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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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Long Lost Prince Part 2;

Merlin leads his people home and Arthur grapples with whether he should keep his feelings to himself or not.

Part 1

Just like Arthur promised, a portion of Camelot's army mixed with around fifty of Merlin's knights are marching towards the Dragonlands within a month.

Merlin and Arthur lead the way, Sir Thornway, Sir Leon, and Sir Mordred following closely behind. It was decided fairly quickly that Hunith and Gaius would stay in Camelot; they were desperate to get home, but they weren't fighters, and whilst the chance of attack was fairly low considering the army behind them and the two dragons circling ahead, Arthur and Merlin were unwilling to risk it.

At a quick pace, Arthur reckons they could've made the journey in a week, but the army is slow-moving, and it takes them almost three to reach the border. They don't hear a peep out of anyone as they move through the countryside, though Arthur does raise an amused eyebrow at Merlin every once in a while, as and when the Warlock chuckles at Kilgharrah whispering in his head about all the various pathetic mercenaries and bandits running away screaming at the sight of his silhouette against the clouds.

The Dragonland, in comparison to Camelot, was a very small kingdom, but it’s capital city was near the far border, backed by miles and miles of towering mountains. In one of the many sessions of reminiscing that Merlin, Thornway, and Kilgharrah have in the evenings, they discuss the mountains at length. They were mostly uninhabited by people, even before the purge, they were far too treacherous for those without a guide and strong magic, and even then the paths were still dangerous.

The great mountains were where the Dragon’s resided; in a network of twisting tunnels and great caverns carved with fire and magic. Merlin vaguely remembers being taken there a few weeks before... before they left. Thornway told him that retreating into the mountains was one of the back up plans, if Uther’s army was too big and there was no hope of escape through the countryside.

(Arthur frowned at that. He was frowning at a lot nowadays, but Merlin just squeezed his leg under the blanket they were sharing (Leon did NOT smirk and Arthur did NOT blush) and whispered, yet again, that he was not his father.)

The escape through the mountains was planned to be a last ditch effort though, even with the dragons leading them and their strongest sorcerers protecting them, the perilous paths, with their knife edge drops and loose rocks and harsh snow, would have taken too many casualties to count. Though, in the end, escaping through the countryside had been just as deadly.

Arthur also used the journey to think about what Leon had said. Though Merlin and The King stuck close by for the whole trek, conversation was sparse (though the silences were comfortable); Arthur was unsure how to bring up the inevitable change in their relationship, though he knows that, for his own peace of mind if nothing else, he should.

They were deep into the Kingdom, having passed all the now doubly abandoned outer villages (Arthur was right in thinking that two dragons and a marching army scared away all the various mercenary groups and bandits) and now only a day’s ride from the capital, that Arthur asked Merlin the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks. The two of them were sat against a fallen log, the night flourishing around them. The silence over the rest of the camp was tense, the knowledge that they were close hanging in the air, but the silence between Merlin and Arthur was comfortable, peaceful:

“What are you planning on doing?”

Merlin took a noticeably deep breath and Arthur turned to him, trying desperately to keep the worried frown off his face:

“I don’t know. I didn’t really discuss it with ma, we just... wanted to get home, and work from there, see what happens I guess.”

Arthur nodded, gulping slightly before he responds:

“Do you think she wants the throne? Your mother? Or will you become King?”

Merlin chuckles, but Arthur clenches his hands and looks away at the humourless lilt the noise has:

“I’d love to see her back in her crown, on her throne, but it’s been a long time. She did everything with my father by her side, I don’t know if... if she would want to do it on her own. I don’t know that she would cope.-”

The Warlock turns to face Arthur, and it strikes The King how close they are when he can feel Merlin’s breath on his cheek. He turns to meet his gaze once more:

“-What would you do, Arthur? In my place?”

Arthur can only hold his stare for a few moments before he looks to his lap, shaking his head slightly:

“I don’t know, Merlin. Tell me what’s on your mind, I... I can’t promise that I’ll have the answers, but maybe saying things out-loud will help.”

Merlin nods as he shuffles in his spot slightly, and Arthur likes to think that he was moving closer:

“I... I’m desperate to get home. But at the same time, I waited. I waited for twenty years, I’ve built myself a life in Camelot, I’d... given up on ever returning home, and I was just about coming to terms with the fact that Camelot was my home now. And then... this. I have to lead my people back, I know that, I owe it to them, it’s my job to protect them and give them back their heritage-”

Arthur interrupts quietly:

“Your heritage.”

Merlin sighs:

“-yeah, my heritage. My mother, and Gaius, and my people, and... and I, we deserve to go home. But I was only six when we left, I never got all the lessons on how to be a Politician, a King. Yes, I’m the heir, yes, I remember home and the crown and being a little Prince, but I am not built to be a King, Arthur, I don’t want to- I can’t fail my people, but I fear I will. I... I’ve been putting up a brave front for my mum, for Thornway, but I’m terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing, Arthur. What if I mess up?”

Arthur allows a small smile to slip onto his face as he takes Merlin’s fidgeting hands in his own. He shakes his head as he huffs out a short laugh and Merlin looks at him incredulously:

“You couldn’t possibly, Merlin. I know you well, do I not?-”

Merlin nods his head vigorously:

“Better than anyone.”

Arthur fights the blush:

“-And I’m telling you, that you have nothing to worry about. You may not have had official lessons, but you have the mind for politics.-”

Arthur glances to his lap briefly as he takes a fortifying breath, stroking his thumbs over the back of Merlin’s hands, still clutched in his, and looking up to him again:

“-I had all those lessons. All that training, and practicing, and tutoring. But I was still so... lost when I became King. I don’t think I ever told you, Merlin, but the only thing that got me through was you, always by my side. Because I knew that you would never let me fail, because I trusted you to see my shortcomings and make up for them without fuss, without fault. And you did, without asking for any thanks, or recognition, like you do with everything. To this day, you think I’m a good King because of destiny, but that’s utter bollocks and I’ve always known it. I’m a good King, Merlin, because you made me a good man first. And on days when I doubt my own rule, I remind myself of how much faith you have in me, and it gives me strength, because I know you would never allow me to fail, and on the off chance I fall, I know you would catch me. Every good King who cares about his people has doubts, Merlin, but however much faith you have in me? I have the same amount, if not more, in you. You’ll do just fine.”

Merlin looks at him with wide, teary eyes, and Arthur flushes under the scrutiny. The King goes to say something, maybe a flippant joke to de-charge the atmosphere, but before he can utter even a word, Merlin throws himself at him, wrapping tight arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Arthur almost falls back, but he holds steady, chuckling slightly as he returns Merlin’s hug with equal intensity. Merlin’s muffled voice from his shoulder has Arthur tightening his grip:

“Will you catch me? If I fall?”

Arthur moves a hand up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head:

“You won’t fall. But I’d spend the rest of my life stood below you with my arms out ready, Merlin, if that gave you just a fraction of the belief in yourself that you should have.”

Neither pulled away for what felt like hours, and by the time Thornway wondered over to check on them, they had fallen asleep against the log, arms still firmly wrapped around each other.

He smiles mournfully as he drapes a blanket over them. You would have to be blind to miss the odd moroseness that had overtaken them both, and the old knight knew that his Prince was dreading having to leave Arthur, and that Arthur was dreading the same. They shuffle in their sleep, and Thornway freezes, worried that he had woken them, but when Arthur just mutters Merlin’s name and moves impossibly closer to the other man Thornway sighs. This is going to be... painful for the two of them, and he’s not quite sure how he can help.

After another day of travel, they find themselves moving through the capital city, towards the castle sitting at the foot of the mountains.

The army was left with orders to methodically clear the city whilst Arthur, Leon, Thornway, and Mordred headed straight for the citadel gates. Though the city had fallen into disrepair, the castle looked like it had barely been touched, even by the elements, and Thornway explained that powerful enchantments laid over the ancient building, preventing it from being invaded or damaged by even the strongest of armies:

“It was meant to be a stronghold, somewhere we could hide and keep our people safe in emergencies, but we knew if we did that we would have backed ourselves into a corner. Uther was taking over more and more of the city every day, if we locked ourselves in... we would have just starved. Trying to escape through the city and out into the wilderness was our only hope.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly as he stares up at the main door:

“Can we even get in?”

His voice is quiet and shaky, and Mordred steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder as Thornway replies with a small smile:

“You’re the heir, the doors will always open for you, Little Falcon.”

Merlin replies with a weak smirk and flushed cheeks:

“You know, I’m not all that little anymore.”

Thornway barks out a laugh as he shakes his head slightly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as the younger man pouts:

“Well, you’ll always be littler than me.-”

Merlin goes to retort, but before he can, his knight steps back and gestures to the great doors in front of them:

“-Go on, it’s time for us to finally come home, I think.”

Merlin gulps and nods, and Mordred lets his hand fall back to his side as the older Warlock takes the steps two at a time, hesitating only slightly before he wraps his hand around one of the doors’ metal rings. It twists easily in his grip, and the door swings open. Merlin has to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs, the billowing clouds of dust being disturbed for the first time in two decades making it almost impossible to see into the dark hall.

It settles after a few moments and Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him wordlessly and relaxing only when he feels Arthur take his hand. The blonde King gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Merlin takes his first shaking steps across the threshold.

He walks through the dark corridors slowly, one hand tightly clenched in Arthur’s, the other trailing along the wall next to him. The rest of the group is silent as they follow him, and nothing can be heard bar their muffled steps over the dusty rugs, and the deep breathing of Merlin and Thornway.

Merlin seems to know where he’s going, so no one questions the corners he turns and the rooms he passes without second thought. The deeper into the castle they get, the darker it becomes, until finally Merlin stops, a long hall stretched out in front of him. His eyes flash gold and the torches lining the walls flare up, illuminating the corridor in golden light. Arthur turns to look at the Warlock beside him, empathetic tears gathering in his eyes as he sees tracks on Merlin’s cheeks.

Merlin turns to glance at Thornway, whose in a similar state, before closing his eyes and flattening his free hand against the wall, digging his fingertips into the cracks as his voice comes out quiet and raspy:

“I know these halls, this stone.-”

Thornway takes a deep stuttering breath, muttering Merlin’s name. Merlin steps away from the wall, looking back to his knight with a weak, teary smile:

“-Do you remember? Chambers filled with golden light, vast halls bustling with people and dragons and magic?”

Thornway gulps and nods, slowly moving towards Merlin and putting a hand on his shoulder:

“I remember.-”

He nods down the corridor, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before asking:

“-You remember what’s down there?”

Merlin smiles and nods, squeezing Arthur’s hand and leading the group down the hall, obviously impatient to get to wherever their destination is, but unwilling to walk any quicker.

Leon and Arthur share a confused and slightly concerned look but don’t say anything, allowing Merlin and Thornway to lead the way. Once again, Merlin hesitates only slightly before pushing the door at the end of the corridor open. and the six of them gather inside the immense chamber. Like the rest of the castle, it was dusty, but untouched; unlike the rest of the castle, it was bathed in colourful light. The walls were high, the ceiling obviously stretching far above the surrounding rooms, and the afternoon sun shone brightly through giant stained glass windows.

Reds and blues and greens and every other colour imaginable were splashed across the stone floor, painting pictures of dragons and flowers and family, but everyone’s eyes skip over the colourful artwork, instead being drawn to the two golden thrones sat on a dais at the other end of the hall. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand, walking towards the thrones with wide eyes as the others stay back, watching with a mix of pride and grief. Thornway follows after a few moments and Leon has to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly when the King looks at him. Arthur clenches his hands and looks away, but stays by the door, wanting more than anything to be with Merlin through this but also understanding that it wasn’t his place.

Merlin finally reaches the thrones.

He wipes the thick dust from the armrests with shaking, but reverent hands before sitting down on the steps, slightly to the side of the golden seats. He runs his fingertips over the stone, remembering every bump and crack and texture, and Thornway stands behind him, in line with the thrones, putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering:

“Now this brings back memories.”

Merlin nods, looking up at him, tears no longer flowing, but still gathering in his eyes:

“I... I don’t remember much, but I still... know. I know this is where I sat, with you behind me, ma and dad next to me on their thrones. I remember dad promising that when I was older, they’d have a throne made for me, so I could sit with them.”

Thornway nods, slowly moving to sit beside him, ignoring the creaking in his bones as he lets his weight fall onto the stone steps:

“Hmm. foreign royalty and dignitaries thought it odd that the King and Queen let you sit in on meetings, even as a young child, but they were always adamant; they didn’t want to hide you away. You were always safe, of course, but they wanted you exposed to the people and the people exposed to you. I suppose they wanted to nurture a natural love and protectiveness of your people in you; how could they expect you to serve the Kingdom well if you were only doing so out of duty, and not genuine love?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully before smiling briefly up at Arthur, still stood on the other side of the room. When Arthur tentatively returns the smile, despite not hearing the hushed conversation, Merlin looks to Thornway next to him, bumping shoulders with a short giggle:

“Probably why I’ve always been so disrespectful to Arthur, everyone in here was equal, no matter what. I guess that’s why the treatment of servants and commoners was such a shock when I moved to Camelot, I don’t really remember much of home, but it definitely felt different.”

Thornway nods as Merlin stands, holding out a hand to the knight and pulling him to his feet. Merlin’s gaze moves around the room, though he stays rooted to the spot, and Thornway asks his question quietly:

“What do you want to do? Do you want to finish clearing the castle and the city first, or fetch your mother and uncle first?”

Merlin gulps before taking a deep breath, staring at the floor and saying in a small voice:

“I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

Thornway chuckles and shakes his head:

“This is your decision, Little Falcon. You are the Crown Prince, this is your Kingdom, your city, your people, trust your instincts. What should be done?”

Merlin looks to Arthur once again, reminding himself of the King’s promise to catch him should he fall, before looking back at Thornway with a determined expression:

“Send Kilgharrah to fetch ma and Gaius. We no longer need him as a deterrent, and we’ll still have Aithusa. He can make the journey to Camelot and back in a week at most, knights, even on horseback, will take at least twice that. It’s been a while since either of them went flying, but they’ll remember soon enough, and I trust Kilgharrah to keep them safe. We can keep clearing the city and start rough plans for rebuilding whilst we wait.”

Thornway grins and nods proudly:

“Exactly what I would have suggested. See? You’ll be just fine.-”

Merlin returns his grin shyly, blushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. Thornway rolls his eyes good-naturedly before gesturing to the others:

“-Come, My Lord, we should let the others know and head out to send Kilgharrah off as soon as possible.”

Merlin pushes the older knight’s shoulder playfully at the use of a title, but Thornway just smirks and waves Merlin ahead of him.

Arthur, Leon, and Mordred were told of the plan as the group made their way out of the castle again, having to cover their eyes when they step into the bright sunlight. They all smiled fondly as they saw Merlin’s growing confidence, though Arthur had to stamp down the growing anxiety swirling in his stomach; he refused to be sad for himself.

Kilgharrah was flying back towards Camelot within the hour, and Merlin was separating the army into groups and assigning tasks with a strong voice and straight back, taking every question and suggestion in his stride and organising hundreds of people without issue.

Arthur knew that there was still a conversation to be had between himself and Merlin, though with every day that passed he questioned whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice the way Merlin always asked for his council, even when he didn’t need it, always searched for his eyes in the crowd when he addressed his people, but that didn’t mean that his... affections, were returned.

Everyone, even Thornway now, kept shooting him pitying looks, and he figured out fairly quickly that he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. Leon was the only one he could rely on to convincingly pretend nothing was wrong, and Arthur used that to back up his deliberate ignoring of his stupid emotions.

Six days had passed and the clearing of debris from the lower town was well on its way when Kilgharrah landed in the castle courtyard, his two passengers tense and teary. Only Hunith, Gaius, Merlin, and Thornway took the journey through the castle this time; the others continued to help with the work in the town, not quite feeling that they would be welcome on the emotional tour.

Hunith decided fairly quickly that she would move on to become Queen Mother. Merlin would be crowned King (though he put his foot down and insisted that it wouldn’t happen until everything was properly sorted, and the people were settled back in the city), and though Hunith would still be the most senior of the royals, Merlin would technically have the most power.

Arthur had mixed feelings about that.

As King, Merlin would be a lot busier, would have a lot more responsibilities, but equally, he would have much more control over the use of his time; somehow making it both harder and easier to organise visits between the two of them. Though Arthur, of course, didn’t mention such feelings, just pulled Merlin into another tight hug and congratulated him with a grin.

With the help of Merlin and Mordred’s magic, and the few sorcerers scattered throughout the army they had brought, clearing the town of debris and rebuilding what they could with whatever was left went fairly quickly. Soon enough, the blacksmith’s and an infirmary were up and running, and the farms were ready for work to commence, just as soon as the resources from Camelot arrived.

The castle, whilst it had been fully explored by Merlin, Hunith, Thornway, and Gaius, had yet to be opened up to others or cleaned properly, but no one mentioned it. The gang slept happily in homes rebuilt in the upper town, and accepted Merlin’s excuse of wanting to focus on the people’s infrastructure first.

It was a week or so after Hunith and Gaius had arrived, Kilgharrah and Aithusa had disappeared into the mountains with Merlin’s approval, and Arthur once again found Merlin stood in the otherwise empty, still dusty throne room, staring at the golden seats with his hands in his pockets and his face tense.

Years ago, Arthur would’ve been wrong in his assumption that Merlin hadn’t heard him approach, but just this once he knows that he’s right. Arthur had slowly become an expert on picking up Merlin’s ticks, and even in the low light of the evening the blonde could tell that Merlin had no clue he was there.

Arthur didn’t want to feel like he was intruding, so cleared his throat quietly, only walking closer to the other man when his head whipped around, smiling slightly when he saw it was just Arthur.

Arthur stepped up next to him, and they both stared at the thrones in silence, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Everything had been so busy in recent weeks that, other than the conversation two weeks earlier, Arthur and Merlin had spent barely any time together, just the two of them; every other time Arthur had found Merlin alone in the throne room he had shut the door quietly behind him and left, too afraid to intrude, not quite ready to start a conversation. The conversation.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat again and speaks in a quiet voice, not looking to the Warlock next to him:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin responds almost immediately, but like Arthur, he speaks quietly and doesn’t move his gaze from the thrones:

“Nothing, everything. I’m... doing ok, I think.-”

Arthur nods with a small smile, but Merlin continues before he can say anything:

“-But I’m scared that I’m only doing well because you’re here. You have to go back to Camelot eventually and... it sounds stupid, but I... I don’t want you to go. I need you, Arthur.”

