#squeezing it into five sentences was hard. it should be about seven or eight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelicyoongie · 5 years ago

Text

desolate (14) - M

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, smut

— word count: 7.4k — warnings: 🔞 this chapter contains smut; unprotected sex (don’t do that tho), fingering, knotting, etc.

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @btstxtgenre @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @hd-junglebook @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @awixxx @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia @nomimits7 @lorielulu7 @1am9root6 @sana-b @diamonddia-mond @jiminiessipabo @myhearttteu @rainbowmagicpixecorn @lidda @rosiethefairy @lovinggalaxies @midnight1199 @trinityautumn @linniewritesficz @fearhoshi @ess-place @juniesoftbot @kingalls00 @toribug2020 @daydreambrliever @moonlight-mochi @sleepyje0n @yoonie-bby @alltimeyoongi @honestlyfuriousharmony @itsoktheresbts @suzziequeuie @miss–insanity @illnevertrustmyselfagain @annoyingpessimist @lovelikeyouwant @originalpersonawobblerduck @cigarettes-after-tears @kookie-vuitton @thefangirlsoul @lmna990 @luvshorses08 @marvelstuck @kissmeimwitchy @crazyxforxmyself @hxsxxk-180294 @ratking101 @brittaney341 @shameless-army @yuukihime2097 @adoorinyourheart @heimdoodle @kissing-fear @toripeix @horanghae18 @redperson58 @awsome-small-k @salomea27 @johnnystolemywig @mihto @jisoosbitch @lyrxbz @forever-once-gone @sugalarity @out-of-jams @ithinkileftmycoatoutside @witchxlove @chocoflagcutii @alyboo-jpeg @ladyartemesia @tatiiz24 @boinko-boye @kaceyxmarie74 @fuckthatfeeling @makepastanotwar13 @airiguk @justliketheoceann @strawbewymiwk @skswriting @kofikats @rainbow-zebra-unicorns @mhmbrigitta @forever-yoongis @prybts @phatbussyincorporated @itsmethepancake @alterlovess @boredoomfm @furblrwurblr @moments-of-melancholy @barbikatherine @crookedstarlitnight @moonlightjoonx @ibsenova-nora @aphroditis-world @ramaali1 @inhalebts @gguksfilter @kerikaaria @paradise-writings @yoongisabby @childcorrectionfacility-school @eriiiichan @baka-chanismyname @sugaesthetichoe @junasaurusrex @fluffreader @justzeera @swoozleee @beansplz @aestaeticbts23 @slut-for-fandoms @joyful-jimin @phasephoenix @nanananisstuff

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen

For the first time in weeks, you actually feel refreshed when you wake up. You let out a soft sigh against Yoongi’s sweater, the material soft and warm underneath your cheek. You let the sleepiness fade away bit by bit, enjoying the sunlight peeking into your apartment and the steady rhythm of Yoongi’s heartbeat thrumming against your ear. You would be content with staying here forever, in the quiet and peaceful morning all wrapped up in Yoongi, but the quiet rumbling in your stomach lets you know that you might have to change your plans.

Yoongi lets out a low grumble of displeasure the moment you try to slip away from him, his arms tightening around your waist to make sure you won’t leave. Yoongi buries his nose deeper into your hair, the rumble in his chest melting into a softer purr as he inhales your scent. Your heart does a little flip at the action, a grin tugging at your lips as you press a quick peck to Yoongi’s chest. It takes a few minutes, but you eventually manage to wiggle out of Yoongi’s hold, careful not to wake him.

You wince as you open the door to the fridge, the barren inside mocking you. There are still a few days until you get paid, but hopefully this will last you until then. You decide that some scrambled eggs and toast will have to do - and you make quick work of getting everything ready. You’re leaning against the counter, watching mindlessly as the eggs start to cook and fluff up. You can’t believe you even entertained the idea of adopting Yoongi last night. You grimace, eyes gliding over to the stack of bills on the other side of the counter. You can’t even pay for your current living expenses, how the hell are you supposed to take care of Yoongi too?

You stir the eggs with a little more force than necessary, eyebrows pinched tightly as you try to run through all the possible options you have. Yoongi needs an owner – it’s the law. Even if he wanted to apply to become a free one, he would still need to be owned during the process. And if you won’t adopt him, he’ll be forced to find someone else. He’ll likely be brought to a shelter whether he wants to or not, and you have a feeling that the next person that adopts him won’t exactly see him as an equal in the same way that you do. If Yoongi leaves, there’s no guarantee you’ll even be able to ever see him again. It won’t be up to him, it’ll be something for his new owner to decide. And you don’t want that. You don’t want Yoongi to go back to the same situation he just escaped from. But what choice you do have? Especially now that your current job is hanging on by a thin thread.

You’ll just have to pick up two jobs, maybe even three if you can make the shifts match up. You managed to survive on five hours of sleep a day back in university during your exams, so it can’t be that hard to do it again, right? Sure it will probably be exhausting, but you’ll deal with it if it means that Yoongi can stay.

“What’s wrong?” You nearly jump out of your skin as Yoongi’s breath fans across your ear, his chest flush to your back as he wraps his arms around your waist. You had forgotten just how quiet Yoongi could be, truly living up to his cat genetics. You hesitate, unsure if it’s worth sharing your troubles with Yoongi if it’s only going to make him feel bad. You don’t doubt he’ll tell you it’s okay and find someone else if he thinks it’s too much for you to manage.

“Tell me, kitten. I could smell your anxiety from the living room,” Yoongi’s voice is ladled with sleep, the slight rasp making your legs feel weak. The soft fur of Yoongi’s ear brushes against your chin when you hesitantly bite down on your lip, his enhanced hearing picking up even the smallest of sounds.

“Yoongi, are you sure you don’t want to be a free hybrid?” You feel his arms stiffen, his fingers digging into the material of your – his – hoodie. “I just want to make sure that you’re making the right choice. Not to say that you can’t become one later! I just .. don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“I don’t really have the necessary funds to help you with the process, and it might take a while for me to save up if that’s what you want. I know Mr. Yang had some options for you that might be better if you want that in the near future,” You mumble. If Yoongi relies on you to become a free hybrid, it will probably take you closer to ten years to save up what he needs with the meagre paycheck you have now. That is, if you even get to keep your job for that long.

“Y/n,” Yoongi turns his head, lips meeting your throat in a chaste kiss. “I’ll tell you this as many times as you need to hear it, but I really don’t want to become one. I have more protection, more rights, as an adopted hybrid than I would ever have as a free one. It doesn’t matter what the government tries to portray it as – it isn’t true,” He lets out a low hiss.

“I just want some stability, someone I can call home. And I really want that to be you,” Yoongi murmurs.

“I want that too,” You rest a hand on top of Yoongi’s, tilting your head to lean against his. You want it so, so bad. “It’s just –“

“The bills?” Yoongi continues. You give him a weak noise of confirmation, gaze unwillingly straying over to the pile of all of your problems.

“Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s my turn to take care of you now after everything you’ve done for me.”

You suck in a surprised breath, quickly turning around in Yoongi’s hold to properly look at him. “What do you mean, ‘take care of me’?” You ask carefully, eyebrows pinched with confusion as Yoongi’s lips curl into a blinding smile.

“Exactly what I said,” Yoongi tugs you closer, your hands falling to rest on his chest to keep your balance. Yoongi’s tail brushes across your calves, trailing up your legs until it settles around your waist, gently curling around it just above where Yoongi’s hands are resting on your hips.

“Apparently when that fucker was fined a hundred thousand dollars, it was a hundred thousand to each of his victims,” Yoongi’s lips curl with displeasure as he utters the last word. “He had made so much money on trading us that it wasn’t even an issue for him to pay up right away. He’s probably going to try to reduce his sentence by being good and paying everything he’s required to.” He lets out a humourless snort, the tail around your waist giving you an involuntary squeeze at his flaring anger.

“He’s not going to get out Yoongi. Even if they do reduce it by some years, it’s not going to be enough for him to actually get released,” You say, gently moving a hand up to cup Yoongi’s face. The cat hybrid leans into your touch the moment your skin makes contact with his, eyelids fluttering closed as you run your thumb across his cheek. There’s no way Mr. Park is ever going to get released, and even if he against all odds should, you’re going to make sure you’ll put him right back where he belongs. You mull over Yoongi’s words as he rubs his cheek against your palm, one word jumping out at you.

Us.

“Yoongi, when you said us, do you mean your .. siblings?” You watch as Yoongi’s face stiffens, the fingers on your hips digging in a little deeper, before he breathes out a low “Yes.”

You can’t even imagine how hard it much be to know that you have family out there, but having no idea where they are or how many. Considering there even was a list, and Mr. Park had been running his breeding business for years before he got caught, you don’t doubt that it has to be long.

“Do you want to find them?” You ask carefully. It must be hard, painful even, for Yoongi to know that he’s not alone; that he has siblings out there who knows what he’s been through, and likely has been in the same terrible situation as he has, or maybe even worse – but that’s also why you’re not really all that shocked when Yoongi’s eyes flutters open, his gaze firm as he takes a deep breath and then, “No. I have all the family I need right here.”

And that’s more than fine. You can’t blame him for not wanting to relive his old life through every sibling he would meet. He doesn’t deserve it. What Yoongi needs, is to move on and put it all behind him, and you’re more than willing to help him do just that.

“Okay,” You nod, stomach fluttering at Yoongi’s words. Aside from Jihyo and Sana, Yoongi is the only family you really have. You don’t see yours too often, maybe once a year, and it’s always tense, always filled with You should’ve studied this or You’re still living there? and that’s not what family should be. It’s not what Yoongi is.

“You got me side-tracked kitten,” Yoongi grumbles, nipping playfully after your hand as you slide it down to rest on his shoulder. “What I meant to say was, I have money now. For once, let me take care of you and pay you back for everything you’ve done for me these past months,” Yoongi looks down at you earnestly, hopefully, and it just makes you heart bloom even more.

“I want you to use the money to find a new place for us to live, somewhere that’s a little safer,” He takes a step closer, pulling your chest flush against his as he ducks his head down to look at you. “I’ve got no use for the money on my own, I can’t even use it without an owner–“ Yoongi pouts, his eyes sparkling as he can see your resolve begin to crumble in front of his eyes, “– so if you’re really that apprehensive about it, just think of it as doing me a favour.”

It sounds tempting. You do want to adopt Yoongi and you do want to move you both somewhere nicer, but there’s still something gnawing at your conscience.

“If I adopt you –“ The tip of Yoongi’s tail flicks excitedly along your stomach at your words, “then you have to promise me that you’ll keep your money for yourself. You can pay half, and I’ll pay half. I’m not going to exploit you.”

“Okay, deal,” Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat as he closes the last distance between the two of you, his plush lips finding yours easily. You bring your hands up around his neck, carding your fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. It’s getting long again, and now would probably be a good time to finally take Yoongi to a proper hairdresser to get it cut. A loud purr rumbles from Yoongi’s chest as you intertwine your hands in his hair, the sound echoing in your little kitchen. You pull back, letting out an enamoured laugh as you see the faint flush in Yoongi’s cheeks.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow at your amusement, his mouth opening to shoot back a retort when he stops to wrinkle his nose, head tilting to the side to look at something over your shoulder. His tail quickly detaches from your waist as he lets out a snort, and says, “I think the eggs are burning.”

“Shit!”

Your eyes shift warily around the office as you make your way inside, the cold weather still lingering in your bones as you quickly shuffle over to your desk. Jihyo doesn’t even spare you a glance as you sit down, her mouth slightly agape as her eyes stay glued to the screen in front of her.

You sweep your gaze across the office as you remove your coat, surprised to find that most of your co-workers seem to either be doing the same thing as Jihyo, or whispering quietly amongst themselves.

“Jihyo? What’s going on?” You murmur as you take your seat. Jihyo shakes her head as she mouths out email, her gaze still locked on to her computer. You frown as you quickly boot up your own, a sudden sense of urgency making you desperate to get into the system.

You tap your fingers impatiently against your desk as the computer logs you in, your hands flying across the keyboard to open up your mail. You bring up the email that says ‘URGENT’, eyes flying across the screen as you skim through it. You can feel your own mouth falling open in shock as you reach the bottom, a wave of relief hitting you so hard you might actually cry if you don’t pull yourself together.

“Jihyo?” You breathe, and Jihyo finally meets your eyes, her surprise mirroring yours.

“I can’t believe he got fired!” She hisses, and you can’t do much more than shake your head in disbelief. You can’t believe it either. All the anxiety and worries you’ve had for your future that suddenly seemed so bleak is .. gone, just like that.

The email doesn’t say how your boss got exposed for sabotaging cases, just that he got found out, and that resulted in immediate termination. Not only that – but apparently the higher ups in the company has decided to merge with another firm that specializes in the same field; expanding the company and making it so that there won’t be one boss to oversee everything, but rather new team leaders and smaller groups working together.

You suppose the thought behind it is that it’ll make it easier to see if anyone is trying to exploit their positions or somehow foil their cases. Perhaps the thing that stood out the most was the fact that anyone who has worked at either of the two companies for three years or more can apply to the new positions, and you’re qualified to do that.

Jihyo seems to be following your train of thought, because she lets out a low giggle, her eyes sparkling as she says, “You’re going to be such a good team leader.”

“Jihyo!” You scold, “You don’t even know if I’ll get it. There are lots of people who as just as qualified as me.” But you can’t help but hope. Getting a promotion would solve so much, and it would make both yours and Yoongi’s life so much easier.

“Maybe, but I don’t think anyone is going to try as hard as you,” Jihyo gives you once over, her eyebrow quirking as she sees the small tug at your lip, a faint smile you haven’t been able to wipe off ever since you fell asleep yesterday.

“I take it that you worked things out with Yoongi?” She grins. Her smile seems to grow impossibly wider at your embarrassed nod, and she lets out an extravagant sigh, hands clutches to her chest as she says, “Ah your poor competition, they definitely don’t stand a chance now.”

“I’ll go get the last one,” Yoongi says, his tail brushing against the back of your hand as he walks past you. You huff in agreement, in box in your arms feeling like it’s going to tear them clean off as you quickly shuffle into the living room. You drop it onto the nearby table with a groan, rolling your shoulders to get the ache out of them as you step back.

Your new living room is littered with boxes, everything from your old apartment crammed into one room. You’ve brought no furniture along aside from your old coffee table, the other pieces so old and worn you and Yoongi both decided it was time to invest in something new. Your new couch and bed thankfully arrived the day before, so everything was ready to move into as soon as you brought all of your belongs over to the new house.

These past months still feel so surreal. You got that promotion you fought tooth and nail for, making both your hours and your pay much better. You even have the option to work from home a few days a week now, and that’s something you’ve been taking advantage of as much as possible. Your promotion also meant that you could finally find a new place to live now that you could split the cost fifty-fifty with Yoongi. It was the cat hybrid that had showed you the listing for a quaint little house on the outskirts of the city, and you knew right away that this was the right place for the both of you. The house is everything you’ve ever dreamed of. It’s not anything grand, but it’s more than enough for you and Yoongi, a pretty little home with a garden you just know will bloom beautifully once spring rolls around.

The large windows in the living room gives the house so much light, and you feel like you can finally breathe properly for the first time in months. Especially after being confined in your little shoebox apartment for years. It was a good home, but you had outgrown it long ago – long before you even met Yoongi.

Not to mention, you officially adopted Yoongi a few weeks after he came back, not wanting to drag out the inevitable even longer. It was weird–and it still is–signing the papers that meant you now had complete and utter ownership of another person, of Yoongi, but despite all that, you know deep down that it’s for the best. That Yoongi finally has the protection and safety he craves, and if he ever wants to become free, or leave, it’s never something you’ll use against him. The papers are nothing more than a formality to keep Yoongi safe, and that’s what you cling to whenever you wonder if you’ve done the right thing or not.

One thing you don’t think you can ever get used to though, is the stares. It’s been a little over three months since the trials, but people don’t seem to have forgotten about Yoongi just yet. You suppose it’s not that weird considering it isn’t often hybrids are represented on TV, but still, it keeps catching you off guard. It doesn’t matter if people look at him with interest or thinly veiled disgust, you can’t help but feel defensive when you catch people staring. So you don’t even think twice anymore before you switch places with Yoongi as you walk, or tug him along to another area in the supermarket under the guise that you saw something new you want to try. You’re pretty sure Yoongi has caught on long ago to what you have been doing, but he never complains about it – just follows along with a smile and a squeeze to your hand, and so you take it as permission to continue.

“Last one,” Yoongi grumbles as he brushes past you, the tight-fitting sweater leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. You watch, transfixed, as his biceps strain under the weight of the box he’s carrying, the sight making your mouth run dry.

“That’s great,” You feel your cheeks flush at how affected you sound. Not only has Yoongi finally gained back all the weight he was missing, but he has also been working out, a lot. While you might not have initially pegged Yoongi as someone who enjoys heavy exercise, you’re not all that surprised that it’s a hobby he’s grown fond of either. You know it’s something many hybrids enjoy, because for a lot of them, it’s the only thing that yields any results. And so, hybrid friendly gyms aren’t only a place for them to exercise, but to make friends too. You’re sure his heightened interest has more to do about the people he trains with more than the actual training itself, but it makes him happy, and that’s all that matters. And it’s not like you mind seeing Yoongi growing buffer either, but that’s sort of the issue. Because if you thought it was hard keeping your hands off him before, it’s almost torture now.

Yoongi’s head whips around at the breathless tilt to your voice as he puts the box down, the concern in his gaze transforming into something darker as he realizes why you seem so flushed.

“See something you like?” Yoongi teases, his biceps bulging against his sweater as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Rude.

“That’s not– I’m just tired,” You awkwardly clear your throat as you shift you gaze elsewhere, anywhere, that doesn’t put you in danger of making yourself drool.

“I’m sure you are, kitten,” Yoongi hums. You can feel his dark gaze burning into your face as he steps closer, but you refuse to meet it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of watching you squirm. Yoongi doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of you, a puff of air fanning across your cheek as he leans in closer. Soft fur brushes against your exposed ankles, the feeling so unexpected it makes your breath hitch. But Yoongi doesn’t comment on it, only presses a soft kiss to your cheek and murmurs, “You did well today. Go get washed up and I’ll start putting things away.” And then he leaves, the soft echo of footsteps making their way to the kitchen making you snap out of your daze.

The thing is, you haven’t been .. intimate with Yoongi ever since his rut. It wasn’t that either of you regret it, because you sure don’t, and Yoongi has made it very clear that he doesn’t; but you both agreed that you went about it a little backwards. So you both decided to take things slow. To do things right this time. It’s not like you don’t touch – because you very much do. You get all the hand holding, hugs, cuddles and gentle kisses you want, but Yoongi always pulls away before things can escalate into something more. And well, you always feel a little wave of relief go through your system every time he does.

You think you both might actually be a little nervous to take it any further. I do want to, but, you’re scared. Scared that Yoongi might not want you in the same way that he did during his rut. You know ruts are only supposed to amplify the needs and desires that are already there, but what if that goes for Yoongi’s enjoyment too? What if you’re not enough without his rut heightening his emotions? You know it’s silly – stupid – to think so, and that Yoongi keeps proving those thoughts wrong all the time, but still, just because you know some things are silly doesn’t mean it’s easy to let go of them.

You’re not sure why Yoongi keeps backing off, but maybe he’s worried about the same thing? Must be. You sigh, running your fingers through your tangled locks as you decide to take Yoongi up on his offer. You do really need a little pick-me up, and taking a shower sounds divine. As you make your way over to your bathroom, you can’t help the smile that graces your lips as you listen to Yoongi shuffling around in the kitchen. You know you’ll have to face those silly fears sooner rather than later, but for now, you’re happy to just push those feelings down and pretend they don’t exist.

But as always, things never turn out the way you want them to.

“Yoongi,” You pant as teeth nip against your collarbones, a rough tongue swiping over the marks to soothe the sting. You swear you have no idea how you ended up here. One second you were just relaxing on your new couch next to Yoongi after a long day of moving, and the next you’re caged in underneath his body, experiencing the most action you’ve had in months. You’re already breathing hard just from the intense make-out session you had, your lips bruised and raw from all of Yoongi’s nibbling and biting.

“What kitten?” Yoongi purrs against your neck, his fluffy ears twitching back and fourth to make sure he doesn’t miss any sound you make. The vibration against your throat makes you choke, your hands flying up to tangle into Yoongi’s soft locks.

“Are you sure about this? I don’t want to r-rush if you’re not ready,” You stutter halfway through as Yoongi licks a long stripe up your neck, his sharp teeth grazing the shell of your ear. There’s a confused huff of air, Yoongi reluctantly pulling back from your neck to properly look at you.

“Why wouldn’t I be ready?” Yoongi asks.

“Because you kept stopping whenever things started uh, heating up?” You wince at your poor word choice, Yoongi cocking his head to the side as he watches you carefully.

“I did that because of you, Y/n. You were practically choking my senses with how nervous you were – I was trying to take things slow and not make you uncomfortable.”

Oh.

“So I think I should be asking you if you’re okay, kitten, not the other way around. We can stop now if you want to,” Yoongi leans down to press a quick peck against your nose, the gentle smile on his face making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m nervous,” You admit. “The last time we did this was during your rut, and that was multiple supressed ruts combined into one, and so I’m just scared that you won’t enjoy it as much now that it’s just .. me,” You mumble, diverting your gaze to Yoongi’s shoulder.

Yoongi lets out a low growl, his tail winding around your knee as he leans in closer, forcing you eyes back onto his face as he says, “When will you learn to stop assuming things, kitten?”

“My rut doesn’t dictate anything, Y/n. What I feel during it and after it stays the same. Ruts just makes me horny for a longer period of time,” He grins at the faint flush in your cheeks, tail slowly parting your legs until he can situate himself in between them. “This–” Yoongi rolls his hips, ears perking up at the breathy sound you make as the hardness between his legs brushes against your core, “–is all you. Want you so bad, kitten. Rut or no rut.”

The slight desperation in his voice combined with the feeling of Yoongi pressed up against you, is just what you need to throw your worries out the window. There’s no need in denying yourself something you’ve wanted for so long when Yoongi obviously feels the same way that you do.

“Me too, want you too,” You rush out, eager to have Yoongi’s lips back on yours. You pull him down, fingers still tangled in his hair as he meets you halfway. It’s doesn’t take long before Yoongi deepens it, lips moving hungrily against yours as you anchor yourself in the locks between your fingers, the slight tugging only spurring Yoongi on even more.

You whine as Yoongi runs his tongue along your lips, your mouth parting automatically to let him in. Yoongi shifts his weight, the motion freeing up one of his arms. Yoongi slowly trails his hand down your chest; the unhurried touch such a juxtaposition to the feverish movement of his lips that it makes your body tremble. Yoongi lets his hand rest on your stomach for a moment, the warmth of his hand burning through the material of your shirt.

“Yoongi,” You whimper when it doesn’t seem like he’s planning on moving his hand any lower, your core clenching around nothing with how desperate you are to get his fingers where you need them.

Yoongi pulls back with a low chuckle; the sound quickly bordering on a growl the moment he sees your spit slicked and bruised lips. “Bed first,” Yoongi pants, the hunger in his eyes setting your body on fire.

Yoongi’s lips are back on yours as soon as you get up front the couch; slender hands holding your face steady as he starts backing you out of the room. You fist your hands into fabric of his sweater, tugging impatiently as Yoongi bites down on your lower lip, the low vibration from his chest a clear warning of have patience, but you’re far too needy to care. You let out a surprised squeak as the room suddenly tilts, your knees buckling against the side of the bed.

You scramble to pull yourself up further, your hungry eyes drinking in the smooth paleness of Yoongi’s body as he quickly rids himself of his sweater. You choke back a moan as he steps out his jeans, the newly defined muscles in Yoongi’s thighs making your mouth water as he crawls up the bed. You make quick work of your own clothes, Yoongi’s eyes nothing short of predatory as his gaze trails all over your exposed skin.

“You’re so pretty, kitten,” Yoongi purrs as he nudges you down, resuming the same position he had on the couch as he cages you back in. You’re both still in your underwear, Yoongi’s length straining against the material as he places his hand back on your stomach. You slide your hands up Yoongi’s shoulders until you can twist your fingers into his soft hair again, and this time Yoongi doesn’t need any prompting before his fingers slide further down your stomach, fingers hooking into the side of your underwear as he beings to peel it down.

The damp patch on your underwear only serves as evidence of how soaking wet you are already, and Yoongi’s eyes seem to grow darker, wilder, as he realizes just how ready for him you are. Yoongi surges down to capture your lips, his harsh breaths intertwining with yours as his fingers find their way back to your core. Yoongi swallows down the gasp that leaves your lips as his fingers drag between your folds, the slow friction bordering on torturous before his thumb starts doing lazy circles around your bud, your hips buckling up for more pressure.

