#//Still as he senses her suddenly approach; then just MELTS the instant her hands cup his face; the FIRST gentle touch he’s felt in YEARS

[dutybcrne]

Need smth to heal the soul

Now imagining Adelinde still squooshing Diluc’s face in her hands, bc no matter how old and rough’s tough that man may get, he is still her baby. Her dearest son boy. Her sweet little angel (forget that he has Murdered)

[peakywitch]

Tommy X reader with Prompt no.24 please❤️❤️❤️

Charlie, Mommy and Daddy - Tommy Shelby

Hi beautiful! sorry for keeping you waiting, life is crazy. 

words: 3.5k WOW

warnings: usual, bad language, mentions of dead people and war, angst and fights. 

PART TWO COMING SOON DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF LOVE GOT!!

masterlist

prompt: 24 “Pack your shit and leave. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

As the last days of October approached, Y/N already knew that Tommy's birthday was near. He had never revealed the date, so a few years ago Y/N started celebrating it one of the many days that were after the twentieth. First, it was the 21st, the next year the 22nd, and so on.

He always smiled at the vanilla and chocolate cake that she baked especially for him.

"Did I guess right?" she always asked, with a tired smile, her hair with a little flour and Charlie in her arms.

"Flavor? Yes. The date? Maybe." He answered, with a mischievous and funny smile.

That October 25, 1925, was like any other. While Tommy was in Watery Lane dealing with legal problems, Y/N and Charlie were trying to finish baking a cake.

"Why do we cook?" Charlie asked, as he walked and stumbled through the kitchen.

"Because today... might be daddy's birthday, Charlie." Y/N smiled, as she finished transferring the yellow mixture to a baking dish.

"How many years is daddy turning?" The woman could hear the question even over the creaking noise of the oven door opening.

"Five hundred." Y/N joked, leaving the tray in the oven and closing the door.

Charlie exploded into euphoric laughter.

After a few minutes, the boy asked a question:

“Is mummy going to congratulate daddy for his birthday? Is she coming back?”

The question left his lips so careless, he never understood. But what could someone expect from a four-year-old? But, although he didn´t understand the subject, Tommy actually never told him. “She went away.” He said whenever Charlie asked. He also never answered the “when is she coming back” question.

 “I think you should ask that to your father, Charles.” She answered slightly, he then bolted out into the garden to kick off wilted autumn leaves and on the ground.

While cleaning everything they used to cook, Y/N doubted that Thomas’s birthday was today, but she was sure he was turning 35. The age difference tormented them a bit, but for only seven years. Although in the past it had been the subject of discussion and disagreements, both were clear that one knew more than the other about certain things. Y/N didn't understand anything about politics or horses, and Tommy had no idea how he should act in situations of extreme emotional sensitivity. But they tried, Y/N tried to pet the horses and Tommy wiped her tears with a white handkerchief that had her name embroidered on it but was always in his pocket.

The half-hour of baking went by quickly, Y/N could only think about whether or not today was Tommy's birthday, she was hoping she could find out.

“Is this how it will be? Will I come to my house and watch you cook while my son plays outside?" asked a smile at the door.

The voice took her by surprise, forcing the girl to drop a spoon mixing chocolate. It fell to the floor, staining the white marble brown. It could have been worse, Tommy thought seeing the mess he caused in an instant, it could have been blood.

"Tommy!" she smiled, then hugged him tightly. "Happy possible birthday, possible birthday boy." She said in his ear, as she stroked his nape with her flour-stained hand.

He thanked her and kissed her forehead.

"So… I guessed right?" she laughed, Tommy could only keep his smile on his face, looking into her eyes “Oh come on. Tell me yes once, or at least tell me that I did well one of these last times. "

"Maybe." He said softly, after clearing his throat. He pulled away from her, leaned against the wall, and stroked his lip with a cigarette that he pulled from a metal box once his back was against the wall.

"I'll put salt in your coffee." She laughed as she cleaned up the mess.

"I don't drink coffee, Y/N." he smoked.

"Then... I'll move all the whiskey bottles around for you and hide them." She backed off, rinsing off the dropped spoon.

"I have them locked up and you know it." He reminded her.

Both looks smiled.

…

When the clock struck midnight, Charlie had been asleep for four hours. Tommy and Y/N had been talking about life in his office. Thomas had a glass of Irish in his hand and Y/N had a cup of tea.

The fire was loud, but the photo of Grace kept in Thomas's left desk drawer screamed in Y/N's mind. Charlie's questions echoed too, and that made the poor woman bite her lip with fervor.

"Y/N" Tommy clarified his voice "would you be so kind as to explain to me that you are so stressed out?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Charlie should know."

Without warning or a proper introduction, Y/N spat out what was so killing her. Although she told her husband a lot, she did not tell him about those times he murmured her name in his dreams. Neither of her constant demand to be like her. Because she felt like he was never going to love her the way he loved Grace. She wasn't asking him to love her more than Charlie, she would never ask that. But she felt like she could never fill Grace's place.

"The what?" he asked, lighting a cigarette and settling into the single chair.

“About Grace, Tom. Don't play games with me." She replied, setting the cup of tea on the small glass table that was holding the bottle of whiskey.

"I already told him, a month ago." He said as if nothing.

Tommy had that talent. He spoke of love, death, and war as if they were as simple as numbers. Two plus two is four, you love, you die and people kill. There was never a sugar coating with others. But with Grace's death, it was never like that. Maybe it never would be, but he had to be an adult and explain the truth to his child in a simple way.

“You told him she's gone, he thinks he's in America, Tommy. I think you should…” she continued, insisting softly in her voice.

"Are you telling me how to raise my son, Y/N?" he asked, after taking the cigarette from his lips and pointing at her.

Y/N didn't speak, but pressed her lips tighter, trying not to blurt out a mention about all those times Charlie called her Mom when he was really tired.

She looked at the gold band on her ring finger, her chest sank. She swallowed hard, forgetting how to breathe and starting to breathe rapidly.

"Because if there's one of the two of us who can give a talk about parenting…" Tommy started, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it into the fire. "It's me."

"It's me." Y/N laughed, mimicking him. The comments, the stories, the complaints, and the sadness would not be tolerated anymore. "You never..." she began, trying to be as cordial as possible, it was late.

"Here we fuckin' go," Tommy complained, blinking slowly but not moving. He remained static, imposingly static.

