all the women of the world to fawn on you?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

Miranda slapped her brother’s arm lightly. “You are such an ass.”

He winked back. “But I’m an ass with wholesome tastes. What about you Severus Snape? What would you do if you were a dark wizard?”

Miranda choked and sputtered on the beer she was trying to drink, and came up laughing so hard her face turned red. Severus tied the last bandage into place and rolled down her tunic with measured care before bothering to reply.

“I would never answer another foolish question for the rest of my life,” he said—and meant it.

“That’s pretty good!” Finn laughed. “Mira, your boyfriend’s got a sense of humor after all.”

“It’s one of the things I like about him,” Miranda agreed.

Severus left the Americans to their jocularity; first returning the supplies to the potions closet, and then stalking to the loo to scrub the mess from his hands. He stood there for some time, glaring at his sallow reflection and wondering what in Merlin’s name he was doing here in the first place. He’d rendered service to his lover, and she had her brother now to entertain her. He’d no intention of staying over with said brother sleeping on the sofa. He was painfully aware that Miranda had no desire to retain him in a role that would require certain sacrifices of him; such as enduring the company of her family members. Why put himself out? It wasn’t that he disliked her parents or her brother per se—indeed he barely knew them—but the entire comedy offended his sense of justice. If Miranda wanted him to dance the part of the dutiful boyfriend (what a moronic term that was too!) she could bloody well act as though she wanted him around.

Mind made up, he returned to the main room and announced, “I shall take my leave of you. Miranda, if you have any further troubles you will have to avail yourself of a Healer’s care. Good night.”

“Don’t go yet,” she coaxed. “We haven’t even had a chance to get the card table out.”

“I suspect you can play well enough without me.”

“Come on, professor,” Finn put in. “Isn’t it Christmas break or something?”

“Unfortunately, holidays for the students are not necessarily holidays for the teachers.”

“Finn, go in the bedroom for a minute, would you?” Miranda ordered.

“Why? Can’t you smooch lover-boy with me here?” he retorted, but he was already on his way out of the room.

“Did he call you?” she asked quietly, struggling to pull herself up from the sofa until Severus relented and came to sit beside her, if only to save the strain on her wounded core.

“No. Do not trouble yourself about that,” he replied.

“Did Finn say something stupid before I got here?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Are you angry with me?”

He was. “No.”

“I think you’re lying.”

He traced a long finger over her cheek, wondering darkly when her face had supplanted Lily’s in his mind as the measure of female beauty. “Leave it.”

She closed her piercing eyes and gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. I should know by now that if you don’t want to talk about something, you’re not going to talk about it.”

“I am pleased to hear you’ve come to such a sensible realization. It should save us many tedious hours of argument.”

She caught hold of his hand and kissed his palm, her lips surprisingly fierce. “The Lees want Finn and me to join them on Sunday for a little excursion to Wales. Will you come?”

Her eyes were bright and hopeful now, and Merlin help him, he did want to come. He wanted to hold her hand like a bloody idiot, and spend time with her friends and family, and pretend that he was liked and respected by descent people. But he knew it was a lie; and he was too tired to tell it to himself tonight.

“I doubt I will have time.”

He went to the door to gather his cloak, and she asked without rising from the sofa, “Are you going to avoid me the whole time Finn is here?”

He couldn’t answer that question, and he didn’t bother to try. “Good night, Miranda.”

“Good night, Severus.”

The temperature had dropped significantly, and the frigid air stung his nose as he went out into the night. He had succeeded in wrenching the tatters of his dignity from Miranda’s capricious hands, and he wrapped them around his heart the best he could.

They were a feeble shield against the cold.

*****

Borgin and Burkes was quiet at five minutes to close on Saturday evening, but that didn’t bother the girl inside. Cassie was used to the singular merchandise, and dusting cobwebs off the cursed hands and shrunken skulls was as normal to her as scattering fairy clocks in the summertime. Indeed, she felt rather proud that her Uncle Orestes trusted her enough to leave her in charge of the business while he nipped down into the brighter arms of Diagon Alley for a last minute errand. The shop itself was well pleased to sit undisturbed this evening. Better to wait for the rightsort of customer than sully one’s skirts with dust from the wrong one.