“Don’t be impatient kitten,” Yoongi clicks his tongue, but the smugness on his face is wiped away by a sudden groan as he removes his touch from you completely, expression almost pained as he sees how his fingers are glistening with your juices. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” He growls. You can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes your lips as Yoongi starts lapping up the wetness on his fingers, his tail shuddering being his back. If you weren’t aching for Yoongi to sink into you, you probably could’ve orgasmed just from watching him. “Taste so sweet too,” Yoongi rasps.

He watches you through hooded lids as he brings his fingers back down to your core, the first finger barely even stretching your walls from how turned on you are. Finally having some friction against your walls is delicious, but one finger isn’t enough to sate the hunger burning in your belly. Yoongi adds another before you can even ask, the feeling making you mewl as you harshly tug Yoongi down for another kiss. Yoongi adds a third once you give him the clear, his fingers hitting you just right every time he pushes them back inside. You have long since abandoned Yoongi’s hair for the opportunity to explore his body, and the lean muscles seem to jump out against your fingers as you drag them from his chest to his stomach, and back up again to settle on his shoulders. You’re not sure when your bra disappeared, but thank god it did, because Yoongi’s soft lips wrapped around your nipple is enough to make your back arch, the dual stimulation almost too much.

“Need you Yoongi, please,” You beg, one hand quickly releasing his shoulder to reach down between your bodies. You let your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his underwear, Yoongi letting out a choked moan as you wrap your hand around his length. You only get to slide your hand up and down in a few quick pumps before Yoongi grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away as he rids himself of his boxers.

“I won’t last if you do that, kitten,” Yoongi grumbles, seemingly just as on edge as you are. You whine at the loss of his fingers moving inside of you, but the sigh of Yoongi’s cock straining against his stomach is enough to distract you momentarily.

“See something you like?” Yoongi echoes his words from earlier, the smirk of his face widening into a full grin as you can’t do much else but nod, your mind not having room for any thoughts except for the need to have him inside of you.

“Please,” You whimper. Yoongi grab your legs, wrapping them around his waist before he places a hand on your waist, the other guiding his cock to your folds. He keeps his eyes trained on your face for any discomfort as he begins pushing inside, the slight burn making you moan. You squeeze your legs to make sure he doesn’t stop moving, Yoongi filling you up so well you can barely think. Once he bottoms out, hips flushed against yours, he gives you a moment to adjust – and to collect himself – your walls are taking him so well that he won’t be able to last if he doesn’t try to calm down first.

“Shit,” Yoongi hisses as he draws his hips back, your tight heat around his cock making him see stars after practically blueballing himself for months. He wraps his other hand around your waist as well, giving your sides a squeeze before he slams himself back inside, setting a bruising pace straight from the start.

“Fuck, Y-Yoongi,” You moan as he shifts his hips, the next thrust hitting your sweet spot straight on.

“You were made for me kitten, you take me so well,” Yoongi’s head drops against your shoulder, a growl leaving his lips as your pussy seem to squeeze him even tighter, the added friction only spurring on the both of you even more. You don’t know whether to arch away or press closer as Yoongi begins nipping at your skin, the pressure not enough to break skin, but enough to sting deliciously every time he finds another spot to bite down on.

You cross your ankles behind Yoongi’s back, moving your hips up to meet his every time he fucks back into your heat. The pace is nearly too fast to keep up with, but Yoongi lets out a appreciate moan every time you do. You’re slightly more prepared for the stretch of his knot this time, Yoongi mumbling praises against your skin as you roll your hips against him, desperate to feel him expand inside of you.

You know you’re close, your whole body wound up so tight you feel like you’re going to snap in two. But there’s something else you want before that happens.

“Yoongi,” You bring a hand into his hair, a displeased grumble leaving his lips as you force him to pull back from your neck. “Yoongi –” You repeat, glassy eyes meeting his as he continues to fuck into you at a rapid pace, “– please mark me.”

Yoongi’s eyes grow wide, his hips stuttering to a stop as he stares down at you. “Do you mean that Y/n? You know there’s no going back from it,” Yoongi cups your cheek, the absolute adoration on his face making your heart sing. This isn’t the first time you’ve talked about it of course, you’ve had multiple conversations about it before. So you know it has to be done while Yoongi knots you, and well, you are as ready as you’ll ever be. You want to be Yoongi’s in any way that you can.

“Please mark me,” You repeat, watching as the giddy look on Yoongi’s face grows a little darker again, a possessive glint flashing in his eyes as he looks down at you. “Want you be yours – only yours.”

You only have time to suck in a breath before Yoongi’s hips pull back, his thrusts so powerful they begin to inch you up the bed as he slams back in. You still have one hand tangling in Yoongi’s hair, the other balled into the sheets, trying your best to stay in place and meet his movements. Your whole body shudders when Yoongi’s tail suddenly wraps around your waist, the soft appendage offering an extra hold on your body.

“Close, ‘m so f-fucking close,” You moan as you can feel Yoongi’s knot growing bigger, every thrust making it harder and harder to pull out. Yoongi shoves his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, his rough tongue laving across your salty skin. It’s too much, and the moment Yoongi’s knot finally swells and locks up inside you, your orgasm hits you like a brick, your vision turning white.

Yoongi hisses as your walls clamp down on him, the added pressure the last thing he needs before his cock throbs, sharp teeth sinking into your neck as he paints your walls white. The bite is painful, but the hot liquid spilling inside of you makes you feel so good–so full–that your mind can’t make up whether it wants to focus on the pain or the pleasure.

You let out a pained whimper as Yoongi finally pulls off your neck, his tongue running over the marks to soothe the sting. “You did so well, kitten,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin, the loud purrs from his chest almost overpowering his voice when he says, “I love you so much.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before he freezes up against you, his purrs cutting off so quickly it would almost be comical if it didn’t feel like your own heart was about to burst. You can tell by how tense his body is that he would’ve fled the room already if it wasn’t for his knot keeping you together. Despite everything, this is the first time any of you have actually said it out loud. You almost slipped up a few times, but you were supposed to take things slow, so you made sure to correct yourself before you could. But now ..

“I love you too,” You whisper, Yoongi’s ears twitching against your jaw as he listens intently to your words. But Yoongi doesn’t move. At all. You use the hand in his hair to gently tug him up, your other hand moving to cup his face as he finally meets your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” You murmur. You can’t help but feel a flash of fear that Yoongi didn’t mean it, that he somehow slipped up and said something he wasn’t ready to share yet.

“I love you,” He repeats, the words seemingly rolling a little weird off his tongue, like he’s testing it out. But you see the corners of his mouth twitch, his smile only widening as he starts repeating those three words over and over. You can’t help but smile along with him, the little doubt you had melting away as Yoongi’s confessions make themselves at home inside your heart. He must sense your confusion at his initial reaction though, because he quietly adds a, “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

You blink, your voice getting caught in your throat as you swallow thickly. It’s simultaneously the sweetest and most heart-breaking thing you’ve ever heard in your life. But you won’t cry, not when Yoongi looks so happy. Happy to have found someone he finally loves, happy to have found you. So you just let out an “I love you too, so much”, your voice thick with emotion and unsaid words you wish you knew how to phrase.

Yoongi only grins wider as you bring his face closer, peppering kisses to any part you can reach. There’s just something so fond in the way those dark eyes looks at you, like you’ve hung the stars and the moon personally for him and he can’t quite believe it. But, you feel like you’re staring back at your own personal ball of sunshine – someone who makes you feel so warm and loved that you’re sure you must be dreaming. So, you think, maybe it’s only fair that you found each other. That you get to create your own little universe with each other.

“Does it still hurt?” Yoongi brushes a careful finger across the mark on your neck, his eyes swirling with emotion as he takes in the very visible claim he’s been wanting to give you ever since you brought him home.

“Not really,” You say. It’s just a dull ache, nothing you can’t handle.

“Suits you,” Yoongi grins deviously, the smile making your stomach flip excitedly. He dips down again, nose brushing along your collarbone before he presses a chaste kiss to the mark. “All mine,” He murmurs.

And maybe you like the sound of that a little too much, the heat in your belly flaring back up as you involuntarily squeeze around Yoongi’s length that’s still buried deep inside of you. Yoongi lets out a sound that sounds like a mixture of a snort and a hiss, his voice a little rougher as he says, “Do you like the sound of that, kitten?”

“Yeah,” You say, “as long as you’re all mine too.”

“Ah–“ Yoongi’s hips twitch, his eyes nearly black with how much love and hunger and wonder he has for you, as he brushes his lips against yours, gentle fingers resting against the claim on your neck. “I’m all yours kitten. Forever. For as long as you want me.”

You decide that forever sounds just about right.

“I’m home!” You call out as you close the door behind you, a soft gush of warm spring air following you inside. You quickly shrug off your coat and shoes, padding your way into the living room when you don’t get a reply. You’re about to call out for Yoongi again when you find him, all curled up on the large windowsill.

You keep your footsteps light as you approach him, not wanting to wake him up from his slumber. He’s as pretty as always, dark fur glistening in the sunlight that’s spilling in through the windows, his bushy tail hiding his face from view. His ears twitch as you step on a squeaky floorboard, and you hold your breath as his head moves, a pair of golden eyes sleepily peeking up at you.

“Hi baby,” You coo, quickly closing the rest of the distance between you to crouch down in front of him, your fingers gently scratching below his chin as he flops his head into your hand.

“Did you have a good nap?” You get your answer in how Yoongi nudges his head against your hand, the action both a confirmation and a demand for more pets. You let out an airy laugh, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the top his head. The loud purrs start up immediately, the vibrations so intense you’re scared he might fall off the sill if he keeps them up.

“I love you too,” You smile, running your fingers over his smooth fur a few times before you rise to your feet. “Take another nap, I’ll come get you once dinner is ready.” Yoongi blinks up at you slowly, your body filling with warmth at how he still manages to look at you so lovingly even as a cat. You wait until Yoongi lies back down, his tail brushing over his face again to block out most of the sunlight.

You take a moment to breathe, your eyes trailing slowly over the blooming garden outside your window, and Yoongi resting peacefully in front of it. You just feel so happy, so at ease, like you could burst with how much love that seems to be coursing through your veins.

You throw Yoongi another glance, the stuttering purrs bringing a soft smile to your face as you inhale deeply, the familiar scents of home bringing a sense of peace over you that you never even knew existed before you met Yoongi.

Maybe forever won’t be long enough. Maybe, you think, you should settle for eternity instead.

- - - -

Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and support, it means so much to me that so many of you have been enjoying Yoongi's story! It feels very bittersweet to be wrapping desolate up, this was the first hybrid story I ever wrote and so it will always hold a special place in my heart. But, I do hope you'll stick around for Abundance and the other stories I will be posting from now on. There's lots more hybrid content coming your way!

Our sweet kitty finally got his happy ending, and I hope Yoongi's luck will rub on to you too if you're struggling with anything right now. Nothing is constant and all bad things will eventually come to an end. :)

If you enjoyed desolate and maybe want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖 Love you all, stay safe! <3

#hybrid!bts #hybrid bts #cat hybrid yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #hybrid au #bts smut #bts x you #bts fluff #hybridbtsnetwork

3K notes · View notes

oingo233 · 5 years ago

Text

Rapture is a Boy (3)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior? And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warning: angst, cuss words, self-doubt, angst, cheating, angst (but not as much as there will be later mwhahaha)

Authors note: I try to keep my writing(self inserts) gender, body type, ethnicity and house neutral/not specified. If I ever slip up please let me know so that I can change it.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Word Count: 3k

Part Three

****After All This Time, There is No Love****

The common room walls seemed to pulse with the vibrations of the song, every ear in the room being invaded with music, cheers, laughter, and somewhere for some odd reason, screaming. Screams of joy of course. The party was alive and everyone had large smiles and butterbeer slipping through giggles or being shared through a kiss. This party would surely be talked about in the weeks to come.

But I was having a harder time of letting loose, and it would seem Lily is too. For our very reason for throwing the party could not make it, so what the hell was the point? Remus was off studying, James was off studying, so we had no lips to lock with our own, no body to dance and grip to, no one to have fun with in the way we wanted to tonight. Lily was sipping on a butterbeer, staring at the portrait with me, hoping they’d walk through.

“Ladies...” A hufflepuff named Paul collided into our sides, looping his arms around our shoulder. Lily to his right, I to his left. He was staring drunkenly at the portrait with us, his eyes going large and then small, as if he was searching for something. “What are we doing?” He chuckles to himself.

“I mmmeann seriousllyy, if-if you’re waiting for a snnog anny onne here will step up. Lilyy that is, she’s sinngle. I’d snnog you though (y/n) but Remmuss might tear mee apart-a-apart me.” He slurs, leaning in close to my face. “Pre,’ He mutters to himself “pretty,” he laughs again and saunters off, swaying his hips to the music, declaring he’ll chug another jug of butterbeer. I look at Lily and she stares back at me, mouth open and my own fighting a smile. Before we know it, we’re cackling like the bunch of witches/wizards we are.

“This is the worst, mission failed! M’ sorry Remus couldn’t make it,” Lily says, huffing hair out of her drink. The fire burning only brought out the red of her hair, she looked apart of the flame herself. I see why James was in love with her, she got her wits, charm, beauty, and kindness. So why would he miss this time to be with her? Does Peter really need the whole lot of them?

“mmmh,” I agree wordlessly, “M’ sorry James couldn’t.” She sighs into her drink, cheeks burning and she looks up at me.

“Me too.” She mumbles. I’m taken aback to say the very least. I was always just teasing, I mean I had a hunch sure, but for her to really admit it. Well, I’m not proud to say that I stood there like a daft cow for roughly 5 minutes before she groaned and bumped her shoulder into mine. Hiding her smile and embarrassment with a final swig of her drink.

“I- you- James?” Is all I can seem to get out of me, shock makes ya useless it seems. She nods slowly.

“Yes, I thought you knew already.” She shrugs, turning towards the raging crowd of drunk witches and wizards.

“Well, yeah..” I shrug just as cooly and she laughs, pushing me with her arm again.

“Stop, you did not because Remus doesn’t know, and you tell him everything.” She points out, but soon regrets it as my smile grows wickedly large.

“(y/n)!” But I was already half way through the portrait, muttering to myself just loud enough for her to hear.

“Remus! Remus, I’ve got to tell Remus!” I’m laughing hysterically as she chases me through the corridors, our robes trailing behind us like a little sea of black rolling by our angles.

“No! Please, don't!” She yells after me, both of us out of breath by the time we reach the same corridor as the library. “I’ll hex you...” She glares at me as we walk swiftly up to the library doors. Now, of course I would never ever snitch such a thing to anyone. This is Lily’s long kept secret and when I had my unrequited love for Remus she didn’t go blabbering it to him or anyone else, so of course I would return the favor of silence. My plan was to simply lead her to James, where they can now confess their undying love for one another after the secrets already out. But she didn’t know this.

“You won’t hex me Lily dear, you’re not that against James knowing. Why don’t you tell Remus yourself, or better yet, James!’’ I exclaim, smiling to myself for my own genius. God, Remus will be in more of a shock than I, all the boys will, no one more than James. She tilts her head in disappointment directed at me, we raise our hands and together we open the doors.

We are first greeted with an indifferent glance in our direction from Pince. We smile at her and nod our heads in her direction, then walk slowly (as in I’m matching Lily’s pace which is practically the march of dread) to the table the marauders usually sit. The table has all of our names scratched into the bottom.

I wish Lily would walk faster because I was bouncing to see Remus, he quickly apologized to me once again for being dismissive and it led to quite the kiss (or two) and left us with some unfinished business. We turned the corner of a large bookshelf and where we were expecting to see the boys, we instead saw no one at all.

“Where are they?” I ask Lily, she shrugs beside me, just as confused. Though her shoulders are slumped with either relief or disappointment, from the look on her face I can tell it is a mix of both. “Come,” I say wrapping my arm around her shoulder, “They’re bound to be here somewhere, yeah?” She mumbled back a yeah to me, and together we searched the entirety of the library.

But it was a waste of time. Hardly anyone was there, and certainly not the loud (yes, even when they study) boys we came here for.

But we did find someone of interest, walking back along the corridors we found someone perched by the window, staring out towards the forbidden forest, towards the shrieking shack. Lucy. Lucy is girl by the window. She looked worried.

I swallowed my pride and my anger. It’s irrational, I told myself, my emotions talking, not fact. I did all of this just to take two step towards her and ask a simple question. But the answer was anything but.

“Are you okay? And before you lie to us, you should know that we genuinely are good listeners and I like to think quite non-judgmental and-” Though I swallowed so much, I could not swallow my stress ranting, the one that spawns when I am put in uncomfortable situations, such as this one. A curse truly. But thankfully Lily cuts me off.

“Yes, so uhm... are you?” Lily asks. Lucy doesn’t even turn to us, she bites her lip and continues to stare out the window. We almost go to ask again, thinking she hadn’t heard us. But she starts speaking, her gaze never leaving the shack before her.

“I guess it’s always good to talk about our problems,” She laughs to herself, “Remus tells me that, says bottling things up only make it worse. I’m worried about him actually. Remus, do you know hi-” Her words fall short as she turns around and sees the expression on my face. Remus. She is worried about Remus, my boyfriend. Why was she worried? Why was he not in the library where he said he would be? What does Lucy know that I do not?

Why does she care about Remus enough to sit and stare out of a window for hours? I quickly came back the conclusion that Remus was lying to me, about where he was, and who he loves. He has been cheating on me.

I stager backwards and Lily grasps my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.

“Are you two friends?” She asks, without venom or even a quiver in her lip, but I felt like my world was crashing down. I was thankful she asked the question because I wouldn’t have been as composed.

“Yes, er- sort of, closer than friends actually” She smiles to herself like she just said the sweetest thing. But it was just another stab to the heart, another hand constricting my throat. Not very convincing Lucy, I think to myself. Lily squeezes my hand again and goes to lead us away but Lucy begins to speak again.

“You’re (y/n) right?” She knows me. She knows me? I nod numbly and Lily quickly says goodbye for us, and rushes us away. She partly carries me through the portrait, I trail lamely behind her, not able of thought. She trudges us up the stairs to her bed where she promptly lets me sit and breakdown.

“Lily...” I don’t get to finish the sentence before she pulls me in for a hug, I didn’t realize how hard I was crying until my sobs made our shoulders hit into one another. She hugs me tighter, running her hands through my hair. Shhhsing me softly, and whispering sweet things in my ear.

“I love him, I love him so much,” I cry out, fisting her shirt in my hands. I think I feel her wipe away a tear of her own. God, I must be such a mess to make Lily herself cry. But I am a mess. I feel as though my very home has been taken away from me. This boy I gave my heart to, this boy I gave my very own body and love to, was giving it all to someone else. I confided in him, I trusted him, hell I’d even die for him. But he was playing me, he was using me. I have been loving a stranger.

“He doesn’t love me...”Is all I can mumble to myself again and again, rocking in Lily's embrace. We lay there until sleep takes us. None of the girls wake us up whether I belonged in Lily's bed or not, they noticed the way my face seemed blotchy and I was frowning in my sleep. But more than that they saw the tired look in Lily’s expression, and the rage hidden deep within.

I woke up to the sound of rustling clothes, and parchment. The sound of the girls dormitory coming alive, and everyone preparing for the schools day ahead. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to lie there until I grew the strength to face my worst fear. Until I grew the confidence to walk out there, to love myself again when I felt anything other than beautiful or good. I felt disgusting, what was wrong with me that would make Remus feel the need to be with another? No, I didn’t want to get up until I was healed, until time would reverse itself completely.

But nonetheless I got up, because Lily was worried and Lily was watching and Lily was there to hold my hand and reassure me that I was wonderful, and worthy of love. That it was Remus. My Remus. Lucy’s Remus, it doesn’t matter. I love him, I still do. After all that happened, I wish love was something I could tear from me and leave behind, but it was at first a beautiful flower in my heart and now it is just a dead weed stuck in cracks. I will never be able to get it out.

Lily silently sits me on the edge of the bed. She fixes my hair for me, and wipes at my cheeks, and gives me a tissue. I blow into it, she throws it out. She kisses my cheek and waits for me to get dressed.

At last, we make our way through the sea of students and staff to the great hall. The laughter of fellow students makes the lump in my throat all that much larger. My hands begin to shake and so Lily holds it within her own.

“Look at me love,” She says, “Remus does not deserve ya after the shite he pulled. Ya need to talk to him love, you need to break up with him yeah? Feel the freedom in your new single life and get out there. Paul said he’d snog ya, yeah?” I know she was trying to make me feel better, and it almost worked. Almost. But I was still very much in love with him, I don’t know if I can move on. After knowing Remus so intimately, how could I? Nonetheless I swallow my despair and nod slowly to her. She lets go of my hands and we walk straight to the Gryffindor table. Straight to the boys.

My heart swallowed itself whole when I caught sight of Remus. He looked tired, exhausted even. His skin pale, and he looked in pain. The other boys didn’t look any more alive, but they were laughing with one another, though in a more sedated way. Remus was in his own world, reading a muggle book I gave him a while ago. He promised he’d tell me all about it and that we’d find a way to watch the muggle movies when we can. We never will.

My sadness is suddenly replaced with an intense anger. With rage and hurt I walk right up to the table, I stand behind Remus. The other boys look up at Lily and me with easy smiles, but they drop as they soon further dissect our appearance and with it our mood. Sirius goes to wolf whistle as if he was excited by the fact one of the boys were about to get hounded into, but Lily raises a hand and stops all sound at the boys part of the table.

I clear my throat. He is still reading, he smiles to himself as he reaches a rather humorous part of the book.

“Remus,” I call, my voice sickly sweet, it seems to shock Lily. She begins to walk back, not wanting to be in the middle of the spitfire. But the boys seems to soak in the scene with amusement. Remus hums in response, and puts his thumb near the edge like he does when he is about to finish a line and then close the book, but I was above waiting now.

“Could you Remus, for 5 seconds perhaps give me more attention when I speak to you than some fucking book. It’s like I’m talking to a godamn wall!’‘ I lose my temper near the end, and now half of the table was staring at us. Remus doesn’t even bother to mark the page, he places the book down and whips around to me with wide eyes. The boys no longer looking humored at all, everyone is giving me odds looks. I’ve never once acted this way with Remus, all our previous arguments were resolved rather quickly.

“Great,” I smile too big at him, then turn to the boys. Every word dripping sarcasm and fake calm. Remus only frowns more, his eyes darting across my face and than to Lily searching for an answer.

“Now, could you all leave us be or are you going to be obnoxious flies on said wall while I speak to my boyfriend for the little amount of time I have managed to grab his attention?” I grit out every word, as if fighting my anger, I did not mean to be so hurtful but I am very hurt myself. Did the rest of boys know about Remus cheating? Instead of leaving, they stare at me in shock, after some time of staring James goes to ask why I am being so rude but I cut him off.

“You know what?” My voice cracks, I am losing my resolve. With every second I spend staring deeper into Remus’s eyes my anger fades into sadness. A great sea of sadness. “Never mind, I am being rude. All of you can continue to ignore me completely, Remus, my love,” My voice cracks once again and I will my anger to come back so that I may do what I have to next. “You keep reading that book of yours and for the love of god don’t stop for anything, I mean don’t ever stop because what on earth could be of a more pressing matter? And boys, keep your sweet asses locked in place because I do always forget how much of fucking arseholes the whole lot of you are!” Remus stands up abruptly and caresses my forearm, he wishes for us to talk somewhere more privately but I jump back at his touch.

My lips curl up in a snarl “We’re over Remus! You cheat! You fucking liar!” I yell loud enough for the whole of Gryffindor table to hear, my anger has run from me completely and now nothing is left but Remus’s eyes staring deep into mine.

His eyes, as they well up with tears and dart around the room. His eyes growing red and defensive at all the people looking back at him. His eyes meeting mine once more, his mouth falling open and closing again. He goes to speak, but at last, I watch as he can’t hold the tears back anymore. He rubs aggressively at his eyes, and rushes out of the great hall. His friends racing after him, not before Sirius shoots me a dirty look and James questions Lily with his eyes.

And then it was done. The students begin to whisper behind hands and poke their fingers in our direction. The great hall filling up once again with chatter and gossip, I feel the color drain from my face and every feeling I previously had becomes overtaken with grief. It is over. I have lost him. After all this time, there is no love.

Lily catches me before I fall. She is now the one to rush me through the doors of the great hall, but we are stopped short. Stopped by the sound of horrible, horrible sobs and 3 boys trying their hardest to silence them. To comfort him. No pain in that moment would come to compare to the miserable feeling I’d carry around after that night. After seeing him lying there, body racked with sobs because of me.

Sirius looks up, he looks as though he is in pain as he bounces his leg and runs a hand through his hair. He looks around, anywhere but his broken friend. But then our eyes meet.

He begins to walk over to us, Lily stands as my guard. But nothing could protect me from the onslaught that is an angry Sirius Black...

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess @1975weasley @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain@nicodoesntexist

114 notes · View notes

zwowow · 4 years ago

Note

I’m in the mood for angst, so Em ignoring Kells, and kells feeling like shit because of it

saw an old man in a sweatsuit. thinking of u

The first day, he understands that Em is busy. He's always working on his own shit and working with artists he knows, too. He has shit to do other than answer Kells' dumbass texts.