“Yes, here we fuckin’ go, you bloody idiot. I know Charlie more than you do; I saw him more than you in these last four years. " Y/N got up from the comfortable sofa, starting to walk through her husband's private office. "Besides…!" the words hurt when leaving, everything she wanted to talk to him and never could, was coming out in the worst way, between screams and tears “Besides, I don't know what the hell to say when he asks me if I'm his mother! Because...!" the words suddenly stopped, they just didn't come out anymore.

Tommy was staring at her frowning; anger ran through his body.

“If you know him better than I do, why don't you tell him in a way that doesn't hurt, eh? Tell him about your bloody God and the angels, why don't you bring her flowers with him too?!"

The questions shot out of him after he jumped up like a bullet from his chair.

"Take him and tell him, tell him the story because I can't! Because I don't want to be the one to tell him that Grace is dead and that she won't be back!” she screamed back at him.

Both faces were transformed, Tommy had never looked so helpless and Y/N at first couldn't understand why Tommy couldn't do it until she had an epiphany.

"Oh my god..." Y/N whispered, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes were brimming with tears, her nose was turning red "You still... you still love her."

Thomas's face remained the same as before, did not change with the passing of seconds.

Everything was starting to make sense.

She suspected it, but now she was sure that that woman was still in his heart. She denied every thought and sent it to the back of her mind, ignoring the pain and anger. But she didn't realize it, until today.

“That's why you don't want to have any more children…” she whispered “You are not afraid to die and leave your children alone, Shelby. You don't want anything that isn't hers…” The realization broke her heart, her tears had a life of their own, they all went at different rates falling down her face “My God, what an idiot I was! At what point did I think you loved me!?" she screamed.

Then nothing.

There was only silence. On both sides. One could only hear the fire, like a few minutes ago.

"Why are you with me?" she asked, her heart ready to break again “Do I have her eyes? Do I have the same perfume?" she began to question, as she tapped him lightly on the shoulders and tried to keep her gaze on his blue eyes.

"Do I have her hands? Or what the fuck is it? I kiss just like her, huh? What the hell of her do you see in me?" she asked even more hysterical, her heart wouldn't stop beating and breaking every second, with every word.

Then, with only a few words everything went to hell:

“Mommy? Why are you hitting Daddy?”

Both adults looked at the little boy, standing on the door on his sleeping clothes. His hair was messy and had the cutest sleepy face ever. It melted Y/N’s heart, but Tommy didn’t care about no one else.

“I’ll be up in a minute, Charlie, go to bed.” She murmured while getting closer to the kid “Everything is fine, don’t worry…” she kissed his forehead and he disappeared, so she closed the door.

Y/N turned around and saw Tommy making a phone call, balancing the tube between his ear and shoulder while he served more Irish on his glass.

“Yes, yes please…okay, right now. Carnaby Street, the second house on your left. Yes… thank you.” He hung up and drank more.

“Tommy…” Y/N mumbled while trying to get closer to him.

He ignored her, walking towards a bookshelf across the room. He opened a book while being watched over by his wife.

“Please, I’m sorry. I…” she was about to burst down into tears, she was feeling helpless.

Tommy took a couple of papers from inside the book and left them on the black desk.

“Twenty pounds. Grab ‘em, pack your shit, and go.” He coldly commanded.

“Wha…what?”

Suddenly there was no more air in the room, it was also getting tinnier and tinnier. Her feelings were strangling her soul, she would fall defenseless on the floor at any given time.

“We need to be alone.” He said, and there it was again. He was being artistically careless as always.

“I don’t need to be away from you, I want to be with you and…”

“A car will be here in ten minutes, pack your things.”

He lit a cigar and sat on his black chair, then proceeded to do some paperwork.

“Tommy…” she cried softly, he was breaking her heart into a million pieces. “You are breaking my heart, please…”

“Nine minutes.” He muttered, without even looking at her.

How could he not care about here? The question was on her mind when she left him alone in his office, the doubt and the pain only grew bigger and bigger as she walked up the stairs to their room.

She opened the door, and everything came back to her.

The feelings she had ten years ago, seeing him date other women while she waited patiently for him to notice her, comforting him all those long nights after the war where he would just cry silently, him exchanging her arms for Grace’s and replacing her in every aspect with the Irish woman… Every single moment washed over her. Like an abnormal gigantic wave, it shook her. She suddenly became lost, she forgot where her dresses were, where her shoes were, and where the man she always loved was. But most importantly, she wondered if there ever was any love in him for her.

“Mommy?” a soft voice asked, and she came back to reality.

There, in the massive bed, was a little body wearing white pyjamas, hugging a stuffed bunny.

He looked sad and tired, just as she did.

“Hey” she susurrated while getting closer to him. She sited on the bed by his side and hugged him. “Charlie…” she whispered while caressing his hair “I have to leave, but we’ll see each other, alright?” Y/N tried to contain her tears, but they were being obedient to her heart.

“No!” he cried, hugging her as tightly as he could “Don’t leave me!”

The little boy was a mess, he was hugging her desperately while crying. She wrapped her arms around him, and another wave washed over her, but this time it was guilt and sorrow.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie…” she started to repeat his name quickly, trying to get the kid to look at her “Charlie…look…look at me, Charlie.”

His blue eyes were bloodshot, and his lips were trembling, there was no way Y/N would leave the kid alone here. Charlie was her son, either Tommy liked it or not.

“Grab your coat, you are coming with me. We are going a few days with Auntie Esme, okay?” she cleaned his tears with her thumb and the little kid did the same with hers.

“Don’t cry, mommy.” She smiled with an expression of sadness, then kissed his forehead.

“Don’t forget Mr. Whiskers, he has to come with us so he doesn’t feel lonely without you.”

“Okay…” he whispered and then left.

She started to pack everything she could, which in five minutes it means: two blouses, one pair of pants, a few undergarments, and three dresses. She also took a few things for Charlie. Everything was in the brown leather handbag that had her initials.

“I’m ready.” Said Charlie, while appearing on the doorway with Mr. Whiskers on his left hand and his book Y/N read for him every night.

“Alright, are you ready to have a fun week with your cousins?” she asked while closing her bag, trying to cheer the little boy.

“Yes!” he said, with a smile.

She took her bag and walked to the door, she was now by his side. She saw the room one last time, she knew that was the last time she would leave it with it being “their” room. Because she knew this was the end, it was now Tommy’s room, as it always was.

Tommy’s room. Tommy’s house. Tommy’s kitchen. Everything belonged to him, even she did.

“There’s a car waiting for you, Ms. Shelby.” Said Frances, with a polite smile.