The bell above the door clanged a mournful groan, and Cassie looked up from her sweeping to see Draco Malfoy swaggering inside. A blast of cold wind whipped through the front of the shop, ruffling the pages of the massive tome of inventory sitting open on the counter. He gave the door a swift kick, slamming it shut, and she scurried behind the counter to deal with the book. Her uncle would have her hide if he thought she’d left it out for other customers to browse. Borgin and Burkes prided itself on discretion, and she wasn’t about to be the weak link that tarnished that reputation.

“Hello, Draco. Are you having a nice Holiday?” she asked, tapping one of the floorboards with the toe of a polished Mary Jane. It opened with a creak, and she scooped up the book to replace it to its home beneath the floor.

Draco was in no mood for pleasantries. “Where’s that uncle of yours, Cassandra?”

“He stepped out to Mr Ollivander’s. He’ll be back any minute, though. We’re about to close and he’ll want to count down the till.”

“Business is booming I take it?” he sneered.

It wasn’t, not since the Ministry started leaning on all their regular customers. “It’s been fine, thank you for asking.”

She finally wrestled the book into place and pushed the board down tight over it. Wiping her grimy hands on her shop apron, she gave her classmate a friendly smile. No sense in riling tempers that were already short-fused.

“Is there anything I can get for you while you wait? Tea? Cocoa?”

“What? No,” he said distractedly. He was pacing near the front windows, peering out into the street that had been full dark for hours thanks to long winter nights. Suddenly he drew away from the windows and added with great agitation, “Actually, yes. You can go to the back of the shop and stay there.”

She felt her brow furrow and her hands turn cold. “I don’t think Uncle Orestes would like it if I left a customer unattended.”

“I’m not going to steal from your bloody uncle,” he snapped. “Bring me out that box of poison rings from the Carolingian era. Father needs a Christmas present.”

“Christmas was three days ago.”

“Yes, and we don’t celebrate it. Just do as I say!”

She almost obeyed him, he looked so desperate. Her hands gripped the counter as some inexplicable instinct told her to run. Before she could take action, the door opened again, this time admitting a raw-faced man with unkempt gray whiskers, rough clothing, and eerily sharp teeth. Draco’s face went a few shades paler than normal, and Cassie’s heart started beating as fast as a startled robin’s.

“Where’s Borgin?” the man growled.

Draco shrank and she caught the fear in his eyes before he puffed himself back up and faced the newcomer with a decent approximation of careless courage.

“Out,” Draco said, sounding bored as ever. “Maybe we don’t need to waste our time here.”

The rough-looking man swatted Draco to the side like he were swatting a fly, and Cassie resisted the urge to shrink against the wall as she slid her wand into her hand and hid it in the folds of her robes. As Draco recovered his balance, the older man scented her, and a nasty smile stretched across his mottled features. It did nothing to improve them.

“What have we here?” he said, ambling towards Cassie, who did her best to keep the counter between them.

“She’s nobody,” Draco muttered.

Nobody did her best to keep her voice respectful and even. Show no fear, show now challenge. “I’m Cassandra Borgin, sir, Mr Borgin’s niece. He just popped over to Mr Ollivander’s, and he’ll be back very soon, I’m sure.”

“Cassandra Borgin,” the man leered. “What a pretty little name for a pretty little girl. Friend of yours, Draco?”

“We’re here for her uncle, Grayback,” Draco said, his hands fisted at his sides.

“We’re here for what I say we’re here for.”

“I’m in the same year as Draco,” Cassie offered. Keep him talking. If he was talking, he wasn’t biting. “In Slytherin of course. What house were you in, Mr Grayback?” The man let out a snarl of laughter, and when he didn’t answer, she continued to babble. “Draco’s the Head Slytherin in our year too. It’s a privilege to learn with him. He’s so advanced.”

“Shut up, girl, you talk too much.”

“So sorry, sir.”

The bell rang a third time, and Cassie’s spindly uncle entered, stamping snow from his boots.