Arthur gulps, finally looking to Merlin’s sorrowful face, though the other man refuses to meet his gaze. He takes his hands out of his pockets, fiddling with them roughly, rubbing his knuckles together and scratching his palms harshly. Arthur clenches his jaw, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own gently and running soothing fingers over the younger man’s callouses:

“I know what you mean.-”

Merlin looks to him in surprise, his eyes widening, and Arthur continues with a small smile:

“-I told you, Merlin, I’m only a good King because of you. I’ve never had to rule on my own before and I’m dreading going back to Camelot without you.-”

Merlin shakes his head roughly, but Arthur continues once again, before he can disagree:

“-No, Merlin, don’t argue, it’s true. I... I need you as well, I don’t want to be without you, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to cope with a week’s ride between us. Leon tried talking some sense into me back in Camelot, and I know he was right, that all relationships take effort and we’ll have to work incredibly hard to stay in each other’s lives in any significant capacity, and I’m absolutely willing to do anything to keep you close, if not physically then... otherwise, but I’m still...-”

Arthur sighs and looks away, his cheeks just a little bit pink as he continues quietly:

“-I’m still scared to be without you.”

Merlin gulps and squeezes Arthur’s hand in his own, waiting for the blonde to finally look up at him again. The Warlock smiles at the eye contact and Arthur returns it weakly as Merlin finally replies:

“The last ten years of my life have revolved around you, completely and utterly, and I know it’s selfish of me to... not want that to change. I know I’m staying here, with my people, as their King. I would never consider abandoning them, not really, but I desperately want to, just so I can stay with you. We... we’ll figure something out, find some way to communicate quickly. I’m magic incarnate, there has to be a way, I... I’ll make a way, if I have to.”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes finally overflow at Merlin’s determined tone, but before the other man can say anything about it, Arthur pulls him into a tight hug, clutching his cloak in shaking fingers and burying his face in his shoulder, for once feeling grateful for the extra inch in height that Merlin has on him. Merlin returns the hug without hesitation, closing his eyes against the tears, though not managing to stop them from falling as he quietly speaks, his voice thick:

“I promised that I would stay with you until the day I died, but I... I have to leave, I... I can’t-”

Arthur tightens the hug as he interrupts him:

“No, Merlin, you owe me nothing, you don’t have to explain. You’ve already given me my kingdom, now it’s my chance to return the favour. I would never ever ask you to leave this behind just for me.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s body shaking with silent sobs, and he runs a hand through his hair softly, breathing deeply in an effort to hold in his own bawling.

They stand wrapped in each other for a while, neither willing to let go even when their tears dry up and their breathing evens out. Eventually Merlin rasps out a whispered:

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur pulls back at long last, but doesn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes before replying:

“You won’t. We’ll take turns hosting Yule celebrations, and I can visit on your birthday, and there’ll be tournaments of course, and trade routes, and shared patrols near the border. I refuse to let you slip from my grasp, Merlin, you’ll never be without me, not for long anyway.”

Merlin huffs out a gentle laugh, and Arthur thinks the flutter of his breath over his cheeks and through his eyelashes is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt. Both of them open their eyes, but they don’t move away from each other, even as they stare, becoming increasingly aware of the very little amount of space between them. Arthur’s brows crease slightly but he ignores the concerned question in Merlin’s eyes, instead lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw, gulping as Merlin’s expression falls into a soft smile.

The King takes a deep breath as he summons his courage, eyes filling with tears again as he clears his throat, whispering so quietly that it’s a miracle Merlin hears him, even with only inches between them:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to... I mean I... -”

He cuts himself off with a quiet huff, and Merlin smirks at the slight blush dusting his cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue. Arthur shuts his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath before opening them with a newfound determination. He meant it, he’d come this far, he was not going to let Merlin slip away:

“I love you, you are the single most important person in my life, and I would go to the ends of this world just to see you smile. I owe you my life, and so much more than that; you’ve been making promises and swearing oaths to my crown for years-”

Merlin interrupts him quietly:

“To you, to Arthur, not the crown, to you.”

Arthur huffs slightly and rolls his eyes:

“I’m trying to confess my undying love here Merlin, and I’m not very good with this whole... expressing shit, so shut up and let me finish.-”

Merlin snorts but stays otherwise silent, raising an eyebrow to prompt Arthur to continue:

“-Like I was saying. You’ve been swearing things for years, and now it’s my turn.-”

Arthur steps back, taking Merlin’s hands tightly in his own as he lowers himself to one knee, pressing his forehead to the Warlock’s knuckles:

“-I swear on my crown and in the name of Camelot, that I will always love you, that I will always be ready catch you, and that I will never stop putting the work in to make sure I don’t lose you, that you don’t lose me.”

The blonde can hear Merlin’s stuttered breathe and barely has time to process Merlin’s whispered-

“I accept your oath.”

-before he’s being pulled to his feet and urgently kissed.

One of Merlin’s hands settles on the side of Arthur’s neck and the other grips his hip. Arthur’s arms flail for only a moment in his shock before he moves to clutch Merlin’s collar tightly, closing his eyes and kissing back, pushing as much of his devotion into the action as possible and wanting nothing more than to sooth the stress-induced bite marks on Merlin’s lips.

They pull back far too soon, as far as both of them are concerned, once again resting their foreheads against each other as they catch their breath. Arthur’s face slowly morphs into a grin as he says:

“And to think I was stressing over whether I should tell you for weeks.”

Merlin rolls his eyes in response, snorting in amusement as he admits, much to Arthur’s chagrin:

“Believe me, I already knew, you weren’t very subtle. You’ve been sulking.”

Arthur lets out an incredulous huff and pulls back, still holding Merlin’s collar but staring at Merlin’s amused raised eyebrow with wide eyes:

“I am a King, Merlin, I do not sulk.”

Merlin chuckles:

“Well so am I, and yes you do.”

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly:

“Not yet you’re not. That’s besides the point, if you knew... why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin’ face falls slightly, and if Arthur had to guess, he’d say that Merlin looked a little guilty. The blonde furrowed his brows but pulls his Warlock close again, stroking his jaw softly with his thumb as he waits for an answer:

“I... I love you, Arthur, more than anything, but... I wanted see if you would do anything about it. I knew I would do anything for you, but I needed... I needed to know if you thought I was worth the distance, the effort. If I said something first, I never would have known... I would always be second guessing if you were about to... to break it off, because you didn’t want to put in the frankly ridiculous amount of effort it’s going to take to keep things... good.”

Arthur smiles and shakes his head disbelievingly, landing a quick kiss to the tip of Merlin’s nose and smirking at the way his face scrunches in response:

“Well, now you do know. I will do anything, everything, to keep you happy and safe and loved. You will always be in my heart, if not by my side.”

Merlin smiles, and the two of them resolutely ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as he whispers his reply:

“As will I. I’ll talk to the Druids, Kilgharrah, Thornway, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out some magical way to communicate.”

Arthur just smiles and nods, taking Merlin’s hands in his own once more:

“Ready to head to sleep? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, glancing to the thrones before walking towards the door, keeping Arthur’s hand securely in his:

“Yeah. Though unless we sneak past the others I doubt we’ll get to sleep for a while. Morgana’s been speaking to me in my head and teasing me for weeks and my mum keeps hinting at how politically beneficial a marriage between the kingdoms would be.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to hide his snort, but nods in agreement and squeezes Merlin’s hand, following him out into the star-lit evening with a newfound enthusiasm to see what the future will bring.

THE END OF PART 2!!!

I think I’ll write one more reeeaally short part, a ten years later sort of thing, just because I have a few more ideas about this, but no real huge plot points, just cute little things I want to add in but haven’t found space for yet.

This took a little longer than I expected to come out, but I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

(and yes, I may have taken a little inspiration from The Hobbit movies, sue me (pls don’t, I’m kidding))

293 notes · View notes

j-amespotter · 4 years ago

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★ cardigan - s. b.

“i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: Your relationship with Sirius is on the rocks, but you loved him and at the end of the day, he was always there. For your own happiness, something had to change.

Genre/Warnings: angst, alcohol, language, toxic relationship

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: this took a lot, and i mean a lot of energy. not sure how i feel about it (i am my worst critic) but i really didn’t want a pushover protagonist. ps... communicating with your partner is hot! let me know what you think (and if you think i should make a taglist) :)

masterlist

“Ravenclaw girl this time. Blonde… I think I recognize her. Couldn’t see the front of her robes, she might be one of the fifth-year prefects. You know I’m terrible with names. Ask James, he finds it hilarious.”

“You should work for the Prophet, Lils,” you said, without looking up from your toast, which was becoming more and more tasteless with every bite. “What were they doing?”

“Talking,” answered Lily pointedly. “He ended the conversation fairly quickly when he saw me looking, though.”

You sighed. This discussion was becoming too routine for your liking, most often with Lily, occasionally with Remus. “Well, if they were just talking, then I don’t see the issue. Lily, it is early. We have double Potions this morning. I really don’t want to deal with your weird suspicions about my boyfriend right now.”

If Lily sensed your underlying irritation, she chose to ignore it. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all. I mean, James–”

You finally turned and stared defiantly into your best friend’s vibrant green eyes. “Lily, I hate to break it to you, but James is the exception, not the rule. Just because he’s some angel on earth doesn’t mean all boyfriends are like that, and that’s not even considering the fact that he’s been hopelessly in love with you since second year…”

Huffing, Lily picked at the fruit off of her plate. “Okay, I get it. I won’t bring it up again.” It was sweet how much Lily cared. James doted on her day and night. It would have been easy to forget about her friend’s love-related quandaries. But that was Lily Evans – always considerate of others.

Truthfully, you were tired. You knew what ‘talking’ with Sirius Black entailed. It did not make you feel as secure as you indicated to Lily. As time went on, it was getting increasingly harder to defend Sirius’s overly-careless behavior. If he wasn’t chatting up girls in random corners of the castle, he stood you up on your scheduled study dates in favor of detention with James. There was only a little comfort in the fact that he wasn’t always like this. If he was, would you have even dated him? Deep down, you knew that as much as Sirius was a thrill-chaser, he was incredibly capable of being a loving boyfriend. For that reason alone, you bore the incredibly painful motions of being in a relationship with him.

He briefly reminded you of his better qualities when you opened your Potions textbook and felt a feathery kiss on your neck. “Guess who?” whispered Sirius sultrily into your ear.

You couldn’t help the automatic flush that made its way onto your cheeks. “Hmm… is it Remus?” you whispered back, stifling a giggle.

“Don’t tease,” he grunted before planting a swift kiss on your cheek. He plopped onto the chair next to you and faced you with a lazy grin. “You look disappointed, love. I’m afraid your usual Potions partner is a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He gestured across the room, where you spotted Lily practically hanging off of James’s lap, distracting herself until the start of her favorite class with his lips.

“They’re hopeless,” you commented airily, in an attempt to disguise your envy. You felt Sirius’s gaze burning into you. “Missed you at breakfast this morning,” you added in a casual tone.

“Oh, well, you know–”

“No, I don’t know,” you interrupted, bitterness leaking from your clipped voice. You always let Sirius off too easily. “But I certainly can’t wait to hear your ready-made list of vague excuses. Please, do continue.” There. He had it coming. He deserved for you to throw him off track.

“Baby, it was nothing,” assured Sirius rather predictably. “Just Pippa asking for help with Transfiguration. Honest.” He placed a hand on his heart in mock sincerity, which only angered you further.

Nevertheless, you chose not to argue. He was incredibly brilliant with his words. There was no way he would understand your plight. Instead, you absentmindedly flipped through your Potions textbook as Slughorn finally entered his unruly classroom.

Sirius seemed uncharacteristically bothered by your lack of response. With a half-glance at James and Lily, he entwined his fingers into yours. “They’re in their honeymoon phase, you know. You really can’t compare.”

“There is no comparison, Sirius. James prioritizes Lily. I can’t remember the last time you prioritized me,” you whispered. There was a finality in your tone that you hoped he would hear. It was the most you were willing to discuss the matter.

Sirius Black was a lot of things, least of all oblivious. He gently squeezed your hand. Silently, he slipped his fingers out of yours, choosing to follow your lead and not pursue the issue any further.

A part of you was proud of the fact that you finally found it in you to voice your concerns to him, but another larger part dreaded the irreversible distance it put between the two of you for the rest of the day. You weren’t necessarily avoiding each other. Though his smiles were significantly more tender, he seemed reluctant to talk, let alone touch you.

Sick of the mental torment you were subjecting yourself to, you stuffed your unfinished Charms essay into your bag and headed to your dormitory, choosing to retire for bed early. Mid-yawn, you spotted a single red rose on your unmade bed. You didn’t have to read the attached note to know who it was from but felt your heart thudding against your chest as you unfolded the small piece of parchment.

I’m sorry. I love you.

There was no signature, but you could recognize his meticulously-slanted script anywhere. You stared at the note adoringly before pressing your lips to the corner of the crumply parchment and marking it with the remnants of your lip gloss.

Suddenly, you were no longer tired. Skipping down the stairs, you found yourself wishing for a certain map that would tell you the exact location of the only person you wanted to see.

Fate seemed to be on your side when you saw him in the common room, his head bowed as if he was praying. “You’re here!”

He gazed up at you, his shoulders relaxing when he noticed the smile on your face. “I’m really–”

You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him hard, throwing your arms around his neck. You felt him smile against your lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him. “Don’t worry about it. I was being silly.”

Sirius’s grin widened. “You’re quite low maintenance, y’know. I thought it would take at least a week and a hundred roses. And if not roses, then daisies, sunflowers, peonies… I was ready to pull all the stops. For future reference, a good snog is all it takes to win me over.”

You laughed heartily, though you struggled to keep up with his train of thought. You always appreciated his good-natured ability to poke fun at the gravest circumstances. “I just missed you.”

“Me too, darling. I’ll do better this time, I promise.”

☆

True to his word, Sirius showered you with a level of affection that could rival James’s for Lily. He spent every spare moment with you in his bed, sneaking into the kitchen for secret dinners, and pushing you against bookshelves in the back of the library, homework-be-damned.

On Tuesday night, you sat on the Astronomy Tower. You glanced at your watch, realizing that Sirius was nearly an hour late. Your eyelids were drooping shut. It had been a long day. Everything in your brain felt scattered. You could’ve been catching up on the mounds of schoolwork you were now falling behind on. Sirius… Did he say midnight? Did you hear him correctly? Maybe he meant for you to pencil it in. Maybe he was hurt. Was it Remus? You stared at the sky, peering at the crescent shape of the moon. It taunted you. Stop kidding yourself. He’s not coming.

Just as you were about to call it a night, Sirius stumbled into the Tower and onto the floor. Startled, you helped him up. “There you are! Are you alright? I was so worried… Are you drunk?”

His grey eyes shone in the soft moonlight. The cloudy expression on his face paired with the sloppy grin he sent your way spoke for him. “Lost track of time… we snuck into Hogsmeade,” he slurred. “Rosmerta slipped us some firewhiskey. Here, I brought us a bottle...” He reached into his robes, only to come out empty-handed. “Uh-oh… finished it. Sorry, baby.”

You processed his words very slowly, realization dawning on you with the weight of heavy bricks. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“Hey! We’re all of age.” He threw up his hands in surrender and widened his eyes innocently. “Next time, darling. I promise.”

“It’s not about the fucking drink, Sirius! You’re here so you obviously haven’t forgotten that we had plans tonight! I don’t care if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but you should’ve told me. I’ve been waiting here like an idiot for an hour. I’m exhausted!”

“Told you,” he grumbled, now irritated, “we lost track of time.”

You stared at him, unable to comprehend his complete shift in attitude. “Whatever,” you said finally. “I’m going to bed.”

Spinning on your heels, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you prepared to march away from him with your chin up. Before you could take too many steps, however, a firm hand grasped your wrist. The intensity of the force pulling you back to him felt so otherworldly that you could hardly believe it was a wasted Sirius.

You had a fleeting thought of pushing him away but instead tilted your head so he could pepper kisses onto the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again, between his fluttering pecks along your jawline.

His lips found yours. His hand released your limp wrist as his fingers gently trailed up your arm. “So beautiful,” he murmured, gazing directly into your eyes. You practically melted as your body fell into his. Like always, his arms were ready to catch you, drunk or otherwise.

☆

“No Sirius yet?” asked your mother, sipping her drink cheerily.

You refused to look her in the eye in fear of giving something away. “No, not yet. Should be here soon, though.”

“Better be,” said your father, slipping away from a party guest. “He’ll miss cake.”

It was your parents’ twentieth-anniversary party, an occasion made doubly special as their one and only daughter was now officially a Hogwarts graduate. You had planned the party and made Sirius promise that he would not only attend, but also arrive early to help greet your guests as your boyfriend.

You knew that your parents did not initially approve of Sirius, but as your relationship strengthened, so did Sirius’s standing in your family. Now, post-Hogwarts, you were desperate to not only show your parents that the two of you were committed to one another but also feel yourself that your love would endure the many challenges of adulthood.

As the last of your family friends trickled out of your childhood home, you failed to hide your disappointment at his loud absence. Like many months earlier, your mind see-sawed between possibilities, some pathetic, others worrying. You were in the middle of a war, after all. You always believed Sirius’s recklessness would be his downfall.

Fortunately or unfortunately, your worries subsided when you saw him slip into the parlor with a present in hand and a sheepish smile directed at you and your parents. “Happy anniversary! Sorry I’m late, you won’t believe– hey, where’s the party?”

“It’s over,” you announced bitterly.

Your mum and dad sensed the tension and tactfully exited the room. “We saved you some cake, dear,” your mother said to Sirius, after politely thanking him for his present.

“So,” you started as you heard your parents’ footsteps fade away, “where were you? Actually, don’t answer that. Let me talk first. This was important to me, Sirius. You knew that! What will I say to Mum and Dad? Don’t I matter to you at all? Is it always going to be like this?”

“Slow down,” whispered Sirius. “I’ll explain everything – just listen! I was with James, okay? We were only mucking around on the bike. I was on the way, I swear! But then these Muggle Aurors – police, they’re called – they started chasing us! We were getting away but these three blokes – Death Eaters – caught up to us. Long story short, we got into quite a scuffle and…” He looked at you in an attempt to gauge your reaction.

Your mouth hung open as you absorbed his story. Regardless of your anger, he presented a legitimate case for himself that you could not quash. “Death Eaters? Thank Merlin you’re alright. How on earth did you get away?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Your mum mentioned something about cake?”

You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. “In the kitchen,” you answered softly. “I wish you would be more careful.”