“Thank you, Frances…” she said, and turned around, closing the door. “Let’s go, Charlie.”

She lifted the kid and left him on her hip, while he gripped into her trying not to fall.

“We are going to Auntie Esme’s, we will have lots of fun and…”

She said a lot of things trying to cheer him up, but she was trying to convince herself she wouldn’t cry more that one night for that man.

She walked down the stairs lost in the sorrow, trying to hold everything in place. The kid, the bag, the feelings. She tried to get to the door before Thomas acknowledgement, but he was there, looking at her as if she was just a stranger. But Y/N knew that look on his face. That’s the way he looked at Sabini, that was the way he looked at Kimber before he shot him dead. He was looking at her as if she was his enemy, one who he had to erase.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going with Charlie, eh?” he asked, abruptly and aggressively.

“He´s coming with me.” She said, trying to sound secure and big.

“He’s staying here, this is his house.” He fired back “And I’m his father.”

“But I’m his home.” She fought, Charlie’s face was buried on her neck, he was so confused. “And you are never there for him at night when he cries, neither in the morning when he wants to have breakfast. You are only there to punish him, or to tell him to fuck off because you are working. And he needs time and someone, not a shit tone of money and a massive castle.”

“He’s not your son.”

“Yes, I am.” He cried on her ear, wetting her neck. “You are my mommy.” He kept on crying, he was nervous and scared. He was never in their fights.

“Move countries, I don’t give a fuck anymore. Get the fuck out of my sight, Y/N. Both of you.” He sounded like a mad dog, but at the same time like a lost one. He began to walk away, but froze when he heard:

“Goodbye, Mr. Shelby.”

He couldn’t move, he stood right there. Y/N shut the door slightly and walked straight into the car. She saluted the chauffer and gave him John and Esme’s address.

Ten minutes into the drive, Charlie began to miss Tommy.

“We will have fun, okay? We will play with their dogs, and we will eat freshly picked eggs. We can also go to the lake and do picnics with auntie Esme, how does that sound?” he nodded.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: open

@a-golden-sunflower-vol-6

@fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby 

@stydia-4-ever

[writefightandflightclub]

Tiptoe around this (Poe Dameron x reader)

Summary: Poe x short!reader. He CANNOT deal with your smolness.

Rating: TEEN

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs this week bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (I’m doing these quickly so I can complete as many as I can for you, so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) This one deleted itself and then I ahd to recreate it from nothing. The first version was better and probably had fewer typos but here we are. Ran out of time to check before dinner!

Warnings: short!reader; kissing (mildly steamy, no smut or implied smut).

GIF: @thestarwarsdaily​ LOOK HOW PRETTY

Poe’s dying. He swears he’s dying.

He’s doing his best to obscure this fact from Rey and Finn, however, so continues engaging in casual chat all the while as he hurtles towards his demise.

Poe’s dying, and, cause of death? Your cuteness.

Poe watches you surreptitiously from across the hangar. Watches as you realise someone has stolen your step ladders again, despite the fact you etched your kriffing name onto them in Aurebesh last time this happened. And so, to reach the tools you need -valiantly struggling on with your tasks anyway- you clamber up the face of the shelves and stretch to your full length as you attempt to grab down the box.

It appears you can’t quite reach them, even having climbed into a pretty precarious position.

The trouble is, you’re just too kriffing smol.

And it kills Poe. Every single time.

Of course, your height is only one of the reasons he likes you. He’s never even had a preference for his partner’s height before, to be honest. There’s just something about you. Something about how short you are which brings out his protective instincts. Makes him want to hold you and take care of you and spoil you. And Poe is already the type of guy to spoil his partner, so you can imagine how he feels about you.

Oh, and it certainly helps that you’re so kriffing gorgeous too. And funny. And nice. And did he mention SMOL?

Poe would never be patronising towards you because of your size, of course. He knows you’ve been underestimated plenty of times because of it - by both the enemy and allies- and without good reason! You might be cute to a lethal degree, but Poe is also well aware that you’re badass, capable, intelligent, and fierce. Small but mighty, you could say.

Still, when he sees you on your tippy toes trying to reach the box of parts, his heart melts and dribbles out of his feet. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like.

Death, by cuteness.

As you continue to persevere, Poe stops pretending to listen to Finn and Rey’s chatter altogether, a dopey smile settling on his face. He stands from the chair he’s straddling to zoom over to you, before some other handsome, height-endowed recruit can come to your assistance. He couldn’t have that, now, could he?

“Hey,” he says from behind you, a warm and gentle hand settling on your shoulder in greeting. “Can I help you?”

Poe hopes he can reach the damn shelf, because whilst he’s certainly taller than you are, he’s not exactly Chewy. Now, that would be embarrassing.

“Sure,” you say, even as you huff and puff, successfully grappling the box down to the floor without any further intervention. You recognise the Commander’s familiar, sandy voice before you even turn around, but when you do, you flash him a warm smile, and he could swear -if you killed him a moment ago- that smile has revived him back to life. “You can tell your damn recruits to stop stealing my ladders, Commander. I wouldn’t tolerate this behaviour from my squadron.”

You’re adorable, for sure, but there’s a fire in your eyes telling Poe you are not to be messed with. In fact, he’s sure that given half a chance you could raze the whole First Order to the ground, even if you did the whole thing on your tip toes.

Poe simply looks at you goofily, trying to remember how to speak, your eyes big as you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes. You’re basically a whole head shorter than him, if not more, and he can’t help but want to pull you into a hug, imagining how it would feel to enfold you against his chest and rest his chin on top of your head as his arms wound around you.

“Commander?” you ask again, clicking your fingers in front of his face. “I’m sick of doing everything on my tiptoes - I’m not a ballerina.”

Your gesture brings him back to the real world, and he notices the rolled-up sleeves of your flight suit as they hover in front of his face, his eyes dropping to the rolled-up cuffs of the legs resting on top of your boots. Standard-issue is too long for you and… yes, you’ve guessed it…

Kriffing adorable.

“Sure thing, Commander,” he finally says, still retaining that dopey, lovestruck expression on his face.

You nod to thank him, getting lost in his umber eyes somewhere along the way. He’s always entirely flustered when he speaks to you, and quite frankly, it’s so adorable that it makes your heart melt out of your feet. At least, that’s what it feels like.

You like Poe, and you think he likes you, but... both of you have been tiptoeing around this for far too long now.