“Mr Grayback! Good evening,” he said, flipping the sign from open to closed and lowering the curtains with several quick wand flicks. “Cassie, I think some tea wouldn’t go amiss just now. Be a good girl and go and get the tray.”

“Yes, Uncle Orestes. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she said, edging towards the door to the back of the shop and safety.

“Cassie is going to stay right where she is,” Grayback countered, “or she’ll be short one uncle.”

She froze on the threshold, and in a blur of movement, Grayback was beside her, wrapping her braids around his thick hand and pulling them until she was looking up at the ceiling. His breath was hot on her face and it stank of putrid meat.

“Such a pretty little girl. Older than I like, but still young enough,” Grayback cooed. “Don’t mind us, Draco, tell the man why we’re here.”

There was a hairline crack running the length of the moulded ceiling, and a pair of spiders were darting in and out of the rupture. Cassie watched them, and counted her breaths, doing her best not to make matters worse by falling apart. She was glad she’d had all those hours of detention, learning not to show her fear to Professor Snape to prepare her for this moment. Although, if she survived this moment, she doubted she would ever be afraid of her Head of House again.

“I take it you have encountered some difficulty in repairing the Vanishing Cabinet, Mr Malfoy?” Borgin asked calmly when the boy did not speak.

“Yes,” Draco replied harshly. “I’ve done everything you told me to do, and it still doesn’t work.”

“I am terrible sorry to hear that. I’m afraid that, as I cannot see the object, it makes it very difficult for me to advise you. However, I have been frantically researching the matter, and I expect to have further recommendations for you to try when term commences.”

“Perfect. Then I won’t be able to consult you when your new recommendations don’t work either.”

“Borgin, why do I get the feeling that you don’t want Draco to succeed?” Grayback put in.

“Of course I want Mr Malfoy to succeed,” Borgin protested. “In fact, I was just about to suggest that Cassandra here would be the perfect addition to the operation. She already has years of experience handling dark artifacts. I will instruct her here, and she will help you at school.”

“Or maybe I’ll take a little bite out of her and teach you a lesson about keeping your word,” Grayback offered.

Cassie was amazed at how steady her uncle was under fire.

“If you leave her in one piece, Mr Malfoy will have the further advantage of my on-going help. Cassandra and I can code messages back and forth in our usual correspondence.”

“That might work,” Draco agreed.

Grayback grazed Cassie’s neck with a pointed incisor, and though it did not break the skin, she could not keep from shuddering.

“We’ll let you try,” Grayback said at last. “But if you fail, the girl is mine.”

“I understand,” Borgin replied.

Grayback gave her neck a final squeeze and let go so suddenly that she fell to her knees. She kept her eyes on the floor and did not bother to get up. Her legs were shaking too badly now, and she could no longer check her frightened tears.

“Come on, Draco,” Grayback barked.

Draco wavered for an instant before following the werewolf out into the night. As soon as the door was shut after their unwanted guests, Borgin threw the lock and brought down the night wards. The relative safety caused Cassie to cry harder, and her uncle got down on the floor beside her to gather her into his arms.

“Well done, my girl,” he said, rocking her like she were a little child rather than a nearly-grown woman.

“Thank you,” she hiccuped. “I’m s..s..sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying.”

“You don’t have to stop just yet. In a minute well go in the back and get a cup of cocoa and some of Aunt Electra’s tea cakes. No need to frighten your Mum with all this.”

“Uncle Orestes, do you think we’ll be able to fix it?”

He gave her a sad smile. “Given enough time, we can fix anything, don’t worry about that.”

The next logical question was: would Fenrir Grayback give them the time they needed?

Cassie was not brave enough to ask that question tonight.

*****

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missbrightsky · 4 years ago

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I didn’t know where else to go

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Chapter 5: Feyre

“Alright, Feyre, it’s Friday night, what clubs are we hitting up?” Lucien perched on my desk, nudging me with his knee.

“Home,” I said, not breaking eye contact with the screen, closing out my windows for the day.

“What?” he exclaimed, “Lame. Come out with me.”

“No, I want to go home and lick my wounds,” adding a tinge of frustration to my tone. Please buy the lie.

“Then I’ll join you,” he offered, readying himself to leave.