The second day, he gets it still. Em isn't attached to his phone the way Kells is. But really, he could've at least opened the text. Maybe Em had just swiped away the text, he thinks.

fit check?

He sends the text with a mirror selfie he'd actually taken three days ago attached. He was wearing a hoodie he'd stolen from Em, there was no way he couldn't open it and respond.

By the third day, Kells would never admit it, but he's mad anxious. He'd been right about Em being unable to resist opening the text, but had been proven wrong when even hours later, he hadn't texted anything back. Was there something wrong? Had he said something to deserve the silent treatment he was getting? Was the sweatsuit comment, though he’d sent almost the exact message five times in the last few months, too far? He shoots off a quick we good??? and he pretends he doesn't notice the way his fingers shake on the keys.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth days drag and fly by at once. For the first time since Em's cold front had started, he was busy all day every day. He didn't have time to check his phone every hour and see the lack of notifications under Em's contact. He still felt every minute pass by. He perked up every time he did get a call or text, only to come down every time it wasn't who he wanted it to be.

With each day the urge to call or text Em again grew stronger, but he made himself wait. If Em wanted to talk to him, he'd reach out. He'd read Kells' message. The ball is in Em's court, though the more he thinks about it, Kells wonders if it's ever been his.

Seven days marks exactly a week since the last time Em texted him. His thumb hovers over the call button at least ten times throughout day. He needs to hear Em's voice, if only to hear him say that it's over. He can't just fade away. Kells won't let him.

This time, he actually presses call. Em doesn't pick up, but Kells stays on the line anyway, just to hear Em's outgoing message.

"Call me." He says quietly, desperately, into his phone when he gets prompted to leave a voicemail.

The worst part, he thinks when he gets to day eight and Em's radio silence has taken its permanent place as the most important thing on his mind, is that he doesn't even know what he did wrong. The last time they'd actually talked, they'd been facetiming and it felt like a normal conversation. There were no awkward pauses or barely concealed annoyed sighs, just a normal conversation that ended slowly, neither of them ready to hang up. When it finally came time, Kells pressed his screen to end the call, and cut Em off right in the middle of saying something.

He texted him right away and asked if it was something important, and Em texted back quickly.

Nah.

So Kells left it at that. And that was the last text Em had sent him. Kells hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but looking back a week and a day later, he wonders if the end of their normal phone call had been normal after all.

On day nine, or ten, Kells isn't sure what to call the wee hours of the morning when he hasn't slept at all, he finally breaks. Obviously Em doesn't want to talk to him. If he can ignore him like this without even an update text. No explanations of how busy he is or anything else Kells would think was bullshit but accept as an excuse because anything is easier than accepting the truth. The truth that he's finally come around to.

Em is done with him.

They had a good run: great sex, funny banter, and even though they argued twice a day it seemed, Kells has never really felt known like he did with Em. But that's over. Em has made it quite clear that he's done with this by ghosting him this last week.

Kells pulls out his phone and opens Em's contact for the last time.

Got the message, asshole. Guess this is over.

It's 4 AM California time, so around 6 in Detroit. Em is probably still sleeping. He'll wake up to a breakup text and be relieved. Kells hates him for it. Why did he have to be the one to send the final text, and the one to get his heart broken?

If Em wanted to end them he should've done it himself. But no, he's a fucking coward. He always has been. Kells should have fucking known. He's a stupid piece of shit for not knowing, for not expecting this. Em was always going to tire of him. Shit, he gets tired of himself sometimes, he's whiny and needy and kind of a prick, but he hadn't expected Em to just go silent. He'd thought they'd made it past the point of the fadeaway. He'd assumed he deserved more for Em. Kells chuckles into the dark. Idiot move. To believe he deserved anything but to get shit on.

Whatever, what's done is fucking done. Em can stop answering his texts, but he can't un-suck his dick or un-eat his ass. At the very least, Kells will always have that. There's enough memories of the two of them to relive a new one every night until he's finally over him.

After sending the text, Kells lays back onto the headboard of his bed and feels around his bedside table in the dark for the half smoked joint and lighter he'd left there earlier. He lights up in the dark, guided only by the flame of his lighter. In the dark, nobody can see the tears he sheds silently while he smokes. Not that there's anyone with him, he's alone and lonely. As it should be.

The roach is just starting to burn his fingers when his phone lights up and begins to buzz.

It's Em.

He contemplates letting it go to voicemail. He wants to ignore Em the way Em has been ignoring him. At the last minute he picks it up, unable to resist hearing Em's voice. It's pathetic, how much he needs to hear Em on the other line.

"Kells?" Em rasps into his ear.

"Hm?" He doesn't trust himself to talk. He might say some stupid shit like 'I didn't mean it' or 'take me back' or 'I love you'.

"Kells. Fuck. I just saw your text." Which one? He wants to snear. Which text? The one he just sent breaking up with him or the ones before that he had no problem ignoring?

"Okay." He says instead. His throat works tightly over the word, threatening to squeeze out one of the things he absolutely must not say.

"You're done with this? You want us to be over?" Em sounds frantic, but Kells doesn't understand how he didn't see it coming.

"You're the one who's been ignoring me for over a week! Obviously you want this to be over." The silent tears he shed earlier come back with a force that almost turns them into full blown sobs.

"No! Kells… That's not it."

"Then what is it?" There is no logical reason Em can give for going from texting and calling multiple times a day to radio silence for ten days.

But he wants to hear the illogical reason anyway.

"Do you remember what I said last week when we were about to end the call?" Their last call. When Em cut off in the middle of his sentence. And the last text he sent Kells. Nah

"Like right at the end? I didn’t hear you, you told me it was nothing."

"I said I love you." Those words steal the breath from his lungs. He chokes on the meaning behind them. Em loves him, he said he loves him. Regardless of what he said, though, he still hasn't talked to Kells in over a week.

"Kells... you still there?" Em says says he's been silent for a while. Kells inhales deeply, clearing his lungs of the last of the weed and what Em just laid on him.

"Yeah. I'm just tryna understand how the fuck you go from saying you love me to not thinking I'm worth a fucking text back." He hadn't known his words would come out with such bite, hard despite coming out through tears, but it's what Em deserves.

"We haven't said that yet." Em says like that explains the cold shoulder.

"I know."

"You didn't say it back. Man, you fuckin’ hung up." Kells wants to hang up again. He's told Em multiple times now.

"I didn't hear you." His voice is wrecked and desperate. If he had heard Em, he would've said it back. He's been feeling the same way for months, but hadn't wanted to ruin what they had by admitting to such deep feelings so early on.

"I know but... it fucking scared me, y'know? I said I love you, Kells. Do you know how fucking awful that is, to say you love someone and have them not say it back?"

Do you know how hard it is to be ignored by someone you love, he wants to ask? Does Em know how awful it is to fall in love so easily you never know when it's real until they leave? Because Kells knows how Em feels, but he doubts Em knows how he feels.

"You didn't answer my calls. You left my texts on fucking read." He's crying openly now, loud sobs into the night.

"I know and I'm sorry. It was a dick move, but I didn't know what to say to you. I love you, Kells, and I was convinced you didn't love me back, that you hung up on purpose to get out of saying anything back, so I tried to see how long I could last without you. I fucking tortured myself...." Em clears his throat and lowers his voice "Obviously, I wasn't just torturing myself."

"No. You weren't."

"I'm sorry, so fucking sorry. I love you Kells. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Kells doesn't forgive him. Because even if he didn't mean to, he did hurt him. Bad. He's spent the last ten days in pain and he won't lie about it. So he tells Em the truth, though both his brain and heart beg him to tell an easier to swallow lie.

"I love you, too." He says.

#emgk #zwowfic #yall love sad huh #like me too #but really

40 notes · View notes

kiara-carrera · 4 years ago

Note

[ COMFORT ] - noticing that the receiver has received terrible news, sender offers them a hug as a means of comforting them during this difficult time. + your choice!!!

took the prompt as a loose suggestion because it’s not necessarily bad news, but it’s a hug of comfort soooo

comfort: abby + kiara

The Kook Academy was a vicious jungle, but Kiara had learned too late that Sarah Cameron was an apex predator.

Top of the food chain, she was the untouchable, the princess of the Kooks. The Kook Academy lived and breathed as a hierarchy of power and Sarah was at the top. They weren’t even seniors yet and still, the will of the people around them always seemed to undoubtedly bend in her favor. It wasn’t hard to see why. Sarah was gorgeous, effortlessly beautiful even on her worst days. And she knew how to fake a smile, how to play the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect friend.

The perfect best friend.

But it was all a lie and Kiara had found herself stuck in the middle of all of it, like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

Kie had been a fish out of water when freshman year had started. She didn’t fit in. She’d gone to the public elementary and middle schools, away from the elitism of the schools where Figure Eight residents sent their kids. But when it came down to it, she’d always been different than her friends, no matter how badly she wanted to just be a Pogue. She’d always be in the middle, a foot in both worlds, a rich kid who “slummed it” on the south side of the island. But that was how she liked it and in hindsight that was how she should have kept it.

But her parents had shipped her off to the private high school and she’d been off balance ever since. Sarah Cameron had been a life preserver when she had been drowning and next to Sarah, Kiara’s life had shifted. She’d isolated herself from her old friends, but she had Sarah.

She had the popularity, the friends, the parties, the never ending stream of feeling like she was on top of the world.

Until Sarah promptly kicked her off the very same pedestal she’d allowed her to perch on for all those months.

As she finished up in the bathroom, alone during her free period, she was reminded of just what kind of a fucking pathetic 2000′s teen movie nightmare she was living in.

Kiara Carrera's a rat! was scribbled on the stall door in bright pink sharpie, alongside multiple crude drawings, a few phone numbers whose owners probably had no idea they were there, and a mention of some guy in the grade above her having crabs.

TMI, Kiara thought, nose scrunched in disgust.

But mostly, her eyes kept straying back to that one word, that one name that had been tacked onto her name since Sarah’s birthday.

She figured there were worse things she could be called, but it was the principle of the situation. It had been months now. Kiara had figured that in a school like the Kook Academy, a party being broken up by the cops would have been old news by now. But when fingers had been pointed and she’d been labeled as the snitch, apparently the situation blowing over hadn’t been in the cards.

Like, okay, sure, she technically was the one who called the cops. But no one knew that and she’d just had the crime pinned on her anyways because Sarah fucking Cameron refused to do anything about it. And what was she supposed to do? It was bad enough that Sarah had already iced her out. Kiara had been ghosted for weeks before her birthday and then the rager unfolding at Tannyhill had been all over Instagram. It was just more salt in the wound and Kiara’s jealousy had won over.

And now, she supposed, she was paying the price.

Sophomore year was like a wound that refused to heal, aching over and over again. Her distance from her newfound friends was colossal and her “Kook year” was one for the books. It was still technically ongoing, but she was back to being a fish out of water in this callous fucking school, her only reprieve coming at night and on weekends when she could fall back into the fold of Pogue life now that she’d finally gotten her old friends, her real friends, to forgive her.

But the incessant name calling, the writing on the walls, the near total isolation for eight hours a day, five days a week? A couple hours with the Pogues wasn’t enough to combat that and Kiara felt bitter, hot, angry tears stinging the back of her eyes as she shouldered her way out of the stall.

“Stupid fucking Kooks,” she muttered under her breath as she reached the sinks. Annoyance flooding through her, she aggressively began washing her hands, glancing up to look in the mirror after a few moments.

She could finally recognize herself again, the way she hadn’t been able to all those months playing make believe with Sarah and her fake friends, but she wasn’t happy here. Nothing at this godforsaken, elitist, fascist school made her happy except —

In the mirror behind her, the bathroom door burst open. “Oh, Kie, hey!”

Abigail Mitchell practically floated into the room with ease, a smile on her lips. She was in the middle of pulling her dark hair back with a brightly colored scrunchie, the red color matching the strawberry earrings dangling from her ears. Her eyes, those impossibly blue eyes that always reminded Kie of the ocean, only seemed to brighten at the sight of her friend.

Friend.

Where Sarah had been a momentary life preserver, Abigail Mitchell had been a saving grace, waltzing into Kiara’s life at the Kook Academy in the eleventh hour, right when she’d gone from top of the heap to team reject. Kiara had been hesitant, resistant even, to making another friend on this side of the island but Abby was ... different, to say the least.

Like most of Figure Eight residents, she came from old money and she was on friendly-ish terms with some of the Kooks but the difference was all in the perspective. Despite the outward appearance and the obnoxiously large mansion she lived in, Abby had lived on the Cut for seven years before her mother died and she was shipped off to live with her grandparents. For seven years, she had known the world that Kiara had one foot in.

And although it had been years since her grandparents gained custody of her, most of Figure Eight still saw Abby as the outsider with the flighty mom. Good enough to converse with at school and at functions because of her status as a Mitchell, but not good enough for anything else, apparently. She learned how to play the part, to look the part, to make paper thin “friendships” with those around her, but Kie had been lucky enough to actually get to know the real Abby — the girl that Abby was and longed to be.

Even though they hadn’t been friends long, Kie just knew that Abby fully got what it was like to be on the outside, never truly fitting in, and not having a desire to fit in. From the picture Abby had painted for Kie, she’d never really had any real friends here, had never been able to see eye to eye with any of the facades the people around them liked to meticulously maintain.

And when Kiara had been kicked to the curb, Abby had been the only one show her actual, real kindness. Abby just ... got her, and after what Kiara had gone through, there was nothing more comforting than someone who just understood.

“Hey yourself,” Kiara mumbled, forcing a smile on her face as she finished washing hands, shaking them dry into the sink. She tried to make the expression look genuine as she turned to face Abby, although the effort was in vain.

Her lack of a good mood was apparently noticeable at the drop of a hat, a frown working its way onto Abby’s face. “Are you okay?”

Unconsciously, Kiara’s eyes flickered to the stall.

Abby caught Kiara’s glance at the stall, her brows knitting together in confusion. Her gaze shifted between the door and Kie for a moment, wheels turning in her mind, putting the pieces together.

“Oh, come on,” she mumbled under her breath, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder as she marched over.

“Abby —”

Before Kiara could even finish her sentence, Abby had the door open, eyes locked on the words defacing it.

“This shit’s still going on?” Abby cursed, turning around on her heel to look at Kie in question. But her annoyance wasn’t directed at her, Abby’s eyes flitting to the ceiling as she continued, “I swear to God, everyone at this school has the mentality of a badly written teen soap villain.”

Kiara shrugged, rolling her eyes. “I’m used to it, everyone here hates me, I’ve gotten the memo.”

She wasn’t fine, but there was no way she was about to sob in the bathroom like a three year old just because a bunch of assholes who flaunted daddy’s credit card everywhere wanted to have her name in their mouths constantly. And not in front of Abby, especially not in front of her.

Kiara wasn’t really sure what it was about Abby that made her so comfortable and on her toes all at once. Sarah had royally fucked with her view of friendship outside of John B, JJ, and Pope, and she spent most days waiting for the other shoe to drop, to become the punchline of another joke, for Abby to ghost her too.

But then Abby would give her that look, that soft little look like the one she wore right now and the world would seem slightly less bad. Abby took short, quick steps over to the sinks, holding out an almost hesitant hand to Kiara. She looked nervous almost, like Kiara was going to bat it away, but the tension in her shoulders dropped when Kiara accepted.

Two warm, soft palms met in the middle, a jingle of multiple bracelets on either wrist as soft expressions were on either face. Their eyes locked for a moment before Abby was gently tugging her in, wrapping her arms around Kiara in a comforting embrace. Kiara’s eyes squeezed shut as the sting of tears bit at the edges of her sight as the shorter girl tightened the hug just a little more.

“Hey, look,” Abby said after a moment. She slipped loose from the hug, hands drifting up to hold onto Kiara’s shoulders, giving her a stern look. “Fuck ‘em. No one at this school is worth your time, okay?”

You are, Kie thought absentmindedly. She didn’t say that, though, the words stationary on the tip of her tongue. It was a bold statement, a heavy statement, not one for a newly blossoming friendship. But it was the truth, whether she said it out loud or not.

A small, yet vibrant smile broke out on Kiara’s face as she repeated, “Fuck ‘em.”

“That’s my girl!”

#asks #hug prompts #marrera #witchofinterest

4 notes · View notes

mypassionfortrash · 5 years ago

Text

KICKS (part 8)

You and Roger finally give in to your feelings, but it doesn’t end as well as you had hoped.

WARNINGS: Smut. NOTES: Thanks for sticking with this one – it means a lot. Sorry it’s late and really short. I’m just feeling a bit uninspired to write right now.

CATCH UP: Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven

TAGS: @jennyggggrrr @sarahgurl09 @scorpiogemini @johnricharddeacy @brianssixpence @hellohellothere12 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @internationalkpoplova @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @six-bloodyminutes @hannafuckingsucks @dancingcoolcat @cherries-n-rocknroll @inthelapofrogertaylor @80s-roger @just-my-sickly-pride @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @johndeaconshands @loveandbeloved29 @toreyyyyyy @fallingprincess @radiob-l-a-hblah @wineandwanderings

Roger moved swiftly. The weight of him almost sent you flying backwards as your lips collided for the very first time. Picture perfect and just like something from a film, sparks flew inside you. Between you. Everywhere.

You clung to him. Moved with him. In a delirious push and pull. Hands in hair. Trailing down each others’ bodies. Eventually, your fingers snagged in his belt loops in a futile attempt at stability. Roger well and truly made up for lost time. He grabbed your hips and gripped your thighs. Dragged his hands all the way up your body and clawed his fingers through your hair.

It felt like a delicious eternity before Roger broke away with his pink lips parted ever so slightly. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he giggled, trying to draw in a breath.

And then your eyes shot open. A fistful of Roger’s t-shirt in your hand, just about to tear it off. “What time is it?”

Roger slowly removed himself from you. His features dropped in disappointment.

Your heart felt like it had burrowed right to the bottom of your stomach. “Sorry… work,” you explained.

Roger nodded and held his wrist up high enough that he could just about make out the dials. “Half eight,” he said. “Do you still want to–“

Before he could finish that sentence, your lips were glued to his again. Hopping off the work bench, you walked Roger back across the entire width of his garage. Your hands roamed every step of the way. Until you reached the Aston Martin, tucked away on the far side.

Roger gave a few playful nips at your neck. “You like the expensive ones?” he grinned.

Putting on your best doe eyes, you fluttered your lashes and sat back on the hood. “I’ve always wanted someone to fuck me on the bonnet of a pretty car if that’s what you mean. And you had better get a move on.”

Roger bit his lip and tugged down his zipper. “Fortunately for you, this one goes pretty fast.”

You lay back and spread your thighs for Roger. His breathing hitched just watching you run your fingers over the damp spot on your knickers. Just waiting for him to make the first move.

“Fuck,” he sighed, throwing himself at you. One hand tugged your underwear aside, the other grabbed the back of your neck, keeping you nose to nose with him. “You really don’t fuck around.”

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers – unrestrained and eager to please – exploring every slick, damp fold. And then he found your clit. Circle after circle felt like lightning and forced you to bury your face in the crook of Roger’s neck. God, he smelled incredible. Smoke and petrol and a hint of sweat. You could have stayed like that forever. But Roger had other plans for you.

His other hand gently guided your head back. He paused, gazing down at you. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?”

Why did he have to do that? A pang of disappointment burned though your body. You needed him to keep going.

Roger pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m being serious here.”

“Yes, please,” you said. You grabbed his hand to try and make it move again. “Just keep doing this while you fuck me.”

Roger’s free hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock. Thick, veined and throbbing.

You looked down in awe as inch by inch Roger sank inside you while his thumb continued to tease you. Everything else in the room felt like it was spinning.

“Feel ok?” he asked, kissing the tip of your nose.

You kissed him back and nodded.

“Lie back for me.”

Easing yourself back, you wrapped your thighs around Roger’s body. He started slow, so slow that you felt every vein, every ridge. Every time his cock brushed against that sweet spot inside you.

You felt incredible; trembling and squeezing around Roger’s cock. So much so that he couldn’t stand up straight while he fucked you, or even focus on rubbing your clit any longer. He planted his hands on either side of your head and hunched over you, speeding up. His chest pressed against your own. “You like that?” he groaned, clawing at the expensive green paintwork.

“Yes,” you hissed. You couldn’t stop your hands from wandering between your thighs or grabbing his hair. When you were on the verge of truly sinking into another headspace, blocking everything else out, Roger took control again.

First you felt your toes touch the cold, hard concrete. Then being spun around. Soon enough you were face down, panting against the hood of his car. One leg propped up on the bumper. Roger’s fingers dug into your hips so tight that you were certain they’d leave a bruise. Every sound reverberated right to the rafters in the garage. Heated moans, and the echo of every sloppy, purposeful thrust. Delirium wasn’t far off. You could feel it building.

He was getting close too. You could tell by the way his teeth bore into the spot between your neck and your shoulder with a muffled, guttural growl. No words needed. He needed this as much as you did.

Towards the end, something snapped. You stared at your fogged up reflection as Roger finished inside you. But you just couldn’t let go.

He hadn’t even caught his breath or tucked his cock back in his jeans before you were back on your feet, keen to get back into the house to clean yourself up and get to work. He raked his fingers through his hair and squinted at you in the orange glow from the heater. “Did you…finish?”

You shook your head, and smoothed Roger’s shirt over your thighs. “I really should…” you trailed off, jabbing your thumb towards the house behind you. “…get ready. Work and everything.”

Roger held up his hands and took a step back. He seemed to understand.

You had only just stepped outside into the brisk morning when you peeked back over your shoulder. He stood there in the garage with his arms folded, watching you. He wore a bittersweet smile. You turned to him. “See you later?” you shrugged.

A glimmer of light returned to Roger’s big, sad eyes. “Sounds good.”

There was no other way to look at things. If Roger stopped tinkering with the Range Rover, then he would have been rallying the Aston Martin into town. But he didn’t want to look desperate. He didn’t want to take a mile when you had only just given him an inch. So he spent hours under the hood. Doing far more harm to his runaround than good. Poking at every detail of the last 24 hours in his head.

But he couldn’t get over how soon you left.

Had he gone too far? Too rough? Did he say something?

When faced with a problem he couldn’t solve, Roger’s rage reared its ugly head. Fortunately, that only amounted to hurling a spanner across the garage when his brain couldn’t handle any more.

Wiping his hands with a rag, he called it a day in the garage.

Thoughts of you lingered on him like your scent on his t-shirt, he couldn’t resist pressing it to his nose as he waited for the water in the shower to heat up. He needed to wash away the grime and reason his way out of this one; every stroke of his hand over his body made him burn with need and desire. Lathering the soap into his arms. Down his chest. His abdomen. His fingers curled through the wisps of hair down towards his half-erect cock.

Roger’s body felt heavy, burdened with need as he leaned against the wall. His mouth dropped open with a reserved groan when he thought back to fucking you in the garage. How touching you felt just like a religious experience; not that he believed in those. It was as close he’d get to one. His hand gripped his shaft tighter, trying to remember just how tight you felt and how you moaned for him. The scent of your hair. He screwed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, trying to paint as vivid a picture as he could. But the details were too fuzzy. All he knew for sure was that he wanted you even more now.

----------------------------------------------------------------

FRIENDLY REMINDER: you’ve made it this far! Congratulations! Please, if you enjoyed reading this fic, reblog it.

You spent 20 minutes reading this for free. I spent a lot more time writing this... for nothing but the hope that you’ll share this and leave some feedback. I love writing fanfiction, but it’s really demoralising to rarely get feedback, and for tumblr’s algorithm to bury posts because no one shares them. And honestly, I don’t want to guilt you, but I’m kind of close to quitting sharing my writing on here because of it.

SO PLEASE, SUPPORT WRITERS. REBLOG FICS (EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK YOU HAVE A LOT OF FOLLOWERS)! LEAVE FEEDBACK (EVEN JUST A KEY SMASH, DON’T BE SHY)! I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT AND I’M SURE OTHER AUTHORS WOULD, TOO!

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen

113 notes · View notes

hermannsthumb · 5 years ago

Note

you know how hermann finding The Tape is like, a popular fic prompt? imagine newt listening to the tape, after the breach is closed only to find out it kept recording after he passed out? imagine newt listening to hermanns frantically confessing his love to him :^)

god ive seen the opposite (hermannn finding the tape with love confession from newt on it) but THIS.....IS A GREAT IDEA

---------------------------

“I’m not dying, Newton,” Hermann says. “Don’t be so melodramatic. It’s standard procedure, is all.” He shifts a little under his stiff medical-issued blanket, and blinks at Newt hazily; the pain meds they gave him have made him crazy out of it. A bit loopy. Unbalanced. Newt had to help him into his pajamas today, and that was enough blushing mortification for a life time, thank you. “I’ll be out--oh--tomorrow, I reckon.”

“Standard procedure, my ass,” Newt scoffs. “If that was true, I’d be in here with you.”