“You know, there’s maybe one thing I like to do on my tiptoes,” you say with a knowing smirk as Poe looks helplessly between your eyes and lips, helplessly lost in yearning.

“What’s that?” he asks, and he can swear he intended the words to come out at a normal volume, despite the fact a mere whisper is all that emerges. Still, he’s happy as it causes you to lean in closer.

“Kissing,” you say with a gentle suggestion in your eyes, voice breathy and matching his hushed tones. You think it’s about time one of you makes a move, and it may as well be you.

Poe visibly gulps, and shuffles his feet a little closer to you.

Is this really happening?

He’s not sure how many times he can die and be reborn in one day, if he’s honest. The implication of your words and in your eyes encourages him though. Besides, he’s waited long enough for this moment, and now is as good a time as any, right?

“Kissing, huh? Well, honey, do you think you’d need to be on your tiptoes to kiss me?”

Your tongue darts out over your bottom lip, and an eagerness swells in your whole being, your body tingling with nerves and heat. Your mouths inch towards one another as if magnetised, your chin tipping up and his head stooping lower to greet you, as months of tension is compressed into the diminutive space between you.

“Guess we should find out,” you suggest with a sultry smirk, pausing a small distance from his lips, sharing the same air in the tight space between you.

Poe wraps his arms around your back, his hands feeling large and broad against you. You feel delicate encased in his strong arms, and you grab firmly at the holsters around his wide hips, tugging him close and bringing his body flush to yours. Poe feels warm and big and sturdy pressed against you. You’ve always been independent and capable, and yet there is something about Poe Dameron which makes you want to swoon for him, if only he would pledge to protect and care for you in all the ways your diminutive form might suggest you need him to.

Poe’s face inches closer and closer to yours, his lips pausing a hair’s breadth away from yours as your eyes fan shut, leaving you wanting. You swear your lips are tingling from the near-contact alone, crying out to brush with his.

“Oh oh,” he teases. “Can’t reach.”

You smile as you stand up on your tiptoes, closing the distance in an instant and crushing your lips to his, finding them soft, a hint of stubble grazing your cheek and he tips his head to the side. Upon contact, his tongue melds immediately with yours, deftly probing the cave of your mouth and melting you from within. Your hands slide up and up, coming to rest with your fingers laced around his neck, slipping into his hair.

As the kiss sparks and grows, Poe’s arms wrap firmly around your waist, and he bundles you up towards him, easily taking most of the weight of you, until your toes are entirely lifted off the floor as the kiss reaches its peak. You feel like you’re floating, in every sense.

Breathless and floored by that kiss, Poe sets you gently down, idiotic grins spreading across both of your faces as you stand there for a moment, still holding each other close. Poe looks down at you with adoration shining in his eyes, backlit with a gentle heat.

Feet back on the ground, more or less, you look self-consciously around as you both become suddenly aware of the hubbub created by the fact you both did that in the middle of the hangar.

Oops.

When your eyes look up at Poe again, he still has the softest, lovestruck smile on his pretty face.

“See you later?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah. I hope so,” you respond, returning his smile, and you stand on your toes to plant a quick chaste kiss to his cheek, cupping his face in your hand. You could swear his skin darkens in embarrassment, and he turns from you with the most bashful and adorable expression you’ve seen on his face yet.

You’re dying, you think. You must be dying. Death by cuteness.

You ignore the commotion you’ve caused, for the most part, and you watch Finn accost Poe for gossip as he tracks across the hangar. You see Rey beelining for you too, the dumbest grin on her face, and you turn back to your work as you notice her approach, taking a much-needed moment to catch your breath.

You kissed him. Poe Dameron. Your long-time crush.

It was true, that the two of you have both spent far too long tiptoeing around this, but it seems that Poe has finally swept you off your feet. It’s safe to say that you’ve never been so glad in your life to be too short to reach a shelf. Funny then, that his kiss has you feeling ten feet tall.

What’s more, this the last day that anyone steals your stepladders. Poe sees to that. Ain’t no-one gonna mess with his precious, smol bean. At least, not if he has anything to do with it.

[tekstelart]

Tuesdays at Lizzie’s

“Keep moving and I'll fuck you right here on that table like that dirty little whore you are,” She could practically feel the rumbling of his growl against her back. “And I don't give a fuck about everyone watching.”

Ship: Mateo Thiago/Artemis Valin Rating: Explicit Contains: Public sex, Dirty Talk, Minor humiliation kink Word count: 4.2k Ao3 Thank you @viktorsvector for the portuguese translations ♥

Impatient tapping of nicely manicured fingernails on the bar counter, an exasperated sigh and the drumming of the bass revibrating through her body while she was waiting for her drink. It was a busy night, all the more to her surprise that her company was off work. Though she was beginning to question just how much of a perk that was if the time it took for her to get a drink was any indication. Another sigh. Then there was a hand on her hip. Except this one clearly lacked his cybernetic fingers.

What the hell? When she spinned around to confront whoever had the absolute audacity she was met with the smug grin of a man she had never seen before. He wasn't bad on the eye by any means but his expression told her enough about what kind of company he'd provide. Pillow princess. She didn't waste a single second waiting for his opening line, instead she slapped his hand away with a scoff and turned around again. “Playing hard to get huh? I like that” He wasn't even worth a reply and karma seemed to have mercy because the bartender finally brought over her drink.

Glass in hand Artemis passed the dude, not even offering him a side glance, like he was a little insect fortunate enough to even breathe the same air as her.

Let's be real, he actually was.

Not like that seemed to stop his bold and overconfident self, no, he actually dared to follow her as she made her way through the crowd, headed for someone else waiting for her in one of the clear corner booths. “Aww come on, don't be so shy.” His voice was barely audible over the music for which Artemis was glad. Only when she was approaching Mateo in the booth did the other man seem to stop in his tracks, eyes still fixed on the wicked curves of her body though.

Mateos attention immediately locked on that sultry smirk on Artemis' lips, before he could speak however, she was straddling his lap already. One hand still holding her drink, the other wandering along his neck and into his hair, grip tightening, tilting his head to the side slightly and when Mateo felt her lips on the skin of his neck he could not help the hiss leaving his lips. His hands instinctively grabbing her rear and pulling her closer into him, an act that was rewarded by a drawn out roll of her hips.