Shit. “No, you should go out,” I insisted, “What about texting that girl…,” I racked my brain for her name, “Vassa.”

Lucien turned an embarrassing shade of red and shifted uncomfortably. I quirked an eyebrow, finally turning towards him. It was easier to lie to Lucien when he was the one being interrogated.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat, still not meeting my eyes.

“Mmmhhmmm,” I hummed, “It’s unlike you to back down from a challenge.”

“I’m not backing down,” he blurted, wincing at the volume of his voice. “I’m not backing down,” he repeated. “I’m just…”

I barked a laugh; it was rare to see his so unbalanced when it came to women. I patted him reassuringly on the knee. “Text her, go out tonight. Trust me, she was into you last I saw.”

“Because you’re all-knowing when it comes to dating?” he retorted. I knew exactly who he was referring to.

“Not cool,” I shot back at him. Lucien knew why Tamlin and I broke up, supported it even though Tamlin was Lucien’s best friend.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, having the good sense to look sheepishly apologetic. “It’s fine,” I said, shaking off the memories. “It’s far in the past.” I smiled to show him that the barb didn’t dig in deep. “Text her.” I patted him one more time on the knee and then gathered up my jacket and bag. “And text me tomorrow morning with the tea.”

“Asshole,” he muttered.

“Sorry?” I cupped my hand around my ear, leaning in, “What was that?”

“Asshole,” he said louder but with a grin that told me that I won.

We walked towards the elevator together, calling out our goodbyes for the weekend. On the brief ride down, I snuck a glance over at Lucien who was preoccupied with typing, and then deleting, a text message.

“You are ridiculous,” I growled, swiping his phone away.

“Hey!” he yelped, using his taller frame to lean over me and try and grab his phone back. I shoved my shoulder into his chest, muscling him away. Lucien may have the height advantage but that had never stopped me. He huffed a grunt and the pressure lessened on me.

I typed out a short and simple message and handed his phone back.

“’Haven’t seen you in a while, want to grab dinner?’” he read out loud. “Really, Feyre,” practically whining my name, “Could you have been any more direct?”

“You’re welcome,” I said, nodding towards to new message that buzzed.

He grumbled his thanks, not looking very grateful. We stepped out of the elevator, him now hunched over his phone, firing off back and forth with her. The fresh autumn air greeted us, blowing us in different directions. Lucien waved a brief goodbye, now completely engrossed in conversation. Well that got him off my back for the night.

I checked my watch. 7:00, barely enough time to get to dinner at Rhys’s.

The subway was packed with young and old, most commuting home for the night, but some were already dressed for an evening out, ready to take advantage of Velaris’s many restaurants and night clubs. If I hadn’t been such a dumbass and gotten the shit beat out of me, I would be a part of that crowd with Lucien.

We’d both met when we were beat cops, starting out fresh from the academy. Our first impressions of each other were… not good. He had been closed off and sullen, no more than a boy who had finally escaped his fathers’ thumb. Beron Vanserra was notorious in Velaris for being one of the top corporate lawyers. Had his own practice run by him and his sons. All except one. I made the mistake of recognizing his last name and mouthing off some comment about being a coddled rich boy. It was enough that he snarled in my face, telling me that I had no right to make assumptions about his life. The ugly shouting match that followed had earned us a joint night patrol for six months. Helion stated that if we had that much energy to fight with each other, we had enough energy to take the overnight shift.

It wasn’t until the last month of the rotation that we finally bonded over midnight tacos and coffee. He shared the pressures of being the son of a cruel and corrupt father, the only one of seven brothers who didn’t fall in line. I told him of how my mother was murdered when I was young, leaving me to try to keep my father and sisters moving forward. I joked that it was a cliché reason to become a cop but Lucien stopped me.

“I saw how my father treated my mother when no one else was around. I wanted to become someone who had the authority to help those that can’t,” his eyes were hard with hatred, but tears threatened the edges of them.

We’d both realized that we had wretched childhoods and could do more good working together. Helion saw the change in our relationship and made us permanent partners, giving us a small nod of fatherly approval at our friendship. Four years later and we both got promoted to detective.