He kissed your temple. “Don’t worry,” said Sirius dismissively, “I handled it, didn’t I?”

☆

“So, what do you think?”

You and Sirius were standing in the middle of his new studio flat. Primely-located and newly-furnished, it was the picture-perfect bachelor pad. Sirius now had a place to call his own, thanks to a bountiful inheritance from his Uncle Alphard. The walls were bare and the lighting dim, adding an overall sensuality to the atmosphere.

“It’s nice,” you remarked sincerely, smoothing his plain black bed sheets. You peeked into his wardrobe, smirking to yourself as you noticed it was half-empty. “Lost the rest of your clothes, babe?”

“No,” answered Sirius quietly. “It’s for you.”

“What is?”

“The closet space. It’s for your clothes.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“For when I come to visit,” you amended automatically.

You turned to see Sirius scratching the back of his head. “No, for when you live here. With me.”

“W-What?” Your mind was reeling. You leaned against his side table to steady yourself. “Me? Move in with you?”

“Well… yeah,” said Sirius as he slowly regained his signature confidence. “We’ve been together for ages, seems about right. Besides, James and Lily are getting a place together.”

You did not understand why you weren’t over the moon. It was what you always wanted from him – a tell-tale symbol of his otherwise-flaky commitment to you, a sign of your sparkling love. It was the beginning of the next chapter of your lives, and you were meant to start it together. On paper, it was perfect. There was no explanation for the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Suddenly, the words that would never come were on the tip of your tongue. The answer was clear as day. “No.”

“What?”

It was an extremely difficult task to catch Sirius Black off-guard, a feat you used to motivate your argument. “No, Sirius. I won’t move in with you.”

Shock was written all over his face. “What the hell? Why?”

“Because… you didn’t even ask me!”

Sirius stared at you blankly for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Alright… (Y/N), will you please do me the honor of sharing an address with me? Is that it, then? Shall I get down on one knee?”

“No, Sirius. That’s not the point,” you said firmly. “The point is that you didn’t ask me. You just assumed that I would say yes – don’t interrupt. I know we’ve been together for years, but can’t you see? You make me so incredibly happy and yet, so unbelievably unhappy at the same time. You’re so good to me, and then so horrible, and then amazing again… I can hardly keep up anymore. I’m a fucking doormat and I’m sick of it! It’s humiliating. I’m tired of feeling humiliated in front of people I care about. It’s starting to become too high a price of being in love with you.”

You ended shakily, afraid to look at him. When you dared, you saw him wearing an unfamiliar expression. The silence washed over you both for an eternity. You had the horrible thought that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, you crossed a line. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how broken you both were, how broken you were, and now… well, he couldn’t unsee it now. You were over. Without a word, you headed for the door with your head down.

“Wait,” shouted Sirius hoarsely. “Don’t go. I-I’m not sure what to say to make you stay.”

“Try being honest,” you whispered weakly.

He swallowed nervously. “Okay, here goes. I know that I haven’t put enough effort into this relationship… I know that. I realize that I take you for granted and that you deserve better. I don’t blame you for thinking that. I would never have blamed you for thinking that. But here’s the truth – I am so far gone when it comes to you, you have no idea. I am so in love with you. I think about you morning, noon, and night. And the thing is, here we are, fighting for Muggles and Muggleborns and the good of the world… but above all, I am so utterly afraid of losing you. I think that’s why, actually. That’s why I keep you at arm’s length. I don’t think I mean to, but it just happens. Because I’ve never met anyone who loves me as much as you do, not even my mother. Especially not my mother. I’m torn between keeping you close and pushing you away because the truth is, you’ll always deserve better than me. And I’ve always been afraid of you realizing that.”

His truth was careful but sincere. Your hand slipped off the doorknob. Still, it was not the first time Sirius had rendered you speechless. “How do I know you mean it? That it’s more than just words to you?”

“Let me prove it to you,” he said meaningfully, grey eyes glistening.

You took slow steps toward him, and he embraced you with the hope of filling all the gaps he may have left open. “Okay,” you said, your voice muffled into his shirt. “Just… leave the closet half-empty for a little while.”

319 notes · View notes

jeongi · 5 years ago

Text

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest.

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps.

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious.

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #armiesnet #bangtanarmynet #ggukienet #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan smut #btssmutclub #networkbangtan #bts x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts #oneshot #fic #kpop

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years ago

Note

To finish this amazing JC Love Month that has given so much joy, could I ask for a final chapter of Lan Quiren being the good dad that little Jiang Cheng is in desperate need of? Thank you so much for that series!! It is all that I ever wanted and more,but I just need a WWX and JY and reacting to YZ and JFM and Lan Quiren interacting. Thank you so much!!! 💛💛

JC Love Month 2020 Day 30

Breathing and Footsteps

Your wish is my command, Anon! Day 30 of JC Love Month brings one last confrontation between LQR and JC's parents, this time witnessed by JC's siblings, who fully support him and LQR taking care of him. This also marks the last day of JC Love Month, so thank you all for sticking with me through it all! Technically it was a free day but I'm very bad with those, so my friend gave me a few word prompts to work with. This follows after Day 23 of JC Love Month.

Jiang Cheng is reading over the material they will cover in class later, when someone suddenly sits down next to him.

Jiang Cheng frowns, a biting remark already on his tongue, but he swallows it down when he turns and sees that it’s Lan Xichen.

“Oh, hi,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and Lan Xichen’s mouth twitches in amusement but when he smiles it’s kind.

“How are you doing?” Lan Xichen asks him, sending a pointed look at his newly cast-free hand.

“I’m doing well,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he’s almost surprised to find that he means it, too. “Doctor Wen says it’s healing well and if I stick to the physical therapy I shouldn’t have any problems going forward.”

“That’s very good to hear,” Lan Xichen says. “Though I think Wen Qing insisted on you calling her by her name.”

“She might have,” Jiang Cheng says and looks down at his book.

He tried, too, but it felt wrong when she was removing his cast and so he decided to stick to Doctor Wen. She had glared at him when he did, but her glare held none of the bite Jiang Cheng was used to from his mother, so she probably wasn’t too bad.

“As long as you know you’re free to call her Wen Qing, it’s okay,” Lan Xichen reassures him and lightly pats his forearm. “Listen, there’s actually a reason I’m here,” Lan Xichen then says and Jiang Cheng can’t help it, he tenses when worry settles in his belly.

“Is anything wrong?” Jiang Cheng asks, his voice low and scared, because most times he still feels like he’s in a dream, as if one day he will wake up and Lan Qiren won’t care about him and Jiang Cheng will have to sleep back in his own huge, empty house.

“Nothing is wrong,” Lan Xichen immediately tells him. “I’m sorry it sounded like that,” he goes on and Jiang Cheng thinks he knows him well enough by now to know that Lan Xichen will consider his words much more carefully from now on.

“What’s going on then?” Jiang Cheng asks, reassured now that it won’t be something bad.

“Uncle is working late today,” Lan Xichen starts and Jiang Cheng nods.

Lan Qiren had told him about the meeting he has today, much to Jiang Cheng’s surprise, because his parents never bothered to tell him where they would be and if they would be coming home that day.

“Yeah, he said,” Jiang Cheng whispers, still almost feeling uncomfortably surprised that Lan Qiren took the time to inform him about his plans.

“Good,” Lan Xichen says, as if it’s entirely normal that Lan Qiren told him. “I thought since you’re doing well with your arm, that I could show you how to cook one of Uncle’s favourite dishes today? I think he would like coming home after that meeting to a home-cooked meal.”

Jiang Cheng has to regulate his breathing at that, because he feels this close to a breakdown in the middle of school and Lan Xichen puts his hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Lan Xichen lowly says, taking care that no one else can hear them, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“No, I would like that,” Jiang Cheng immediately says and looks at Lan Xichen. “Please, if you have the time.”

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” Lan Xichen says with a smile and squeezes Jiang Cheng’s shoulder once. “I’ll come by later then, alright?” Lan Xichen asks and Jiang Cheng nods.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng breathes out but Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lan Xichen replies and gets up. “See you later, then, Wanyin,” he says and leaves Jiang Cheng to his reading again.

Jiang Cheng wants to go back to that, but his mind his whirring now, too touched by Lan Xichen’s kindness and thoughtfulness and Jiang Cheng is looking forward to giving Lan Qiren something in return, even if it’s only something small.

Jiang Cheng barely managed to concentrate on his book again, when he hears footsteps coming up behind him and Jiang Cheng turns his head with a sigh.

He immediately straightens up when he realizes that it’s Lan Qiren who is coming up to him.

“Is everything alright?” Lan Qiren wants to know, not looking directly at Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Cheng can still tell that he’s honestly worried that anything could be wrong.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng very honestly says and Lan Qiren seems to believe him, because he nods once and then finally looks at Jiang Cheng.

“How’s your hand?” he wants to know, as if he isn’t asking after Jiang Cheng’s wellbeing every day but Jiang Cheng smiles at his obvious concern.

“It feels fine,” Jiang Cheng gives back and carefully rotates his wrist to show Lan Qiren that he’s not lying about it.

“That’s good,” Lan Qiren says and then his eyes wander to Jiang Cheng’s book in front of him. “I’ll let you get back to studying then,” Lan Qiren decides and simply marches off without giving Jiang Cheng another chance to say something.

Jiang Cheng smiles slightly when he watches Lan Qiren walk away, and he feels entirely too fond of Lan Qiren at that moment, realizing that this really was just him paying enough attention to Jiang Cheng to have seen Lan Xichen with him and to immediately worry.

He is not used to care like this, but he slowly realizes that it seems to be the norm with Lan Qiren. Jiang Cheng smiles into his book at that thought.

Jiang Cheng schools his face into a frown when someone sits down opposite of him and by now Jiang Cheng is absolutely convinced that he will not get any reading done.

Especially so when he sees that it’s Wei Wuxian who sat down at his table.

“What?” Jiang Cheng snaps out, because he hasn’t seen Wei Wuxian all that much since he moved out of his old house two weeks ago, and he only ever hears from Lan Wangji that Wei Wuxian is alright.

“How are you?” Wei Wuxian asks with a look at his wrist and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“The cast came off,” he says and Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes at him.

“I can see that. But how are you?”

“I’m okay,” Jiang Cheng says, much more softer at that, because he can tell that Wei Wuxian is really worried.

“Are you in trouble?” Wei Wuxian asks with a frown, and when Jiang Cheng looks at him in confusion, he nods to where Lan Qiren just vanished.

“Why would you think that?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and he nods at Lan Wangji when he joins Wei Wuxian.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time at the headmaster’s office. Are you in trouble?”

Jiang Cheng looks at Lan Wangji at that, who simply shrugs.

“You said not to tell. I didn’t,” he easily replies and Jiang Cheng knows that Lan Wangji doesn’t particularly like him, so he didn’t expect that.

Since Jiang Cheng moved into Lan Qiren’s house permanently Lan Wangji has been a lot nicer during family meals, but they will never be best friends and that’s okay with Jiang Cheng, but to hear that he respected his wishes really touches him.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Lan Wangji only nods.

“What’s going on here?” Wei Wuxian whines when he sees them exchanging looks and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“You know what?” Jiang Cheng asks him and shuts his book. “Come to the house tomorrow afternoon and you’ll see,” Jiang Cheng tells him, because tomorrow they will pick up the last of Jiang Cheng’s things from his old room and Jiang Cheng suspects that Wei Wuxian needs to see that Jiang Cheng left to really believe it.

“You know what, you should bring A-jie as well,” Jiang Cheng says as he stands up. “She should know, too.”

Jiang Cheng felt bitter for about the first week when he realized that neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Yanli noticed that he’s not at home, or when neither one of them checked in on him, but he realized that it’s unfair.

Jiang Yanli is just starting her new life with Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian is clearly still living on cloud seven with Lan Wangji so of course they wouldn’t notice.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t like it, but he understands. It’s unfair of him to expect to have all of their attention all the time and Jiang Yanli did ask about his wrist.

“What is going on?” Wei Wuxian whines again but this time it’s Lan Wangji who shushes him.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t pay too much attention to him anymore, simply walking away and getting to his class.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nervous when Lan Xichen leaves him to it. He talked him through the whole process of making Lan Qiren’s favourite dish, not actually helping that much and he seemed proud enough with Jiang Cheng’s result that Jiang Cheng shouldn’t fret so much.

But he can’t help it.

He feels like if he botched this attempt of Lan Qiren’s food then he might as well just move back in with his parents and Jiang Cheng is stressing way too much over this.

He wishes Lan Xichen hadn’t left as soon as they were done, if just so that someone was around to keep his mind off things, and Jiang Cheng briefly debates calling Jiang Yanli, but in the end he doesn’t.

If he calls her now, he would have to explain why he is cooking for Lan Qiren and Jiang Cheng doesn’t feel like doing that this evening. He will have to explain enough tomorrow after all.

Jiang Cheng is startled out of his panic when he hears a key in the door and his hands start to sweat when Lan Qiren calls out a “I’m home”.

“Welcome home,” Jiang Cheng gives back and meets Lan Qiren in the doorway to the kitchen.

“What’s smelling so good?” Lan Qiren asks and Jiang Cheng gives him a sheepish smile.

“I cooked,” he says and Lan Qiren’s face immediately falls, and Jiang Cheng feels sick with nerves.

“Why? How is your wrist? Did you overdo it?” Lan Qiren asks immediately and he reaches out for Jiang Cheng’s arm as if he could tell if Jiang Cheng overworked it.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, Xichen-ge did all the heavy cutting, don’t worry. I was careful,” Jiang Cheng reassures him, flooded with warmth when he realizes that Lan Qiren is simply worried for him.

“Is that what you were talking with my nephew about today?” Lan Qiren asks as he looks into the kitchen.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng admits. “He offered to teach me one of your favourite dishes. I wanted to do something nice for you, for once,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Lan Qiren’s face smoothes out.

“Wanyin,” he breathes out and tugs Jiang Cheng into a half-hug. “Thank you,” he sincerely says and then moves them into the kitchen.

“It smells delicious,” Lan Qiren praises him and Jiang Cheng ducks his head at that.

He’s not used to being thanked or to getting praised and he still doesn’t know how to handle it. So instead of looking at Lan Qiren he busies himself with setting the table while Lan Qiren brings over the heavier pots.

Jiang Cheng keeps quiet as they start to eat, as per the rules in Lan Qiren’s house, and so he’s extremely surprised when Lan Qiren lowers his chopsticks after a few bites.

“It’s absolutely delicious, Wanyin,” he says and Jiang Cheng is surprised enough that he broke his own rule so that he only stares at Lan Qiren until Lan Qiren awkwardly clears his throat.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jiang Cheng finally says and then shoves another bite into his mouth.

Thankfully they spend the rest of the dinner in silence after that, but the praise sits warm and heavy in Jiang Cheng’s gut, warming him through and through.

He’s not used to feeling like this, but he likes it very much.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng swallows heavily as he looks up at the house in front of him but Lan Qiren is a steady presence at his side.

“We’ll just get your last things and then you won’t have to come back,” Lan Qiren promises him but Jiang Cheng is too nervous to nod, because he spotted his parent’s cars in the garage and he knows it won’t be nice.

It will be even messier, Jiang Cheng realizes with a start when Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli come up to them.

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli greets him warmly and pulls him into a hug. “How is your wrist?”

“It’s all good,” he reassures her but she still checks his wrist for herself. “You won’t see anything,” he says with a slight chuckle but she continues to fuss over him.

“What is Headmaster Lan doing here?” Wei Wuxian asks though he does pull Jiang Cheng into a hug as well.

“We’re getting my things,” Jiang Cheng tells them when Lan Qiren stays quiet.

“Your things?” Jiang Yanli asks with a small frown and Jiang Cheng nods.

“I am no longer living here,” Jiang Cheng finally admits and watches as their eyes go big.

“What?” Wei Wuxian almost yells out and Jiang Cheng can tell that Lan Qiren wants to reprimand him for his volume but then thinks better of it.

“Wanyin is living with me,” Lan Qiren tells them and then pushes Jiang Cheng towards the house. “Let’s get this over with, okay?” Lan Qiren asks and Jiang Cheng knows that he’s looking forward to the family dinner they will have this evening.

Jiang Cheng is too, if he’s being honest.

“You’re what?” Wei Wuxian calls after them, but Jiang Yanli shushes him and follows them as well.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t have a key anymore—his mother took it when they came by the first time two weeks ago—and both his siblings give him a startled look when he rings the doorbell.

His mother flings the door open and she scans the small crowd in front of her with a judging look.

“It took you long enough,” she then says, not looking at Lan Qiren at all, who puts a steadying hand to Jiang Cheng’s back.

“It won’t take long,” Jiang Cheng says and his mother scoffs at him.

“As if anything you did ever went fast,” she mutters under her breath and Jiang Cheng can feel how Lan Qiren stiffens next to him.

“Mother!” Jiang Yanli snaps out and Jiang Cheng flinches he’s so surprised at that.

But their mother doesn’t even spare her a look and simply walks away from them, clearly trusting that Jiang Cheng will show them the way.

They barely made it three steps into the house when Jiang Fengmian comes out.

“What is going on here?” he demands to know when he sees his children and Lan Qiren in his hallway and Jiang Cheng takes a steadying breath before he answers him.

“We’re here to get the rest of my things,” Jiang Cheng tells him and Jiang Fengmian frowns at him.

“The rest of your things?” he asks, but then he gets distracted when Wei Wuxian moves or breath or whatever it is he does to capture Jiang Cheng’s father’s attention so easily.

“How have you been, A-Xian?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng can’t help the bitter laugh he lets out at that.

“Father,” Jiang Yanli scolds him as well but Jiang Fengmian seems honestly confused about what she is so upset about.

“We know the way, don’t trouble yourself,” Lan Qiren suddenly speaks up and moves confidently down the hallway towards Jiang Cheng’s room.

“What is Headmaster Lan doing here?” Jiang Fengmian asks and Jiang Cheng is surprised to find that he’s not surprised to realize that his father didn’t even notice his continued absence. “Are you in trouble again?” he asks then and his voice is heavy with disappointment.

“He is helping me getting my things,” Jiang Cheng says, with more patience than he actually feels.

“Your things? Where are you staying?” he asks and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“As if you really care,” he mutters, and then drags his siblings along when he follows after Lan Qiren.

“A-Cheng, for how long has this been going on?” Jiang Yanli asks him on the way and when Jiang Cheng only presses his lips together.

“Since the fight, right?” Wei Wuxian suddenly asks. “When I told you not to come home.”