It was only when his dark eyes found the stranger still staring at the woman in his lap like a starved animal, that Mateo realized what had happened. A smirk on his lips. His left hand was moving up her side in an instant, caressing the exposed skin which in return sent delicious gosebumps across Artemis' skin. A soft moan escaped her onto his skin at the faint grazing of his fingers along the side of her breast. The touch was brief in nature as his intention was something different, hand continuing to move up to her shoulder, then along her arm until he reached the hand that was holding her drink. With a quick motion he took the glass from her and placed it on the table behind her while her free hand now rested on his chest, exposed by the button up he was wearing.

Mateo only indulged in her ministrations a few more moments before roughly fisting her hair with his left hand, pulling her mouth off his skin and forcing her head back enough to look at him. A quick devious smirk was all he gave her before his face closed the distance and lips crashed into hers, tongue immediately demanding access, which she granted without so much a moment of hesitation. His right hand moved from her rear to her thigh, resting barely below the hem of that absolutely sinful red dress she was wearing.

It really was no surprise that she got hit on quite frequently, something that did not really fill him with jealousy but more with a sense of pride. Pride about being the one with a grip in her hair, tongue dancing with hers and hand now pushing up the fabric of the dress enough to graze the sensitive skin on the inside of Artemis' thigh with his thumb. Pride about the moan he forced from her when his thumb came to a halt so short of her aching core. Oh and most certainly pride at the raging jealousy written on the mans face when Mateo had spotted him moments ago.

Artemis was his alone and after that conversation they had at the party the other day, there was absolutely no way he was going to let go of her. She'd spent half her life building this wall, had not dared to let anyone in and protected her heart with everything she had. Had made sure that nobody so much as touched her in the wrong way, took control in every aspect of her life. But here she was, in his lap, completely yielding herself, her body, to him. Even as they were surrounded by strangers, some of them obviously peering, she didn't pull away when his lips left her mouth to kiss a trail down her throat and between her breasts. The hand he had tangled in her red locks now moving to cup a breast before slipping aside the fabric of her dress enough to run his tongue over her now exposed nipple, toying with the sensitive bud before closing his lips around it.

Hot. She felt way too hot. His touch, his lips, his tongue.. It was all too much and not enough at all. Yet what fueled her desire most at that moment, was the fact that there was no wall hiding them, no curtain or seperate room. The walls of the booth were see-through and while they were in a corner booth, not in plain sight of everyone, they could still be seen if anyone bothered looking. The only remote protection from prying eyes was the table that covered the lower half of their bodies. But they would still see the large tattoo decorating Artemis' back, bared by the low cut of her dress, her head thrown back and mouth hanging open in a silent plea. They would see Mateos hands on her body and they would see the way Artemis was grinding her hips into his lap.

What they would not see, however, was the sharp bite Mateo gave her nipple when her grinding grew bolder or how his hand gripped her thigh harder. How his mouth left her chest to nibble a path back up her neck, biting the junction between her neck and shouler roughly while he moved her dress back into place to cover her chest. And they most certainly would not see his lips close to her ear, hot breath tickling her way too sensitve skin and a sound akin to a growl leaving his throat at a particulary delicious roll of her hips. “Turn around.”

Anyone else and she would have laughed at the sheer nerve to order her around, likely even left them. But this was not anyone. This was the man who had been gradually slipping past every single defense she had built up. No, not slipping, that would imply that it was forced entry. Nothing he ever did was forced, no hovering, no pressure to open up and despite how roughly he tended to treat her in bed, if she was truly uncomfortable she knew he would stop immediately, wouldn't push it, would never in his wildest dreams ask her to do anything that she was not fully on board with.

She came to care about him, way more than she anticipated or even felt comfortable with. No this wasn't how she planned this when they landed in bed after that night at the club on Eve's birthday. She thought it'd be a nice fuck and they each move on with their lives but things rarely go according to plan evidently. Instead, she was here, skin burning under his touch, feeling the eyes of strangers on her body, her movements and despite that she felt save.

The stinging sensation of Mateos bite behind her ear pulled her out of her thoughts and she was apruptly aware of the tight grip he had on her hips again.

“Safada Vadia, don't make me repeat myself.”

With a quick motion she had shifted her postion enough so she was no longer straddling him, turning around instead, pressing her back into his chest. In return he shifted just enough to get them both more comfortable in the corner junction of the bench they were sitting on. Hungry lips promptly at Artemis' neck, her hair once again in a tight grip, keeping her head tilted to the side for easier access. “Good girl.”

Her breath hitched in her throat when Mateos right hand found her thigh again, fingers wasting no time to resume their performance from before, slipping under the red textile that suddenly wrapped her body way too tightly. Only this time he did not stop. This time he ran his fingers along the damp fabric covering her heat in time with a long drape of his tongue up the back of her neck.

Another shift of her hips had her rear brush him just right and she could feel his sharp hiss on the skin of her neck. She smirkerd. And she repeated the motion. A strangled and surprised yelp left her lips when she felt his teeth sink into the skin just above her spine. Hard.

“Keep moving and I'll fuck you right here on that table like that dirty little whore you are,” She could practically feel the rumbling of his growl against her back. “And I don't give a fuck about everyone watching.”

Biting down her bottom lip, it was all she could do to ground herself with the way Mateo expertly played her body. The way his lips and tongue worked her neck perfectly, his fingers now pushing the lacy fabric of her underwear aside but not applying much pressure where she needed it quite yet. It was an agonizing combinatin really, his mouth, teeth, relentless and brutal kissing one spot and biting down the next all while his touch on her soaking wet core was no more than a faint caress of his fingers. She was melting into his ministrations and the whimpers she tried so desperately to swallow? Frankly, they were pathetic.

Attemping to regain any sense of control over the situation she repeated her earlier motion, grinding along his length without so much an ounce of restraint.

What happened next was a blur of several motions at once.

A stinging pain in her scalp when he tightened his grip in her hair, a low moan that escaped her lips when he finally pushed those tortuous fingers past her drenched folds, curling them up inside her almost immediately. And his voice... His voice was nothing but a deep snarl against her skin, setting her every nerve aflame in a way that nobody else ever could. Yeah, this man owned her, body and soul.

“I wont warn you again, doll. Behave.”

Artemis swallowed thickly, her back arching into him as much as his grip in her locks allowed her. Public. They were still in public, Artemis tried to remind herself, repeated it in her mind like a broken record. Anything to not lose herself right here, with his fingers buried inside her throbbing cunt, in front of all those people. But where she expected to find the slimmest hint of humiliation, raw desire mixed with desperation for more more more. Her arms searching for any kind of purchase, all she could do was hold onto him in any way possible.