It was hard to hide what had happened with Rhys, and that I was now working with him. Not only hard because Lucien was a bloodhound with lies, but also because he was my best friend and I hated lying to him.

I took a deep breath to shake myself out of the bitter turn my mind had taken. I doubled checked my map, nearly missing the stop I had to get off of.

The walk to Rhys’s place had my shoulders tense, every sound sharped my wariness. I didn’t know if those men from two nights ago were around and ready to finish the job.

Turning into his alley allowed me to relax fractionally against my better judgment. I was walking into the lair of my enemy to have dinner with him and his family to discuss how to bring down a different enemy that I know nothing about. I don’t want to know how many laws I’m breaking right now.

I knocked on the door, its hollow metallic noise carrying through the space beyond. To my surprise, the noise of a scuffle and irritated voices answered. My hand twitched to my gun holstered at my hip, a reflex well-trained into me. I widened my stance, ready to burst through the door or fight whoever was about to come through.

Rhys flung the door open, still glaring at whoever was behind him before turning to me. “Feyre, darling. Welcome back. Could you look any more like a cop right now?”

I relaxed my stance, letting my hand slide from my gun, “Fuck off.”

His mouth split into a wide grin, delight lit his eyes. He gestured for me to enter with a flourish, causing me to roll my eyes. I stepped inside, scanning for the source of the scuffle that had happened moments before.

“Hi!” a bright voice startled me from behind. I turned on my heel, coming face to face with a blonde who was maybe three inches away. Before I had a chance to either back away or introduce myself, I was enveloped in a tight hug.

“Rhys has told me so much about you but for obvious reasons I couldn’t meet you until now,” she chattered in my ear, the tone bubbly and mildly annoyed.

“Mor,” Rhys groaned, “Let her go.”

“Ugh, fine,” releasing me but didn’t go far. She continued to smile at me, no trace of dangerous crime leader around her.

Morrigan Solis. Rhys’s third in command and cousin. She was nothing like what I expected. Our reports touted her stone-cold reputation for being a woman who didn’t take no for an answer.

I recovered fast in the face of this shock, feeling alarmingly disarmed by her. “I didn’t realize Rhys talked about me this much. Makes me feel bad that I never mention him to my friends.” Mor threw her head back and laughed while Rhys groaned again in the background, cursing out Mor under his breath. More laugher came from the kitchen, this one low and throaty.

“How come Mor is the only one with all the information?” I turned to see a man pouring wine from a decanter, pouting at Rhys.

“Because she bugs it out of me. You’re usually too busy kissing your muscles to get that far,” Rhys shot back easily.

I recognized Cassian Noc spitting out wine at the words. The ruthless leader of Veritas’s street troops. Ruthless, but a major inspiration of the loyalty in the gang.

“That’s a good look on you, Cas,” Mor commented, moving to refill her own wineglass.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, the weight of a gaze settling on me. Some long-buried primal instinct had me turning slowly like prey avoiding detection to find the source of it. There sitting on the couch was Amren Monsea, blood-red nails encircling a crystal tumbler of amber liquid. Grey eyes so light they could be called silver stripped down the layers of my mortal flesh until she could see the soul beneath it.

Rhys’s second in command. Unlike the others that were completely opposite of what I expected, she was a thousand times worse. My mouth dried up; my heart stumbled into a gallop.

“Quit it, Amren,” a soft voice said at my left. I hadn’t realized that Rhys had stepped up to my shoulder, his warmth bringing me back into my body.

Amren’s eyes flickered to his and blinked, all otherworldly sense falling away, releasing me from her trance.

“Just testing her meddle. We’ll work on it,” she said with a serpentine smile. “She will have to be able to face Amarantha.”

Rhys opened his mouth but Mor appeared at my other shoulder, pressing a glass of wine into my hand. “Ignore Amren, once you get to know her, she’s a doting aunt.”

A hiss came from Amren, which even half-hearted, still did nothing to dispel my wariness of her.