Hermann shuts his mouth and, wisely, doesn’t push the point. Probably because he knows Newt’s right. They both drifted with the kaiju brain, after all--shit, Newt drifted with one twice, practically fried his brain to smithereens the first time. Geiszler served over-hard. If anyone should be doomed to an overnight medical stay, it’s him. Hell--a week-long medical stay. Instead he’s being sent away with nothing more than an MRI, a pat on the head, and instructions to never fucking do that again, and meanwhile Hermann is being imprisoned for a whole twenty-four hours. Fucking ridiculous. Newt’s half-considering raising a fuss and insisting on being admitted to the bed beside Hermann’s just to keep him company.

“It’s nausea,” Hermann says. “Merely nausea. And--ah--” He lifts one hand, slowly, like he forgot he had one, and raps his knuckles against his temple. “Bit of a nasty headache.”

Hermann has always had a predilection to migraines, the brutal kind that leave him groaning in the dark for hours on end while Newt hangs, tentatively, out of sight, and they’re usually set off when he’s particularly stressed or overwhelmed by something. Usually work-related. Newt thinks hooking your mind up to an alien hivemind counts as a pretty intense stressor. “They merely want to keep me under observation to ensure it’s nothing more serious.”

Newt bites his lip; he shrugs. He still doesn’t like the sound of it, but he’d rather know one-hundred-percent Hermann’s okay. “I guess.”

Hermann gives him a rare smile. It crinkles the corner of his eyes and makes Newt’s heart race just a bit faster. “Go on, now, make yourself useful. Tidy the bloody lab. Oh--get started on our paperwork, why don’t you? Don’t sit around moping for my sake.” He pats Newt’s hand. “It’s terribly unbecoming for a rock star.”

The nurse at the front desk, when Newt badgers him, echoes Hermann’s sentiments exactly: no, Dr. Gottlieb isn’t dying, Dr. Geiszler, don’t be silly, both of your scans came back sparkling, overnight observation is just to ensure the headache and nausea aren’t something more serious (which we’re almost completely sure it isn’t), you can come pick him back up tomorrow morning at seven. Okay?

“Okay,” Newt sighs.

He casts a forlorn glance back at Hermann. “I’ll come back with dinner,” he says, weakly.

The nurse coughs. “Actually, Dr. Geiszler, I’m afraid there’s no outside food allowed.”

“Right,” Newt says. “Bye, Hermann.”

“Paperwork,” Hermann calls to him.

No one’s been in the lab since before the whole Breach-bombing extravaganza, a whole forty-eight hours, and Newt can’t help but be a bit unsettled by it later that evening when he finally rolls up his sleeves and trudges down dutifully to get a crack on Hermann’s requests. It’s too quiet--too stagnant--like some sort of weird memorial to a lifestyle that’s now as obsolete as the kaiju. There’s a half-finished mug of coffee on Hermann’s desk (the milk gone curdled); Newt’s filthy work tools still in the industrial sink; a bit of kaiju intestine hanging off his work bench, decaying at an alarming rate; Hermann’s last equation, unfinished, on the chalkboard--what he was calculating Newt guesses he’ll never know.

“It smells like shit in here,” Newt declares to no one.

The paperwork about the, uh, legality of their drift Hermann was so eager for him to complete is nowhere to be found--probably because the entire fucking ‘dome is on an unofficial ‘we didn’t die!’ vacation, except for him, and no one has the time to deliver paperwork to two weirdo scientists in the basement--so Newt decides to start cleaning instead.

That’s maybe misleading. Newt does decide to clean, but he never actually follows through on that decision, because he immediately gets distracted by all the fun and interesting stuff in Hermann’s desk. The dude keeps, like, a million Rubik’s cubes on hand. All solved. A miniature chess set Newt thinks they played together once on a slow day. An entire drawer-full of those weird British digestives he likes so much that he almost definitely purchased on the black market. There’s even a photograph of Newt in there--the two of them, together, probably at some Shatterdome party, Newt holding a beer and smiling cheekily at a blushing, disgruntled Hermann.

It’s...kinda cute, actually. Newt props the frame up on Hermann’s desk over a somber Gottlieb family photograph. It deserves to be displayed.

Once he’s exhausted Hermann’s desk, he moves to his side of the lab and actually starts cleaning. He tosses out the decaying entrails--suddenly wishing, a bit sadly, that he’d taken better care of his kaiju specimens, because they just got even rarer--and rinses down Hermann’s grody coffee mug as he debates out what to do with the leftover pile of junk from his drift machine. He also wishes he’d planned ahead and made a back-up: the UN seized Newt’s machine from the Bone Slums milliseconds after Mako and Becket’s escape pods popped out of the ocean, and he has a feeling he won’t ever be seeing it again. Oh well. It had a fucking awesome run.

He’s just finishing washing out Hermann’s mug and setting it on the drying rack when he pauses; his tape recorder is on the kitchenette counter.

Newt recalls his almost-parting message to Hermann with something like guilt. At the time, he’d meant it... Well, he’s not sure how he meant it. As a joke? A weird, superstitious way of ensuring his drift would be successful, because he couldn’t possibly die with last words that bad? He’s not sure he would’ve said it if he knew what Hermann would be doing for him in a few short hours. Frankly, he’s not sure he would’ve said it if he thought about it for more than five minutes.

He wonders if Hermann listened to it.

A bit of the plastic is cracked. Newt thinks he must’ve knocked it to the floor when he started, uh, spasming, and Hermann probably picked it up before he got Newt a glass of water, which could be how it migrated here. He could’ve listened to it then. He could’ve listened to it when Newt headed out to meet Chau, and Hermann sent him off with the awkwardest little hug of all time and a quiet, terse little “Don’t get yourself killed.” He could’ve listened to it before he hopped on a helicopter to the Bone Slums to risk his life for Newt. He could’ve snuck back into the lab without Newt knowing and listened to it any time yesterday, in fact.

Newt rewinds a little and presses play. Despite the crack, it still works.

“Unscientific aside,” he hears himself say, “Hermann...”

He listens to the rest of his message in morbid fascination. Three, two, one--

The loud clatter of the recorder hitting the floor, then the even louder one of Newt hitting the floor. A prolonged period of loud, pained gasps. Before Newt can switch it off, suddenly, to his surprise, there’s Hermann’s voice, out-of-his-mind, frantic--saying his name--what have you done?--low, terrified murmurs of no, no, no--

The sound of the helmet being ripped from Newt’s head and thrown, violently, to the floor. “Don’t,” Hermann stammers, “Newton--you stupid, stupid man--you can’t leave, I--” Fast, panicked breathing. “I love you, you stupid--”

The tape runs out, and cuts Hermann off mid-sentence.

Newt sets the recorder down with shaking hands.

“Oh,” he says.

He knows, in the vaguest sense, that Hermann harbors a regard for him that matches Newt’s regard for Hermann to some degree--he got enough of that in the drift, in Hermann’s too-long too-shy lingering glances across the lab, his too-long too-shy lingering touches, the way he never smiles for anyone but Newt--but hearing it spoken so blatantly out in the open like that makes Newt’s heart race and his stomach feel a little funny, like it’s being twisted up in knots.

Hermann loves him. Like, loves him, loves him.

It’s late, which means there’s only one nurse on duty in medical this time, and Newt manages to use his newfound rock star status to charm his way pass without a problem.

(“Pleeease,” he whined. “Please, please, please--”

“Fine,” the nurse snapped. “But if you annoy Dr. Gottlieb, you’re out of here.”)

He finds Hermann where he left him, conked out in one of the stiff beds with his blankets and hair in disarray. There’s a little bit of drool on his chin. Newt wipes it away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, folds his glasses up on the nightstand, then--after glancing around to ensure the nurse isn’t looking, though it’s dark enough in here he doesn’t think anyone would be able to see him anyway--burrows underneath the bedcovers beside Hermann. It’s a tight squeeze, but they’ll fit.

Hermann stirs. "Newton?”

“Yeah,” Newt whispers. “It’s me.”

Hermann sniffs, then wraps an arm around Newt’s waist. “Jolly good,” he mumbles, sleepily. Newt smiles against his chest. Hermann loves him--how funny. “Do stay.”

“Of course,” Newt says. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

“Mm. Yes,” Hermann agrees.

Hermann’s breathing steadily evens out. Newt laces the fingers of his left hand with Hermann’s right, and--still smiling--drifts off to sleep, too.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #mourningroutine

200 notes · View notes

atzbabyy · 6 years ago

Text

Struggles of a Blessing | KYS ~ Nari

genre: fluff, angst

summary: in which, after nari’s birth, you and yeosang take time to reflect on the whole process

age: Nari = 4 months

warnings: conceivement struggles, vomit, labour, long ass story

___________

14th September, 2023

“She’s down,” Yeosang whispered, coming next to you and kissing your head.

You smiled, laying on the sofa and allowing Yeosang to lay beside you, arm over your stomach, drawing shapes on your waist lazily with his finger.

Yeosang sighed, kissing your head, “it’s been so long since we were just like this.”

“Hmm?” you hummed, slightly confused, “what do you mean?”

“Since it was just us, together, quietly, completely content,” Yeosang said, content sigh escaping his lips along with his sentence.

You nodded, thinking back, “I guess it has.”

9th May, 2020

“Come on, come on,” you held your breath, looking up to the sky as you sat on the bathroom floor, “please?”

Your timer went off and you smiled, getting up quickly to turn it off before looking to the small white stick; negative.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you walked out to see your husband stood there with hopeful eyes.

You shook your head, “nope, not yet.”

Yeosang nodded, pulling you into a hug and kissing your head, “it’s alright, we can keep trying, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, squeezing his hand, “we just have to stay positive.”

15th December, 2020

“What does it say?” Yeosang asked, “Y/N? Wait! If it’s good save it for a Christmas present!”

You sighed, opening the bathroom door and shaking your head, “no, Sangie. It’s negative.”

Yeosang’s shoulders deflated, his whole demeanour shrinking slightly, “you’re not joking, are you?”

You shook your head, walking into your husbands arms, “it’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll keep trying.”

“Y/N we’ve tried everything,” Yeosang said, his voice hitching in his throat as he buried his face in your hair.

“I know,” you said, rubbing his back as tears formed in your own eyes, “I know we have. But we have time.”

15th November, 2021

“So our results show that Miss Y/N isn’t producing eggs at the rate that most women do,” the doctor said, “which would explain the lack of conception.”

You nodded, “is there anything we can do?”

“If you desire, we can put you on medication, such as clorifene, to speed up your egg release. Otherwise, there are obvious routes such as IVF, or even adoption,” the doctor explained, “I’m sorry.”

You smiled, squeezing Yeosang’s hand, “thank you, Doctor.”

The walk out the hospital was silent, both you and Yeosang too scared to say anything. The ride back to your house was silent as well, only the radio playing quietly in the background.

It was silent until the moment you walked into the house, Yeosang putting the keys on the side gently as the two of you took off your shoes.

Suddenly, Yeosang grabbed your arm and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears beginning to fall from your eyes and onto Yeosang’s shirt.

Your husband sighed, clutching you tighter, “it’s okay. We’ll keep trying, okay? We could even take the medication if nothing happens. Come on, shh.”

18th February, 2022

“No, Yeosang, I’m so tired,” you sighed as Yeosang grabbed your waist and you felt his hard-on against your thigh.

“Seriously?” Yeosang asked, “Y/N we said we’d keep trying.”

“Yeah, and we’ve tried every single day for the past two weeks, Yeosang!” you exclaimed, “I’m tired! I’m just so, so tired! Not just of this, of everything! I’m physically, mentally and emotionally just exhausted, Yeosang.”

Yeosang sighed, watching as you sat up, practically tearing your hair out, “I’m sorry.”

You looked back to your husband as he laid in bed, rubbing your back soothingly. The red birth mark on the side of his face was evident in the morning sun and you smiled slightly, leaning over and kissing it.

“I love you,” you whispered, kissing his cheek.

Yeosang smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear, “I love you too. And this will work. We’ll have a child.”

21st August, 2022

“So?” Yeosang called, a slight sigh in his voice, “Y/N? It’s okay if it’s not, look we’ve already called the doctor to ask about the medication, please just come out—”

“Yeosang,” you said, appearing out the bathroom, tears already streaming down your face.

“I know,” Yeosang sighed, “I know, it was the seafood, wasn’t it?”

You shook your head, laughing slightly, “Yeosang, I—I’m pregnant.”

“What?!”

“It says positive,” you sobbed, as Yeosang fell to his knees.

“Quick! Quick, take another one!” Yeosang exclaimed, “I can’t take it if it gives us false hope.”

“Look,” you sobbed, showing him the three pregnancy tests you’d done, all displaying the word ‘positive’.

“Oh my god,” Yeosang said, beginning to sob, “oh my god.”

You smiled, wiping away your tears as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing kisses to your stomach.

“Our baby,” he mumbled, “finally, we have our baby.”

18th November, 2022

“You alright, Y/N?” Hongjoong asked.

You shook your head, putting your plate down quickly and running to the toilet, throwing up everything you’d eaten, probably for the last two days.

Yeosang sighed, “do you want me to—”

“Nope!”

Yunho chuckled, “she’s very headstrong.”

Yeosang sighed, getting another slice of pizza, “this has been happening every day, I just think she’s used to it.”

“Like this though? Everytime she eats?” Seonghwa asked.

Yeosang nodded, “but the baby’s always hungry, so it’s kind of a vicious cycle.”

The boys all looked a bit sad as their wives just all grimaced.

“But they’re healthy right?” Mingi asked, “the baby, I mean.”

Yeosang nodded, sighing slightly, “yeah. Everything’s just... not as easy as we thought it would be.”

Hongjoong’s wife snorted, “wait till they’re actually here.”

26th February, 2023

“Yo!” Wooyoung shouted, walking into the house, “yo, where’s my best friend?”

Yeosang chuckled, taking off his shoes, “she’s on bed rest.”

“Bed rest?” Wooyoung repeated, eyes wide.

Yeosang nodded, sighing slightly as he went to the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m home! With Wooyoung!” he called.

“Shit,” you said quickly (and what you thought was quietly) before footsteps could be heard across the upstairs.

“Kang Y/N!” Wooyoung shouted, “have you been up while you’re supposed to be on bed rest?!”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, nodding for Wooyoung to follow him as he ran up the stairs, seeing you get back into bed.

“It’s so boring!” you exclaimed, making Wooyoung laugh as he jumped into the bed beside you.

“Is baby not well then?” he asked.

You shrugged, “they’re just taking precautions.”

Wooyoung nodded, “your child is being very stubborn about coming into this world.”

“You’re telling me,” Yeosang sighed, sitting at the end of the bed.

You sat up slightly, rubbing your back, “but they’re coming whether they like it or not.”

“Good to know Y/N hasn’t changed a bit,” Wooyoung laughed, cuddling up to you.

You hit his arm, “ya, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Yeosang laughed, rolling his eyes as he watched you two play fight. His two best friends (though one may have a tiny bit more bias).

4th May, 2023

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Two, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” Hongjoong counted, “Mingi, too wide, you need to stay more in the middle.”

Mingi nodded, shuffling in a bit.

Hongjoong sighed, seeing all the member’s exhausted faces, sweat dripping down their faces.

“Alright, let’s take a short break,” Hongjoong said, getting a towel to wipe his own sweat, chucking a few others at the boys.

“Yeosang, your phone’s blowing up,” Jongho said, looking at the notifications on his hyung’s phone, “you might wanna get this, they’re all from Y/N.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened slightly as he jogged across the room, checking his messages first.

Y/N🤮🧡 - can we get take-out tonight ??? i want chinese (delivered 17:44)

Y/N🤮🧡 - just to let you know (bc i know you love me loads and want to know whats going on with me every second of the day) i have some pretty serious cramps (delivered 17:45)

Y/N🤮🧡 - yeah ngl these are serious (delivered 17:59)

Y/N🤮🧡 - hi just occured to me that i might be in labour (delivered 18:07)

Y/N🤮🧡 - just came off the phone with the doctor, i am in labour (delivered 18:09)

Y/N🤮🧡 - kang yeosang pick up your phone right now (delivered 18:12)

“Everything alright?” Wooyoung asked.

“No, my wife’s a fucking idiot,” Yeosang said, eyebrows furrowed as he called you back, “hello? Yeah, what the fuck?”

“Yeosang I need none of that I am in a lot of pain,” you said, taking deep breaths.

“Wha-What’s going on? Are we gonna go to the hospital?” Yeosang asked.

You sighed, “no, the doctor said I should wait until my contractions are every 5 minutes.”

“Oh,” Yeosang said, “and what are they now?”

“Like, 10?” you guessed, “I don’t know, I haven’t timed it.”

“Well time it please!” Yeosang exclaimed, “do you want me to come home?”

“Yeah, can we get chinese?” you asked.

“Y/N, you’re in labour,” Yeosang said.

“Yeah and I am very hungry,” you said.

“Order the food now, I ate with the boys,” Yeosang said, “call me if anything else happens, okay?”

“Okay, love you,” you said, hanging up quickly.

“What’s going on?” Hongjoong asked.

“Y/N’s in labour,” Yeosang said, “she said she doesn’t want me home but...”

“Go home, Yeosang,” Seonghwa said.

“Should I?”

The boys all nodded and Yeosang smiled.

“I’ll call you when we go to the hospital!” Yeosang called, quickly gathering up all his stuff, “oh my god. Oh my god it’s happening.”

4th May, 2023 (still) (now 22:54)

“Y/N please,” Yeosang sighed.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, “nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, they’re like, 5 minute 45 seconds we can go! We, actually, need to go!” your husband exclaimed.

“Yeosang, I can’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Yeosang asked, “Y/N. You’ve taken a bath, you’ve eaten, you’ve cleaned the nursery, you’re water has broken and your contractions are 5 minutes apart. You can and you need to.”

“Right now?” you asked.

“Right now,” he said, nodding, “and we’ll get to the hospital and they’ll deliver our baby and we’ll have our baby!”

“We need to go,” you said.

“Thank you,” Yeosang said, sighing slightly as he picked up your hospital bag and the keys, holding your waist and slowly guiding you out the house.

5th May, 2023

“Yeosang?” you asked, gasping in pain, “can I have your hand?”

Yeosang nodded as you took his hand in yours, squeezing tightly as the other hand squeezed the bed sheets.

“Just breath, Y/N,” the nurse said, “keep breathing.”

“Can we go yet?!” you exclaimed, panting as the contraction got more intense.

“Do you want us to measure again?” the nurse asked.

“Please!”

The nurse nodded, walking over and measuring your dialation as you squeezed tighter and tighter onto Yeosang’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, quite aware of how tight your grip was.

Yeosang shook his head, a polite smile on his face.

“Nearly there! 6cm,” the nurse said.

“6?!” you exclaimed, “I’ve been in labour for 10 hours and I am 6cm?!”

“It’s quite normal,” the nurse said, “don’t worry.”

You sighed as your contraction passed and you collapsed against the bed.

Yeosang smiled, brushing some of the sweat off your head, “you okay?”

“What do you think?” you asked, making Yeosang laugh slightly, “obviously not.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing you gently.

You shook your head, entertwining your fingers with his, “don’t be. This’ll be worth it.”

Yeosang nodded, “of course it will. All to have our baby.”

5th of May, 2023 (still) (now 13:19)

“Okay, Y/N, 10cm,” the nurse said, “you can start pushing now.”

“I can?!” you exclaimed, “oh my god, oh my god, Yeosang, where’s Yeosang?!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he said, arriving at your side, “it’s alright. I’m right here.”

“Okay, do you want to start pushing, Y/N?” the midwife asked, the nurses all walking around busily.

“Come on,” Yeosang smiled, “it’s alright. Want to hold my hand?”

You nodded, taking his hand tightly into yours.

“In the count of 3, yeah?” the doctor said, “1, 2, 3.”

You began pushing, your body already feeling tired from all the pain you’d been feeling for the last 20 hours.

“Come on, if you keep pushing soon you’ll meet your baby,” the midwife said.

“Do we know what the gender is?” the nurse asked as you began pushing again.

Yeosang shook his head, stroking your head comfortingly, “no. It’s going to be a surprise.”

“I don’t feel well,” you sobbed as Yeosang wiped away your tears.

“Do you want some gas? Or are you gonna be sick, honey?” the nurse asked.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you said, panting.

The nurse got a sick bucket and held it by your head as Yeosang stroked your hair back away from your face.

“It’s alright, completely normal,” the nurse said.

“We ready to start pushing again?” the midwife asked.

You shook your head.

“Come on, then you can hold your baby!” the midwife encouraged.

“Once more?” Yeosang offered, “you can do it.”

You took a deep breath, beginning to push once again. After a few minutes of pushing they called more doctors into the room.

“Yeosang, what– what’s going on?” you asked sleepily.

Yeosang shook his head, “I don’t know. But it’ll be okay.”

“Okay, Y/N, we’re going to have to take you to the surgery room to do an emergency c-section, okay?” the nurse said, “we’re gonna have to do two more injections, okay?”

You nodded slightly as Yeosang helped you sit up, the nurses lifting up your hospital gown and injecting two needles into your back, Yeosang helping you to lay back down.

“I want Yeosang there,” you said, not letting go of your husband’s arm.

“I’ll be there,” he nodded, “it’s okay. I will.”

6th May, 2023

“Oh my god,” Yeosang breathed, the midwife holding the small baby in his arms.

“Would you like to do skinship while we finish off the surgery?” the nurse asked.

Yeosang looked to you and you nodded, “go, do it.”

Yeosang smiled, nodding eagerly as he and the nurse left the room, Yeosang taking off his shirt and letting the nurse lay his daughter on his chest.

“So by hearing your heart beat, it will help your baby to feel closer to both parents as she is obviously already aware of how her mum feels,” the nurse explained, “having your shirt off allows for her to her your heartbeat clearly.”

Yeosang nodded, looking in awe at the tiny baby on his chest.

“Any ideas of names?” the nurse asked.

“Um, we like flowery names,” Yeosang nodded, “like Changmi or Nari.”

The nurse nodded, “river lily.”

“Oh yeah,” Yeosang nodded, smiling, “Kang Nari. Our river lily.”

“You might wanna check with the Mrs first,” the nurse chuckled.

Yeosang smiled, running a finger down Nari’s back, “I’m sure she’ll like it.”

14th September, 2023

“I love you,” Yeosang hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “you’ve been through a lot.”

You smiled, looking back and kissing his lips, “we both have.”

#kang yeosang #ateez #atz #dad!yeosang #dad!kang yeosang #dad!ateez #dad!atz #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez fluff #kang yeosang scenarios #kang yeosang imagines #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang angst #kang nari #dad!series #atz kids #atzbabyy

208 notes · View notes

korijime · 4 years ago

Note

A crowd surrounds me. The music was deafening, spilt drinks all around, and everyone constantly screaming. Beidou better make that 1 week leave worth it for making me attend this party with her. I look to the side, the obnoxiously big clock at the centre of the room making it easy to tell the time. 11:58, 2 minutes until a new year arrives. I navigate my way through the other side of the room, where the balcony was. 11:59, 1 minute until a new year arrives. The view of the city from above looked spectacular, albeit a bit more colourful now to fit in with the occasion. I hear a thud behind me, and I look around to spot Kazuha squeezing through from the crowds.

“Kazuha! Need some fresh air too I see?” I ask him, glad to see a familiar face after an hour of mindless chatter with strangers. “The packed room can get a bit too overwhelming.”

The crowd starts a countdown, voices echoing from all over the city.

Ten!

“Actually, I was looking for you. I’ve been meaning to tell you something for quite a while now.”

Nine!

I raise an eyebrow “Now? It’s New Years, what could you possible tell me that holds so much importance-“

Eight!

“Hear me out first.”

Seven!

“I admire you a lot, ever since I joined Beidou’s company you’ve always caught my attention”

Six!

“Diligent, strong willed, you have lots of spectacular qualities”

Five!

“But these few months I find myself thinking about you…quite a lot”

Four!

“I’ve told myself, this is just admiration. We’re friends, nothing more nothing less, right?”

Three!

“But I’ve come to terms with it, and, since I would probably embarrass myself anyways, I figured I should confess.”

Two!

“What I’m trying to say is-“

ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Pyrotechnics exploded all around, illuminating even the darkest of alleys. Your first kiss with Kaedehara Kazuha happened when the clock struck twelve, under the glow of hundreds of fireworks. The last line of his sentence lost to the winds. But really? Is it so hard to guess what he had to say?

I guess, what I’m trying to say is, I love you dearly. And as the stars twinkle in the night sky, or as the sun shines brightly on the earth, I will love you.

(t: yes ik it’s nowhere close to new years but this was a cute prompt)

so true beidou she’s amazing i’d love to be friends with her

#— a message in a bottle.#— sender ; t.#— ebg.#i’d love to kiss childe on new years tbh #he’d probably spin me around too #excited little puppy boy lmao

1 note · View note

revisionaryhistory · 5 years ago

Text

Three Days ~ 35

Catch up on AO3

~*~Emma~*~

Sebastian's hands are incredible. The way he touched my body set me on fire. His thumb on my clit was secondary to his fingers. He stroked the perfect spot inside me. I'd never had someone touch me so intentionally. Had he asked, I couldn't have told him what I needed. I had no idea. Sebastian did. I remembered what he'd said our first night, the sex would get better as he learned how to touch me. He was learning now, paying attention to my reaction and changing accordingly. I didn't understand a word he was saying and it wasn't solely because he was speaking Romanian. He spoke in long sentences next to my ear where I could feel his breath.