“Look at them, bet they'd do anything to be ones getting to feel how fucking wet and desperate you are.”

His lips were so close to her ears that she could feel his unsteady breath tickling her skin.

“You know why they can't?” A kiss on that soft spot right behind her ear, a shudder racing through her body and she didn't even attempt to stifle the gasp when his fingers found that one spot inside her that had her mind go blank.

“Voce e minha. Because you're mine.”

Those words alone almost undid her. Not just because of the way they made her clench down on his fingers hard, but because of the way her heart was threatening to burst right out her chest. It wasn't just a declaration of his claim on her body, no, it was a final confirmation of their discussion at the party and he was right. She was his. Had been for a long time too stubborn and maybe even afraid to admit it. The thought spreading under her skin, filling her up so wholly that every touch, every kiss, every flick of his fingers inside her, became so overwhelming that she was left barely caring about how worked up she must look to the others.

Her nerves were on fire, every sense vividly aware of his closeness, the whole club could have been staring at them right then and she still wouldn't have found it in her to care. It might aswell just have been the two of them. Not that it was just her though, to say he wasn't in a similar state of sheer hunger would've been a straight up lie. Despite Artemis no longer torturing him with the grinding of her hips, he was still fiercly clinging to any ounce of self control he had to not go through with his threats, he knew if she wanted him to bend her over this table she would not have stopped moving. Besides, he had other plans.

It was only when his grip left her hair and his hips shifted just enough for him to reach for his belt that Artemis stiffened in his lap. Much to his amusement.

“What's the matter coração?”

“What... are you doing?” Well... That was a pitiful. Her voice so weak and uncharacteristic for her and she hated how it only made him chuckle into the nape of her neck.

“Just getting comfortable, don't worry.”

Even if she wanted to object, another brush of his fingers against that sweet spot inside her had her head falling back into Mateos shoulder with a whine. Her stomach going taut as a bow, she was getting so so so close, coil about to snap and she would have stumbled over that edge when she felt his groan vibrate through her body, if he hadn't stopped moving his fingers entirely. Calling the sob that left her frustrated was an understatement and she suddenly was all too aware of the shallow breathing next to her ear, the low growls that shot straight down to her core. Then his fingers picked up where they left of, moving inside her with precise intent. What actually caught her attention despite her body tensing up in the approaching climax again, was the feeling of his left shoulder, flexing in an almost steady, albeit frantic, rhythm. Comfortable huh.

“Fuck!”

A bite into her should and he withdrew his hand from it's spot between her legs, momentarily resting it on her thigh, his other arm had stilled behind her aswell and for a second his labored breathing was everything she felt. Suddenly Artemis was all too aware of the eyes on her and she was no longer certain if the shivers it sent down her spine were due to the thrill of being watched, humiliation... or simply the second time she had just been denied an orgasm. Then there was a low chuckle and a trail of soft, too soft, kisses from her shoulder up her neck until Mateos lips reached her earlobe, which he nibbled for a moment before resuming his kisses, his breathing still heavy.

“Do you trust me?”

His voice was a whisper and she felt her blood freeze at the question.

Did she?

Despite what she had done all her life to keep people at bay, how she'd avoided close bonds, she still came to grow feelings for this man. She had let him in. Let him. Had let him get close, had opened herself up just enough to show him a glimpse of who she was beneath that thick layer of ice and he had decided to stay. Decided that he still wanted her, all of her. Only one person had gotten this close to her before and he'd died for doing so. Yet the closer she grew to the man who held her firmly in his lap now, the more she stopped blaming herself for what happened. She had allowed herself to be vulnerable again, just a fraction but it had been enough to show Mateo all he needed to see, all he needed to know. And when she realized how quickly the answer to his question came to her, she also realized that she did not have a single doubt in her about it's truth.

“Yes.”

That was all he seemed to need because suddenly she felt his right hand on her waist, pushing up her dress further while shifting her in his lap until she felt the head of his cock prod at her entrance. His lips never left her neck throughout his maneuvering, showering her in kisses and soft nibbles. If she had been tense before, it was nothing compared to the anxiety she felt at that point. Feeling him rock hard, sliding along her folds while both of them were visible to the club patrons. She was immensely thankful for the table in front of them, successfully blocking the view of anything past her stomach. He continued the slow rolls of his hips for a moment longer, running his hands up her arms, left one stopping at her shoulder. With his right hand he gently lifted her chin and tilted her head enough for her to look at him. When their eyes locked it was as if time suddenly came to a halt and Artemis found herself unable to look anywhere but at him. His expression was clouded with lust and it was then that she realized just how much he was holding himself back. For her sake. How could he even doubt for a single second that she trusted him? Soft lips brushing hers faintly.

“Relax...”

His face was so close to hers, foreheads touching and his breathing was so heavy that all she wanted were his lips on hers again.

“You remember the safeword?”

A nod. That was all she could muster with his gaze locked on her, his thumb running over her bottom lip and his other hand settling on her hip to hold her in place.

“Good.”

His hand let go of her chin, instead he wrapped that arm around her stomach, hand now settling just below her breast. Then a push of his hips, the abrupt stretch forcing her head to fall back into his shoulder and he took the opportunity to move the hand that had been on her hip, pushing her down onto him, moments ago, up to.... cover her eyes?

“Vou meter em voce ate voce gritar meu nom.”

His voice was so raspy that her translator actually failed to pick up what he just muttered into her ear, not that it mattered with his cock now full sheathed inside her. No second was wasted and he started moving, he only gave a few slow shallow thrusts before he picked up his pace and set a brutal rhythm.

With her vision blocked she was left with nothing but the pure bliss from being so full of him, the slamming of his hips into her and his tip hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Her mouth now hanging open, no longer able to conceal the sounds he was driving out of her the only relief provided by the loud music drowning out her voice. It was only then she realized why he was blocking her vision, only then she realized that he did it because he knew she did not want to see them gawking at her. It's not that it bothered her that they most certainly had at least a small audience, her lower regions were hidden after all and Mateo did have the thoughtfulness to move her dress back into place before telling her to turn around earlier – another thing she realized, done for her comfort – still a tinge of humiliation at her compromised position had her body more rigid than mere seconds ago.

“Relax. Focus on me”

His tone was strained but still, it was soothing against the inferno he set on her skin, her muscles loosening ever so slightly.

“That's it. Let them watch, just focus on me, coração”

The sensation of his lips on her skin was almost too much but not enough at the same time, she was burning alive in his hold and another whine left her parted lips.

“Focus on my voice...”