“Since the fight, yes,” Jiang Cheng answers. “Lan Qiren brought me to the hospital when mother wanted me to go to work. And then I had nowhere to stay, so he allowed me to come over. I’ve been over a lot and then two weeks ago mother wanted me to get the cast off and Lan Qiren had a few words for her.”

“She wanted to have the cast taken off after four weeks?” Jiang Yanli suddenly asks and Jiang Cheng nods.

“And Lan Qiren didn’t let her?”

“Him and the doctor they took me to.”

“Good of them,” Wei Wuxian says with vehemence and Jiang Yanli nods at that.

Lan Qiren already gathered most of the things Jiang Cheng mentioned he needs and so there is not actually that much left to do for him.

“Anything else?” Lan Qiren asks him and Jiang Cheng quickly gathers two more knickknacks he knows he would miss, but then that’s it.

That’s his whole life packed away in two short trips and Jiang Cheng isn’t actually that sad about it.

“Where are you going?” Jiang Fengmian suddenly asks from the door, a thunderous expression on his face. “Is this why you haven’t been at work?”

“Now you notice,” Jiang Cheng says with a scoff, but when Lan Qiren puts a hand to his arm, he falls silent.

“You will let us leave now. Wanyin will not be back, and if you need further details you best speak to your wife.”

“You can’t just take my son. That’s abduction!”

“And what you’re doing is child neglect at best and active abuse at worst,” Lan Qiren hisses at him, and Jiang Cheng ducks his head.

He objectively knows that Lan Qiren is speaking the truth but it doesn’t make this any easier to take.

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli whispers, clearly horrified but Jiang Cheng shushes her, too concentrated on the look on Jiang Fengmian’s face.

“What are you saying?” he demands to know, but he already lost his posture so Jiang Cheng knows that he will let them leave without further fight.

His father did always shy away from confrontation.

“I am saying that if you don’t want child protection to come knocking on your door you better shut up now,” Lan Qiren says and Jiang Cheng has never heard him speak like this to anyone.

It seems like he has no respect at all for Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Cheng can understand that.

“Wanyin,” Jiang Fengmian tries, but even as Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli clearly gear up to tell him a few choice words, Lan Qiren steps right in front of Jiang Cheng and blocks his view at Jiang Fengmian.

“You will not speak to Wanyin, except to apologize to him and to wish him a good life at my place,” Lan Qiren decides and then nods, clearly expecting Jiang Fengmian’s silence.

“Then get out of the way,” Lan Qiren says and when Jiang Fengmian isn’t quick enough to comply with his wishes, he bodily pushes him aside.

Lan Qiren never struck Jiang Cheng as a physical person, but it seems like he’s entirely fed up with Jiang Cheng’s parents and Jiang Cheng can’t say that he minds it much.

“Come on, Wanyin,” Lan Qiren says over his shoulder and Jiang Cheng sticks close to his side when he starts to walk away.

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian don’t follow them immediately, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t look back.

He suspects they have a few words for Jiang Fengmian as well, and he’s not too keen on listening in on that.

Madam Yu doesn’t show up when they leave and Jiang Cheng is really grateful for that, because he doesn’t feel ready for another confrontation with her, even though Lan Qiren is a steady and supportive presence for him.

“Can we wait for my siblings here?” Jiang Cheng asks when they are at Lan Qiren’s car and of course Lan Qiren nods.

“Are you okay?” Lan Qiren asks and Jiang Cheng blinks when he realizes that he is.

“Yes,” he honestly says. “Thanks to you,” Jiang Cheng tacks on and then he darts in to quickly hug Lan Qiren, who pats his back when Jiang Cheng can’t bring himself to let go again immediately.

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli suddenly says from behind them and it’s only then that Jiang Cheng lets go of Lan Qiren.

“Oh, A-Cheng, I didn’t know what mother wanted to do,” Jiang Yanli says as she pulls him into a hug herself and Jiang Cheng bites back the bitter reply on his tongue and falls into her embrace instead.

“It’s alright,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and then groans when Wei Wuxian gathers them both up in a hug as well.

“You should have said something,” Wei Wuxian mumbles but before Jiang Cheng can say that maybe they should have realized on their own, Wei Wuxian goes on. “I’m glad you had Headmaster Lan at your side.”

“Me, too,” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he doesn’t even want to imagine what would have happened to him if Lan Qiren hadn’t been there for him.

“We have to go, guys,” Jiang Cheng says when the hug goes on and on, and while he enjoys this, he knows that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji are waiting for them at Lan Qiren’s place, and he’s actually looking forward to that dinner.

“Alright,” Jiang Yanli reluctantly says and let’s go of Jiang Cheng.

“You’re welcome to visit Wanyin whenever you like,” Lan Qiren speaks up, much to Jiang Cheng’s surprise.

“Thank you,” Jiang Yanli says and then also hugs Lan Qiren.

He doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with that, but before he can figure it out Jiang Yanli steps back again.

“Thank you so much for taking care of my didi,” she quietly tacks on and Lan Qiren clears his throat.

“You’re welcome,” he says without meeting anyone’s eyes and then he gets into the car, clearly looking to get out of this situation.

Jiang Cheng smiles at his behaviour and Wei Wuxian brushes their shoulder’s together.

“Are you really doing alright?” he quietly asks and Jiang Cheng leans into his side.

“Yes,” he honestly says and Wei Wuxian nods.

“I promise to keep better in touch now,” Wei Wuxian says. “I know I was occupied with Lan Zhan, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright,” Jiang Cheng gives back, even though he’s not entirely sure it is, but when Wei Wuxian smiles at him he figures they will be okay.

“We’ll be around much more,” Jiang Yanli also promises him and takes his hand in hers. “I promise. I’m so sorry I left you alone with this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jiang Cheng says.

Jiang Yanli is only two years older than him after all and it really shouldn’t be her job to worry about Jiang Cheng’s life.

“But I will still do better now,” she says and Jiang Cheng believes her.

“Alright,” he says and then smiles apologetically at her and Wei Wuxian. “Listen, we have to go now. It’s family dinner tonight,” he explains and is startled when he sees tears in Jiang Yanli’s eyes.

“Go and enjoy your family dinner then,” Jiang Yanli says as she pats Jiang Cheng’s cheek and he blushes.

“I will,” he promises and then he moves away from them, because he actually itches to leave with Lan Qiren now.

“Are you ready?” Lan Qiren asks when he slides into the car with him, and Jiang Cheng nods.

“It’s too much today,” he admits. “But I’m looking forward to them visiting.”

“They truly are always welcome,” Lan Qiren reiterates again and reaches over to squeeze Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “For everything.”

“That’s what you do for family,” Lan Qiren replies even as he starts the car, mostly to avoid looking at Jiang Cheng, he knows that by now.

Jiang Cheng smiles at his predictable behaviour and then settles deeper into the seat.

Lan Xichen promised to make Jiang Cheng’s favourite dishes today and Jiang Cheng is even looking forward to see Lan Wangji and he realizes that this must be what family feels like.

It’s a very warm and comfortable feeling and Jiang Cheng hopes he gets a lot more of this now.

But when he looks over at Lan Qiren, Jiang Cheng knows that he will do his best to make sure that Jiang Cheng always feels like this.

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Next part

#bt writes #jclovemonth2020 #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #lan qiren #found family #hurt/comfort #bad parenting #siblings bonding #modern au #Anonymous

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpectedly Bitten

Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too.

Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)

Notes: Folks I did my very very best. I am so bad at chaptered fics, it’s insane. But I tried. As always, Let me emphasize this: there is little rhyme or reason to the way this story is broken into parts.

This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship.

p.s if anyone knows the maker of these gifs let me know and i will give credit.

Words: 1628

Part 4: Heartbeat

Henry had agreed to entertain you for the night, waiting a few hours before he left again to find bodies. You played cards, having nothing else to do, and chuckled when neither of you could figure out who was worse at the game. You’d shown him a new one; one your mother taught you that you never developed the skill for but thought Henry might find amusing. And he did, though he had a hard time understanding it. But you were just happy to have him around with a smile on his face rather than the more recent stressed out scowl.

“This game makes no sense,” Henry joked as he tossed his losing hand on the table.

“Not according to my mother, but she’s dead now, so unfortunately we won’t ever get private lessons.”

Henry’s smile dropped at your words and you instantly regretted them. “How did she die?”

“Um,” Your eyebrows pinched as you recalled the day you were left alone in a life where you already had little. “Bad deal with a witch.”

“A witch? Where did she even find one?”

“She heard the whispers and went where the rumors claimed,” You said, fiddling with the stacked deck. “My dad had died, and she thought a deal with a witch for his soul would be smarter than going to a demon.”

“I’m sorr—” Henry began, but paused the instant Chris barged into the dining room. His fingers tugged at his blond hair.

“What?” Henry asked just as a knock sounded at the front door.

“Elec.”

Henry’s shoulders tensed as he stood so fast the table nudged, and when you did the same, walking to him, you couldn’t help but notice how he slightly pushed you behind the wall of his body. “Now?”

“I saw him at the gate,” Chris looked from Henry to you and back, and answered the unspoken question hanging between them with a shake of his head. “There’s no time, Hen. He’ll smell her after the hours you’ve been in this room. Y/N,” He calmly said to you, “Keep your mouth shut, ok?”

You nodded, then jumped at the rumbling knock that had Chris heading out of the dining room to the front door a few yards away, you and Henry trailing behind. “It’ll be fine,” Henry said, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to reassure you or himself.

Chris opened the door with a deep breath and moved aside to allow a vampire, black-haired and red-eyed, to step into the entryway. He was built smaller than Henry or Chris, decorated in what appeared to be modernized attire from the 1800s, and had a confident smirk on his face that made your stomach turn. He opened his mouth to speak, but a quick scan of the room and a sniff halted him, and his blazing eyes connected with yours instantly as if you had some beacon above your head.

“Human,” The small vampire said, acknowledging your presence without shock or concern. Almost as if you were just an inanimate decoration in the corner of the room.

Henry moved a little more in front of you when he sensed you flinch from behind.

“And it’s still alive, how interesting.” Elec’s boney hand reached out. “Come here, pet.”

“Back off Elec, she’s Henry’s,” Chris said before Henry could let out a defensive growl.

“Why can’t we share the feast?” He said, never breaking his stare from your face. “I’ve come quite a long way, and we always used to share. It’s the least you could do for a member of the Lord’s court. Unless…” He grinned at Henry, long fangs poking out. “Unless you’ve become one of those vampires who fucks their food before they eat it.” He placed his scarlet glare on you again. “Though you are a pretty thing, aren’t you? I’d have you myself if you were like us.”

“She wouldn’t want you.” Henry snapped.

Elec rose an onyx eyebrow. “So, not only fucking his next meal, but very protective of it too.”

“What have you come for, Elec?” Chris asked, attempting to draw his attention away. “You haven’t visited alone in years.”

“Just thought I’d stop by, see some old friends, reminisce a bit…maybe share a delectable, little meal,” He wet his lips, “But since I am so blatantly unwelcome, I’ll share the bit of news I have for you and go.”

Henry ticked his jaw. “And that would be?”

“As the newly appointed hand of the Lord, I am here to inform you he will be here in seven days. Make your preparations. And be sure to eat her before he comes, or she will be taken as an offering,” He said, nudging his head in your direction.

Henry looked as if to protest, but before he could, Chris said, “Understood.”

“Good,” Elec spun on his heal, but stopped just before passing the threshold, turned his head to the side and said, “Be sure not to get attached to it, Hen. Think of the trouble it’d cause,” Then, “See you in a week, gentlemen.”

Elec stepped out into the night, blending in with the darkness as Chris shut the door.

“Do you think he’ll tell him?” Henry asked Chris, the grip on your arm you hadn’t noticed before now, tightening.

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

------

“Henry…” You began, watching him stare into space. He’d dragged you into his room after Elec left as if the space between the dining room and the front door was now tainted with bad energy. “What he said--”

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter,” He replied without looking your way. “You won’t ever see him again.”

“You’re worried.”

“It’s fine, Lamb, ok? I promise.” He wasn’t trying to snap at you; you could tell by the way he winced when it was too late to take the words back, but he was distraught and couldn’t contain it.

You stood from the bed and made your way over, reaching for this hand. He flinched unexpectedly when you touched him, like he had been in his own little world and the bubble surrounding him popped when he felt your skin on his. He met your eyes. “Thank you,” You said, lightly squeezing his fingers. “For defending me.”

He’d been cryptic after the day Elec visited; not answering the questions that would help to fill the blank spaces in your mind. But you needed those answers, at least for your sanity.

The worry he failed to hide from you momentarily melted away. He raised his other hand to your face and cupped your jaw, rubbing his thumb along its edge. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

‐----------------

You were too determined to find them that it distracted you from the book in your lap, and by the tenth time you’d reread the same sentence, you gave up. You stood, threw the book in the unoccupied chair with a little too much ferocity, then marched your way back to the spare room he was sleeping in while you stayed in his. You didn’t even think on it, didn’t consider what he could be doing, so when you shoved the door open without knocking, you immediately regretted it.

His hair was freshly damp, his body covered in little water droplets that traced the curves of his muscles as gravity pulled them down, with a towel barely held around his hips by one hand. He paused when he saw you and his lips parted in surprise, much like your own.

The flush of your cheeks matched the heat that now flowed through your veins at the sight of him. “Um…” You swallowed. “I—"

Henry sharply inhaled, but it was loud enough to shut you up and soak the room in silence, until he said “I can hear your heart beating,” His eyebrows briefly knitted together in a twitch of shock and confusion.

He wasted no time walking towards you, making you back up until you had nowhere to go. Bright, blue eyes never left yours, and when you were good and trapped, Henry dropped the towel without a care so he could place his hands on the wall either side of your body. You didn’t dare break his stare or try to run.

“It’s pumping awfully fast, Lamb,” He whispered with a twinge of awe.

“You’re…naked.”

“Mhmm.” He glanced at your lips and removed one hand from the wall so his fingers could graze along your cheek and jaw before settling at the curve of your neck. He didn’t seem to worry the way you did over his lack of clothes. It seemed to be the last thing he cared to waste a thought over, like it was the least important detail in what was happening between the two of you now.

“So that’s—” You swallowed. “I mean—"

“If you’re scared,” He moved closer, “Then don’t look down.”

“Of course I’m not scared of you.” You said so softly it was almost a whisper, suddenly unable to look away from the hypnotic way his lips moved when he spoke only to you.

“No. Just of parts of me.” He smirked.

“I’m not scared of any bit of you.” You tore your eyes away and met his own again. “But I need to know what’s happening. After everything, I still don’t know what you want.”

Delicately, he trailed his fingers up and down the length of your neck, stopping only to savor feel of your pulse. “Little Lamb, I thought…I thought if you knew what I wanted, you would run for the fucking hills, but,” He paused, slipping his hand under the neckline of your shirt to place his palm over your thumping heart. “Maybe you wouldn’t.”

---

Tags: @agniavateira @tumblenewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair @readermia @angelofthorr @itmejado @caro-jean @raven-black102 @itty-bitty-dancer @grungeisntmything @wolfiepirate @scuzmonkie @heartfullofl @wanderlustkitkat @maan24 @furievonalexandria @posiemax @sweetybuzz25 @iamthetwickster

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill angst #henry cavill fics

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little-murmaider · 4 years ago

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@cthene @squeeto and @failedintsave have written three distinct flavors of Skwistok Apocalypse Fic and they all live in my head rent free so I felt like doing a lil end-of-the-world scene. (If a modified version of this pops up in the Stay Alive sequel that doesn’t exist shh shh shh shut up ❤️)

The bunker didn’t offer much in the way of creature comforts. A holdover from the Cold War, it was 1500 square feet of steel buried beneath four stories of cement. There were suggestions it had been built for a group, but there was only one bed—a twin cot that only Pickles could fit on comfortably, though Toki made due if he tucked in his knees. The bar and the armory were fully stocked. A connection to the outside world was available via a 360-degree live feed of the surface, visible from a claustrophobic surveillance room. It wasn’t impenetrable, but it was a lucky find. And until they received marching orders from Offdensen, it was home. The only spray of color amongst the sterility was a faded, amateur mural canvasing the entirety of the southwest wall. A panorama of the snowy, mountainous Montana landscape. The proportions are all out of wack: Distant trees and prominent foreground boulders seem to have the same weight and dimension. Toki sits on the floor opposite it, eyes fixed on the blobby bug-eyed buffalo grazing the sorta serene-ish tableau. He thinks of the person who painted this. How they were probably really proud of it. How making it probably brought them some form of peace. How they were long dead. The despair makes him nauseous. Skwisgaar is curled in the space between Toki’s legs, head resting on his chest, arms wound lightly around his waist. They all agreed to take turns ��keeping watch” in the surveillance room. But everyone was on-edge, everyone was scared, everyone was a little too focused on their own anxiety to notice how deftly Skwisgaar switched shifts. His impulse to assuage the others often tipped into the unhealthy territory but in the last few weeks it had made a full tilt into self-destruction. He’d been holed up in that room, delirious with sleep deprivation, for almost two days days before Toki caught on. He was only convinced to leave when Toki started crying. (He’s not proud of that tactic, but hey, it’s the end of the world. Lots of people are doing lots of things they’re not proud of.) As he idly plays with the ends of Skwisgaar’s hair, Toki hears the echo of footfalls drawing near. They’re so swift, so light, Toki knows exactly who it is well before the worn sneakers appear in his periphery. “Hey,” Pickles says. “Heys,” Toki answers. A half-empty handle of vodka dangles from Pickles’s fingers. He tips his chin at Skwisgaar’s sleeping form. “Why doncha take th’bed?” “Nathan’s using its.” Pickles nods and takes a long pull from his drink. A beat passes. “…That buffahlo is pretty fucked up, huh?” “I can’ts stops looking at its.” “I’ve never SEEN a buffahlo in real life but I’m,” he pauses, squinting to calculate, “73 percent sure they don’ look like that.” “Onlys 73 per-cents?” Pickles shrugs. “I mean, hey, maybe buffahlos look exactly like that, I dunno whut I dunno.” Toki’s silent laughter shakes him. But then a muffled moan vibrates against his collarbone. “Toki?” He murmurs, sluggishly starting to rise. He code-switches on instinct. To answer in English, with an audience, is too raw. “Jeg er her.” He cups the base of Skwisgaar’s skull and guides him back to his chest. “Gå tilbake til sengs.” Skwisgaar’s hold tightens. “Lämna mig inte.” “Aldri, elskede.” He settles against him and sighs. “Tack, älskling.” Skwisgaar’s weight sinks into him, and after a few moments his muscles relax as his breathing falls into a slow, even rhythm. Again, it is quiet. “Whut does it mean?” Oh right Pickles is here. “Whats?” “Th’ e word and th’ a word you guys use fer each other.” Toki freezes. “At least I think they start wit’ an e and an a, I can’t be bothered t’ look up th’ spellin’ in that elven language a’yours.” He smiles crookedly but his eyes glass over. “That and we’re 40 feet underground and th’ internet doesn’t exist anymore.” “You’ve heards us says dat?” “Dood ya do it all’a time. I may naht know what yer sayin’ but I’m pretty good at pickin’ up patterns.” He taps out an invisible rim shot, hissing the cymbal crash as he winks. Toki briefly considers lying. But he knows it’s a waste—Pickles is primed to hacksaw through all his bullshit. “It don’ts...translates, exactly, into English.” He waits a moment to see if Pickles accepts this as an adequate explanation. He doesn’t. Toki continues shakily: “Wells, it does but nots, um, de emotion…” He scrunches his nose and starts over. “Yous don’ts use it for everybodies, yous supposed to saves it for somebody who’s really…” Sighing, he thumbs Skwisgaar’s shoulderblade like it’s a lucky talisman. “I don’ts know whens we starts doesing it.” “A while ago, dood.” Oh.