I felt the pressure start to build and dug my nails into his bicep.

Sebastian's face came into view and the Romanian stopped, "You gonna come for me, baby."

That I didn't instantly was a miracle. "I am." His touch became firmer. "Oh fuck, Bastian. Your fingers. .." My words were cut off by my orgasm. The last thing I saw before I went blind, I mean closed my eyes, was his smile.

Sebastian kissed my neck and moved his fingers from inside me to my clit. "Wanna come again?"

Thirty seconds later I did. My body shook and I grabbed his wrist, too sensitive for more touch. I fisted the hair on the back of his head and pulled him away, where I could see him. His blue eyes were sparkling and the line of his lips was edging close to a smirk, "Yes?"

I loosened my hold on his hair, "You have very talented fingers."

"I couldn't leave you hanging." He pushed his head back against my hand. "I like the hair pulling."

"I think I was going to kiss you." I squeezed my eyes together for a moment, "My brain's a little scrambled."

Sebastian brought his mouth to mine, his tongue gently caressing mine. The intensity was high. Not an excited ramping up, more of a not wanting to let go holding on. Still, over time we did. He held me tight and I relaxed with my head on his shoulder. I didn't really know where to go after literally being fucked into a wall. I heard myself sign contentedly.

Sebastian laughed, "Yeah, I agree."

I stretched out across his lap, leaning back on the arm of the couch and wiggling my toes. A question popped in my mind, "What were you saying?"

"You're beautiful. You make me feel good. I’m glad I got here early to spend more time with you." He kissed me softly, "And a bunch of dirty stuff that would sound bad right now, but I'II happily repeat later."

"That sounds fun!" I ran my fingers over his cheek and down his chest. "We got the tournament bracket last night."

"Did you?" He rubbed his hand on my hip. "What seed are you? Is there a team name?"

"There is a team name. We are the Demonic Crickets." I couldn’t help but laugh.

"I feel a story coming."

"It's from Schitt's Creek." His lack of expression said he hadn't seen it. I reached behind me, patting the table to find the remote. I quickly had Season 1 Episode 7 "Turkey Shoot” pulled up on Plex. "It’s the opening." I let it play, pleased with his expression and light laughter. I paused at the credits. "I wanted milky exoskeleton, but Pete thought it sounded dirty and would be hard to pronounce drunk."

"He might have a point with the second part. Doesn't sound dirty, unless maybe your drunk and it comes out milky secretions."

I laughed, "Pete said those exact words. You two are going to get along." I remembered the first part of his question, "We're the three seed. First round is at noon. Have to be there at eleven."

"Three is good. Not the pressure of the one spot, or the angry runner up number two, or too far down to be taken seriously. Three is perfect to sneak in and take over."

I wasn't sure if he knew anything about seeding or was being supportive. "I like being a three. We play the five seed and that should be a good match, we'll get the nerves out and can make adjustments if our plan isn't working. One plays eight and two plays seven. Those mess with your head more. If you struggle you question how you'll do with a higher seed, but if you win easy you can get overconfident. Plus, if you breeze through you don't figure out what adjustments you need."

"This is going to be fun."

"I hope you’ll have fun. I'll have a blast." I picked up the remote to turn the TV off.

"No, let's watch. I've never seen Schitt's Creek. We'll find something I love that you haven't seen and trade off."

"I'll go back to episode one, so you know what’s going on." I moved around to sit a little more facing the TV with my legs still over his lap. I wanted to be able to watch the show and his face. And I just wanted to look at him.

Several episodes, tons of laughter, and making out during the credits later I heard a strange gurgling sound. I put my hand on Sebastian's stomach, "Hungry, baby?"

"Sounds like I am." He put his hand over mine, assuring I didn’t move. "I made us a reservation at the place we went last week. I hope that's alright."

"Same place?" There were several good places around town, but he wouldn't know them.

"Good food." He smiled, "Last week I wanted to take a walk by the river, but the storm ruined it."

I mumbled, "Among other things."

We both laughed. "Good memories too."

He picked my hand up off his stomach and brought it to his mouth. "Very. Reservation at seven."

I hit the info button on the remote. It was almost six thirty. "I need to change."

"The fairy costume has grown on me." He fluffed my skirt.

"My wings are smashed. Besides us out to dinner with me in a fairy costume is a guaranteed picture on Instagram that I don’t want to explain."

Sebastian pulled me into a hug. "I should change too."

"At least zip your jeans." I flipped the fabric before I stood up. He still had my hand and I waited for him to stand. I was amused by how dressed we were. His pants were open and mine were by the door. It had been a very targeted activity.

The look on Sebastian's face told me he was thinking something similar. He nodded to the door, "I'll grab my bag and your pants."

"Thank you." We separated at the stairs and I ran up. What to wear. What to wear. I ducked into the bath room to freshen up and came out in my bathrobe. Sebastian was in his boxers and a t-shirt. My mouth watered.

Sebastian was pulling things out of his bag, laying them on the bed. He paused to look me up and down. "Next weekend I'd like to take you out someplace nice."

I clasped my hands between my breasts, raising my shoulders with excitement, "Dress up in girl clothes nice?"

His eyebrows raised with the nod of his head and smile, "Exactly."

I sighed dramatically, "I miss dressing up and going out to dinner." I closed my eyes, "Live music, plays, art openings."

"Then next weekend you’re in luck." He picked up his shaving kit, heading toward the bathroom. He stopped to kiss me, "I know places to go in NY, unlike here.”

"There's some fine dining places here. Haven't dated much here, but I can research. Won't have the same energy as the city."

He closed the bathroom door, "I’m happy and sad you don't know good date spots."

I walked into my closet to find something to make my date's pants tight. Casual, cute, and a touch of sexy. I was pulling on my white mini skirt with an eyelet bottom when Sebastian came to the closet door. He was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, a black polo, and a pair of loafers. "You look handsome." I was still adjusting to his shorn beard, with how young he looked. There was a hook on the door for my robe and I slid it off, handing it to Sebastian. He missed the hook because he wasn't looking in the right direction. He was looking at me in a bra and miniskirt. I could see him swallow hard, "This closer to your fantasy?"

"Closer, but not quite."

I took my blue chambray shirt of the hanger and dropped it over my head. It had a loose contoured cut and gathered in a knot at my hip. I added a few long necklaces and matching earrings before picking up my wedge sandals. Sebastian was blocking the door, his body filling the space. I put my hands on his waist and smoothed around to his back. Our hips connected, but there was space between our upper bodies. He kissed my head, "We look like casual summer lovers out for a night.

"Pretty accurate."

"Causal looking, not casual lovers."

The look on his face stopped my heart. I pressed my lips to his for a quick kiss that took on a life of its own, morphing in to a lazy long kiss. I broke the kiss and buried my nose against him, "You smell fucking delicious." I drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"Didn’t bring cologne to move my parents."

"We had many things working against up last weekend.”

"And yet here we are."

'Yes, we are." I sat down on the bed to put on my shoes. "Adversity becomes us."

Sebastian knelt on the floor in front of me, sliding my shoe on my foot, “This is the least difficult thing ever.” He took my hands as he stood up and brought me into his arms.

We stood holding onto each other for a long time. Last weekend was touching on Friday, sharing secrets on Saturday, hugging on Sunday, and sex on Monday. Seemed tonight’s theme was romance. I closed my eyes and clung to him, feeling the hard plane of his chest against my cheek and the slight twitch of a muscle in his back. I’d ask him last week if it was crazy to think you were falling for someone after three days. Thankfully he’d said no, because I didn’t think I was falling for him now, I knew I was. I wasn’t in love with him, but it wouldn’t take long, which is different for me. I don’t get emotionally involved with people easily, except those rare times like with Angie. It takes a while for me to trust and attach. Standing here wrapped in his arms I didn’t want to let go. Part of not wanting to let go was as sure as I was that I could fall in love with him, I knew the same was true for him, and right this second it felt so good.

Sebastian kissed my head and ran his hand down my arm to take my hand before stepping away, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slightly and hoped my legs were going to work. I grabbed my purse on the way out the door, “Do you want to drive?”

“Yes, please.”

I got a thrill at having this man driving my vehicle. Absolutely ridiculous. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was fifteen going my first date. It wasn’t even our first date. “Code is 0418.” He punched the code into the driver’s side door, hit the unlock button, and walked me to the other side of the car, giving me a kiss before closing the door.

He got in and adjusted the seat and mirrors before starting the engine, “I like driving.”

“I like being driven.” I waited until he buckled his seat belt before laying my hand on his leg. I couldn’t help but touch him and his smile made my stomach flip. “Remember how to get there?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and glanced over, “I drove. If I don’t drive, I don’t remember how to get anywhere. How far away is the tournament?”

“Umm, five minutes. It’s over by the Whole Foods. We should take an Uber.”

“Planning on getting me too drunk to drive?”

“And they set up checkpoints.”

The restaurant was quite a bit busier than last week. We were parked further away, but closer to the river walk. “Don’t move.”

He jumped out of the car and came around to my side, opening the door, and taking my hand. I needed to say something about this. I waited for him to close the door. “Wait a second.”

“What’s up?” He faced me and looked expectantly.

“You driving and opening doors, the chivalrous stuff. I appreciate it. I like how you treat me. You’re a gentleman.”

Sebastian smiled sheepishly, “I just fucked you into a wall.”

I gasped, “Oh my god.” I could feel my cheeks burning.

His expression dropped, “You’re blushing.” He pulled me close, holding my head to him. “Emma, I’m sorry.”

I started laughing, pushed him away and put my hand on his chest. “Just take the compliment, Seb.”

He laughed and wrapped his hand around mine, “Thank you.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

angstymarshmallow · 6 years ago

Text

The Wolf’s Heart; part eight - “marked as yours” N*FW (cal lowell x mc)

[a little note: I decided on a name...eight parts in. It’s cliche but honestly, this is all I have lol. AND NOW i HAVE TO UPDATE THEM ALL.Ahhhh This part was a joy and a pain to work on because it’s been awhile since I’ve written anything like this. If you aren’t comfortable with smut, then pass on this because there’s kind of a lot of that going on with how close they’ve grown to each other - even more so than before and I didn’t know if it was rough or enough or. Plus I’m touching on non-canon material that’s kinda influence in the book I’m writing on the side, you’ll see once you start reading. I’m going to stop babbling, I’m just anxiously going to leave this here. I always appreciate feedback and would love to know what people think!]

[words counted: 8210]

[summary: after rescuing Cal, they’ve finally had a moment to themselves for the talk. The Big One to decide whether or not they’ve got a future in NOLA together]

[part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven]

The rest of New York City feels very far away in comparison to the weight of Cal’s thoughts as he peers at the city’s skyline down below the nearly twenty story building. Technically, he knows it isn’t - he can jump and leap that in a simple bound and then some, but that wouldn’t change anything.

After he’d met and thank the people that helped Wren to rescue him, he’s been trying to come to terms with the past several hours - days. It’s been that long since he’s seen the outside world and although they’ve only been in the hotel for an hour; he’s itching for a run.

He presses his forehead against the cool surface for a moment. He needs to touch something, to convince himself he’s really here – really alive and not dreaming up this place. He’s still not a hundred percent sure. He rubs his fingers along the glass, making a slight indent into it.

The bloodsuckers reassured him he could spend the night with Wren here; at least giving them some time to re-group, but all Cal can think about is what looms ahead. It’s not over, not in the slightest. Shaw over-played his hand by contacting Kavinsky, but Cal isn’t out of the woods yet. In his heart, he knows it.

It won’t be over as long as Shaw continues to threaten the livelihood of his pack. And he’ll be coming back home with zero solutions to deal with that colossal problem.

Shit.

The scent of her suddenly fills the room and the wolf in Cal snaps at attention at the diversion. Something in his chest twists, as he whirls around to spot Wren by the door, a hand on her hip and a small smile toying at the corner of her lips.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

He shakes his head, a small smile of his own lifting his cheeks as she crosses the room to stand in front of him. “For you? It’s always free.” Taking both her hands into his, he leans forward until he’s able to bump her forehead. “Have I mentioned how happy I am to see you? I almost can’t believe you’re here and not some kind of fever dream.” He squeezes her hands for emphasis and watches as a faint blush splays across her cheeks in response.

“Are you admitting that you actually dream about me?” Her smile transforms into a teasing smirk.

“Guilty as charged.” He pauses for a moment, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. “God, I missed you.” He never thought he’d see her again, and now here she is – standing right in front of him. Does he dare hope? Does he dare believe this really reality?

Her teasing smirk vanishes. Wren presses into him, and those dark eyes of hers’ turn uncharacteristically grows swiftly somber. “I missed you too.”

While remaining eye contact, she drops one of his hands. “You’re never allowed to do that to me again.” As if to drive her point home, she punches him on the shoulder. “I was worried shitless about you.”

“Woah!” He’s more surprised than he is hurt at the gesture and a huge part of him wants to kiss her, but the smarter part of him recognizes the telltale signs of Wren’s temper. His eyes search her face.

“You don’t get to do that to me, not anymore – we’re a team, Cal.” Her mouth snaps shut and then open again as she huffs a breath.

Cal thinks she’s fighting to say more without knowing how to say it. He waits a beat, resting a hand on her arm in support.

“Shit.” She swears again and runs her fingers through her hair. “I need to say this. I need to get this out before I start losing my mind.” She looks completely flustered.

That’s how he knows it’s something important – and the sudden intense look in her eyes definitely confirms that.

Relationship important. And it takes every bit of him not to coddle her to his chest. Every bit of his control not to tell her it’s okay – they don’t have to discuss it now, if she doesn’t want to.

“I love you Cal.” She says the words softly, staring up at him with a look of tenderness strong enough to make it hard for him to swallow. “And when Donny told me you were gone…it was probably one the scariest moments of my life.” She shakes her head, “no I definitely was, because no one at Wolf’s Den knew where you were.” Taking a deep breath, she makes a point of reaching for him as if she still can’t believe it herself that he’s really here either.

“I told myself I’d do anything to have you back, anything to look at you right now and tell you…” she trails off for a moment, her voice trembling with a sudden look of vulnerability in her eyes that makes Cal rest a protective arm around her waist. “And tell you –,” her voice shakes, “how much I love you. And that scares me. It scares the shit out of me, but it scares me more that I almost never got the chance to say it. And I’m not going to keep one foot in the door anymore Cal.”

“What are you saying Wren?” He has to hear her say it. He has to know that there is no going back for her anymore. For either of them. If they’re going to be together again, if she’s going to be apart of his life –

“I want to be your mate. The whole nine yards.” Her voice cracks but she says the words loudly and her eyes never waver from his. “I want to be your only partner – in the pack, in life – in everything. I want it all, but only with you.”

At first, Cal doesn’t speak. He doesn’t think he can. His entire body remains frozen on the spot as he stares down at her completely – loss for words. Slowly, the enormity of her words start to sink in.

“Uh…Cal?” She wets her lips. “You’re staring at me…and not saying anything.”

He’s never really seen her babble before, Wren isn’t the type. But it’s completely cute how she’s shifting on her feet and tugging on her arm as she suddenly starts rambling, Her eyes drift to the side, “– and it’s kinda freaking me out when I’ve just left my heart out here and I –”

Cal lets out a howl of joy, cutting off the rest of her sentence. He scoops her high inside his arms, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Ooof. Down boy!” She fastens her legs around waist and her arms by his neck seconds later. “So, I take it – you’re happy…?”

“Happy?” Happy doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels. He chuckles in disbelief before swooping in to capture her slightly parted lips. And kissing her is like icing on the cake - he pours every ounce of his happiness into his kisses. Every ounce of love he can as their mouths meet, over and over again. “I’m beyond happy.” He murmurs against her lips, his ears perking at the sound of her moan. His tongue dart swiftly out to have a taste of her – sliding between half-parted lips.

When he manages to give them some breathing room, she’s smiling at him and there’s so much love in her eyes – that he doesn’t want to wait a second longer. Why should they after everything they’ve been through?

“I want to, tonight. Make you mine, I mean.” He speaks the words in a heated rush without thinking, gauging her reaction. “In every way possible – I want you to be my mate.”

Her eyes widen a little and for a moment Cal fears the worst. Maybe they need a little more time – he’s already gotten his answer.

But then she nods eagerly; her wavy hair shaking at the vigorous motion. “God Cal, yes. Please.”

“Are you sure?” He wants her to be sure, because once it’s done there’s no going back. At least not for him. When wolves mate – they mated for life.

“Yes, I’m sure. I know this is what I want, what I need.” Wren takes a breath and cups his cheek. “There’s no one else but you Cal, not for me. Not anymore.”

The conviction in her voice makes his heart swell with love and pride, because for him there isn’t anyone else either. Without uttering a response, Cal ambles confidently towards the foot of the bed. With a soft growl, he tosses her playfully onto the silken white sheets.

She lands lightly across it, gazing up at him with a look of unadultered hunger and affection in her eyes that makes his throat go dry.

“Well? What do I have to do?” Her brows wrinkle in that adorable way of hers’ when she’s momentarily confused by something. “Is this going to be….some kind of weird- cult shit?”

Cal barks out a laugh. Shaking his head in amusement, he responds. “No, it isn’t. I mean, it’s still magical but.” He stops for a moment, thinking of how little he knows about it. “I don’t even know if it’ll really work because you’re human.”

“Only half-human.” She reminds him, sitting up.

“Half-human.” He agrees, lifting his lips into a smile at the reminder. “But we’ll take it slow and figure it out together?”

“Mmm,” Wren tilts her head to the side, biting her lips in a way that causes a rush of heat towards his groin.

Fuck, she knows what it does to him when she does that.

“What if I don’t want to take it slow?” She slowly starts unbuttoning her shirt, button after button without taking her eyes off of him. “What if I want it rough and fast?” She shrugs the garment off. “What if I want you to make me beg for it?”

“Are you trying to test me?” Because he’s almost at his limit. Already, he’s able to sense the wolf’s patience waning – shivering in anticipation of claiming her completely. She doesn’t realize yet, but she’s playing a dangerous game.

“Maybe.” She smiles coyly at him. “Is it working?”

He watches her strip-tease with half-hooded eyes.

He’s hooked on where her hands travel; between the valley of her supple breasts, down the length of her abs until disappearing between her shapely thighs - wishing it were his fingers instead that draws a low hum of pleasure from her throat.

Damn, it’s definitely working.

Grinning wolfishly at her, Cal captures one of her ankles and with deliberate slowness, hauls her towards the foot of the bed. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“But I want to hear you say it.” Her eyes challenge him and lips that slightly part invitingly as the bed suddenly dips from the shift of weight.

She doesn’t know what she’s really asking – for him to lose control over the wolf. Even as much as he trusts her, he doesn’t know if he can trust that part of himself not to hurt her, and the last thing he’s ever wanted to do is hurt her.

The room’s been quiet for almost too long.

“I trust you.” She says softly as if reading his thoughts.

Her touch across his cheek settles some of his unease. He nuzzles his face into her palm, inhaling her familiar scent. His pulse skyrockets as she jerks his chin towards her.

“I trust you completely Cal.”

Cal exhales harshly, letting most of his worries drift away from her insistent touch. She trusts him completely. He’s never had anyone trust him like this – not with this part of himself, the part he’s accustomed to having to hide in past relationships. Although she’s come close, more than once this – this is different.

This is giving the wolf complete control. This is letting nature run its course and magic taking the reins of their fate, of their future.

The bed creaks again as Cal presses one knee and then the other on either side of her hips. His left-hand trails across her chest, pausing to run soft circles across nipples.

She sucks in a breath.

Smiling to himself, he drifts his hand a little lower while slowly pushing her back – taking his time to guide her movements, until her naked back lands softly against the silken sheets. His massive frame looms atop her; still hovering and bracing without allowing much of his weight to entrap her completely.

“What are you staring at?” She says after a moment of silence. Her eyes shoot up in question and Cal shakes his head.

“Just admiring how beautiful you are,” his hands frame her face as she breaks out into a smile. God, she’s breathtaking.

“You’re the one to talk.”

When she lifts a hand to tangle in his hair, he stops her. “Mmm.” A low rumble escapes his throat as he grabs her wrist and holds it high within the air. His nails are almost too long to be completely human anymore and they bite into her flesh. “Not tonight, not for this.”

Her eyes light up unexpectedly.

Neither speaks as the bed emits another soft squeak at the shift of weight. Inch by inch disappears between them as Cal lowers himself until his lips skim the base of her neck. “I’m in complete control tonight.”

Wren releases another rush of air as she feels Cal’s mouth hovering by one of her most sensitive spots. It takes all her willpower to resist the urge to reach for him, to drag her fingers in his hair and yank him closer. But she has a feeling he won’t let her. Not tonight.

Instead, she fights the temptation with a barely concealed moan and shuts her eyes. She listens to the sound of his breathing, the gentle pressure of his lips as they press a kiss where her pulse flutters in excitement.

Another low rumble fills the air.

His lips travel down the length of her collarbone, its languid pace threatens her heart into palpations as they dip between her breasts and nip her tender flesh.

She shivers.

His sharp teeth graze her nipple – one and then the other, biting gently while her own breathing turns ragged.

“Look at me.”

His voice has always had its edges, raw – honest. Even in its softest moments, there have been parts of it that’s never lost some of what she suspects as the wolf. But hearing him now; there’s almost no hint of that softness left.

When her eyes flutter back open, Wren barely manages to stifle a gasp.

His aren’t their normal colour anymore. They’re a soul-scorching amber glow, the telltale signs of his other half fighting for control. But he’s not fighting it. He’s letting it happen. And a silent thrill runs through her at the knowledge.

His tongue darts out as he nuzzles the side of his face into her skin. “Mine,” he says the word emphatically, expelling a breath before continuing to lick a path down her body; past her lower abdomen.

And her stomach seizes in anticipation for more.

When his lips find her center, Wren’s back nearly arches off the bed.

“Every part of you is mine.” His hands drop to pull her thighs wider apart from each other. Shooting her a grin, he buries his head in between them and blows a cool breath of air across her clit that causes another shiver to travel along the base of her spine.

“Cal –”

The moment his tongue touches her heat, the rest of her sentence turns into a cry of pleasure.

He isn’t gentle. No. Not this time.

His tongue expertly latches onto her, pushing through tender her folds with a sudden feverous intent that has her fighting to keep still. All she can do is toss her head back and moan as he drives his tongue in and out of her pussy, without pause – without giving her a chance to breathe.

His tongue knows exactly how to drive her wild, how to push her limits of what she can and cannot handle. From its long strokes against her swollen clit, to nipping when she least expects it - it’s almost too intense – too much, to the point where she’s clenching the sheets to keep herself from reaching for him. And when she feels the sharp edge of his teeth placing more pressure on her clit, her mind almost threatens to see stars.

Oh my god.

He’s never been like this before.

Wren sucks in a breath. Her hips shift a little off the bed as he continues his relentless pursuit of her orgasm, sucking her clit – nipping every so often at her most sensitive spot, until finally slipping a finger inside to stretch her.

Oh god.

Wren has to bite down her lip hard as another two digits slip joins in, pushing deeply despite her sudden flinch at their intrusive entrance. With three digits roughly thrusting inside her heat, they spike her heartbeat even higher as the sound of her wet excitement fills the air. Her hands loosen around the sheets. She tries to grip the back of his head, but a moment after touching him – his free hand firmly twists hers’ away and pins it back into place.

He’s going faster now, as if to match the pattern of her own erratic heartbeat still racing inside her chest. His fingers move at a speed so fluid that her legs have started to shake.

“Cal,” she cries out his name as her orgasm hits, like a wave that’s been brewing a storm – it crashes into her with such ferocity that her hips completely leave the bed. She tries to twist away – her sensitivity suddenly too much to keep him between her legs.

But Cal slips his fingers out at the same second and she struggles to move as he laps every bit of her excitement on his tongue. He braces her against the canopy bed to prevent her escape. When he finally pulls back to give her a little breathing room, his amber-coloured eyes watches her in the dim light. “You’re so beautiful.”

Without taking his eyes off her, he sniffs his fingers. “I love your smell.” He takes one finger into his mouth at a time, licking them clean. “Fuck, I love your taste.”

A whimper escapes her throat at the gesture. God, if she didn’t think he could get any hotter before, well – she’s pretty sure she’d combust on the spot any minute now if he stops.

Wren sits up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close enough to taste herself on his lips. She catches his lower lip between her teeth and bites hard enough to draw blood. He moans low in his throat and the sound makes her stomach flip.

Breaking their kiss, Cal rakes his fingers across her naked back.

It stings. His nails are sharp but there’s a lingering pleasure behind the pain.

“Swear it to me.” A single sharpened nail – long enough to prick her chin lifts her chin up. “Swear that you’re mine and no one else’s underneath the stars tonight.”