Mor released a dramatic sign, dispelling the rest of the tension. “Everyone wants to talk, talk, talk. Can’t we eat, eat, eat and then talk?” she started herding us to the table where food was already laid out. Mor took a seat and prompted me to take the one to her right. I slid in and realized that I had sandwiched myself between her and Rhys, who had taken the end seat. Cassian brought over what looked to be chicken in mushroom sauce and sat across from me, wine now absent from his face. Amren took the other end of the table and I blinked, just now noticing that Azriel Noc had taken the last seat across from Mor.

Rhys’s infamous spymaster. He was so good at his job that I didn’t even see him in the room until he was sitting at the table.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I was sitting at a dinner table, surrounded by gang members, while they bickered like siblings.

“Pass the potatoes will you, darling?” Rhys asked me. I leveled a glare at him before handing him the bowl.

I had to stop myself from moaning at the first bite of chicken. As an ambitious detective, my meals had been reduced to take out or frozen Lean Cuisines.

Cassian must have picked up on my pleased expression, shooting at self-satisfied grin at me. “If you like dinner so much, Detective Archeron, you should see what’s for dinner,” he winked at me.

“Eat up now then, Feyre, because dessert won’t fill you up,” Mor muttered.

Cas squawked at her, leading the two into a bicker of innuendos. My bewilderment at the family’s dynamics grew while also making me forget that I was at the table with some of the most wanted criminals in the city.

Amren and Az stayed quiet at the end of the table, the former watching with cool amusement with the latter gauging changes in emotions, ready to hop in the middle if needed.

“Not what you expected, darling, is it?” Rhys had leaned over, his breath warm with spices and wine brushing past me. I turned my head only slightly, not taking my eyes off the arguing pair, refusing to meet the violet gaze that was inches from my face.

“No, nothing of what I expected,” I said, not wanting to give away too much of what was going on in my mind. Rhys only let out a small hum, shifting back in his seat to spectate with me.

Mor ignored Cassian’s last comment, deciding to turn to me instead. “So Feyre, Rhys said that you’re willing to help us out, but how do we know that we can trust you?” I gulped my wine hard, thrown off from her switch of bright and bubbly to the person I know on paper. Cold, calculating, and unyielding. A queen of steel and ice.

I decided that simple honesty would be my only chance of survival. “Rhys told me the story of how you had to flee your country from Amarantha,” meeting each of their gazes with steady openness. “I may have taken an oath to follow the law, but I also took an oath to protect the citizens of this city. Amarantha presents a threat to them and I can’t ignore that.” I let the words hang in the air, let them absorb their verisimilitude.

Az was the first to break the silence, “I believe her,” and that was that. The conversational air returned, rushing into the vacuum Mor’s question had created.

Mor then peppered me with more questions.

How long had I lived in Velaris? (10 years)

What my favorite night clubs were? (I didn’t have any, usually going along with whatever Lucien had chosen for that week)

And who my latest fuck was, at which at that point I choked and used all my will to not look at Rhys.

He, apparently, had not done as well as me and blushed a harsh red while boring holes into my skull. Cassian at that point took about point two seconds to analyze the sudden tension on the opposite side of the table from him and burst out laughing.

Mor gave him an incredulous look, too focused on refilling her wine glass to realize what had just happened. Az had the decency to look away while Amren split her mouth in a serpentine smile.

“Well, well, well, it seems that we have a dirty cop on our hands,” Cassian smirked, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. Those words combined with my matching flush allowed Mor to put the pieces together. Her smirk rivaled Cassian’s.

Rhys at this point had composed himself, leaning back in his seat and swirling whatever wine was left in his glass, his face calm but unreadable. Looks like I’m getting no help there.

My thoughts whirled, trying to come up with a way out of this situation but I kept coming up blank.

“If he’s rendered you this speechless, then I have no hope, do I?” Cas drawled, his gaze simmering into mine.

“Nope, no, Cassian. I do not want to hear about how my cousin is in bed,” Mor shot back, saving me from any more questioning.

“It was a mistake, nothing more,” I finally managed to get out, forcing lightness into the words, ignoring Rhys’s almost unperceivable flinch on the corner of my vision. “I blame it on the drugs and alcohol in my system.”

“Oh ho! So our new little cop friend likes to play hard in and out of bed,” Cas chortled, reveling in the fact that he had new material to harass his brother on.