“Oh. Um. Wells.” Heat rises to his cheeks. “Elskede in Norweigian means,” he winces, “beloved, and älskling ams kinds of de ex-quibbi-kent in Swedish buts it means, uh.” He tucks his chin to his chest and shields his eyes in embarrassment. “It means darling buts you don’ts use its de way you does ins English, it’s, um...” His thumb and middle and index finger squeeze into his eye sockets so hard stars flash across his vision. “...It’s somet’ings you use for de poirson what ams most specials to yous, likes de poirson you mights maybe marry one days wowee saysing all dis outs loud makes me feel real stupids cans I please stops?” “Okey okey.” When Toki opens his eyes he sees Pickles waving his hands like he’s trying to break up a bad smell. “Asked an’ answered.” The tips of Toki’s ears burn, a shameful sludge spreading thickly behind his sternum. He tips his head back, skull thunking dully against the wall. “Don’ts tell de guys abouts dis, Skwisgaar will nevers forgive mes.” “Nah, dood, don’ worry, this stays in th’ vault.” The drone of the overhead fluorescent lights and the muted thrum of generators thrums like locusts. Skwisgaar inhales deeply, exhales sharply, and nestles closer. Toki’s gaze darts about the terrible mural, searching for something to latch to, but his focus swings as if by gravitational pull back to Pickles’s face. When he at last resolves to glance up at him, he’s braced for ridicule. But when he does, his tension deflates. Pickles doesn’t look like he’s about to make fun of him. Pickles looks like...Toki doesn’t know what Pickles looks like. “Whats dat face?” Pickles’s smile widens, head cocking to the side. “Stops dat! What’s dat face!” “What face! There’s no face! I don’ even have a face!” He bites his lower lip, muffling a chuckle. “Awright bud, I’m naht gunna lie, me and these other dooshbeegs have had our suspicions about the, errrr aaaah...” He cinches one eye shut. “...Nature of yer relationship. But none’a us suspected you guys were, y’know…” He rolls the wrist holding the vodka, liquid splashing to the floor. Toki stares at him questioningly. “...Fully in it.” Toki blinks. “In whats?” Pickles pinches his lips and squints as if to say, come on dude, but doesn’t press further. “Welp.” He kicks backwards to push himself off the wall and stand upright. “It’s almost sunrise. Or sunset, I dunno, this steel box has really fucked up my internal clahck. But I’m gonna watch th’ sun do somethin’ wit’ Murderface until my shift on watch.” He pivots to face the long corridor leading to the surveillance room. I’ll see ya around.” He pauses. He points a finger in the air, draws a small circle, and glances over his shoulder with a small smile. “Abviously.” He’s gone as quickly as he arrived. Toki’s attention returns to the mural. The staticky grasslands. The angular mountains. The flat plane of the lake. Toki’s not an art guy but he knows this is bad. Still, it moves him. He doesn’t understand why. Maybe he doesn’t have to. He and Skwisgaar have always talked around it. They’ve always had an understanding, leaving little secrets and codes for the other to crack. They did, mostly. It’s the same, mostly. But it’s the end of the world and Toki needs to say it out loud. He buries his face in that soft golden crown and whispers, “I loves you.” “I loves you, too,” is the sleepy reply. He was wrong. It’s different. It’s better. “Is likes Pickle says.” He pushes himself up to press his lips to Toki’s neck. “We’s fully ins it.”

#skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #skwistok #metalocalypse #my fanfic

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

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Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

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The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

#javi x reader #javi x you #javi x y/n #Peña x reader #Peña x you #javier pena x reader #Javier Peña x you #narcos fanfic #agent peña x reader #agent Peña x you #not a piece of art #part 1

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iridescent-petrichor · 4 years ago

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we’ll meet again, chapter five

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: i dont think so?

Words: 1.7K

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You’d never been on the run from the cops before, and you hated every second of it. It had been only a week since the incident, but you couldn’t take any more of it.

You collapsed in an alley, exhaustion overtaking you. It was a dangerous place to sleep, but you were too tired to care. You were so tired that you almost didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you. Blinking a couple times, you looked up and saw two men walking towards you. Sitting up straighter, you furrowed your brows together. They didn’t seem like threats.

They stopped a couple feet in front of you.

“Hello. My name is Charles Xavier. I understand that you’ve caused a bit of a fire recently.” The man in a wheelchair extended his hand for you to shake. You didn’t take it.

“How did you find me?” They must be cops, or maybe they’re higher up. Government agents maybe? What if you get sent to the Pentagon just like-

“We’re not cops.” You blinked, focusing back on the men in front of you. “I found you through Cerebro – a device Hank designed that helps me connect to other mutants in the world.” He gestures to the man – Hank – who was standing next to him.

“Other… mutants?” Your mind instantly went to Peter. If they found you, they could’ve tracked him down too considering how careless he is with his powers.

“I can help you control your powers. You seem like you need it.” He glanced down, and only then did you notice the fire leaking out of your palms. You jumped, standing stiffly as the fire instantly disappearing before you looked back up at the men.

“You promise?” He nodded, extending his hand once more. You shook it, making the decision final.

He turned in his wheelchair, heading out of the alley and down the street. Hank gave you one last look to make sure you were following before he joined Charles Xavier.

They stopped at a car, motioning for you to get in. You hesitated for a moment, briefly thinking about how stupid of an idea this was if these two were scammers of some kind, before you climbed in the backseat.

Fuck it.

The school was massive to say the least. Giant strings of ivy fell from the roof down the building. It was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. You stepped out of the car, unable to contain the shock on your face.

“Welcome to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.” Hank smiled, appearing next to you.

“Wow.” You muttered, smiling wide.

“Come, let’s show you the inside.” Charles was already heading towards the entrance. You glanced between him and Hank before following him inside.

The inside was just as grand as the outside, and just as devoid of people. You looked from the chandelier to the giant staircase, and finally back to Hank.

“Didn’t you say this was a school?”

He nodded. “It used to be.”

“What happened to everyone?”

He looked to the ground, not responding. When you glanced at Charles, you realized that you likely wouldn’t be getting an answer out of either of them for a while.

“Want the grand tour?” Hank asked, changing the subject, smiling when you nodded enthusiastically.

Maybe being a mutant wasn’t so bad after all.

The news of the fire had been eating away at Peter for the next couple weeks, every possibility of what could’ve happened to her stewing in his mind.

Finally, he gave in to his impulse, wishing his mom a quick goodbye before speeding off to the location of where the fire had been. He knew she wouldn’t be there, but it was the only lead on her that he had.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive in New York, and he contemplated trying to find that guy that helped his dad break out of the Pentagon for a moment.

No, I have to stay focused.

He glanced around the crowd on the off chance she’d be nearby. No such luck. He sighed, leaning against a wall for a moment to gather his thoughts.

How are you gonna find one girl in a massive city like this?

“Are you sure you’ll be able to get the school back up and running?” You asked, watching Charles wheel over to Cerebro with Hank by your side.

You were wearing sleek gloves made from a mixture of materials Hank had been working with. The three of you quickly acknowledged that before you got your powers under control, you would need to keep them from surfacing at the wrong moment, and after quite a few tests, he determined that your power often came from your hands. They were comforting; it made you feel like you had more control already.

“Yes.” He said simply, now placing the helmet over his head. Hank left your side to join Charles, messing with the controls that you knew better than to even try to understand.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked after a moment of silence. You felt so useless standing there off to the side.

They paused, looking between each other for a moment. “You could… get groceries? Hank suggested lamely.

Awesome.

“Unfortunately there is nothing for you to do in here, maybe it is best that you get out of the mansion for some time today.” Charles said, not looking towards you. He certainly explained it better than Hank would’ve.

You sighed, nodding. “Okay fine, but I’m taking your wallet.” Charles laughed as you turned on your heel and walked from the room.

Peter had been in New York for a couple days, calling his mom using spare change at some phone booths around the city to let her know he won’t be home for a while. He managed to call every day, but he could tell she was getting increasingly frustrated whenever he said he wasn’t going home yet.

Today, though, he promised her that he would head home. It was a stupid idea anyway, looking for you here.

When he hung up, he let out a long sigh, leaning against the phone booth. All of the hope that he brought to New York had dwindled out painfully. That’s when he could’ve sworn he saw a glimpse of you walking down the street.

It jolted him back into reality, barely refraining from using his powers to run over there in case it wasn’t actually you.

Then, weaving through the crowd, he saw you. You was walking on the opposite side of the street, facing away from him, but it was unmistakably you. He broke out in a grin, running to you as fast as he could.

In their defense, it was a nice day outside.

You took a deep breath, keeping your bag of groceries close to yourself as you weaved between people to get back home.

Home.

Smiling to yourself, you thought about how welcoming Charles and Hank were. The idea of restarting the mutant school excited you, giving you a small skip in your step.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the person run in front of you until you knocked into them.

“Oh!” You backed up. “I’m so…” You apology died on your tongue when you saw who it was.

“Hey.” In an instant, you were closer to the building, out of the way of the impatient crowd.

“Peter.” You brought your hand up to his face as if to make sure he was actually there. “What are you-”

“I saw the news. Quite the fire you started, Y/N.” He was grinning from ear to ear, and it was so contagious.

“Hey, at least I didn’t break a ‘dangerous mutant’ out of the Pentagon.” You matched his smile, unable to contain your happiness from seeing him.

“How’d you even know that was me? I’m sure there’s plenty of very attractive silver-haired mutants out there.” You laughed loudly. God, it was nice just being in his presence again.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“So, where you headed?” He asked, moving away from you to walk in the direction you were originally heading.

“I’ve actually been staying with some mutants,” you had to jog to catch up to him, smiling when you noticed he slowed down to match your pace.

“That’s cool.” He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. The conversation was easy; it was always so easy with Peter.

“You should stay with us.” You looked up at him, frowning when he laughed shortly.

“I was actually gonna ask you that.” You tilted your head in confusion. “When I saw the news, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. After a while I figured what the hell, I should check on my best friend. Make sure she has a place to stay. And if you didn’t I would’ve let you stay at my place – well my mom’s place. But she’d probably be fine if you holed up in the basement with me, y’know? You were always there all the time anyway, so-”

“Pete.” You spoke, cutting off his rambling. He paused for a moment, before speaking again.

“I was just worried.”

“I get it. But I’m fine. Trust me.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

“You sure?” He finally looked up from the ground, staring at you. “Cause I can’t protect you all the time if I’m all the way in DC.”

“I promise.” You said, giving him a smile as one final reassurance. He seemed to relax a bit, leaning closer to you.

“Okay, good, cause I kinda have to get home.”

“What?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He groaned, putting an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. “I’ve kinda been here for more than a couple of days and my mom is getting more upset by the day and I kinda just promised her that I would be heading home like, now, so…”

“Will we ever get to actually hang out again?” You frowned, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way.” You nodded, pulling him into a hug before the two of you said your goodbyes.

As quick as he came, he was gone. You bit your lip, holding back tears that threatened to spill down your face. Saying goodbye to him was always the hardest part.

When you got back to the mansion you set the groceries down in the kitchen, cursing to yourself when you realized you forgot entirely to mention to Peter where you’d been staying.

You marched up the stairs to your bedroom, not bothering to tell the boys you were home. Charles could find out easily, anyway.

#peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff x reader

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frogsmulder · 4 years ago

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Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 3 All The Colours Cannot Brighten

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

2.1k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

Scully shuffled awkwardly, walking into the department store, having foregone underwear. Currently, it was at the top of her mental list as she tried to discreetly pull her slacks down to stop the seam irritating her. Mulder's hand was at home on her back, to make matters worse, the usually comforting gesture making it more difficult to shift her pants.

Mulder chuckled quietly, seeing her fidget. She elbowed him to remind him he was in the exact same situation and it wouldn't be hard to exacerbate it if she wanted to. He squeezed her hip in apology, but she could still feel him laughing.

Leaning up, Scully whispered in his ear, "This needs to be quick. There are security cameras everywhere; we don't want to increase our chances of being recognised." Her pulse quickened at the prospect. "So, a set of clothes, toiletries, and we get out."

He nodded. "We should split up to save time."

"Agreed."

They parted without a single word more, Scully heading up the stairs to the women's and children's section and Mulder staying in the men's. She watched him, as she climbed the stairs, grow smaller and out of sight, feeling that gnawing in her stomach swell in his absence. Sucking in a breath, she focused her mind and steeled herself for the rest of the operation.

On the second floor, Scully was greeted with a bombardment of bright colours. Keeping her head low, she ignored gaiety and headed straight to the lingerie section, picking up the first packet of black briefs she found in her size. Practicality over style reminded her of her childhood, her father's strict orders, how she both embraced, and rebelled. She was conscious of that storm brewing in her again. With her plain clothes, she could hide from the world and its prying eyes. Yet a niggling thought told her that no-one would notice if she picked out some lace, no-one would see beneath her exterior armour: she could have something for herself again. She brushed her fingers over the delicate material, daring to imagine the power she could have. A small piece of control regained. Perhaps she could banish her contrition from the bedroom. Take control.

Ultimately, she left the lace behind, opting to match her plain briefs with a couple of plain t-shirt bras; the peril of public exposure was starting to take its toll. Every tick of the clock marked a drip of anxiety pooling in her lungs and the water levels steadily rising. Time was marching on.

Just socks, t-shirts, jeans, a coat, and maybe a jumper. She wondered if it looked suspicious buying a whole wardrobe in one, but was too drained already to consider changing tactics.

She grabbed a pack of socks whilst hunting for some t-shirts and jeans.

Two t-shirts: checked.

One pair of jeans: checked.

Coat.

Scully wandered surreptitiously through the floor, doubtful it would have a waterproof, when she stumbled upon tiny hats and boots.

Her insides crumbled.

It had been so long since she'd set foot in this section, buying small clothes to wrap her small child snuggly in. He would be a year old now, she reminded herself, learning to walk, starting to babble. Walking slowly, as if in a dreamlike state, she found herself subconsciously heading for the 12-18 months; no control over the path her feet chose. She was surrounded by a sea of cotton soft baby clothing: yellow cardigans, baby blue t-shirts, miniature dungarees... She imagined his ginger hair in a red sunhat. He'd be a year old now, Scully reminded herself as she picked up a white whale soft toy. It was something that she could have bought for his birthday and watch him chew the tail off when he was teething; tuck him into bed with and read bedtime stories.

----------

Mulder went upstairs to find Scully, having got all he needed. Not finding her anywhere obvious, he started to panic.

"Sc–" he called, but his mouth closed around her name, stopping himself, aware of the crowd of other shoppers who would easily hear him. Forced into silence, he picked up the pace, scanning all the rows of clothes for his familiar sign of red hair.

They are coming for you, son...

The sound of his pounding feet was mimicked by the rush of blood in his ears.

If you want my advice... leave your pretty, little partner...

He felt dizzy and disoriented, not knowing where to look or which way to turn.

get out of there while you still can...

He heard the giggle of a child cut through his mind with clarity but he dismissed it. After all, this was a department store, not a house haunted by unexplained phenomena; he had left those behind in his past. Yet he heard it again, closer, and he could have sworn it was from inside his head.

He stopped and turned around slowly.

Mulder saw that familiar red hair, peeking out from behind a rail, only it was more of a strawberry blonde and just above knee height. He crouched down to see her properly, but she moved away, only her blue eyes fixing sharply on his through the clothing.

"Em?" he whispered.

She made no response but turned away around the corner.

When Mulder rounded the corner himself, she was already at the other end, turning another, her bob of hair only there for a flash before she disappeared. He followed her winding trail, curious where she was leading him, until she stopped, standing next to someone, trying to tug at her shirt.

"Sc– Dana," he smiled, using her given name under some perceptive veil that it was safer. Emily nodded shyly. "You found her."

Scully turned around, still clutching the white whale. "What? Mulder? What are you doing here?"

"E–" He looked to Scully's side where Emily had just been but now was nowhere to be seen. "... I came to find you," he said, which was true, he just didn't want to unravel the traumatised inner workings of his brain in the middle of the baby section.

Then he realised where they were; where Scully had been; what Scully was holding in her hand.

"Dana," he whispered, a lump of worry caught in his throat, distorting his voice.

Scully looked down at the stuffed toy in her hands like she had her hand caught in the cookie jar. "We didn't buy him anything for his first birthday..." she tried to explain.

He wordlessly took the whale from her grasp and put it in the basket with the rest of his clothes like it already belonged.

She shook her head, searching his eyes for some understanding. "No, we can't... The money... We can't afford–"

"Yes we can," he interrupted her. Everybody grieved in their own way; maybe it could soothe him too. "Toiletries and then we're out of here," he reminded her.

"I haven't got a coat yet. Though, I think we're better off getting blankets for the car."

"You find the toiletries, I'll get the blankets. Meet back... by the stairs?"

Scully sighed.

Mulder stepped closer, wishing he could vanquish her hurt. "You sure you're okay, S–?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing." She brushed off his fussing, feeling like a small, incapable child herself under all the attention.

Mulder held her cheek in his palm and dried a stray tear.

"I'll be fine," she amended.

Trusting her, he gave Scully the basket and watched as she left him, walking quickly like she was running away. Her stiff gait so un-Scully-like and alien it was a physical embodiment of her grief. Himself feeling like cement, stayed, weighed down, swamped by a tide from slowly opening floodgates. Mulder looked at the row of white whales lined up on the shelf, each flopping with individual personality in the way that stuffing could make it appear so.