There’s no hesitation. He has her – soul, mind and body. “I swear I am yours and yours alone.” She gazes up at him, watching the flecks of gold glow brighter than ever before as he dips his head low and emit another growl.

The words feel right, everything feels right.

Except the moment Wren says them, a stinging sensation from where he’s marked her is suddenly all she can feel, all she can think about despite the living and breathing perfect specimen of a man right in front of her. Whatever endearments of love she’s thought of, quickly evaporates from her mind and she reels her head back in surprise. The pain isn’t just a light stab anymore – it’s more of a pulsing feeling that starts from her back where he’s undoubtedly staked her as his claim, until it ebbs deeply within her core.

She struggles to keep her focus on Cal.

What’s going on –

It’s as though he’s burned her, and any minute now she’ll smell the scent of her own flesh igniting itself as she finches back. Her hands move to quickly find the spot – but he’s faster.

Cal captures her hands and pulls them to rest against his hard chest as he lets out a hiss of pain. The mark goes both ways. He doesn’t just feel his pain; he feels hers too – down to the very core of his fucking soul.

Shit, does it always hurt this much for everyone?

Still, he can’t show weakness. It’s not what she needs right now. He can’t show a slither of how much it’s destroying him. She needs him, needs reassurance that she’ll be okay, that mating the right way will work. So, Cal doesn’t allow his gaze to waver. He doesn’t scream every curse word he can think of into existence. He merely bites his tongue against the hot flashes of pain still wracking his entire body.

This is what it means to be mated.

He endures the scorching fire within his blood. It’ll be gone soon enough. He only has to wait for it to pass. The wolf yelps but doesn’t falter either.

Minutes passes until he hisses at its impatience.

He wants to claim what’s rightfully his now that they’ve started. And he’ll let the wolf – only after allowing her proper time to adjust to all this. This is after all, new for them both even if his instincts are making it hard to keep his focus.

When his mate finally stops shaking, Cal draws his attention back to her lips; back to the curves of her well-toned body. When she starts trembling again – it isn’t because of pain. No, it’s with a new kind of feeling. Need. Painful need. He can almost taste it; her desire to mate - her sex quivering with the undeniable urge to join him.

It practically has him salivating.

He swallows it back.

“Cal, Cal I need you.” The words seem to tumble out, even surprising her. And her eyes flicker from their usual dark brown to nearly an identical colour.

And holy fuck does he need her. He needs to be inside her so fucking much that there aren’t any words to describe it. He can scarcely even breathe at how irresistible she suddenly seems in front of him – more than she’s ever been before; with her half-bruised lips from their kisses, tousled dark hair around her shoulders and dilated pupils of faint-amber. He’s completely aware of her pheromones warping the atmosphere around them. This is deeper than just lust, and love. It’s like a primal urge just to bend her over and fuck her senseless.

Claim her. Claim her.

Resting his palms on either side of her waist, he yanks her forward until the tip of his cock lightly teases the entrance of her mound.

When she moans, his cock twitches at the sound. “Beg for it.”

“Ah – what?” She pants, eyes clouded.

“Beg.”

He’d have to thank the universe later for the little self-control he’s had left to speak, but for right now – all he can concentrate on is the heat radiating off of her, off of him. And the heady look of lust on his mate’s face. But he’ll wait, he’ll wait as long he has to.

“You’re serious?”

“Beg.” The word comes out as a growl.

“I want you to fuck me Cal.” She drawls out the words, tilting her chin up – meeting his gaze head-on. “I need you to fuck me, so…so fucking bad. Please Cal. Make me yours.”

And it’s all the begging he needs.

Uttering a growl, Cal guides his length inside her - one inch at a time.

At first, Wren can’t speak. She bites down on her lower lip.

A familiar rush of pleasure fills him as her fingernails dig into his broad shoulders. What’s left of his self of control finally snaps as he hikes her legs around his lean waist and increasingly buries more of himself inside her sloppiningly wet heat.

He doesn’t spare more than few seconds for her to adjust once he’s down to the hilt, before he drives his hips forward. The bed creaks loudly at the motion and her own cry of pleasure encourages his burning need to fuck her – to really fuck her.

He recedes out of her slick entrance and then slams into her.

She digs her nails harder into his skin and fingers that have begun to feel more like claws press intimately into his flesh.

It’s enough to draw blood.

He slams into her again. And again. And again. Each time he does, her breath hitches until he can barely hear her over the loud smacking of their bodies - crashing into one another with frenzied urgency.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The word echoes inside his head like an infinite loop that only seems to grow stronger each time he thrusts his entire cock deep within her. It isn’t just about how much he loves her, it’s about the constant need to stretch her as much as he can, to fill her completely with his seed and hear her scream his name to the universe.

His hips jerk with such ferocity that she topples back and he goes with her, pounding with enough roughness for the board to splinter as the headboard clatters heavily against the wall. It doesn’t deter him. His goal is single-minded; solely on making her shatter beneath him and when she thinks she’s had enough – he’d do all over again.

Her own momentum can’t keep up and quite quickly, Cal’s thrust become wild and erratic enough to send Wren over the edge. He feels her inner walls tighten around his shaft and he expels a harsh breath as her entire body convulses all at once.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She continues to let out a string of curses as she throws her head back, eyes stinging with something close to tears as she shudders again.

God, even watching her come apart does something crazy to him. It makes his heart race, makes the wolf inside him puff in satisfaction that he’s able to satisfy his mate so completely. But he’s far from finished, in fact he’s famished for more. And it isn’t until the tremors stop that he flips her over, guiding her closer to the center of the bed as the wolf snaps his impatience.

She doesn’t need to ask; his desire for her must work both ways too. Something in her body seems to respond automatically to his urges, and she shoots him a mischievous grin over her shoulder, before offering her smooth back to him.

She’s so sexy.

There’s his mark there too. Spirals that twirl together to make an insignia matching the one undoubtedly on his shoulder where’s marked him as her own. He stifles a groan at the sight and nudges her forward with a jerk of his hips, until she’s balanced on all fours. Her palms dig into the sheets, tearing the fabric as he sinks into her again.

Fuck. She’s exquisite. She’s perfect. She’s his.

His thrusts are jerky, uncontrolled. There’s no stopping him, not when he’s so close. He can’t help but be rough, nails raking angry marks across her thighs and hips as he keeps thrusting maddeningly fast into her. Here inside the safety of this room - he’s not just Cal anymore and she’s not just Wren either. This is bigger than the both of them and he surrenders himself to the passion, surrenders himself to the pain.

He presses his chest into her back, inhaling their sweaty mix. More. More. He’s desperate to find his release – desperate to fill her completely with his come. He nicks the nape of her neck again with his sharpened teeth, biting down hard as she cries out his name.

Her hands grip the headboard as his pacing grows more erratic, more fevered until the bed shakes from the sheer intensity of their fucking.

Without thinking, one of his hands finds the supple arch of her throat. He can almost hear it. Her pulse flutter in excitement when his grip tightens. He feels the exact moment when she let’s go. Her body convulses into intense shudders that fuels his orgasm. Uttering a string of curses as burrows his face into the crook of her neck as his body starts to shake, emptying himself inside her until he’s completely spent.

When he’s finally able to move again, Cal rolls over and takes her with him. She tucks herself at his side as he stares happily at the ceiling.

God, that was…..there’s really no way he can describe it

He listens to the sound of their heartbeats. They’re both still keyed to speak.

Woah. Is it like this for everyone?

“Wow.” Wren breaks the silence first, grinning up at him. There are flashes of exhaustion within her eyes when he peers at her. He’s worried he’s broken her for a moment until she threads her fingers through his chest hair and lets out a contented sigh.

“I know.” He blows stray strands of his now matted and wet hair away from his face, before staring back down at her. She’s never looked quite so messy and tired before. He likes the look on her.

“You were really holding out on me, huh?” She has the galls to arch her eyebrows at him and he laughs at the gesture.

“Maybe.” He tries to play it off, but his cheeks give him away. They always do. “I just…I never wanted to risk hurting you.” He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing bashfully at anywhere except directly at her.

“Uh huh. I’m not so breakable Cal.” He feels her fingers, still coated with sweat turn his chin. “But if you weren’t convinced before, maybe this will convince you now.” She presses a soft kiss to his jaw.

There’s still a faint amber-light to her eyes when she pulls back, and seeing it makes him so damn happy. He breaks out into a wide grin. “No, I can be as rough as I want now.” His words drop an octave, husky enough for her eyes to slide meaningfully down his hip.

Wren whistles. “God, I really thought you had stamina before but now.” She traces hand across his naked hip and the touch makes the tip of his shaft twitch. “Now, I definitely know what stamina is, I still feel like I could maybe go for another round or two.”

A low rumble escapes his throat. “I can’t help it. It’s what you do to me, and it’s the wolf that’s never truly sated.” He captures her hand and kisses her wrist before giving it a gentle squeeze. “But that can wait. When’s the last time you slept?”

Wren avoids his eyes. “Maybe a day or two.” She winces. “To be fair though, I was trying to find you.”

“I’m not going to argue with that. I just want you to take care of yourself, and I’m honestly beat.” He exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a moment and then stares back up at the ceiling. In all his wildest dreams – he didn’t think today would have ended the way it did and he flinches at the memory of being trapped.

If it wasn’t for her – he didn’t think he would have survived.

Wren scoots closer. Her warmth is a welcoming presence that breaks the prison of memories still flooding the gates of his mind. “I’m really glad you’re all in one piece, I can only imagine what that asshole put you through.”

Cal is hyperaware of her uncertainty. Even if she doesn’t ask – he can still feel it. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? And maybe one day, he will. However, for now – he’s perfectly fine with shoving the memories as far back as he can keep them. He won’t let them ruin everything tonight.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dropping a kiss by her brow, he sighs. “I’m here – you’re here, that’s what matters.”

“Mm.”

“Is that you letting this go without me having to ask?” He almost has to do a double-take.

“Hey! I let things go sometimes!”

He snorts.

“Okay – well,” she huffs out a breath. “Stubbornness runs in my blood but I’m not stupid enough not to see you’ve been through a lot.” She hesitates. “I can feel it radiating off of you in waves, and we don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready.”

“Good.” He sighs in relief. God, he loves her for it. “I love you,” he whispers, shutting his eyes close.

“I love you too.” He feels her sharp teeth graze his side, “now shut up and let us get some sleep.”

Everything hurts.

Her arms, her legs – every part of her body seems to be completely worn out as the events of last night comes rushing back to her- as vivid as if she’s still there herself. The fight with Kavinsky. Finding Cal. Mating. Her cheeks colour at the latest memory. Last night had been intense, however it doesn’t take long for her mind to switch gears.

There’s too much going on at one time for it not to.

Even worse, Wren’s entire body aches as if she’s been hit by a truck and suffering the worst parts of a hungover because of it. The slightest flicker of movements she takes to sit up in bed causes an after-effect and she flinches at the stabs of pain. There’s no getting rid of it.

It isn’t the room. The room is blissfully quiet. It’s everything outside the room. Her hearing is better than it’s ever been before; picking up things she didn’t think possible. The whispers out in the hall from the people she’s only just met, suddenly sounds more like shouting.

“Do you think they’re going to get up anytime soon?” Harlow’s voice sounds filled of concern.

A snort sounding as if it belongs to Lily. “After hearing them last night – not likely.”

“Man. They were so loud.”

“You’re the one to talk Jax. You and Harlow have been waay louder in the past –”

Hissing, Wren clutches her temples as she tries to drone them out – desperate for silence. It’s no use. She can’t drone them out. They’re all she can focus on.

Shit.

Her eyes prick with tears as she takes a deep breath; her nose abruptly picking up the musky scents of sweat and sex mingled all into one. She realizes with a jolt – her senses haven’t just gotten better – they’re damned-well oversensitive to her current environment. And she hates it.

Crying out in pain, Wren rocks back and forth until strong arms suddenly encircle her. She’s cocooned into his hard chest and more aware than ever of his body heat, pressing intimately into her as she feels his breath by her ear.

“Sssh, it’s okay. Just focus on me. Focus on my voice.” His voice which by the way – sounded incredibly smooth. “Tune everything else out.”

Taking a ragged breath, Wren tries to concentrate on Cal and Cal alone.

Minutes pass as they remained locked like this; with Cal humming into her ear and Wren trying desperately to keep her attention solely on him. It’s difficult. She’s never had to fight quite like this to remain focus before, but eventually the voices in the hall become a dull ache that’s moved to the back of her brain.

Oh, thank god.

Twisting inside Cal’s arms, she gives him a smile short of nothing but her relief. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“I think I do,” his frown creases his brow as he lifts his fingers to rub her temples. “I was a pup once.”

The gesture helps to soothe her and she releases another sigh, leaning into his hands. “Please tell me this gets better, or at least easier.” Letting out a string of curses, she closes his eyes and forces her attention on his breathing.

He laughs.

She winces.

“Sorry.” At least he sounds apologetic about it. “It doesn’t; you’ll just be able to handle it better. You’ll adjust your attention on the things you want to focus on.” He smiles a little to himself, “but this is kinda cute in a way.”

She shoots him a glare that would make lesser men flinch and scramble to get away. But to Cal, it only serves to make his smile grow wider. “How the hell is any of this cute?”

“You just –” he shakes his head, “kinda remind me of Donny when he was a pup. He was pretty much oversensitive to almost everything for a while when he hit fourteen.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” She grumbles. Besides, Donny was a child when he’d reach peak werewolf physiology – she’s a grown ass woman, and all she wants to do is curl into a ball and disappear underneath all these sheets.

He drops his fingers and plants a kiss by her temple. “It wasn’t supposed to.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I thought Donny was the worst.” He quips back.

“No, he comes a close second now…” She hesitates, expelling a short sigh as her eyes flutter back open to stare at him. “He misses you too.”

Cal’s jaw tightens. “I can’t believe I left him alone like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She interjects before he’s able to place anymore blame on himself. She knows how easy it is for him to spiral when it comes to Donny. Mumbling softly, she bumps his forehead in comfort. “You didn’t know any of this was going to happen.”

“Still, I was careless.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If I hadn’t come to New York alone – .”

“But you did. You were cocky and dumb enough to think Kavinsky hadn’t told Shaw.” She isn’t going to sugarcoat the mess they’re in to make him feel better. They always tell each other the hard-truths, and the hard-truth is – Cal fucked up and things could have gone a lot worse if they hadn’t found him. But, she doesn’t want to focus on that. They’re here, they’re together - that’s what matters.

“And whatever comes next, I’m with you.” She tries to make a joke, “for a better or worse right?”

When Cal suddenly pulls away, Wren eyes narrow into almost slits.

He looks…guilty. She can almost feel it, it’s starting to practically envelop the room. “Hey,” she turns completely, ignoring the twinges of pain from the sudden motion of her legs shifting to rest on either sides of his waist. “I wanted this, and you have nothing to feel guilty about.” She bumps his forehead affectionately; the way he does to get her attention. “I love you, and I’m sure…it’ll get better.” She gives him a smile, “it’s like you said – it takes time.”

Cal watches her a moment longer before expelling a deep sigh.

“C’mon, you’re pulling down the mood.”

“Oh?” The corner of his lips twitch as Wren rakes him with a once over – lingering on the lower half of his body, before slowly trailing up again. “And what exactly is the mood?”

“The mood is - I’m very aware of what’s going on down here. Right now.” She nudges her hips forward by an inch as she says it. It’s enough to brush the tip of his cock and almost reflexively, he lets out a loud hiss.

Grinning, Wren does it again – only this time, his hands come up to splay across her back. She can almost taste his desire on her tongue the moment she leans forward and captures his lips. It’s so potent that it fills the room. She isn’t having any troubling focusing on him anymore – he’s all she can think about.

Wren bites down hard and she’s rewarded with a growl as his fingers rake a path down her back “And I for one, want to take full advantage of this.” Her stomach is already curling in anticipation for him as he kisses her roughly on the lips.

His chocolate brown eyes flash with sudden heat just as the palm of her hand pushes him back. She shifts her position to straddle him as he lands comfortably atop of their sheets.

“You know we’ll have to leave this room eventually.” His hands drift towards her hips, staring momentarily down at the marks he’s left from last night.

She sneaks a glance at them as well, and then back up at him as she slowly lowers herself onto his throbbing member. “Maybe, but for now - I’m suddenly feeling ravenous.”

He shifts hips hip with enough subtle force for her to moan at the sudden friction.

God, how is it that he feels so good? So right. Everything always does with him and it’s a wonder it’s taken her this long to realize he’s the only person that belongs in her heart. The only person that has her completely.

She entwines their fingers together as she begins to move her hips forward back and in earnest, dictating their space to a much slower rhythm than last night. All her senses are very aware of all of him, the way his muscles tense and bunch together, the way his eyes can’t seem to take themselves off of her – down to the slight intakes of breath he takes as his eyes transition into that scorching hot amber.

When he tries to move his hips faster, her fingers dig into his palms. “Let me.” Her words are husky, but Cal wordlessly arches a brow before he slows down and Wren hides her grin. He’s giving her complete control of their pleasure.

She rolls her hips – remaining steady eye contact with Cal as his gaze turns smoldering.

“Fuck, you’re killing me here Wren.” He drops her hands to grip her waist.

“Good.” She can feel his impatience budding again, the wolf in her is basking in every minute of it. But he hasn’t tried anything again yet. Smirking, she rolls her hip again – biting down on her lip to stop herself from moaning at how good he feels.

Cal swears, his nails turning sharp as they dig into her sides. His breath is almost ragged, and his cheeks are heavily flushed when she finally starts to pick up speed. “Oh god, you feel so fucking good.” The rest of his words turns into a cry of pleasure when she squeezes herself around his length.

“Mm, you like that?’

His response is in the way he thrusts his hips to meet hers’ – with wild abandon, and suddenly her little game of keeping control is forgotten.

Her hips match him pace for pace and it doesn’t take much longer for the bed to start creaking again.

His hands grip her tighter as she brings her hips up and then down on him again, keeping a loose hand clenched around the bed sheets for gripping as their pleasure comes altogether. And the passion that builds between them is bigger than just her - it’s hers and his blissfully jumbled into one.

She can’t think, she can’t breathe. There’s only just the primal urge to keep up with his thrusts, to reach the peak of how much she ca handle and a natural surrender of all her inhibitions as their gazes stay completely on each other.

When they scale to the very top, they ride it out going down to the bottom together. Collapsing into each other’s arms, endearments of I-love-yous as they tumble into the sheets, yanking them around each other like a cocoon as their bodies still slicked with heat and love bask in the aftermath of their love.

By the time they’ve left their room, it’s shy past five in the afternoon.

Maybe if Wren hadn’t just the best morning in her life, she’d care a lot more. But right now, the only concern Wren has is how much she wants to stuff her face with any food they can find as she leads Cal towards the kitchen of the hotel room.

They both freeze just in time to notice their other companions clearing out. There’s a bunch of small suitcases by the door and they’re all dressed in fresh clothes of slacks and shirts - smelling distinctively of vanilla bodywash.

Six pairs of eyes remain rooted to their spot.

At first – no one says anything. It’s quiet enough for a pin to comically drop.

Wren jerks her chin up, daring anyone to say anything.

Lily is the first to break the awkward silence, furrowing her brows before letting out an expletive. “Shit, it’s about damn time. We were starting to think you two were never going to leave.” She places a hand on her hip. “Check out time was like three hours ago.”

Cal clears his throat; his cheeks abruptly turning more than a shade darker thank his skin as Wren mutters a stiff apology. Okay, so she definitely gets where they’re coming from. Not only did they miss out on karaoke – they’ve been pretty MIA in general and this morning - that’s mostly been her fault. “Sorry guys, we’ll uh – pay the difference.”

“It’s fine, Adrian has already taken care of it.” Harlow responds quickly, elbowing Lily sharply in the side. “What I think my friend meant to say is, we thought we wouldn’t get the chance to say goodbye.” She smiles, “it was a pleasure meeting you both despite the circumstances.”

Wren takes a few hesitant footsteps further into the common area, almost dragging Cal behind her. “I think that’s supposed to be my line. Seriously – thank you for all your help, and for putting up with us last night.” She adds before thinking better of it, “I would have probably still been searching the rest of New York for him.”

“Thank you for rescuing me.” Cal squeezes Wren’s hand as he regards the vampires with a slight nod.

Adrian inclines his head. “You’re quite welcome.” He reaches for the door and then pauses to peer back at them. “Would you mind passing down a message to Nik –” he gestures to them both with a flick of wrist, “tell him we’re even.”

“You bet.”

“Good. Well, I believe we’ve all gotten what we came here for.” Kamilah wastes no time to say goodbye; already stepping past the threshold of the door to find the elevator.

“Hey bloodsuckers,” Cal speaks up before they can all leave. Wren arches one critical eyebrow and he bites his bottom lip before adding. “Uh - if you’re ever in NOLA – look us up. You think it’s crazy over here? This has got nothin’ on us.”

Wren snorts in agreement. They’ve got no idea just how crazy it is up there.

Harlow and Jax share a look. “We’ll keep that in mind. Don’t forget to lock up before heading to the lobby.” With a parting smile, Harlow follows the rest of them out.

As the door slams shut again, Wren waits a few beats for their footsteps to fade before turning to Cal. “I like them.”

“I guess they’re alright, for bloodsuckers at least.”

She smacks his shoulder.

“Ah!” Chuckling, he snatches her hand before she’s able to punch him a second time and kisses the inside of her wrist. “I’m kidding, they’re alright – for anyone.”

“Good.” A crooked smile flits across her face, then falters into a frown as her stomach growls. “Okay, seriously – I’m really starving. What is up with that?”

He shoots her a bemused smile. “We did burn a lot of calories in that room.”

Another playful smack on his shoulder.

“But it’s also a wolf thing.”

“Ugh, figures.” Rolling her eyes, she snorts. “We should check-out and grab something on the way to the airport then. Ooh,” her eyes abruptly lit-up at a sudden idea. “Maybe this room came with a complimentary breakfast. Adrian seems like the type.”

The ride back to the airport is short but Cal feels tense about it the entire drive. Now that he’s going back without a plan, the enormity of what’s awaiting him in NOLA rests uneasily on his shoulders.

After Wren fills him in on how much he’s missed – he’s honestly just a bunch of knots and for the first time since becoming alpha; he doesn’t know where he stands with his pack. It was reckless for him to leave and foolish too. Wren’s been right to mock his choice.

Sighing, he closes his eyes for a moment and rakes his fingers through his hair. What the hell is he supposed to do now?

“Hey,” he hears the reassurance in her voice before he opens them back to shift his attention to her.

“I won’t lie to you and say it’ll be okay, because when I left – it wasn’t okay.” Wren takes a deep breath, reaching for his hand to give it a comforting squeeze. “But I’m here for you – and,” she visibly swallows, “for the pack. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

Cal nods once, forcing a smile as he squeezes her hand back. “I hope you’re right.” He has a feeling if he doesn’t find a solution, soon there won’t be any pack left to protect.

111 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: Pure (12/14)

Summary: Belle wanted to wait until marriage before she had sex for the first time. It was the one thing that still stuck in her mind after leaving her small town upbringing steeped in religious doctrine and abstinence culture. When her wedding night comes, however, the purity ideals of Storybrooke’s sex education are hard to shake off, and making the transition from virgin to sexually active is more difficult than she anticipated. With the help of a patient husband, Belle begins an intimate journey into understanding her body, her desires, and her identity as a woman.

Rated: E

======

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [AO3]

======

Pure

Twelve

Gold felt unaccountably nervous sitting in the waiting room with Belle. He’d agreed to come along with her to the therapy session that Dr Hopper had suggested, but he didn’t know what he was going to get out of it. The focus was to get Belle better; surely they shouldn’t be wasting time with him.

Belle squeezed his hand, sensing his unease. “It’s ok. Dr Hopper’s really nice, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Gold didn’t reply. It was all very well Belle saying that Dr Hopper was really nice, because he was supposed to be really nice to her. She was the one that he was supposed to be helping. Since Gold was part of the problem in the first place, it was highly likely that Dr Hopper wouldn’t be quite as nice to him as he was to Belle. As stupid as it was, he was still expecting to go into the room and immediately be berated for causing all of Belle’s problems in the first place.

He knew that was ridiculous, because Belle’s problems stemmed from something that went far beyond her marriage to him, but at the same time, he couldn’t shake the image.

“Belle and Aiden?” Dr Hopper welcomed them through into his office, and he shook Gold’s hand. “It’s good to meet you, Aiden. Thank you for coming today.”

Gold just nodded, sitting down on the sofa beside Belle.

They began with just exchanging pleasantries; Dr Hopper asked Belle how she’d been feeling generally throughout the past week and Gold was included easily and seamlessly in the communication. All too soon though, it was time for the discussion to begin in earnest.

“Aiden, I don’t know how much Belle has told you about the things that we’ve been working on in her sessions, but the reason I asked you to come along today is all to do with communication,” Dr Hopper began. “Since communication involves two people, I thought it would be a good idea to have you both here, so that you can support each other in a safe environment and maybe we can begin to get to the bottom of some of these things that are causing, well, let’s call it a mis-step in communication. Belle, as I’ve talked about this with you before, maybe you’d like to speak first, if you have your thoughts in order.”