A nibble on her hearlobe, a strong thrust and fingers now slipping below the fabric of her dress again to toy with a nipple.

“My touch...”

Her body grew rigid again, not because of fear or embarassment but because of how he was undoing her with his words, his voice alone.

“My cock buried inside you.”

A pinch of his fingers on her nipple had her whimper his name, which in return lured out another delicious groan from his mouth. His pace now picking up. He was getting close and after being denied twice Artemis was aswell. She bit down her lower lip hard to stop another moan from slipping, her heart thrumming frantically in her chest and she all but heard her pulse racing through her veins. Despite his hand blocking her vision she felt filthy in a way she hadn't experienced before and god if it wasn't adding even more gasoline to the already uncontrollable flames burning her inside and out. Mateos arm tightened around her body, abandoning it's task on her chest instead just pulling her as close to him as he can. Artemis could feel his lips move and she was thinly aware of the curses leaving him, too faint for her translator to pick up anything and quite frankly she didn't care, not with his hips forcefully bucking into her and his moans vibrating on her skin. The coil in her stomach tightening, about to snap. She was so close, just a bit moremoremore.

“Fuck...please”

He didn't think she'd ever fully understand what that word from her lips did to him. To have this woman who would usually take charge of any situation, surrender herself to him, let alone beg for him. It took every last drop of self control he had left to not finish at the sound of it alone. Instead he pressed his lips into her neck again. Oh how he would love to make her beg some more, have her sing his name and scream for the whole club to hear. But with his release so close he instead released his tight grip on her, his hand finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs in an instant.

A few strokes was all she could take before her entire body went taut against him and she turned her head into his neck, biting down hard to stifle the scream that ripped from her throat as the coil snapped. Her orgasm crashing through her with a force that had her clawing at his legs, the leather of the bench, his arms, anything she could, Mateos hand now moving from her face to wrap around her throat, pressing down hard and holding her in place while she rode out the waves of her climax. And at the clenching of her cunt around him he followed with a deep growl, bucking his hips a few more times, before halting buried deep inside her, his own release spilling inside her.

Chests heaving with their panting, both of them remained still while coming down from their high. Artemis refused to move her head or open her eyes, even when she felt Mateo slip out of her, shifting to push her clothes back into place before tucking himself away with one hand. The other one still held her close to him, reassurance that he was there, that she was save. Only when both of ther clothes were presentable again did he pull her off his lap onto the bench next to him, her legs draped across his thighs. His lips found hers in a long and sensual kiss, hands refusing to let go of her, one arm draped around her shoulder the other one resting on her thigh, holding her legs close to him.

Lost in the kiss Artemis reached for the hand hanging off her shoulder, entwining their fingers, no more reservations about her affection for him.

“Let's get out of here.”

A smile played on his lips and his voice was husky. His eyes though? Oh they were full of dark dark promises.

This night was far from over.

[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 4 (Jasper Hale x OC)

Not everyone is excited for a reunion. Especially when expectations are not aligned.

**Note: Feel free to leave me a comment and tell me how you feel about the story so far!

I had a bit of difficulty writing this part I must say; but I don’t believe that two people meeting again in forever can go back to being in love like nothings happened.

But lemme know what you think!**

Elsewhere.

Adeline ran as fast as she could, her chaser right at her heels as she darted into the woods. Rain pelting heavily, the moon hidden behind clouds, the woods seemed darker than usual.

To make matters worse, she was slowing down. She had been starving herself greatly recently, in a self-loathing attempt and now she deeply regretted her foolish decision. As if it wasn’t enough she was having trouble controlling her hunger, now she was being chased down by an unknown assailant, vampire. She ignored the constant tugging at her heart again, begging her to stop, to turn around and just look at her chaser.

It occurred to her then that this person was the same one who was at Whitehorse. Judging from the female vampire that had approached her just now in the bar, someone or some persons were interested in her. It might not even be her father. But bullshit, she wasn’t going to let this unknown stranger get to her. Nor was she going to let them ruin her peace of mind she had fought to safeguard for decades now. She needed a plan, and she needed it fast.

There was a clearing just a few miles south, if she could just make it there…! Pushing her limits, she ducked under a pine and concealed herself into the night, mindful not to tread on anything that might give her away. Circled the perimeter and watched as the man who had been chasing her stopped in the clearing, apparently confused that he had lost her track somehow.

Now-

Blood pumping, she darted out and aimed for the jugular. Her hand clasped onto the man’s neck in a death grip and pushed him up into a tree.

“Who are you and what do you want from me?” Adeline hissed. The man, blonde she noted, made no move to subdue or even try to escape her clutches. His face was still partially hidden under his hair, but she was aware of his amber orbs observing her behind his curtain of hair. Neither did she miss the scars, multiple healed bite wounds littered across his porcelain neck and clavicles, screaming danger. Her heart hammering in her chest now, a tidal wave of anxiety washed over her and an eerie sense of foreboding was looming overhead. Her mind was trying to make a connection, something about this man just… But the anxiety got to her again and she tightened her grip over his neck even harder.

It occurred to her then that the man’s companion was also nowhere to be found. Was this a trap after all?

“Answer me.” She growled impatiently. “Who are you? Why are you after me? Where is your companion?!”

Yet he only remained mum. This only further enraged her.

“Speak or I’ll rip your pretty head off of its rightful place.”

“Just like how you ripped my heart out all those years ago?”

Momentarily Adeline was caught confused by the man’s reply, until he looked up and the dim moonlight casted shadows on his smooth marble like face. Adeline gasped, dropping her arm and taking a step back. A chill ran up her spine and grasped painfully onto her heart, tightening; just as her mind roared, losing its usual powers of logics and deduction.

“Jasper?”

*

Back at the parking lot, Jasper had suddenly felt a breeze, a sliver of a shadow passing by, and then the strongest urge he had ever had to run after the shadow. Unknowingly, he had let the urge overtook his actions; until he saw Adeline materialising out of thin air, running at top speed a few yards before him did he finally realised what had happened.

He had chased on then, close on her tail.

And now he watched, somewhat in fascination, at the myriad of emotions that ran through Adeline’s eyes in that instant. Shock and disbelief gave way to confusion, then guilt and grief. He’d forgotten just how expressive she can be at times and how he could read her like an open book.

Except it was his Adeline. His sweet Adeline.