"Do you think he would like it?"

The bob of strawberry blonde hair nodded out of the corner of his eye before vanishing, leaving him to navigate the labyrinth alone.

----------

Scully was vaguely aware of what she's putting into the basket: deodorant, soap, razors, tampons– she hadn't even thought about those until she saw them. Her hand briefly hesitated over a box of condoms but she clenched it back into a fist. It would just be a reminder, an admittance, an avoidance.

At the checkout, she remained stoic and silent, resisting Mulder's touch at the small of her back. Ignoring the numbers as they flew by on the till, she handed over the money, too much to be paid in cash without raising eyebrows. If the cashier said something, she didn't notice. It wasn't until they were back on the dust-roads, alone, dressed comfortably in their new, plain clothes that Scully lowered her guard. By then, the day was long behind them, Selene cresting twilight in her silver, moon chariot. Night darkened their paths heading south, the chill creeping to tuck them in.

Curled up in the seat, Scully wrapped herself in the scratchy woolen blanket, it in no way kept the cold at bay. The white whale they had bought was tucked under her chin, squished closely to her chest as she held it tightly. She gazed out of the window, turned away from him, watching the last of the colours blur. At first, Mulder thought she was shivering from the cool air, so he rubbed her arm, but when he did so, she gasped and sniffed, retaking air like she would drown.

Mulder clenched his jaw and his fist on the steering wheel, angry with himself for not noticing sooner. They used to trek over the country all the time; long car rides filled with easy talking and comfortable quiet. Times were different, but their silence was a symptom of something more fatal. He wondered how it was so simple to forget that they had changed. He pulled to the side of the road and turned the key on the ignition.

"What... are you doing?" Scully whispered, choking on the sound of her broken voice.

He tried to reach for her hand. "Scully, please..." His plead faded into the stillness.

She remained looking out the window, focusing on the darkness. "I'm fine."

It was a knee-jerk reaction, taken from a box of samples she'd collected over the years. Scully cringed when she heard the old habit spill from her lips. It was an obvious lie– she knew it– risking exposure, especially to Mulder, who knew her so well. Feeling she had to was worse. Did she want Mulder to tell her she was wrong or was she only trying to kid herself?

She expected his words to follow swiftly, felt them on her tongue as he was going to say them. Yet they never came; his hand settled still on her elbow, the silence growing louder.

He continued to give her his undivided attention until she crumbled under the weight of his worry.

"I just..." She paused, licking her lips, trying to find the words to explain when her head was an empty void. She turned around to face him, yet she bowed her head, failing to hold his gaze. Huffing, Scully collected her feelings and imagined holding them in her chest. They trickled through the cracks in her hands, slipping as she struggled to understand them. What she had left in her palms was the guilt that tainted everything she touched. She tried again. "... Want to be happy... I'm not sure I can do that again. Not when there's so much missing."

Mulder gulped, running out of words to comfort her. I'm here, he wanted to say, You have me. But deep down he knew it was pointless saying it; it wasn't enough for her, even if it was for him. He couldn't deny that they were different people– very different people– despite all that they shared.

"It's going to come back for us," she stated simply and braved a glimpse at him. "We shouldn't have gone to the store. We shouldn't have stayed in the motel, Mulder."

He melted in her gaze, hating to see her burn herself in penance for all the things she couldn't control. Only that morning had he put a smile upon her face; things seeming hopeful. The way she had giggled wrapped in his arms now a distant dream.

You know she's right, Mulder. How do you save her now? the grizzled man chuckled, but Mulder ignored the voice.

"You said it yourself, Scully, we needed those things: 'practically speaking'." He felt cruel for using her own words against her, but they were the only ones he had.

She didn't turn away like he was expecting her to. Instead, she trained her eyes on his in the darkness. It wasn't a cold, hard stare but it wasn't filled with warmth either. She reached for his hand, locking their fingers together: a last act of hope. Mulder held onto the feeling, closing his eyes to the darkness.

"Maybe I was wrong."

#my fic #Maybe there's hope #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #on the run #xf fanfic

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neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.0k

warnings: swearing, zeke

listen to the music masterlist

prev | next

Just as you were about to say something else to Mikasa, the doorbell rang, interrupting the moment. She let go of your hair and stood at her full height.

"Are you expecting anyone?" She asked.

"No, we're not." With confusion evident on your face, you got off the stool and lightly kicked it under the counter.

Your eyebrows knitted together as you made your way to the front door.

On the other side of the glass, you saw a blond bearded man struggling to hold around five suitcases. He noticed you reaching for the door handle and grinned widely.

"Surprise!" He shouted and dropped his luggage on the marble floor when the door was fully opened. He raised his arms and tried to hug you. Scowling, you evaded his embrace.

"Zeke, what the hell are you doing here?" Your grip on the door tightened with every word.

Zeke frowned. "Do I need a reason to visit my sister?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not your sister. And typically, yes, you would."

"Okay, well, you're like my sister." He paused to adjust his glasses. "Have you forgotten? Eren's twenty-second is coming up. There's so much to do!" His excited facade was transparent to you.

"You didn't care about his twenty-first. Or his twentieth, for that matter. What's the sudden interest in your brother's life?" You raised an eyebrow as he visibly grew nervous.

"Well, you see, uh-" He twiddled his thumbs and your eyes narrowed. "Here's the thing-"

"Spit it out, Zeke." Mikasa cut him off when she rounded the corner. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the staircase railing.

"Mikasa! I didn't know you were back!" Zeke made rapid hand gestures toward her, eager to change the subject.

"I didn't know you were back, either. At least I gave a warning," she uttered, earning an incredulous look from the blond.

"Zeke, why are you here?" you continued.

His eyes briefly shifted to a houseplant before training back on you. "What if I told you I'm not allowed in the state of Nebraska?" He gave you a meek smile and your jaw dropped.

Mikasa snorted. "What the hell did you do in Nebraska?"

"Nothing!" he assured. "It's just that I may or may not be several million dollars in debt and on the run from the police." He looked down at his muddy boots in shame.

"You're WHAT?" You gaped at him. You'd known Zeke long enough to have it figured out that he brought trouble wherever he went but he was usually careful enough not to get banned from a state.

"It's not as bad as you think! I just got into a little quarrel with some guys. Everything is fine. Just let me stay here for a while," he said sheepishly.

"I am not letting a fugitive stay in my home!" you exclaimed.

"I'm not a fugitive! There's no need to use terms like that!"

"You're banned from Nebraska! I'll call you whatever I want!"

"What's all the commotion about?" Eren was walking down the stairs when he saw his older brother at the door. His mouth dropped open and he gripped the railing beside him. "Zeke?!"

"Why didn't you tell me your brother was in town?" You glared up at him.

"Because I didn't know!" He started to flail his arms around while simultaneously trying to make sense of the situation.

"Hey, little brother. Can I sleep in your room?"

"No!"

"Zeke's not allowed in Nebraska," Mikasa informed.

"What?!" Eren clutched the railing with one hand and his head with the other whilst continuing his descent down the stairs. "What even is Nebraska?" he mumbled with wide eyes.

"Doesn't matter. I wanna know how he managed to be banned from it." You glowered at the man in front of you.

"Y/n, will you please let me inside? It's cold even in March, you know." Zeke pleaded and pretended to shiver.

You glanced back at Eren for a sign of his approval. The house was yours, but Zeke was his brother. It wasn't like this was the first time he needed to stay over, anyway. Unlike mere seconds before, he now held a serious expression. He nodded at you and beckoned for Zeke to follow him.

He heaved a relieved sigh and nearly tackled you with a hug. "Thank you so much, Y/n! You won't regret this, I promise."

It felt like your bones were being crushed by his weight as your face was pushed up against his jacket. He reeked of an old car. "Okay, get off me, old man!" Your voice was muffled as you tried to push him away. He backed up and brushed your shoulders off before grabbing his luggage and disappeared into the basement with his younger brother.

You sighed heavily and plopped down on the stairs. "He got mud all over my floors. I just cleaned them too." Your head fell into your hands as you stressed over Zeke's sudden arrival. As if there wasn't enough on your plate already.

Mikasa laughed quietly as she draped an arm around your shoulders and sat down beside you. The sudden contact made your ears burn red. "Any particular reason for cleaning?" she hinted teasingly.

You lifted your head as you apprehensively stammered out a poor explanation.

She laughed at you again and you couldn't help but wonder if it's always been that easy to make her laugh. You thought about it for a moment and concluded to yourself that it didn't matter what made her laugh, as long as you got to hear it.

A dreamy smile spread across your face as you watched how her newly short hair fell in front of her eyes when she laughed like that.

It seemed she noticed your thoughtful gaze because she tucked the hair behind her ear and peered down at you. "What are you looking at?" she whispered.

"You."

The sound of footsteps resounded from the stairs behind you. "Woah, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Jean smirked when he saw how close you and Mikasa were. He parted the two of you by removing Mikasa's arm so he could walk in between.

Your face grew red when you realized what you had said to her and it grew even redder when you noticed Mikasa had a similar amount of color dusting her cheeks.

"Heads up, I'm going to Marco's right now so if anyone asks that's where I'll be." He corrected the slight wrinkles in his new shirt and grabbed his keys from the key-hook.

Mikasa was quick to add to his words. "It's nice to see you and Marco are still going strong. I'm happy for you, Jean, really." She smiled up at him honestly.

Jean's tinted cheeks gave away his embarrassment. "Oh, thanks. Uh, I'm also really happy for, um, whatever you guys have going on." He grinned but quickly covered his mouth when he saw a look of distress flash across your face. "Uh, sorry, I have to go now. See you guys later." He mumbled another apology and turned sharply on his heel to make a mad dash at the front door.

Mikasa chuckled and shook her head. "He can be such a dork sometimes," she said when the door closed behind him.

"That's true," you admitted softly. You were a little displeased that she kept her arm in her lap instead of wrapping it around you again now that Jean had vanished.

"I take it Zeke's kept up with his habits since I've been gone?" she assumed.

An exasperated sigh left your lips. "He shows up at least once or twice a year wanting to stay. He always owes somebody money but, as far as I know, this is the first time he's been permanently banned from a state. I don't love letting criminals in my household but you know how Eren gets."

"I see. I do remember how angry he'd get with us when we wanted Zeke to leave," she recalled dejectedly.

"I just wish he wouldn't get his hopes up every time he asks to stay." You frowned and tapped your fingers against the wooden stair you sat on.

"I hope he can stay long enough for Eren's twenty-second. It'd be nice if he could spend his birthday with him."

"That can be arranged." You ran a shaky hand through your hair. "Will you be okay at a party for him?" you inquired timidly. Considering what happened the last time she was at a party, you felt the need to know if she'd be alright with going since Eren's birthday was rapidly approaching.

Mikasa was surprised by the question. "Of course I will be. Y/n, you know I'm over what happened. You don't have to worry about what I think. It's cute you care, though." She squeezed your shoulder gently and gave you a reassuring smile.

Before you could respond, she stood from her position next to you and started up the stairs. "I'm gonna get changed. I'll see you later."

When she was out of your sight, you gave a final weighted sigh. You had to figure out what you were going to do with Zeke. The feelings that came with Mikasa being home already clouded your mind, not to mention the stress of Hitch on your ass as well.

For Eren's sake, Zeke should stay for a little bit. Mikasa suggested he should leave once Eren's birthday passes and that made sense. However, that would mean he'd be living in your house for two weeks.

You groaned and leaned back. There was only one person who would know how to help. You spun around and scrambled up the creaky stairs.

Facing the office door, you opened it and watched Armin move hastily to turn off their monitor.

"What are you doing?" You raised an eyebrow and leaned on the doorframe.

"Important research." He swiveled the chair to face you and rested his arms in his lap.

"Yeah, right," you snickered. "Did you know Zeke is here?"

Armin nodded. "I overheard everything. It's not like you people are quiet."

"Okay, so what should I do about it?" Moving to sit on the couch, you placed your hands on the cushions under you.

They shrugged. "I don't know. What should you do about it?"

"Come on, Armin. I came in here because I need your help with this." You sent him a worried glance.

"Y/n, at the end of the day, this is your house. You decide who stays and who doesn't. If you want him here, let him stay. If you don't, kick him out."

He couldn't just ignore the obvious issue present. "But what about Eren?"

"What about him? Eren respects you more than he respects anyone else. He wouldn't want to do something if you weren't comfortable with it. The guy trusts you with his life." He spoke like the answer was so clear.

You pursed your lips and thought over what they said. "I don't want to hurt him, though."

He wore a compassionate smile. "None of us do, but the difference between us is that he would listen to you. So, with that said, how long will you let Zeke stay?"

You looked down at your hands and thought back to your conversation with Mikasa and about the conversation you just had with the man across from you. "He can stay until Eren's birthday party. When that's passed, he'll have to leave."

When you looked up, you noticed Armin was still smiling at you. "I knew you'd make a good decision."

"I always do, don't I?" You joked.

He snorted and adjusted his chair to face his computer again. "You wouldn't be able to without me."

You feigned offense and stood up. "You're too cruel."

"Sure I am. Now leave my office, peasant. I'm busy." He waved you away with a dramatic flair of his hand.

You scoffed. "I bet you don't have actual work to do and you're just being a freak on the internet, like usual."

He flipped you off. "If you don't leave I'll have to use brute force."

"Whatever, whatever, Armeen, don't be harsh." You sauntered out of the office before he could scold you about the nickname.

posted: 8/31/21

no edits, reposts, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#aot fanfiction #band au #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #modern au #snk fanfiction #attack on titan

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

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Teeth || Demetri Volturi x Reader ||

A request from @volturidoll13 that is continued from this headcanon right here ——-> Demetri Reacting to a Stimming Reader <——-. I hope I’ve done you justice once more with this one chickadee :D </b>

Part 2: This fic

Part 3: Control (fic)

Warnings: TW for anxiety. Readers stimming will stem from anxiety, if you are having a rough time with yours right now be careful reading this one, and please know you’re not alone! I guess maybe a warning for biting to? There’s some biting going on.

Words: 2620

Summary: It’s been a little over two months since Demetri discovered your stimming. He’s remained vigilant ever since, keeping your anxiety at bay with a whole host of tips and tricks he’s learned over the course of your time together. The one thing he cannot stop is the march of time, and yours is running out fast…

You weren’t sure what had made you so nervous back then, why Demetri finding about your autism was such a big deal, why you were so afraid your stimming would be an issue between you both, that your anxiety and it’s side effects would somehow ruin his perception of you. In reality, telling Demetri the whole truth had been the best thing you had ever done. His sensitivity was astounding to you, because he really was diligent in checking in with you and keeping things as calm as possible in your now shared room – your baths had become a now weekly occurrence. He never treated you like you were made of porcelain either despite all his little interventions, no, he whole-heartedly encouraged your every attempt to explore and integrate yourself into the Volturi with your new found confidence, but when you needed the support he was always prepared.

Your newfound confidence came with a price.

After just a week of venturing out of your shared room you had been called to the throne room, a terrifying moment in itself given you had met them only once before to explain why you hadn’t been bleeding out with the rest of your tour group on the floor, and Aro had taken your hand with a sickly smile before joyfully exclaiming something in Italian you had had no idea how to go about translating. That was two months ago, and now you had only a single month left to live before you joined them in their immortality, perpetually frozen as you were, never moving forward, never evolving. The concept was terrifying given the stories you’d heard of newborns. You didn’t want to hurt people or be that volatile little newborn who became violent on a whim. You didn’t want to feel the inferno in your throat begging you to commit unspeakable acts of cruelty against a race you were currently still apart of.

A month left of mortality.

A month left before you became someone entirely new.

Felix’s sudden grunt snapped you out of that particular reverie, and you blinked at the bright sunlight invading your eyes despite the shade you had situated yourself in under a twisted old red maple, planted in Didyme’s honour oh so long ago and still going strong thanks to Aro’s tender loving care. They had chosen to sit beneath the branches simply because it made their skin sparkle less, which was far easier on your eyes and far less distracting since you had a tendency to try and rub off Demetri’s sparkles, like they were glitter on his skin you could just remove. Jane was smiling at your giant friend, whose teeth were clenched tight before he suddenly relaxed and shot her a glare.

“Now now children play nicely.” Demetri chided from beside you. He’d been sat a while, smoothly redirecting conversation from you when he saw your attention falter. You had been zoning in and out a lot the past few days, your mind clearly elsewhere. He’d kept half an eye on you as the twins debated a book they’d been reading the past week, Felix teasing them as was his usual manner until Jane caved to the temptation to cripple him with her trademarked glare. You clearly were not okay, but you hadn’t come to him to say as such just yet, so he’d not pressured you into talking. Perhaps after this afternoon he should? You usually jumped at any chance you got to spend time with them all, enjoying the social interaction after the long days you spent either studying Italian or with them absent performing duties you would soon help them undertake.

“What do you think Y/N? You said you’d read The Hunger Games before, what do you think of the idea that the death of Primrose is symbolic of the death of the last of Katniss’s innocence?” Alec questioned. The boy was equally as perceptive as Demetri, having found himself insatiably curious since the day Demetri had quietly spoken with them about it to ensure they didn’t harass you, and consequently had gone on to read everything he could get his hands on about your condition. It was painfully obvious to all of them your head wasn’t in the conversation but none of them brought it up, instead finding ways to lead you seamlessly back into the group when you wandered off. Your brows furrowed as you tried to think over Alec’s question, but your mind was pulled in too many directions at once. You were so focused on the dark thoughts swirling around your future immortality that your mind struggled to conjure the image of the book cover, never mind its contents.

“Erm…I don’t really…she lost it way before that.” You stumbled your way through the answer and it was audible to everyone there the way your teeth clanked together when your jaw clenched. You did your best not to flinch as Demetri cast you a concerned glance. You’d been doing that a lot, your teeth gnashing and grinding as you clenched your jaw over and over. It was a tic he had seen before, though not quite as frequently as this, and it set alarm bells ringing in his head as a thousand articles and memories hit him full force. Alec hummed, not looking entirely like he agreed with you while Jane grinned, triumph in her eyes.