Belle nodded, and Gold realised that she was still holding his hand and squeezing tightly. He took that as a good sign.

“I don’t know how to start the conversation,” she said. “Not this conversation, obviously. But the conversation, the conversation that we’re not having. I don’t know how to address the elephant in the room because firstly it’s not something that I’ve ever had to address before and secondly, I still have the mentality that it’s not something that should be addressed. The second part I can work on, and have been working on with Dr Hopper, but I feel like I still lack the… knowledge, for want of a better word, to tackle the first part.” She sighed. “I know that we need to talk about what happened in Storybrooke and about the fact that our sex life has suddenly screeched to a halt, but I don’t know how to start that conversation, so I don’t start it.”

Belle looked over at Aiden before leaning into his side. “I needed you to start the conversation, but you didn’t. I’m not blaming you; you didn’t know that you needed to start it because I was saying literally nothing, but I didn’t know how to tell you that I needed you to start it.”

Gold, still trying to get his head around everything that Belle had just said, gave a slow nod. Even though Belle had said that she didn’t blame him, he still felt like it was his fault.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Aiden, you’re not a mind-reader. To you it must have been just very strange, going from a normal, healthy, communicative relationship to a sudden complete lack of intimacy with apparently no reason why and your wife just refusing to speak about it. From your point of view, I wouldn’t want to bring the subject up either.”

For the first time since agreeing to come to the session, Gold began to feel the slightest bit of relief and began to really believe that it wasn’t entirely his fault.

“Aiden, how would you feel about giving us your point of view?” Dr Hopper asked.

Gold took a deep breath.

“I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to bring it up,” he admitted. It felt good to finally get it off his chest. “I couldn’t bring it up. I knew how much you were hurting, but I couldn’t exactly say anything about it because I didn’t want you to think that I was just interested in sex. I didn’t know how to start the conversation either, but I suppose that I was coming from the opposite direction that you were. You were coming from a place of inexperience, whereas I was coming from a place of too much experience. I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything, because you’ve said that you feel that way before and I didn’t want to do anything that would make you feel that way again. When the only symptom that we had that something was wrong was the lack of intimacy, I couldn’t bring that up as a problem. When we first got married, I’d made a point of telling you that we could wait until you were comfortable, that we could take our time. It would make me a horrific hypocrite if I then brought up the subject of us suddenly not being intimate anymore, wouldn’t it?”

He sighed. “So that’s why I didn’t say anything either. I was waiting for you to bring up the subject, because I was working on the principle that if you brought it up, that meant you were ready to talk about it, and I would work at your pace. And you were waiting for me to bring it up because even though you were ready, there was some kind of communication barrier in place that made it impossible for you to start.”

Belle nodded. “Yeah, I think that pretty much sums it up.” She gave a sad little laugh. “I thought you were mad at me. We weren’t talking, and then you just moved out of our bedroom with no explanation.”

“Belle, I could never be mad at you for not wanting to have sex. I thought you were mad at me, that’s why I moved out of our bedroom.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

Aiden thought back to the conversation that they’d had that even when everything had come out, when Belle had made the decision to start therapy in the first place. Even thought that had got their feelings out into the open and they had begun to work through things then, that single sentence still stood out as a stark warning to him. He had taken the words to heart and even though their subsequent talks had put his mind at rest, they could not put it at rest completely.

“I thought that you regretted it. All of it. You said yourself, that night, that you wished you’d never done it in the first place. No amount of apologising on my part could ever make up for that, Belle. Nothing could ever, ever make that ok. Having sex for the first time isn’t something that you can do over. I thought that you regretted it, and that was my fault. I was the experienced one, I was the one who should have put the brakes on things, I was the one who should have seen that you weren’t comfortable and that you were going to regret it, and I didn’t, and that is something I will always have to live with.”

“Aiden, I’m not a child.” There was the faintest hint of steel in Belle’s voice. “I’m thirty years old. Yes, you’re older than me and you’re more experienced than me, but we’re equal partners in this relationship; you don’t need to shield me from my own feelings and reactions. I was a virgin, I was inexperienced and unknowledgeable, maybe I was even a bit naïve, but I was an adult and capable of making my own decisions and taking responsibility for them. And Aiden, you did see that I was uncomfortable. That first night, you were the one to put the brakes on things and make sure that I didn’t regret it. All throughout our honeymoon, you were so caring, and so conscious of my needs and boundaries even as I was still discovering what they were alongside you. You always told me to say something if I was uncomfortable, to tell you to stop if you were going too fast. And I never said anything; because I was never uncomfortable. You never went too fast. I never regretted any of that.”

Unexpectedly, Belle slipped her arms around him, nudging her forehead against his. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. But Aiden, you should have said something.”

“What could I say, apart from sorry, which was never going to be enough?”

“God, we’re terrible at talking to each other when the chips are down, aren’t we?” Belle laughed again, but there was a little more humour in it now, more like a genuine laugh than one tinged with regret and sadness. “When everything’s all right, we’re very good at talking to each other, but the minute something happens, we both just close up.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Gold startled at the words, he had almost forgotten that Dr Hopper was in the room with them and he looked over at the therapist. There was no judgement or censure in his face, and there were very few notes on his notepad. He wondered if there was actually any therapy involved in this session, or if it was simply about getting him and Belle to actually talk to each other.

It felt strange in a way, having this discussion here in Dr Hopper’s office, but at the same time, there was definitely something in what he’d said about it being a safe place. Having someone outside the relationship giving them permission to talk about the things that they had not given themselves permission to talk about made it easier. Neither of them had been able to start this important conversation, so someone else had started it for them, and there was no shame in that.

“I don’t know.” Belle released Gold out of her embrace, but her hand returned to his. “I suppose that this is the first major crisis in our relationship that we’ve had to face together. We’ve had our disagreements and things in the past, of course, but ultimately, before we were married, we’d reached a nice little happy plateau and I thought that we were going to stay there. Then something out of the blue happened and cause a whole bunch of problems that we’d never had to deal with before, so we didn’t know how to deal with them. I think that it’s because this is the first time that Storybrooke and my upbringing there has really had a major impact on our lives, and it happened so comparatively soon after the wedding. If this had happened a year or so in the future, maybe we would have got through it differently because we’d have more experience of being a married, intimate couple under our belts.”

Gold nodded his agreement. “Even though we’ve been together a long time, we’ve only been sleeping together for a few months, and that changes the dynamic of a relationship. We’d never faced any problems with intimacy before because we’d never been intimate before, and whilst I’ve had previous relationships that I can draw on experience from, Belle hasn’t. This has been a huge unknown for the both of us, in that respect, and we just haven’t really been equipped to deal with it.”

“Well.” The doctor smiled. “I hope that by the end of our sessions together, you will be equipped to deal with it. Obviously I hope that no further situations like this one arise, but life is unpredictable, and I can’t pretend that crises aren’t going to happen in the future. But, with the right tools and mechanisms in place, you’ll be able to deal with them in a strong and healthy way.”

They continued to talk amongst the three of them for a while, looking through the various coping strategies and communication techniques that they could use in the future, and by the end of it, Gold was feeling much calmer than when he had first entered the doctor’s office. There had been no censure; there had been no apportioning of blame. In fact, blame hadn’t really come into it at all. They had looked at why things had happened, not who was responsible for making them happen. In the end, that wasn’t helpful. What was helpful was making sure that it didn’t happen again.

“Well, our time is almost up,” Dr Hopper said eventually. “I’m glad that you’ve been able to make such good progress today and I really hope that it has been beneficial to the both of you.”

Belle nodded. “Well, it has for me. Aiden?”

“Yes. Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re very welcome. I think all you really needed was someone to steer you both in the right direction. Aiden, would you mind if I spoke to you alone for a couple of minutes before we run out of time? Belle, is that all right by you?”

“Sure, I’ll wait outside. I’ll see you next week, Dr Hopper.”

Gold was about to make some kind of protest that these were Belle’s therapy sessions and he wasn’t the one who needed them, but the last hour of conversation had shown that maybe he did need some help after all, and then Belle had slipped out of the office and he was alone with the doctor. Right, this was it. This was when he was going to get told that it was all his fault after all and that the only thing to do was to leave Belle alone and…

“Aiden, I promise I’m not going to eat you, there’s no need to look so terrified.” Dr Hopper smiled. “I just wanted to go over a couple of things that I think are more relevant to you personally than to the both of you. I’ll go over Belle’s personal points with her next week.”

“Right.” Gold was not at all reassured.

“The main thing that I want to stress is that you are allowed to ask what is wrong, if it is obvious to you that something is wrong. That was the thing that I picked up on the most when you were speaking earlier; you felt that you couldn’t ask what was wrong in case Belle felt like it was coming from a place of accusation or a desire for intimacy above all else. But ultimately, as you knew yourself, the lack of intimacy in your relationship was indicative of something deeper. Asking what is hurting her and what you can do to help doesn’t show you as some kind of sex maniac who is only concerned about the intimacy in your relationship – it shows that you care about her and want to stop whatever’s troubling her first and foremost. And you have to trust that Belle knows that.”

“Yes.” He had to trust that Belle knew her own mind. It was as she’d said before. She wasn’t a child.

“I hope that the session has helped you, and if you do want to speak with me again about anything – not just related to your relationship with Belle – then I’d be happy to see you again.”

They shook hands again and Gold left the office in something of a daze. Belle was waiting for him outside and she hooked her arm through his as they made their way through the streets back towards the library. They were almost outside the doors when Belle stopped.

“Aiden…” she began. Gold turned to her. Her bottom lip was between her teeth again, a sure sign that she was thinking and that she was concerned.

“Yes?”

“About what I said. That night. The night. When I decided to seek help in the first place. When I said that sometimes I wished I’d never done it in the first place because then I wouldn’t be feeling so miserable.”

Gold nodded, his heart beating painfully in his chest. “Yes?”

“When you brought it up in the session I don’t think I really addressed it properly because you needed to get your feelings out about it, and then that took me off in a different direction, about claiming responsibility for my own decisions – which I did need to get off my chest as well, in all fairness. Sorry if I sounded snappy. It’s just that having spent my whole life with people viewing me as a child because I hadn’t had sex, with that being the main sticking point of my relationship with Dad which I’ve literally only just started to realise and come to terms with in therapy, it just felt like you were starting to do exactly the same thing. I know you’re not because you’re coming at it from a different angle, but I just wanted to shut that down before it got out of hand. Anyway, I’ve got off topic again.”

Gold nodded. “No, it’s good to get that out in the open. I honestly hadn’t thought about it that way, but I can see exactly what you mean. I need to trust you to be able to make your own decisions when it comes to what you are and aren’t ready for.” It went back to what Dr Hopper had just reassured him. He had to trust Belle to know her own mind.

“Yeah. And when it matters, when I’m not ready for something, you do pick up on that. I have never, ever been worried about you pushing me too far too quickly. But back to that night.”

“Yes.”

“What I said… That was never intended to be a reflection on you. That never came out of a place of anger for you, never. I’m so sorry that you took it that way, but honestly, and I know this is going to sound harsh, I wasn’t even thinking about you and your role in the proceedings at the time. The one overriding thought I had was that if I had been a good girl and not wanted to have sex, then I wouldn’t be feeling so wretched because I was no longer a virgin and people no longer saw me as having any worth. I mean, I know that’s a load of bollocks, but go with it for now.”

Gold gave a soft laugh, recalling their first morning of marriage, back in the hotel just outside Storybrooke. “All right. Going with the analogy.”

Belle giggled. “It was a great analogy; it really helped me. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that my feelings at that time were purely selfish and came from a place of self-loathing; they weren’t directed at you at all. They were directed at me, at my supposed moral weakness for giving in to temptation and losing my virginity. And, shock horror, enjoying the process. I just want you to be absolutely sure of that. I don’t regret anything we’ve done together. And when we get back to doing it together, then that’s going to be the best night of my life.” She smiled.

Gold smiled too, because there was nothing but sure positivity in Belle’s face. She was definitely looking forward to it. “I think it might be mine, as well.”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Fic: Pure #therapy #they're actually talking to each other!

16 notes · View notes

rosepetalmark · 6 years ago

Text

Bad Idea; Jung Jaehyun

1.6k words

Warnings: smut, cursing

a/n: I was in my Jaehyun feels and ended up writing this in the process. Happy early birthday to this angel, and happy valentines day.

In which an unexpected sleepover with your boyfriend turns into a little more.

“i should probably get going,” he whispers into your ear.

“Five more minutes Jae,” you whine, maneuvering your way out of his hold, turning your body to face him.

“You said that half an hour ago babe. If I stay any longer you know your parents are going to kick my ass,” he said with a laugh. But he was right. If your parents knew he was sleeping over, they’d kick him out, bite your head off, and probably never let him step foot into your house again without supervision.

Last night you invited Jaehyun over to watch a movie, completely under the impression that he’d leave by eleven like he usually does.

That wasn’t the case.

You both fell asleep within the first fifteen minutes of Captain America, and here you were, basking in each other’s warmth, still wearing last night’s clothes.

It was a miracle that your parents didn’t realize he slept over, let alone that he was still here, lying in bed with you. The most affection your parents have seen you show Jaehyun was a three second hug, if they saw you in the same bed together they’d flip.

Jaehyun has slept over many times, but this time it was different. You were in no rush to get him to leave your house, simply because you have woken up way past the time everyone in your family usually does.

Typical secret sleepovers with Jae consisted of you constantly making sure your bedroom door was locked, and quickly slipping your clothes back on and ushering him out the house through your back door before everyone was awake.

It was seven thirty nine in the morning, and you wanted to enjoy this moment and appreciate this newfound comfort with your boyfriend.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring your face closer to his, giving him a quick peck.

The way the sunlight peeping through your curtains and hitting his face made him look so angelic, making you want to kiss him more. He looked so pure and at peace.

“You are so beautiful, Jung Jaehyun,” you say with a smile, and you truly mean it. You have never met anyone in your life as humble, and smart, and as gorgeous as him.

“I could say the same for you, my love.” Blush creeping onto his cheeks the moments said words left his mouth.

Everything about him made you want to hold him close and never let him go. The way he smiles so bright when a dog passes his way, whenever he pushes his hair back in frustration when his team is losing in basketball, and especially when he blushes. The red tint that rushes to his cheeks and ears makes you want to cover his face in endless kisses, because everything Jung Jaehyun does makes you fall even more in love with him.

He brought his lips back to yours, swinging your body over his so you were on top of him.

Starting to kiss you more aggressively, you slowly grind into him, causing a low moan to escape both of your lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this y/n,” Jaehyun exclaims, moving his lips down your face, pressing kisses to your neck as you continue to grind into him.

He was hard. Extremely hard. If you stopped right now, Jaehyun would probably be able to fix his hard on in five minutes tops if he went to the washroom. But that was so many steps away and you were right here, in your bed and on top of him, ready to be the solution to his problem.

He was right though. Your parents were only a few rooms over, and one wrong move or too loud sound could get you both in shit. You’ve only ever had sex with him once while your parents were home, but that was an anxiety filled mess. You hardly enjoyed yourself because every move you both made had you thinking your parents knew what was happening, causing you to promise yourself that anything remotely sexual between you two would be saved for when you were alone, despite how gruesome the wait would be.

But in this moment, you didn’t care. The endless ways you’re imagining Jaehyun taking you right now in this moment clouds your mind, causing you to disregard any consequences if you two were to get caught.

“We really shouldn’t, “ you smile, bringing your hand to his crotch, gently grabbing it.

“O-oh my god y/n please don’t stop, “ he whines, short breathes escaping his lips.

He moves his right hand underneath your shirt squeezing your right breast, causing a low moan to escape your mouth .

You continue to grind into him, and Jaehyun decides to flip you over, him now hovering over your small frame. Still placing kisses all over your face, Jaehyun lifts your shirt off your body in the process.

Moving his lips ever so slowly down your neck, he takes his time softly pressing kisses around your chest, and slowly in between your breasts. The pleasure was both exhilarating yet annoying, you wanted to enjoy this moment, but you want anything and everything all at once, causing your impatience to rise.

The way his brown orbs were staring so lustfully yet lovingly back into yours as he pressed kisses down your stomach made you want to feel and explore every part of him right this instant.

God you wanted him.

His hands make their way to the strings of your shorts, quickly fumbling with the knot to undo them as quickly as possible so they can be off your body and on your floor in mere seconds.

“J-Jaehyun please,” you spoke softly, you were desperate for anything at this point.

A touch. A kiss. Even a glance. The ache in between your legs is driving you crazy, and you can imagine he feels the same.

You need him

“Don’t worry princess,” he smiles, slowly licking his lips. “I’m rig-”

Before finishing his sentence, you both look up. Harsh, loud knocks are coming from your bedroom door, startling you both.

“Fuck,” you whispered. Pushing Jaehyun off you, panic begins to rush through your veins.

“Jae, go hide in the closest,” you signal, throwing your sweater and shorts back on your body.

“Y/n I’m not hiding in your fuc-,”

“You get in that closest right now or I’m never sucking your dick again, got it? If we get caught, our asses are grass and you won’t ever be allowed back in this house again,” you half yell, opening the closet door for Jaehyun go hide in. “You’ll be in here for 5 minutes tops, alright?”

Running to your mirror, you look at your appearance to see if there’s any giveaways to your prior activities.

All you can think about was how fucked you are. Your lips are swollen and red, hair a mess, and you’re a thousand percent certain your mom was outside your door, ready to kick yours and Jaehyun’s asses.

Slowly turning the knob and opening the door, there stood your mom, still in her pajamas, with a not so happy look on her face.

“Uh, hi?” you asked, attempting to seem as confused as possible. If you were going to lie straight to her face about anything happening in your room, acting oblivious is the best solution.

“Who were you talking to? And why are you up so early on a Saturday? It’s not even eight y/n, you usually don’t get up until one,” she says rather aggressively.

“I um- I was on the phone with Jae,” you lie through your teeth. “We were uh studying together last night for our chem test on Monday and he thought he left his notes here,” you say nervously, quickly coming up with the most believable lie that comes to mind.

“Why are you being so loud? It’d be nice to sleep in once too,” she says dryly.

“S-sorry, I was looking around to see if i put his binder somewhere, turns out he left it in his kitchen and not his room.”

Seemingly convinced, she turned her back to you and started walking back to her room. “Alright, get back to bed you have studying to do later. And tell Jaehyun to do the same.”

And with that, she was in her room, and you were safe.

You shut your door, making sure to lock it, and hop back on your bed. A sigh of relief escaping your lips.

You were safe. Free. Content. Your mom had no idea what was happening, and now you’re okay.

Jaehyun comes back out from your closet, bursting into laughter as he sits down beside you on your bed.

“I told you we were going to get caught, you dummy,” he smiles.

“Yeah well, we didn’t. So everything’s fine now. Go home and study for your chemistry test Jung before we really do get caught.”

“Yeah, if only I was taking chemistry,” he exclaims with a chuckle, placing a quick peck to your forehead. “If only the universe was on our side and gave us twenty minutes before your mom came here.”

“Sucks to suck, Jung,” you say with a smile.

“You were seconds away from sucking my dick so yeah it sucks that i’m not getting sucked any time soon.”

“JUNG JAEHYUN!” you yell, throwing a pillow in his direction. “You’re such a prick.”

“A prick who you wanted to fuck not even five minutes ago baby.”

“Well, now I don’t want to. We’re never doing this with anyone home again,” you sigh. “I’m surprised I didn’t pass out from shock when she actually believed me.”

“I’ll see you later tonight, kay?” he asks, quietly slipping his shoes on.

“I don’t know Jae, I think I have a chemistry test to be studying for and shouldn’t spend time with my boyfriend or else I’ll get distracted” you chuckle, batting your eyelashes.

#this was supposed to be cute fluff and now it's just a mess oops #jung jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fluff #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct fluff #jaehyun

501 notes · View notes

wwounu · 6 years ago

Photo

“Knock knock!”

“Come in Blossom I’ll be with you in a sec!”

You walk into the studio with a big pout stuck your face, closely watching Seokmin who’s hurriedly moving around the area. “You’re supposed to say ‘who’s there’…”

The male stops what he’s doing, turning your direction as he releases the widest, laziest smile. “Who’s there?”

“Me!”

“Lame.” Seokmin snorts when you move your hands from your face, revealing your attempt to look as cute as you can. He pulls out a chair and sits on it, patting the chair where his clients usually sit on, “Come here.”

When you sit down, you say, “So is this considered as our first date?”

The word ‘date’ slipped out of your tongue, suddenly causing a tense silence in the air while Seokmin stops to think about it. “… Maybe? If you want it to be.”

“I like the idea of our first date. With that said then — I want to do something special!”

“Special?”

Nodding, you lie on the chair and make yourself comfortable, shifting your head to look up at the man. “I’d like to celebrate with a tattoo.”

Seokmin, laughing, pats your head and messes it up a little, not knowing what to say.

“Gee, on a first date too? I have customers come in and ask me to do weird sorts but, I’ve never had someone wanting to get a tattoo for a first date. It’s a bit of a taboo as well, y’know, tattoos for your girlfriend or boyfriend…”

“I’m not getting your name on my face,” You joke, “but it’s related to you, and no one will notice it right away if things don’t go to plan.”

“Don’t talk about our breakup like that.” Seokmin pouts, making it harder to resist the male’s puppy-likeness.

“I won’t because I know it’s not going to be like that. I’ll make sure it never will be.”

Confidently, Seokmin agrees. “Me too. So what’ll it be?”

Like a natural reflex, Seokmin grabs his book and pen in hand, ready to draw out what you were visualising in your head. You say nothing, yet hold out your right arm, paying attention to the inner part of your wrist.

The tattooist tilts his head, slowly putting his book down as he seriously had no idea what you were doing.

“Here.” You point to the shown spot. “Just a simple tattoo of a key.”

“… A key?” Even though the male wasn’t getting it, he still smiles, handing you the book and pen. “Okay, you’re the boss. Tell me everything about this key.”

So you get drawing of the ideal key you want and tell the size proportion, letting Seokmin get to work as you ask about each other’s day before deciding your plans for later. The tattoo only took ten minutes to do, so Seokmin finished and protected the tattoo with clingfilm and going through the procedure of telling you what to do and not do, even though you’ve heard this all before.

“Yep got it!” You nod repetitively, before getting your hair completely ruined by Seokmin’s hand.

“So impatient!” He stops and holds onto your cheeks, mushing them.

“You’re being very touchy lately.” Muffled, you try to say.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” And you don’t disagree, you liked his playful colour around you, you didn’t mind wanting more. He lets go, sadly, but points back at your fresh tattoo, taking an interest in it.

He’s silent; thinking.

“… I really don’t get why you’d get a key out of all things Blossom, I don’t mean it in a mean way but — Oh.”

He falls silent for the second time, connecting the pieces together when you meet his left wrist, crossing your hand over to join your two hands. It’s like a counterpart to the Seokmin’s lock tattoo, completing it with your new key tattoo.

A matching tattoo.

“Why would you do that?” The male asks in slight disbelief. “You... Didn’t need to do that.”

“Because that lock only causes bad memories. It’s time for it to make new memories, hence, the key.”

“I really don’t deserve it-”

“You do. I wanted to do it for you... The tattoo... It means a lot.” Quietly, you repeat familiar words, hoping Seokmin would understand where you were coming from.

You were going to go on, but Seokmin pulls you into a tight hug, hearing the sobs coming from the male.

“It’s nothing, Seokmin.” You add in advance, knowing he’ll either say sorry or thank you. You feel his nod, holding you closer.

The two of you remain in the studio for half an hour before leaving hand-in-hand in Seokmin’s coat pocket, ready to head to the flower shop and spend the rest of the day there — apparently Seokmin’s client cancelled his appointment, which didn’t bother the man since he got to spend more time with you

The wind chime prettily makes notice of your arrival as you push the door, looking at the customers staring back and forth to the flowers.

Seokmin squeezes your hand, head jerking to indicate your grandparents’ presence.

“Grandma, grandpa!” You cheerfully announce, watching their faces bundle up into smiles. They ask if you’ve eaten and you nod — not mentioning that the thing you ‘ate’ was your shared strawberry milk with Seokmin — and proceeded to move aside to allow the man behind you come into their view. “Grandma, ‘pa, I’d like you to meet Seokmin! He’s a… Close friend of mine.”

Seokmin nods, bowing his head and shaking hands with your grandfather. You must’ve forgotten the face you were holding hands under Seokmin’s pocket, but your grandparents could spot it right away.

Of course, your grandmother slowly moves her way around the counter to stand in front of the tall male, holding onto his arms as she looks from him to you. “Handsome!” She makes out, eyes creasing into smiles.

Appearing flustered at the comment, Seokmin quietly thanks her and doing his best not to laugh, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to laugh too.

Not letting go of Seokmin, which was expected of her, your grandmother happily offers, “He should have dinner with us tonight, yes?”