“No,” I ground out, “The drugs were from some piece of shit thugs who spiked my drink and beat me bloody in an alley. I was following up a lead on him,” jerking my chin to Rhys, “when this happened. Rhys was kind enough to stitch me up and was fresh out of painkillers, so he gave me whiskey instead. Needless to say, I wasn’t myself that night,” I finished, putting enough severity into the words that I hope he got the message. That night will not be repeated.

Four gazes pressed into me, the violet fifth stared at the table.

“What did they look like?” Mor asked softly but not weakly. Golden fire snapped in her eyes.

I sensed the energy change in the room. Gone was the teasing, replaced by malice not directed at me, but at my attackers.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I was too busy scoping out the bar for your associates to note the faces well enough. Next thing I knew I was stumbling down the block, not realizing where I was going until I was halfway here.”

“When did this happen?” Cassian followed up.

“Two nights ago, Wednesday.”

“Az,” Cas’s sharp tone cut the air.

“Already on it,” came the response. I looked over and Azriel was rapidly typing on his phone, a call coming through midway a flurry of messages. He excused himself from the table, taking the call in the far corner of the living room.

“It’s probably better that you don’t know what he’s doing,” Mor apologized with a wince. If the last few actions hadn’t already outlined what was about to happen, Mor’s words confirmed it.

“You’re probably right,” was the only response I could give, shocked at how protective they already were of me. I wouldn’t be too surprised if the next time I went into the precinct, there would be fresh missing person or homicide cases on my desk.

It then occurred to me that not one of them had asked about the injuries that were still freshly written across my face and gait. I wondered if Rhys had told them to not ask about them or if they were just used to seeing brutality on a daily basis.

Rhys’s gaze again pressed on me, and this time I turned to meet it. My breath nearly caught at the violent swirl of emotions that were there. Anger. Concern. Apology.

And lust. Barely there but still recognizable. My attempts to shove him away had fallen on deaf ears.

I hated how my core tightened at the heated gaze. Hated how my body responded to his when all I should be doing is putting distance between us. Hated how he did nothing to stop himself.

We were on opposite sides of the law, or at least we used to be. It was my decisions that had brought us closer. I couldn’t ignore his need for my help, but I could ignore how my body cried out for him.

“Thank you for dinner,” I blurted out, breaking the spell between us. He blinked once, returning to the cool mask that he favored.

“You’re welcome,” he said carefully.

“Did I pass the test?” I asked, draining the rest of my glass.

“I’d say so, since you managed to spur Cas and Az into action.”

“Great,” I stood up, ready clear my head of him. “I need to get home and do some research but text me with any new info.”

“You won’t stay for after-dinner wine? I planned to raid Rhys’s collection,” Mor practically pleaded. I took in her puppy dog expression and almost caved, but the heat that appeared at my back reminded me of why I wanted to leave.

“Maybe next time,” I said with a small smile. It was too easy to be friendly with her, criminal record or not.

I headed towards the door, eager to escape and reevaluate my entire life. As I reached for the handle, sturdy fingers brushed mine, rough with calluses. I jerked my hand back as though I had been burned, taking a quick step away from the body that entered my personal space.

“Feyre,” his soft voice wrapped around me. It was only the tenderness in it that made me look up at him. Again, stupidly again, those eyes swallowed me up and threatened to pull me in. “Thank you for coming tonight, I hope it wasn’t too terrible.” A silent plea and apology were laced through the words.

“No,” I paused, “I… I like them, they’re not what I expected.”

A smile played on his lips, glancing back at where Cas and Mor were bickering over kitchen duties while Amren supervised from the bar. “I think they like you too.”

With that he opened the door, letting the cool autumn air swirl in. I inadvertently shivered at the difference in temperature. Rhys had noted it and responded with “If you need someone to warm you up tonight, you have my number,” followed by his classic wink.

I scowled, tucking my hands deep into my coat so that they wouldn’t strangle him or pull him closer. His laughter followed me down the alley and onto the street.

Next Chapter

#acotar #sarah j maas #feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #fic #fanfic

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