“Ha! See brother, I told you!” she didn’t seemingly notice the way you flinched, teeth gnashing audibly once more at her exclamation. Alec’s face was immediately taken over by a scowl, and the pair were bickering once more while Felix watched on with obvious amusement. Demetri had given you his sole attention instead, tuning out their argument to instead take notice of the way the muscles in your jaw moved, your gaze distant and entirely unfocused as you lost yourself to your thoughts again. He didn’t actually think you were aware of the way your hand moved until he gently snatched it mid-air. You blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at the frozen fingers clasped around your wrist, centimetres from your open mouth that you quickly snapped closed. Demetri made no comment after that, sliding his hand up to intertwine your fingers together and squeeze your palm lightly.

You squeezed back with a weak smile, mentally already berating yourself for your behaviour. You hadn’t even noticed you were about to bite yourself but now you had you could feel the way your jaw ached, the entire lower part of your jaw tense from the amount your stimming had overworked it that afternoon. Demetri soothingly ran his thumb in circles over your knuckles but even his cool touch wasn’t enough to drag you from your misery today. You had less than a month to live and there was so much you wouldn’t get to do after that. You had always wanted to travel to try some of your favourite foods in their home contexts – you could only imagine how good authentic Chinese food would taste. You wanted to sleep in a five-star hotel just to see what a memory foam mattress might do to improve your sleep.

It was all trivial stuff (you were painfully aware since Caius had told you so when you’d brought it up) but they were simple things for your bucket list, you dared not even consider the big dreams you had because they would be impossible once you were-

“Ah ah ah.” Demetri caught your hand again. He still held one in his grip but the other had whipped up to make it’s way into your mouth. You completely disregarded his warning, a burning need inside of you driving your head forward in an effort to clamp your teeth around your finger, sure in the knowledge it would bring some relief if you could manage it. Demetri didn’t let you, and your head quickly turned for his hand instead. He didn’t comment when your teeth almost broke trying to break through his skin. You immediately recoiled, both horrified and mortified at what you had done, but despite the fact you wouldn’t meet his eyes, Demetri pulled you close to his chest and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“What have I told you about apologising to me about this?” he tutted, lifting your chin with one of his index fingers. He quickly had to let go when your hand flashed up to your mouth again, desperate to chew down on something.

“To stop apologising. Sor-er…I…” you cringed, the apology ready to fall from your lips but your fear of disappointing him latching it’s claws into you and making you bite down on your tongue instead.

“You never need to apologise to me for this my love, I love every part of you, even the parts of you you struggle to love yourself.” Demetri assured you quietly. Your teeth began to grind once more because what if he didn’t see you that same way after your change? What if your crimson eyes and still heart were abhorrent to him since he revered your human-self so much?

“Can we go?” you mumbled, your head spinning with all the worrisome thoughts tumbling about it. Demetri searched your face briefly as he nodded, very well aware that this wasn’t something he could encourage you to keep fighting and you needed to tap out now and recover.

“Of course. Excuse us you three.” He glanced to them briefly, knowing they’d have heard your quiet conversation anyway so to lie would be pointless. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at them, too embarrassed by your stimming today to meet their eyes. You’d bitten your vampire mate in front of them, after all.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, keeping your head down as you walked along beside him. Demetri hadn’t let go of one of your hands, squeezing gently every now and then to try and encourage you to channel your anxiety into your hand instead of your mouth. Perhaps he ought to buy you a stressball? You’d liked the last one, though it had disappeared somewhere around the castle and sadly, his gift only worked on people and not tracking down inanimate objects.

“Don’t thank me yet, might I give you some advice?” he enquired. You looked up at him, your expression inviting him warily to speak, though you weren’t sure what he could add since this was your lived experience, and one he had only read about. “As you go to bite down open your mouth a fraction wider, it will allow you to clamp your teeth into a wider surface area and hold your prey stiller.” He advised, half a smirk dancing on his lips. He was failing abysmally at trying to hide it.

“I – excuse me?” you were somewhat astonished he’d given you advice on how to bite yourself better. What happened to your caring mate? The one who did his best to help you calm your anxiety. The one who held your hand on nights it felt like you couldn’t breathe?

“I thought it would be sound advice,” he said, giving up on his efforts now to fight back his smirk, “As my little vampire in training, you need to know how to bite down properly. If I had been your prey just now I would have easily escaped, and you would be left hungry.” You stopped stock still, eyes bugging a bit in your head as your brain just…stopped working.

“What…did you just call me?” you asked. Demetri had walked on ahead as if nothing was wrong, but he paused to turn back towards you now with a shit-eating grin on his face, crimson eyes sparkling.

“My little vampire in training. Unless of course, you would prefer puppy? They chew on things to, no?” he tilted his head at you while your jaw dropped. Just for a brief moment there was clarity in your head, the sheer absurdity of his comment punching through all your anxious thoughts. You felt you should be insulted, was it an insult? Coming from someone other than Demetri maybe it would be but this was the man who listened to every little thought in your head, wiped away every tear and held you while you cried. No, Demetri could never do you harm, whether it was with words or fists he was bound to protect you always, he was incapable of insulting you meaningfully.

“Your little – Demetri!” you scolded. God did your jaw ache. He chuckled.

“Alright alright forgive me…though can I say, I feared your bite far more than Felix’s.” he held out his hand to you and you automatically sidled up to slip your palm against his, Demetri turning you both back in the direction of your shared room before you began to walk once more.

“Felix’s has bitten you?” you asked, your curiosity sparked.

“Oh yes. You see, when I first joined the Guard Felix was assigned to my combat training. He won every round. I, however, am a quick learner, and once I began to pick up his teachings I won my first spar against him quite easily…and the one after that, and the one after that…he gets bitey when he loses.” He revealed. You bit your lip, fighting back a smile as you imagine the hulking man tossed onto his back by your own, lithe tracker. It was a funny enough sight in itself, but adding the image of him lunging with teeth barred to gnaw on your mate was even funnier. It should have been frightening but you knew the gentle giant too well to think he would ever attack his comrades with any malicious intent.

“Alec best watch his back then, he’s getting close to Felix’s high score on Crash Bandicoot.” You mused. Demetri snorted briefly.

“Yet another fun story…Alec once locked himself in his room for three whole days when Jane picked up one of his games and completed a level he’d been stuck on for weeks on her first try.” He told you. Your smile grew a little wider, stretching across your face as you imagined the calmer witch twin throwing said hissy fit. Demetri continued his stories long after you entered your room, laying on his side with you opposite him as he regaled you with one story after another. Aro had once dropped a book on his foot after a late night of studying, looked around to ensure nobody had seen, and stuffed it back on the shelf so fast he had placed it back upside down. Jane had a beautiful singing voice but had been startled so badly by Felix interrupting her once she’d slipped right up the scale on the last word and tortured poor Felix for a whole hour straight for ruining her song.

Story after story you listened, enraptured by his smooth baritone while he played with your hair, soothing your turbulent mind as you focused on his words and his words alone. You might wake up tomorrow and find you were once more trapped in the cycle of anxiety that you were hard-pressed to escape one it got you in it’s clutches, or maybe this blessed moment of relief would last and tomorrow you would be free once more for a little bit longer until the next moment something you felt was too big too manage came along. For today, Demetri had lulled you to sleep against his side, your breathing slow and even for the first time that day. Whatever you had to face next, whatever challenges might come your way, you knew on your worst days Demetri would always be with you to help you overcome them, armed with all the latest mummyblog advice for you to rebuke.

#demetri volturi #tw anxiety #tw biting #demetri volturi x reader #jane volturi #alec volturi #felix volturi #volturi guard #twilight #twilight fanfiction #stimming #i gave my flatmate an aneurysm with this one haha #she studies english literature #she was not impressed with my hottake on katniss #I digress #I imagined Felix looking like puss in boots when his eyes go big when I wrote that bit about him biting demetri #it's been a long week

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randomoranges · 3 years ago

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rambly fic thing as always.

Boxed Up

It’s a quiet dinner, safe for the scrape of forks against the dinner plates. Well – mostly his fork against his dish. Étienne’s been playing with his food more than actually eating at it, digging out the wild mushrooms from the risotto and chewing on them for longer than necessary. He’s been this way for the better part of the week and Edward has no idea what’s been eating at him. He’s asked, on more than one occasion, but Étienne’s been cagey. Edward’s giving him until the weekend before sitting him down proper and confronting him about whatever’s been bothering him. It’s been a hell of a week and a crazy month at that too, so it could be a myriad of different things, for all he knows.

He’d ask now, over dinner, but they’re both tired and he’s not sure he has enough energy for pushing the issue until it’s solved. He feels as though he’ll just end up hurting his partner by saying the wrong thing, despite the best of his intentions. Therefore, he gives Étienne space and just hopes that he’ll come around in his own time. He can tell that Étienne wants to breech whatever has been bothering him, but he too is looking for the right time. Edward worries. Always. It’s part of his nature. He knows how Étienne can get and doesn’t want that for him.

Edward’s about to clear the dishes, seeing as Étienne’s made little to no progress on his meal, when, as if reading his mind, his boyfriend speaks out, quiet and fragile, over his mound of simmered rice and mushrooms.

“Are you happy?” He asks and Edward blinks, wondering if he’s even heard right.

“What?” He asks intelligibly, the question having taken him by surprise.

“Are you bored?” Étienne asks instead.

“What?” He repeats, a broken machine that has failed to comprehend the simply task that’s been asked of it.

“Of us. Are you bored of us – our relationship – our lives? Are you happy being here – with me and our life?”

He blinks again. He has no idea where this is coming from. He would have never guessed that this has been the issue plaguing his boyfriend’s mind. He wonders what this means. Where Étienne wants to go with this and if it isn’t some cataclysm to something bigger and mightier.

Instead, he takes a sip of water to buy him some time to ponder the best way to answer these questions other than stating the obvious. At least – the obvious to him.

“I’m not bored,” He says, finally, “And I’m quite happy with our life together.”

He thinks maybe that will be that and Étienne will be content with the answer, but he’s known the other for too long and so he’s able to tell that there’s still more gnawing at his mind.

“Are you – unhappy? Bored? Is this what this is about?” He asks, fear taking hold of his own mind. Is Étienne about to tell him that he wants a break? Wants to end this? Edward would be devastated. Blindsided as well.

“What – no! I like our life!” He says quickly, almost insulted Edward would suggest otherwise. “I’m just – it’s just – don’t you find we spend too much time together?”

Sometimes, he wishes Étienne could be clear when he talks about things that are bothering him. The roadmap to the real issue is always a complicated mess with sharp turns and pedantic questions that lead from one existential dilemma to another, until finally, with careful word choice, Edward is able to get to the real root of the problem. He momentarily wishes Étienne would have waited until the weekend to expose his issues – when they’d both be more rested, but he supposes he’ll take what he can. At least, he thinks, Étienne is talking. In his own complicated way.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re literally always together. We work together. You drive me to work. We have lunch together – often. We do things on weekends together – usually. Aren’t you afraid that at some point you’ll get bored? Is this what life is all about? Is this what you really want out of your life? Don’t you wish it was more exciting? Is this what you wanted when you were younger?”

He’s getting closer to the nucleus, Edward can tell, but there are still some other red flags popping up along the way that Edward wants to address. To make sure Étienne is okay. That there isn’t some other bigger issue hidden in the shadows.

“I mean – no, I don’t think I saw myself living this exact life when I was a teenager – then again, I didn’t think much beyond what I would be doing next weekend. But, I don’t feel suffocated by the time we spend together. We’re not always together either, even if we do work at the same place. It might be a little unconventional, but we have our own friends we see without the other and activities we do on our own. Like when I go skiing over March break and you go down south with Emma.” He tries and hopes he’s hit a mark. Étienne nods, as if reassured by this and Edward lets out a breath he’s been holding.

“I can’t speak for the future, but right now, I’m not bored. It might not be the most exciting life, but I like it just fine... I like what we’re building together.” There’s a pause and when Étienne doesn’t say anything, he figures he’ll take a shortcut, “What’s this all really about, Étienne?”

Étienne sighs deeply and decapitates his mound of risotto with the back of his fork. “I don’t know,” He starts and then jabs the rice, “I mean – I do, but – it’s just – we’ve been together for a while now – years, really and it’s just – I’d hate for you to wake up one morning, turn around and realise that this has been a waste. That you’ve missed out on some big adventure or something.”

He wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He’s always considered his life with Étienne to be his big adventure. In all his wildest dreams, he’d never thought he’d get this – stability, a partner he loves and who loves him back – even when he drives him crazy.

“When did we become boring, old queers, Ed?”

This time, he does laugh – a soft little chuckle – and he also reaches over for Étienne’s hand to give it a squeeze.

“I think we’re just getting older. We want different things and are at different points in our lives.”

“Are we though? I mean – I remember when I was twenty and hitting the clubs. I had some crazy, wild fun nights, at the time. Meeting new people, staying up ‘til all hours. Hooking up. Going to one party after another. God, when’s the last time we even had drag brunch? You used to bring me to those all the time! When’s the last time you even saw your friends from drag?! Now we’re just – two people. Where’s our rebellious spark?!”

Edward quiets. Étienne has a point. He remembers his own youth, way back when, and the crazy things he’d done. The trips with his friends to other queer cities, the drag shows he’d gotten involved with, volunteering for Pride and such. It feels like a different lifetime ago – something that could have even happened to a different person all together. Had they really done any of those things?

“When’s the last time we even saw any of our queer friends? It’s like the only circle we’re involved in now is the teacher one. I had to find out through Facebook that Steven and Max broke up. Steve and Max!”

There we go, Edward thinks, the nucleus.

“If they can break up then who’s to say it can’t happen to us?”

The news had come as a blow to both of them, really. Edward had met Steve and Max through Étienne and even then, already, they had been Steve-and-Max. They’d been together for nearly twenty years and were an inspiration, really. Despite being together, they were still active in the community, still went out, and still enjoyed life. Max had even proposed to Steve, a few years ago, and anyone who’d seen the video of the proposal had cried at how utterly sweet and romantic it was.

“Sweetheart, listen – no one knows for sure what’s going to happen to us in the future. But I promise I’m not bored and I like being with you. If ever anything changes, I would absolutely tell you. The best we can do is to take it a day at a time and check in with each other, if ever we feel like something is off.”

“I guess,” Étienne mumbles, “But when did it get like this? When did we get washed out?

Sometimes I feel like I’ve been erased. That any personality trait I have or had is gone. All I am is a teacher. Day in and day out. I only ever get to be myself on few occasions. Convenient periods of time pre-established by the school agenda. When did I stop being the person you met when we started dating? When we used to do things that were something else than Being a Teacher?”

Edward doesn’t say anything. He gets it. So much. It has never fully occurred to him, but Étienne has hit the nail on the head. There have been times, when, upon reflection, he’s felt as though the institution of school has been like a closet and that he’s been forced back in it. Hiding who he is. Not being his true authentic self, but some persona. The teacher persona. Sure, he hasn’t exactly rocked the boat and announced to the school that he’s queer, but he also doesn’t want to. Because it’s his personal life. And because there’s some deep fear anchored deep within him. It might be the twenty-first century, but it’s not a walk in the park either. So he’s kept quiet. Has hidden things about himself, when once, years ago, he had never shied away from being gay.

Therefore, M Édouard and Edward are two different people. He wonders, briefly, who gets to see the real Edward Murphy and if there’s ever been one, or if, instead, each facet is a part of the real Edward. It’s late and he’s tired. This isn’t the time or day for this type of talk or thought, yet now it nags at him as well, calling for attention.

“We started dating over summer break – we didn’t have to worry about work and we had all the time in the world. Plus, that was years ago, we’ve also changed – we want new things now.” He tries, repeats, and hopes he sounds as convincing as he’s meant to be – as reassuring.

“Then why does it feel like settling?”

Why does it, really?

“If you could,” He says instead, “What would you do differently?”

Étienne, this time, is silent as he ruminates. “I don’t know – I mean, I guess the obvious would be to actually talk about my boyfriend when asked. All the teachers with kids keep talking about their goddamned outing apple picking and showing off pictures of their kids with the apples and whatever. Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute but all I ever hear is about the kids, what happened at daycare and weekends up north. I want to talk about my night out at the club, or show pictures of me and my boyfriend on vacation, or whatever other basic human thing I’ve done with my partner without having to fear I’ll get spat at. Or something. I want to be able to exist. Fully. Not just in parts. I don’t want to be afraid when I show the kids a new artist who happens to be queer. I don’t want to gloss over the facts. I want to wear nail polish to school if I want to. Every inane thing I never questioned before. Most of all, I just want to be.”

Edward wonders if it would be different if there was actual tangible support they could see. If other teachers spoke about these things – about their queer friends and family – about themselves; if it would feel different and safe. He wonders how many others of their own colleagues are in the same situation and keep to themselves out of fear and he wonders about the other queer teachers who don’t even have a friend or confidant at work. He considers himself lucky, really, that somehow, Étienne managed to find work at his school – that they’ve found each other. Even when they’d only been friends. It had been a blessing to be able to confide in Étienne, then – to have someone who got it.

“We can always try,” He says after a lapsed moment of silence, “To be more of ourselves – to test the waters, so to say. If someone’s gotta do it, why not us?” He’s not sure how it’ll look, but – they can give it a shot. Take the proverbial baby step. See how it goes.

“I guess you’re right – just wish it wasn’t always so – exhausting.”

They leave it at that for now and clear off the table. Once the dishes are done and the leftovers boxed up in the refrigerator, they retire to the living room. Étienne finds solace in Edward’s arms and the two spend a quiet evening replaying the previous conversation in their minds, lost in their own rambling thoughts. There’s a lot to process and they’re both painfully aware that change will take time.

“What if we tried to actively re-engage with the community – go back to our old hangouts – call up our friends?” Edward suggests, sometime later.

Étienne ponders this for a moment and then nods, “We might as well try.”

They may as well. If not them, then who?

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #teacher au #fic

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ginnympotter · 5 years ago

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Losing All My Cool

A/N: I know this is quite similar to a different one shot of mine, "Reckless, Even," but I just never tire of filling in the blanks from Half-Blood Prince of Harry and Ginny's time together. Just the two of them having fun and getting to be happy together while they still can. Title inspired by Dua Lipa's song "Cool," which I listened to on repeat as inspiration for this :) Summary: Harry and Ginny spend a morning together on the Hogwarts grounds for their first day as a couple after a momentous night of Quidditch and other victories. You can also read it on AO3!

Hermione covered her mouth, attempting to hide her laugh as Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice, determinedly not looking at Ron. “All I’m saying is you got back pretty late last night.”

“And? Gonna deduct some points from him, prefect?” Harry’s heart jumped into his throat at the sound of her voice so suddenly, especially considering Ron was just beginning to pry, causing him to choke on his drink. His face burning, he turned to see Ginny plopping down on the bench, facing one leg on either side of it, facing him. She smiled brightly. “Hey there. Done with breakfast?”