“Ah um,” Seokmin stammers, “yes! I can stay to eat.”

“Splendid! Y/N how did you and him meet?”

The question raised yours and Seokmin’s eyebrows, clueless of how to reply.

“His dogs,” You answer, “he looks after very energetic dogs.”

“Your grandparents are sweet,” Seokmin comments after that long night, the streets turning quiet as the sky grows dark.

It’s just you and him outside, sat on the steps of your house as you promised to send Seokmin off, stalling to stay by each other’s side more.

“A bit too sweet,” You correct, playing with the flowers clutched in his hands — your grandparents gave it to him as a ‘friendly present’, “sorry about them.”

“No need to be sorry… I like them. They’re a lot like you, they even have your smile.”

“What? No…”

“Uh, yes.” Seokmin argues, placing his face near yours, scrunching it slightly. His face softens again, turning slightly sadder. “I… Have something to tell you.”

The last time you heard those words made you cry non-stop, so you had to be careful this time. “Shoot.”

“I got another tattoo recently,” He nods at your surprised reaction, “it just healed recently.”

“And you didn’t tell me?! Let me see — Can I see?”

With his permission, he moves his coat and tugs down on the neck of his shirt, revealing the tattoo, reading the words ‘and counting’ inked on his collarbone in what looks to be your handwriting.

Hold on — it’s your handwriting. You remember writing this for Seokmin weeks ago… That was all for a tattoo?

Questionably, you gaze at him for him to explain.

“I guess I’m guilty with the tattoo taboo too.” Seokmin giggles, releasing his shirt. “But ‘and counting’ sums up how long you’ve decided to stay, which I don’t have an idea how long that’ll be, but as far as I know it’ll always be ‘and counting’.”

Seokmin looks down, clutching the flowers close to him.

“It’s also… How long I’ve — I’ve been in love… With you.”

It’s hushed near the end yet loud enough to hear, just like the sound of your heartbeat ringing though your ears.

“Sorry, it’s really stupid and-“

He prevents himself finishing his sentence when your lips press on his cheek. “I think it’s sweet. I love it. Thank you.”

“My pleasure Blossom…”

You rest your head on his arm. “Sing to me again. Just one song before you leave.”

“It’s getting cold out, I’ll sing to you tomorrow.”

“But I don’t want it tomorrow,” You huff, “… Please?”

“Just for you.”

With Seokmin and you, his voice and the breeze, the muffles noises from the loud city in the distance, you fell to peace.

Here was the start to the beginning. Well, the beginning was ages ago, or would you consider this as your beginning?

But hey, who’s counting?

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART SIXTEEN — Tattoo Artist!Seokmin x Florist!Reader

i love listening to aj raphael his songs make me happy~ [ check mingyu’s au here! ]

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • nine • ten • eleven • twelve • thirteen • fourteen • fourteen ½ • fifteen • sixteen • seventeen

masterlist

#seokmin #lee seokmin #dokyeom #seokmin texts #seokmin imagines #seokmin au #dokyeom texts #dokyeom imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen seokmin #seventeen #seventeen texts #seventeen opposites attract au #kpop #kpop texts #kpop imagines #tattoo artist!seokmin

119 notes · View notes

a-simple-lee · 6 years ago

Text

Recovery

Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Reader

(Trigger warning: contains descriptions of a panic/anxiety attack)

Description: you have a panic attack, but Tony and Peter are there to help you figure things out. All you want to do is forget about it for a bit, so they try to shift your focus.

A/n: um yeah I was really happy with this until like the end bit but I hope you enjoy it anyway, it seems I've forgotten how to write Tony oof

______________________

Fear. It skulks up behind you, and looms there, a shadow in the back of your mind. You turn to the next page of your revision. Fear bristles like a cat, dark scrawling shapes extending outwards to tap your shoulder. You ignore it. Tony's clanging as he works on his suit makes for a good distraction.

The page of questions & notes seems a few miles away. You pick up a pen and place it on the paper to check the distance hasn't actually changed. Skeletal formulae seem foreign now, and this question doesn't make any sense. You start trying to answer it anyway. Stoichiometric ratios factored in, calculating the moles of Calcium chloride present shouldn't be an issue.

But it is. That's definitely not the right answer, and you can't proceed with the next steps of the question without getting this first bit right.

Break it down into steps, you think. Calculate the moles, the mass of the reactant, then the enthalpy change.

Fear's tendrils snake up your neck. It's cold, but it burns, static paralysing part of your brain. The white noise of Stark's crashing and banging becomes slightly drowned out.

Reworking the numbers, your answer still comes out illogically high. Where's the mistake?

This is only the second question. You're only meant to spend 5 minutes answering this. It should be easy.

Peter's discarded notes lie along the lab counter from yours. There's green pen saying he got full marks. Of course he would. He deserves to.

Perhaps the overestimate will cancel out if you carry on working anyway. Your hand scrawls out three more formula triangles, their symbols etched into muscle memory at this point. This should be easy.

It's not.

None of the formulae you know seem to fix the mess of your calculations. Fear bristles again, and reforms. Changes shape. It's a writhing mass of interwoven pencil scribbles, reaching up to brush your cheek.

Tears fall onto your paper. It's been 45 minutes. You should move onto the next question and give up, but this should be easy, it should be easy, it should be-

Fear swells, pushing, invading, all-consuming. It screams in your conscious, a frigid wave with riptides pulling you in ten different directions at once. You try to push it back, you try, but it's too much, and you're drowning.

You can't breathe.

The fear rises up and into your mouth, down to your lungs. It pushes and pulls and tugs. Your pen clatters to the floor as your ribcage is forced to expand and contract, in and out and in and out, you're breathing too fast but you're drowning, you're drowning.

This thing has control of your body now. You're trapped in a machine that's not following your orders. You sit up and lean against the lab bench, trying to fend off the feeling of something contorting your respiratory system over and over again.

"Shit-" A voice. Tony.

He's rushing around from his corner of the lab, concern lacing his features as his eyes scan your tear-streaked face and heaving chest.

"T-to--ny" It's so hard to speak. You need to talk, explain, but there's too much air passing in and out. Static creeps in at your toes and fingers, arms and legs going numb. Your knees buckle slightly, and you hold your hands up in front of your face. You can't feel them. It's just static.

Tony's in front of you now, hands outstretched but not touching you.

"Hey, hey, deep breaths okay?"

"I-I'm-----so-rry, p-pan---ic--" the words are interspersed with hiccups. Fear isn't letting you speak.

"Look at me, kid. Don't try to talk. Just focus on your breathing. It's okay." Slowly, cautiously, he places a hand on your arm. You grip onto the lifeline. The fear recoils slightly.

It's a long, slow five minutes of gaining back your bodily control after that. Of trying to breathe in for seven seconds, and failing, and trying again until it works.

One, two, three, four, five-

One, two, three-

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. There.

You don't realise it's Tony counting the whole time until you take your first controlled breath in what feels like eons.

"Well done, kid. You okay?" He mutters, and you give him a weak smile.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Thank you." There are still hiccups interrupting your speech, but they're less persistent. You can breathe by yourself again.

Tony pulls your chair closer, and you sit down facing him. He's crouched down, still trying to read you.

"S-sorry, I had a panic attack." It feels good to be able to say it without gasping for air.

"I know. It's fine. They're normal. Do you want to talk about it?"

"N-no. I think I need to-" hiccup. "-take my mind off it for a bit first."

"Okay. Wanna come help me? Or I could get Pete to come down-"

"Yeah, can we get Pete?"

So Tony leaves you in the lab with a glass of water whilst he goes to get Peter. You blindly reach out and slam your chemistry revision shut. It's about five minutes before he comes back, Pete bouncing down the stairs behind him. They give you a smile as they come in, and you smile back.

"Hey, so what're we working on?" Peter asks, pausing to hug you on his way in. The three of you stride over to Tony's bench, and the afternoon dissolves into terrible puns and light jibes at one another. It's exactly what you need. They're what you need.

"So the attendant says have a nice flight, and then-" You can't finish your sentence because you're laughing too hard, but you don't need to, because Peter steps in to clear things up.

"-and then I said 'You too'." He sighs, smiling slightly and pretending not be be embarrassed as Tony snorts.

"You're a disaster."

"He knows," you laugh, typing in one last command word on the computer before leaving the work alone. It's finished.

"So," Tony begins as you start packing up. "What are we having for dinner?"

"Pizza?" You suggest, holding the door open for the others.

"Sure."

Eight o'clock. The first episode of Star Trek: Discovery is playing on Netflix, and you're waiting for the pizza to arrive.

"My attack. It was about Chemistry," you say over the TV. Tony turns the volume down.

"I got stuck on a question and I just-I don't know. Sometimes I feel stupid. Peter gets it so easily, and it takes me so much longer to understand. Anyway, it wasn't that big of a deal, so I don't know why it happened. But yeah. Thanks for earlier. I just needed time to calm down. Still do."

Your mentor just nods, wrapping an arm around you.

"No problem. Pete and I are great at distracting people, anyway," he grins.

"Nah, I think that's just you, Mr. Stark." Peter chimes in.

"True," you laugh, and Pete leans over to give you a high-five.

Tony's hand tries to withdraw itself from around your torso, giving it a gentle squeeze in what is probably meant to be a calming gesture. But it tickles, so you find yourself yelping slightly and twitching away

instead.

"Gah-don't!"

"Shit, did I hurt you? Sorry-"

"No, no, It just- I'm ticklish."

"Oh?"

You've definitely made a mistake, but you don't realise this until Tony all but corners you against the couch, fingers skittering experimentally over your sides.

"Ahahaha-Tony!"

"Now why didn't you tell me this earlier?" He ignores your please for mercy, hands finding purchase in the gaps between your ribs. This is now an exploration, and Tony has every intention of mapping out all of your sensitive spots.

"Yohou dihidn't ask!" You answer, trying desperately to squirm away but failing miserably. Tony's vibrating his fingers into your tummy, which tickles way more than should be allowed. Your body curls inwards in an attempt to shut him out, but traps his hands there instead.

"Tohohony-plehehease! Mehehercy!"

"Hmm, let me think about that." He extracts one of his hands to spider under your arm, and grins when you let out a shriek. "Nah."

You catch Peter in the corner of your eye, moving to leave.

"Hey, kid! Where do you think you're going?" Tony pauses his onslaught, giving you time to catch your breath in amongst residual giggles.

"I-uh-I need to get plates for the pizza?"

"Don't worry, I'll get 'em in a minute."

Peter comes back, and is about to sit down when Tony starts tickling you again.

"No-wait- Tohohony! Ihihi'm gohohohonna-" you're about to threaten him when he cuts you off with a smirk.

"You're gonna what? Laugh?"

"Nohoho! Pehehete, hehelp me!"

"Kid, stay out of this." Tony turns to give Peter a look of warning. You hear Peter respond, but can't make out the words above your own laughter. An instant later, Peter appears behind Tony, and tweaks his sides.

"Ah-what did I tell you?" He yelps, turning around and attacking Peter. His laughter rings through the room not seconds later, interspersed with pleas for mercy. You take a few seconds to recover, before deciding it's probably best that you help Pete.

As far as distractions go, you reckon this counts as a pretty good one.

#tickle fic #marvel #mcu #tony stark #peter parker #irondad #ticklish!reader #ticklish!peter #ticklish!tony #fluff #reader insert

120 notes · View notes

otheroutlandertales · 6 years ago

Photo

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Witches - Part 8

by @whiskynottea

Hours had passed when Claire finally woke up. The light was dim in the room, the house quiet, the blankets around her body so warm and inviting that she spent a good five minutes contemplating staying in bed.

Five good minutes of chasing dreams before she was crushed by reality.

She sat up quickly and felt light-headed, the heavy wooden furniture of the room blurring around the edges. She squeezed her eyes closed and took two deep breaths before the world settled onto its axis.

How many hours had she slept?

Claire’s stomach growled and she realized that she had eaten nothing for almost a day. Broth, Jenny had said, waiting for her in the kitchen. Not her first choice of food, but something warm and nourishing was what she really needed.

Claire got hastily out of bed, forgetting about her wounded shoulder until she felt the bandages restraining her movements. The pain had subsided considerably and she smiled, proud of Jenny’s work.

“Removing the bullet, putting me to sleep,” Claire murmured as she scanned the room searching for her clothes. “We’ll forget who the healer is in this house.”

Claire dressed with strained moves, now mindful of her injury. She was surprised when she found her body had gone through the inflammatory period of healing in just a few hours of sleep. Once she got something to eat, she would heal her shoulder to the best of her ability. If she would focus on the regeneration of the muscular fibers and formation of the connective tissue scar, the wound might soon be just itchy, if not a little sore.

No matter how content she was with her healing process, and thankful for a few hours of rest, Claire felt guilty for letting precious time pass. She knew there weren’t many days left until Alex’s execution. No matter Jenny’s visions and Brian’s inquiries, they had to leave for Fort William soon. The invisible noose of time was gradually closing around their necks.

Claire walked down the stairs, passed by the empty parlour and headed for the kitchen, the only room of the house that looked lived in. They were all there. A bit paler than she had left them, and with eyes red and tired, but their gazes when she entered the room were fierce and determined.

Frasers, all three of them. She should have known. They wouldn’t rest until Alex was safe in Ceana’s arms, away from the redcoats. If all went according to the plan the two of them would escape to Stornoway and would live there, forever lost to the world.

“Claire!” Jamie talked first, rising from his chair and motioning for her to sit down. “Do ye feel better, lass?”

Claire took a moment to look at him. It was strange, how he’d gone from calling her a witch and telling her how dangerous she was for his family, to asking her if she would be safe in the future and then searching for her in the midst of nowhere to bring her back home. Hadn’t he even told her this morning that she wasn’t allowed to leave after Alex was rescued? Did he want her here, now?

What had changed? Had Jenny boxed his ears as she had promised she would?

It was at that moment, when she bombarded herself with questions she didn’t know the answers to, when Claire realized that the way he had looked at her the first day was the same as the night he’d found her. He wasn’t angry; he was afraid. Not afraid of her, but afraid for her -- for them all. And the softness in his eyes when she met his gaze suddenly made sense.

“Will ye stand there all night, Claire?” Jenny’s voice brought her back to the present, and she took the two steps that kept her away from Jamie and the chair. He moved aside, smiling at her, and went to the parlour to fetch another one.

Jenny stood up and moved about, and a few moments later set a bowl of lukewarm broth and two oatcakes in front of Claire. “Eat.”

“I’m eating,” Claire rose an eyebrow together with her spoon, “and you’re speaking. What have you seen?”

“Not much, but enough.”

Ceana, who had entered the kitchen right after Jamie left, sniffled back tears when she heard Jenny’s gloomy tone. One look at the girl was enough for Claire to imagine the streams of tears she had shed during the past few days. But Ceana’s jaw was set, her hands clasped together in a defiant manner. Painful though it was, she would go through whatever they needed to do to get Alex away from Captain Randall.

Jamie came back into the kitchen and sat down on the chair he carried under his arm, right between Jenny and Claire. “Did ye tell Claire?” he asked his sister, reaching for an oatcake only to have his hand slapped by Jenny.

“I’m waiting for her to eat first,” she replied, her voice stern. “And she doesna need help wi’ her food, brother.”

Jamie shrugged, although a light blush rose upon his cheeks. They didn’t speak much until Claire finished her food. Every time they fell silent, the air in the kitchen got heavy with anticipation and sorrow.

“I’m listening,” Claire announced, pushing her plate away.

“I’ve seen him twice, Claire. The Captain, I mean.” Jenny paused, biting her lips as she glanced at Ceana. “Do ye want to go to yer room, lass? Ye don’t need to hear the details of it.”

“No.” Ceana sat straight, looking at Jenny straight in the eye. “I decided…” She looked uncertain for a moment, then cleared her throat and spoke again. “I need to know what is happening in that cell.” Jenny nodded. Brian and Jamie gave her similar heartening smiles.

“Captain Randall is beating Alex. And he is using him.” Jenny swallowed hard and lowered her gaze on the table, eyes fixed on the sturdy wood. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, as though the words had failed her. “He takes him to bed,” she added, at last, her voice almost a whisper.

A gasp came from Ceana’s side, but no other comment followed. Jenny continued. “Randall goes to his cell every night after dinner.”

“Sick bastard.” Hatred echoed in Jamie’s words. Brian coughed in warning, and his son didn’t say more.

“He doesn’t want to be heard.” Claire belatedly realized that she had spoken aloud. Jenny nodded, her face grim.

“The execution is in five days,” Brian’s deep voice made all eyes turn towards him. “We could report him, but I dinna think we would be fast enough to save Alex. Were it not to fall on deaf ears, that is.” He sighed, resigned, as if he’d rather not mouth the next words. “If you want to save the lad, ye must leave tomorrow.”

“This is what we’ll do, then,” Claire agreed.

“Yer shoulder?” The frown on Jamie’s forehead got deeper.

“I’ll heal it tonight. I feel better already; Jenny did a magnificent job.” Jenny beamed hearing Claire’s praise, but looked at her uneasily, as if she didn’t really believe her. “I can take care of the rest by myself,” Claire insisted. “Now that I’ve slept and eaten.”

“D’ye get the poison and the antidote?”

“I did. Raymond gave me both, before…” Her voice failed her. Before what? Before she disappeared? Before he died? She couldn’t complete the sentence.

Jenny didn’t let her. She spoke again, too quickly to seem casual, but Claire welcomed the distraction. “I think Jamie has to come wi’ us,” Jenny proposed, her slanted blue eyes searching for Claire’s.

“Why?” Claire questioned, eyes darting between the two siblings, unsure if there was more in Jenny’s visions than she let them know with Ceana present.

“He can carry Alex until we reach the horses. Ceana has told us Alex is thin, and he is so in my visions, but ye’ll be frail after using yer powers Claire, and I don’t think Ceana and I can carry a man if he’s paralyzed or anesthetized.”

Claire didn’t know what to say. This was new to her, and totally unexpected. She hadn’t told Jenny, but in the worst case scenario, she planned to take them all away to another time. Four people were a lot, but five? She didn’t know if she could do it. She was sure she couldn’t, especially after stopping the poisoning and making sure Alex would live.

“It will be better, Claire.” Jamie was resolute and stubborn as always. “I can look out for ye, if I’m there.” His eyes glinted, but his easy smile was not enough to persuade Claire.

Five people meant that their initial plan was all they had. No alternative. No plan B. She didn’t even want to think about it.

“Do we know at what time does the Captain have his dinner?” Claire asked, more to divert her thoughts than to suspend Jamie’s anxiety as to whether he would be a part of their mission.

“Around seven,” Brian supplied, most probably getting some intelligence of his own to complement Jenny’s visions.

“I wish we knew when he visits Alex.”

Claire thought everything over. Raymond, her sweet Raymond, had included a syringe and a needle in the package. He knew that curare wasn’t effective if administered orally and had saved her the trouble of cutting Alex raw to apply the poison on the wounds. Doing the injections would save her the time she needed to heal the cuts and clean the blood before they left his cell. She would need approximately fifteen minutes to talk to Alex, convince him they were not witches -- this is why they needed Ceana -- and make him relax to start with intramuscular injections that would paralyze his arms and legs.

“Curare has a range of action between thirty minutes and eight hours, dependent on the administration, the product, and the dose. If we suppose that Raymond has found me the clearest curare available, which I’m sure he has…” Claire looked intently at the empty plate in front of her while making calculations. “If I use a moderate dosage, and increase it in case it’s ineffective, we can more or less expect the poison to reach its full effect about thirty minutes after I do the intramuscular injections.”

“The what?” Jamie asked, and the way he screwed up his face made Claire chuckle.

“Injections. A syringe, a needle… I can show you later,” Claire said invitingly, both eyebrows raised in a challenge.

Jamie’s eyes widened, blue changing into black. “No, thanks.”

Jenny shook her head and smacked her brother lightly. “Claire knows what she’s doing.”

“I ken. I just have never heard about such a thing before.”

“Intravenous injections started back in the 17th century, actually. The syringe used back then, however, was a crude device. Raymond has given me one from the 20th century. It is precise and the needle is thin, so the pain it causes is substantially less.”

“I dinna think Alex will mind a wee needle,” Ceana murmured, the colour gone from her face.

“Aye, of course. Ye’re right lass.” Jamie pressed his lips together bashfully, regretting the change of subject. With a glance at Claire, he implored her to continue.

“What was I saying?” she wondered, trying to buy time to decide how much she would divulge.

“Thirty minutes to get the effect,” Jenny reminded her and Claire could see her friend was trying to form their plan of action in her head.

“Right. Which means that if we get there at seven, and I finish by seven fifteen, the paralysis onset will be around seven forty-five. But we can ask Alex how meticulous Randall is considering the time he visits. If he follows a schedule we can calculate the time of the injections to be more precise. And we will have everything ready before Alex gets paralyzed.”

She didn’t want to say how by ‘everything’ she meant the noose, or to reveal the last, intravenous injection that would paralyze Alex’s diaphragm to make the suicide seem real. The injection that would require Randall to be on time for his visit to find Alex and the guards to dispose of Alex’s body quickly for Claire to reach him, administer the antidote and force some oxygen into his lungs. She didn’t want them to know how Alex would have his senses throughout his ordeal, how he would feel the pain, how he would not be able to swallow and would feel choked in his own saliva. How easily he could be killed by curare, and that if his heart stopped in the process Claire would have three to four minutes to get to him before losing him forever. She didn’t want them to know what being a healer means. The terrible decisions you have to make, and how often you walk on the precipice between right and wrong. She couldn’t tell them. Not all of them, anyway. She might tell Jenny later.

“Pa-paralyzed?” Ceana mumbled, confirming Claire did right not to inform them about the ugliness of the situation.

“There is no other way, lass,” Jenny reassured her, taking Ceana’s trembling hand between hers. “It won’t be permanent.”

“And then?” the girl asked.

“Alex will hang himself.” When Claire’s voice faded, the kitchen was so quiet one would think no one breathed in the room, no heart was strong enough to keep beating. Not when they all faced what they had to do.

“But how? How will we save him if he hangs himself?” The despair in Ceana’s voice made Claire’s heart shrink inside her chest.

“Alex has to hang himself when he hears Randall approach the cell. If everything goes well, he will be paralyzed and Randall will think he’s dead.”

Because he will be close to death, Claire thought.

“Judging by what Randall has done to the lad, he won’t be happy to let the doctor examine the prisoner. What we believe,” Jenny hesitated, realising that ‘believe’ wasn’t a strong word to console Ceana. But it was the true one. “We believe that he will order the body to be disposed of, at the place everyone ends up after the noose.”

“We will be there, at the east side of Fort William. Claire will give Alex the antidote and I will carry him back to the horses,” Jamie’s belief in the plan was unquestionable. “We’ll be back in no time, lass.”

“What d’ye mean? I’m coming wi’ ye.”

“Ceana, a nighean…” Brian was calm as he talked to the girl. Claire looked between him and Jenny, trying to understand when this change of plans occurred. Ceana was supposed to be with them to help Alex believe they had come to his rescue. In his emotional distress, a familiar face would be necessary to calm him and explain the plan before the injections began.

Brian kept talking and Jamie agreed with his Da, insisting that the risk was bigger than the profit, but Ceana had none of that. When they turned to look at Jenny for help, she shook her head in a negating manner. Both men glared at her. “What?” she exclaimed. “I would want to go if it was my man in that cell.”

With Claire’s assertive, “Me too,” Ceana’s face changed with a victorious smile. Her first smile in weeks. “We need Ceana,” Claire added. “It will be easier if Alex sees someone he loves.”

“Aye, ye’re coming, then.” Jamie sighed in defeat. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

Claire didn’t mention she hadn’t agreed to his coming, but she was tired and Jamie would insist on coming anyway. Jenny rose from the table, and Ceana followed her. When they left the room, Claire looked at the men and spoke again. “Once Alex is safe, I’ll leave again. Jenny won’t let me, but you two have to understand.”

Two pairs of blue eyes looked at her incredulously. “Ye’re family, Claire.” Brian’s deep voice ran straight into her heart. “We canna do what ye’re asking, we canna let ye go. Unless ye don’t want to stay here, that is.”

Jamie didn’t say a word, but his fingers kept drumming a frantic tune on the table. “Is it because of what I said to ye that first day?” he finally asked, his voice soft. “I didna mean it that way, Claire. All I meant to say was --”

“No, this is not your fault, Jamie,” Claire interrupted him. “You called me a witch when you met me, and this is what I am. I was lucky to find another witch, one with a big mouth and a bigger heart but I…” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Jenny won’t let me do it, but I have to go. I have to make sure you’ll be safe. You’re my family, right? This is what families do, they take care of each other.”

She rose from her chair before either of them had time to state their disagreement. And as Claire walked up the stairs to her room, she lingered outside Jenny’s door and felt a part of her heart falling behind, always safe within the walls of Lallybroch.

#outlander fanfiction #otheroutlandertales #mod whisky #ch: Claire #ch: Jenny #ch: Jamie #ch: Brian #canon AU #category: general #witches #oot

76 notes · View notes