“Hi,“ he replied once he stopped coughing, smiling back. “I-“

Ron interjected. “I could if I wanted to, you know! From the both of you if you don’t-“

“If we don’t what?” she asked fiercely. “Hermione wouldn’t even do that.”

Ron snorted. “Of course she would.”

They all looked at her. “Keep me out of this,” she said warningly, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice, as she flipped a page of her Arithmancy book.

“Exactly,” said Ginny triumphantly to Ron. “So mind your business.”

“This is my-“

“Anyway,” she ignored her brother, turning back to Harry. “Ready?”

He stuffed the last bit of his French toast into his mouth and nodded, still avoiding Ron’s gaze.

“Ready for what?” asked Ron, looking at them suspiciously as they stood up from their seats. “Where are you going?”

Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Didn’t I just tell you to mind your business? Why don’t you continue to bask in the aftermath of the Quidditch Cup win? I know I am.” And with that, she grabbed Harry’s hand and began tugging him away with her.

Hermione could not conceal her laugh again, and Harry waved at both of them, seeing Ron’s ears bright red, feeling some guilt swim in his stomach as he told them, “See you at lunch.”

As he walked with her, she gave him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. As if reading his mind, she said, “I couldn’t help it, he’s too easy. Don’t let him get to you. He’ll be fine.”

“He was just berating me for getting back late last night,” he sighed. “As if he wasn’t doing the same thing with Lavender all last term.”

“I know,” Ginny said as she led them out onto the grounds. “But he didn’t try to kill you in your sleep at least, right?”

“Not that we know of,” he corrected her. “But I was equally worried about someone else, to be honest,” he muttered, thinking of the look on Dean’s face and the broken glass in his hand at the sight of he and Ginny kissing the night before. He stopped walking now that they were out of sight from the Great Hall and turned to her to give her a real greeting. “Good morning,” he grinned.

She chuckled appreciatively. “Morning,” she responded, and reached up to give him a quick kiss on the lips, sending a little shock wave all the way down to his toes. As if pulled magnetically back to her, he leaned in for more, but she shook her head, tugging his hand again and began marching down the hallway. “Exert some patience.”

Harry coughed, trying to will his legs to move along. “I have! Months and months worth of patience,” he told her without thinking.

She looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Months and months?”

His stomach dropped a bit. “Er…perhaps.”

An endearing expression spread across her features. “Noted.”

“So,” he began, eager to shift gears a bit. “We never did get around to discussing the match yesterday, you know.”

“Well, first things first; the team has called for your resignation next year, with me replacing you as both Seeker and Captain, effective immediately.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, after my spectacular catch, it was a unanimous vote,” she teased. “Although I’d much rather keep my position as Chaser…”

They discussed the match in detail throughout the rest of their walk on the grounds, which Ginny was leading. She recounted each of Ron’s impressive saves, sparing him a few compliments (“But don’t tell him I said that,”) before describing his few glaring misses. She had a few choice words about Cho’s seeking abilities, and the attitude she swears she had given her mid-air.

As she steered them toward the Quidditch pitch, and Ginny continued to paint a picture of Demelza and Katie’s goals, purposely excluding Dean from the narrative, Harry suddenly felt a bit uneasy knowing what he was about to go do with her, and that she was possibly leading him to a spot where she had done the same thing with Dean.

Ginny must have noticed that he was lost in thought, as she was giving him a quizzical look. “Are you okay, Harry?”

He shook it off and squeezed her hand, and her returned pressure helped ease his nerves a bit. It was nice, holding her hand. “Just suspicious as to where you’re taking us.”

She smiled mischievously. “Just winging it.”

Harry continued asking her questions about the match, laughing at her impressions of each team member, until they reached the stands. The sky was the clearest blue, with the sun beaming on them as they sat down together. Ginny let go of Harry’s hand to put her hair up, little drops of sweat dripping down the side of her face. Harry’s eyes moved down towards her midriff, which was exposed as her shirt lifted up a bit with her arms as she tied her hair. Ginny gave him a pointed look.

Harry cleared his throat, looking skyward. “It’s, um, a nice day out.”

She laughed as she brought her arms back down, using her hands to grab Harry by the shoulders, pulling herself closer to him, regaining eye contact. “Pathetic,” she told him. “It’s a nice day out? You know you can look at my skin and not avert your eyes when I notice, right?”

Harry suddenly felt very hot. “Sorry. I’m used to forcing myself to look away… You got me losing all my cool over here.”

“You had it pretty under control yesterday,” she said, moving one of her hands to the back of his neck, gently running her nails over his skin.

He chuckled, feeling stupid for being nervous, when he had kissed her mere moments ago, and a heavy portion of the day before. But yesterday felt too good to be true, his literal dreams coming to fruition. She moved her other hand to meet its companion behind his neck, pulling his face closer to hers as he said, “That was the exact opposite of having things under control. You think me snogging you in the common room, in front of Ron, no less, was my plan to ask you out?”

“Well, no, but I liked it,” she told him. “I mean, if you hadn’t done it, I probably would’ve. Like if you don’t lean in and snog me right now, I’ll just have to do it myself-“

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He crushed his lips against hers, with so much force that they almost lost their balance. It was a good thing Harry had quick reflexes, as he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring them back up. She was laughing against his mouth. “Merlin, Harry.”

He laughed, too. “Told you,” he said quietly against her lips before reconnecting them, this time steady and purposeful.

And just like the day before, Harry felt as though he was in one of his dreams. However, it was far better, as he could actually feel the softness of her skin, the smoothness of her hair. He moved his hands, one to run through the top of her hair, the other to cup her face, holding her jaw as he deepened the kiss, much to her welcoming.

Ginny returned every move in favor. He knew she was being generous, allowing him to be the one to lead, but eventually, she must have grown impatient, as she tore her mouth away briefly and climbed onto his lap, straddling him, each knee upon the bench on either side of him. Harry suddenly felt both intimidated and excited; he loved how Ginny easily took command, but wanted to impress her, too.

The new seating arrangement helped tremendously in a lot of ways, but mainly it brought their faces level with one another, as their height difference had been causing each of them to crane their necks a bit much. Ginny threw Harry a wicked smile before reattaching her lips to his, this time holding his face in her hands and took control of the kiss, slowing it down, teasing, giving in for a brief moment, then teasing again. Harry groaned in a mixture of frustration and arousal from her method, but she seemed to take this as further encouragement. These were not the eager, heavy snogs of the day before, but he really couldn’t complain much.

Just as Harry was getting acclimated to this, she moved her hands to his shoulders and her lips left his and began to travel. First to his cheek, then over to his ear, where she gently blew hot air, and Harry suddenly felt a bit too aware that Ginny was straddling his lap. This awareness only heightened as she moved to his neck, using her lips and teeth and tongue to do things to him that made him feel as if his senses were going to leave him entirely. He grasped at Ginny’s sides to steady himself, and after a few moments realized that her hands were working on the buttons of his shirt, and had already successfully undone two of them.

“Ginny,” he tried to say strongly, but it came out a more like a whimper. All she did was move her mouth back to his as she continued to work on the third button.

She had opened it when he willed himself to pull away from her. “Ginny,” he tried again, grabbing her hands with one of his own.

She looked at him, eyes dilated and cheeks flushed. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he told her, trying to smile but not sure if the muscles in his face were quite capable. “I just…I just realized how much more experienced you are than me at all this,” he said truthfully.

Ginny seemed momentarily taken aback by such honesty, but then grinned compassionately. “That’s okay. You’re a fast learner.”

Harry chuckled, raising one of her hands to kiss. “You’re far too kind.”

“I mean, would I like it if you showed a little less restraint? Sure, but take your time.”

He looked at her in wonderment, feeling a warmth spread throughout him as he soaked in her knowing smirk. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman. And like I said, you know what you’re doing more than I do-“

“You know what you’re doing,” she assured him sweetly. “Trust me, you do. But you don’t have to be a gentleman. We don’t have to do anything either of us doesn’t want to, of course. However, I give you full consent to touch me wherever, take off whatever-“

Harry choked. “Ginny, we’re out in the open! I’m not going to…to...disrobe you when anyone can walk by!” he whispered.

Ginny laughed heartily. “Oh, so that’s why you got all tense when I started to open your shirt. You’ve got nothing to worry about, unless there’s a practice scheduled, no one comes out to the pitch before lunch.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, trying to sound casual but obviously failing to hide his suspicions by Ginny’s roll of her eyes.

“Because I used to come at this time every Sunday to practice flying before I tried out for the team last year,” she explained, scoffing at the relief on Harry’s face. “I wasn’t going to take it off necessarily. Just thought I’d get a nice peek, if that’s okay.”

He nodded a bit too fast, making him dizzier than he already was. “It’s definitely okay-“

“And you can do the same, you know,” she told him as she released her hands from Harry’s grasp to continue her work on his buttons.

“Much appreciated,” he laughed, closing his eyes as she kissed him lazily. Once she undid the last button, Harry felt jolted as her small, soft hands began to move gently over his bare chest, sending chills up his spine. She stopped kissing him, and he opened his eyes to see her surveying him. After a few moments, she looked back up at him. “Not bad, Captain,” she said, smothering Harry’s chuckle with her mouth.

Harry eventually allowed himself to follow Ginny’s lead of leaving inhibitions behind; he was finally living out months’ worth of fantasies, and why should he deprive himself of such a glorious reality? He let his hands wander down her back, settling gently at first, then, with Ginny’s groans of approval and encouragement, more firmly under her bum. He tried a bit of the neck kissing himself, and felt rather proud of himself by Ginny’s breathy reaction.

Some time passed, and they finally began to slow down a bit. Neither Harry nor Ginny wanted to pull away, anytime one of them attempted, the other pulling them back in for a bit more convincing. It was not until they both released the other, breathing heavily, foreheads against each other that they resigned to a break of some sort. Both giggly and sweaty from the sun beating down on them, Ginny reluctantly removed herself from Harry, sitting beside him instead. But Harry did not want to lose contact just yet, so he swiveled her to face him, and grabbed her legs so that they were draped over his lap. Rubbing her thigh with one hand, Harry used the other to hook a finger under her chin and kiss her shortly one more time.

“Hmm,” she sighed as they parted. “Hello.”

Harry smiled widely. “Hi.”

Ginny lied flat across the bench, soaking in the sun. “That was fun,” she told him. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Harry snorted at her, leaning back a bit and resting his head on the edge of the bench above them. He exhaled deeply, feeling a wave from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. It was strange, feeling this content and relaxed. It almost felt as if he were a different person, living a regular life. He continued to run his hand gently along her thigh, bringing the other one behind his head for some cushioning and closed his eyes, enjoying the light breeze.

After a few peaceful minutes, he felt Ginny lift herself up. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” he answered, still trying to cool himself down, thinking of innocuous objects.

“Wanna go for a fly around the pitch?” He opened his eyes to see her taking her wand out of her belt loop. “I can summon our brooms.”

“They’re in Gryffindor tower, Gin-“

“Or you can do it yourself if you’d like, like you did in the Triwizard Tournament. Might not impress me as much this time, though…”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You really are up to flying right now? Don’t you need a bit of a break?”

“Too much excitement for you, ay?” she suggested, giving him a quick beneath-the-belt glance, where said excitement was still protruding a bit. “I forgot that men have a longer refractory period than women do.”

Harry sat up, choking at her words. “We didn’t even do anything-“

“I’ll just do it myself,” she took her legs off of Harry’s and stood up, twirled her wand through her fingers. “No pun intended,” she winked. She then pointed in the general direction of the tower and declared, “Accio Firebolt and Cleansweep!”

“You,” started Harry, as he got to his feet and put his hands on her hips, “think you’re a real laugh, don’t you?”

“And I am,” she smiled, leaning in and placing a light peck on his lips. She then began to help Harry re-button his shirt. “You can always hang out for a bit and watch me fly till you feel ready, although, that may just excite you more-“

“You raise a valid point,” he admitted as he finished the last two buttons himself. “Let’s fly. We can have a race.”

“A challenge?” she pondered. They could hear their brooms zooming towards them. They turned, and Harry saw his Firebolt growing nearer and nearer. He reached out his hand, ready to grasp it.

But Ginny was too fast for him, catching his broom in one hand, hers in the other. She examined each of them for a moment, and then thrust her Cleansweep against Harry’s chest. He caught it, looking at her curiously.

“You’d outfly anyone with this broom,” she stated, holding Harry’s Firebolt in both hands now. “Give me a try on it, and then we’ll see if it’s the broom or the player. Deal?”

Harry laughed as Ginny didn’t even wait for his agreement, mounting the Firebolt and rising into the air. “You’re on.”

They both beat each other on the Firebolt, but Ginny came in a much closer second on the Cleansweep than Harry had. Once back on their own brooms, they played multiple rounds of one on one, and although Harry put up a good fight, Ginny wiped the floor with him; and she was right, it did excite him in one too many ways.

About an hour and a half later, they called it for the day. Harry had an idea to make a pit stop by the lake and put their feet in to cool off. They sat down and took their shoes and socks off, dipping their toes in. “Shit, that’s cold,” Harry exclaimed.

Ginny scoffed at him, leaning back on her hands as she kicked her feet in the water towards Harry, splashing him a bit. “Don’t be such a baby. Didn’t you swim in this thing for like, what, an hour and a half for the second task?”

“Yeah, but I had gills, so the water felt warm,” he explained, submerging his feet in more.

“I was so worried about you,” she confessed unabashedly. “You were in there for so long.”

Harry put a hand on hers and squeezed. “Made it out alive, didn’t I?”

“Don’t you always?” she quipped back. “I was so jealous of Ron,” she laughed, and at Harry’s raised eyebrow she went on, “because he was the thing you’d miss the most.”

“Yeah, well…”

“It was sweet, though. Sweeter than Krum’s being Hermione, anyway.”

“I mean, what else were they going to use…his fur coat?” he mused.

Ginny giggled, shaking her head. “If it were Ron, who’d you reckon they’d take: you or Hermione?”

“Not sure,” Harry shrugged, mulling it over. “A couple of months ago I would have said me, but you know, they’ve been getting on a little too well these days. It’s suspicious.”

“I don’t know what they’re waiting for,” Ginny told him. “Honestly, they’re obsessed with each other. I can’t believe that you and I got together before they did.”

“Me too-“ and then it dawned on him. He rounded on Ginny. “Wait a second. You’re kind of to blame for that one!”

Ginny look appalled. “Excuse me?”

“They were going to, last term! Hermione asked Ron to go with her to Slughorn’s Christmas party, and they were going to-“

“They were?” she asked in amazement. “I didn’t know that!”

“Yes, until…well, until you told him that she had snogged Krum.”

Ginny was bewildered. “I’m sorry, I don’t get the connection.”

“It just drove Ron mad,” he explained. “It was like a delayed betrayal-“

“But how did he not know that already?” Ginny questioned, outraged. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Well, I thought so,” muttered Harry. “But Ron’s a prat.”

“You said it, not me.”

Harry laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Anyway, then he was cross with her over nothing, and Lavender was not being subtle anymore, and just everything accumulated into him snogging her to get back at Hermione or something, but also…”

“To prove me wrong?” she finished for him. “His picture of Auntie Muriel too soggy at that point?”

Harry snorted. “I guess.”

“It’s not my fault he couldn’t handle the truth,” shrugged Ginny. “In any event, I think I did them both a favor.”

“How do you work that one out?”

“Well, now Hermione won’t have to teach him how to snog, hopefully, if either of them ever grows the bullocks to make a move. She teaches him enough as it is.”

“Alright, so maybe you did do them a favor,” Harry said. “But what about me? I was the one who had to deal with the repercussions!”

Ginny grabbed him by the chin and brought his face close to hers. “I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

He smiled as she dragged his lips to hers, and just as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, Ginny tore herself away and kicked the water toward him, splashing Harry in the face.

Ginny laughed as he choked on the water. She hit him on the back compassionately. “You good?”

Once Harry was able to breathe again, he turned on her. “You’re going to pay for-“

But she was ready. She pushed him into the lake. He could hear her laughing from under the water, but he did not dare emerge. He stayed under, close to the edge, until he heard a tiniest note of concern in her voice as she called out, “Harry?”

That’s when he popped up, grabbed her by her calves, and threw her in too.

The look in her eye was deadly when she stood up, letting her hair loose. “Oops?” he said, horribly feigning innocence.

But Harry couldn’t help but notice the way her wet shirt clung to her…and Ginny smartly took this as her opportunity to attack. She jumped on top of him, initiating a wrestling match, which eventually turned into a different and more enjoyable kind of wrestling match, until Ginny had the innovative idea to ride their brooms over the lake while skimming the water, engaging in a water-tag match.

It wasn’t until the Giant Squid unsuspectingly stretched out, accidentally whacking them with one of its tentacles, that their rumbling stomachs called attention to the time and they decided to call it.

It was still rather hot out, so as the sun warmed them up on their walk back up to the castle, they barely noticed how much water was dripping from them as they reentered the Great Hall, Harry’s arm around Ginny’s shoulders, hers around his waist, their free hands holding their brooms.

“Why,” Ron started as soon as they reached the table, where Ron and Hermione were filling up their plates for lunch, “the hell are you two sopping wet?”

Harry removed his arm from Ginny, took out his wand and muttered drying spell towards Ginny, then on himself. “Had an incident with the Giant Squid. No biggie,” answered Ginny as she sat down. “I’m starved. Pass the roast beef, Ron?”

Steaming, Ron passed her the platter. Harry sat down next to her and reluctantly looked at him. He could see Hermione from the corner of his eye shaking her head while looking at Ron, clearly exhausted by his behavior in the hours they’d been separated from them. “Just…just clarify something for me. Are you two dating? Or just…you know…”

The sentence hung in the air until Ginny chimed in. “Snogging in bodies of water? Can’t the two simultaneously be true?”

Feeling mortified, Harry reached for the water jug to fill up his cup as Ron questioned, “So you are dating, then?”

Harry mustered up the courage to look him in the eye and answered. “Yes. I, er, asked her to be my girlfriend last night.”

“And I said I’d think about it,” Ginny joked as she put a hand on his thigh beneath the table, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” Hermione interjected, smiling widely. “And so does Ron, even if he won’t admit it.”

There was a long pause, an elongated sigh, and then, “Well, I suppose,” Ron conceded. “You’re better than Dean or that git Michael Corner, anyway.”

“Appreciated, mate,” Harry laughed, the monster in his chest purring with satisfaction as he filled up his plate, Ginny beside him.

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