There was no mistaking on his part. She had not aged a single day. Her hair was shorter now, but her countenance, and those expressive cornflower eyes they were the same, fresh from his memory. There was no doubt in it. Now that his vision was so much better, he could even notice features on her face that he would have missed as a human. And yes, he could also smell her sweet hybrid scent, so similar to Renesmee’s yet also different in it’s own way. Oh how his cold dead heart felt, ready to burst, he had never felt so alive since his transformation. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too hasty in accepting this hybrid thing, but it would explain so much of her past actions. And it would also explain so well how they were seeing each other right there and now. And more than anything, he was just… feeling all kinds of emotions now that she was here again. Joy and shock at the prospect of reunion, apprehension and nausea at how events would unfold. But mostly he felt a deep inner relief and serenity for the first time in years. One he did not know that he had been missing until beholding her again for the first time in centuries.

She was the missing piece he had been seeking unknowingly all these years.

He had meant to step forward, to embrace her, to touch her, anything, something just to confirm her presence right in front of his eyes. To hold onto her, to make sure that she wouldn’t just disappear again into thin air again.

But even as he pondered on his actions, those haunting orbs were now settling to something between fear and distrust.

Adeline, her hand trembling against her lips, was slowly backing away as she tried to process the events that had transpired; unsettled, she did not even notice that she had backed herself into the trunk of another tree.

“What sick joke is this?” She finally let out a shaky laugh. Her eyes darting everywhere but him.

With a sinking heart, Jasper swallowed harshly, his throat dry. He’d run through this in his head for uncountable times now. A simulation of their reunion, heartfelt exchanges and eager embraces, passionate declarations; or cold-hearted refusals and further blows to his heart. But nothing like this, not this deer-in-the-headlight shakiness, blatant denial, this refusal of even a simple acknowledgement.

“Adeline it’s me. It’s your Jasper.” He finally breathed, closing the distance. Reaching out a finger to twine her stray locks behind her ear, before leaning in to take a whiff of her floral scent.“It’s Jasper.” He repeated like a broken record.

“No… that’s not possible…” She murmured to herself, frozen in place by shock. Until fear flashed in her eyes again and she jerked away as if she had been electrified.

“What power do you possess? Did Father send you to lure me back?” She swallowed in alarm and closed her eyes, her cornflower orbs filled with unshed tears and undisguised fear.

“Adeline?”

“Please, I’ll go, willingly. Please… just stop what you’re doing, stop messing with my mind will you?” She continued to implore, on the verge of tears. “Stop this. I’ll go mad if you don’t.”

His heart almost broke again at her desperation, her pleads weighing heavily on him.

“No Adeline, darling. It really is me.” He whispered, cupping her face gently to catch her attention.

“No, you died all those years ago. In 1863.” Adeline shook her head furiously, as if every word was a bodily pain inflicted on her part. “I saw the stone, Mrs Whitlock told me so.”

“No, no.” Why couldn’t she just see him for what he was? Why was she so adamant on disproving his entire existence? “I was turned, I was found by a coven of vampires and turned.”

“I don’t believe you.” She finally looked him in the eye and he could see the determination behind, the determination to reject his being altogether as nothing more than a illusion of hers, put into her mind as some cruel joke.

His insides raged then, why couldn’t she see the obvious? He did not come so close to her only to lose her again! Not this time!

“So I will go. I will not shackle you to a life of secrets and miseries. Nor will I bind you to eternal gloom and slaughter your happiness, take your sun and hide your moon.” He recited in a sudden outburst of spite. “Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you.”

Adeline gasped audibly, her eyes grew big as saucers, and a tear glided down her cheek. Her lips trembled and he could feel the turmoil and shock in her. He could practically hear the whirling of the cogs in her brain moving, as she finally put two and two together. Her eyes darted frantically, as the truth dawned on her.

“This can’t be.” She finally let out a hysterical laugh and muttered weakly, backing up shakily and holding onto a branch for support. “This is impossible.”

“It’s the truth, darling. I-”

“No!” She screamed with all her might. “No.” She mumbled again raking a hand through her curls roughly and shaking her head in denial, even as tears were streaming freely down her face now. “You died… you died…”

“Adeline…”

“I have to go.” She muttered to no one in particular. “I can’t, I can’t, this can’t happen, this shouldn’t have happened…My fault, my fault. I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have…”

“Adeline!” He reached for her then, to stop her, to pull her out of her panic.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, slapping his hand away. “Don’t…” Adeline chewed on her lips and swallowed nervously, before looking at Jasper, her eyes a sea of emotions and anguish. “Don’t try to find me ever again.”

Without so much as a backward glance, Adeline bolted in the opposite direction with lightning speed and melted into the night.

Left alone in the open, Jasper clenched and unclenched his fists. This was not what he had anticipated, in fact the worst had happened. There was a new agony in his heart, a heaviness weighing on him. Could broken hearts break a second time? If so, his had died a second time today. He could make chase, to corner her, to confront her; but was her blatant rejection not evident enough? Did she need to spell it out in black and white for him?

Letting out a heart-wrenching howl, Jasper dropped to his knees. His eyes were burning like coals but no tears would ever fall out, unlike her. He had lost that ability all those years ago, oh but how he wished he could cry now! To let release any, even the slightest of his unsurmountable grief.

But he could not.

Why couldn’t things stayed the way it had been back in Texas? If she had been a simple dressmaker, if he had never joined the army; they would have married, settled down, had a children or two and grew to see each other old. Buried together in the local cemetery, side by side and that would have been it.

Life was so so cruel.

He punched his fists repeatedly into the ground out of frustration.

Until he felt the strangest sensation.

A pull. There was a strange pull at his heart; tugging at his heartstrings, urging him on in the direction Adeline had just disappeared into.

Jasper stood up slowly, gauging at this new sensation.

It was as if an invisible pathway had just opened for him. There was a new lightness in his heart now. A giddiness at what he had just discovered.

And he thought that finally he understood what this all meant now.

*

This couldn’t be happening.

It was impossible!

Surely he was an imposter?! Her Jasper! Her Jasper had been dead for more than a hundred years, he couldn’t possibly have came back from the dead? And to become a vampire of all things?

A vampire? God forbid, that would mean that someone had changed him!

But she recalled his topaz eyes that shone eerily in the moonlight, the icy cold skin that had cupped her face so lovingly, that marble smooth and hard skin, the bite marks littered all over his neck. Literally nothing about him screamed human; those were the features of a top predator.

Was this some form of joke the universe was having on her? Her Jasper alive all this time? An immortal not unlike her, but stronger and more lethal?

No! No! No! No! She’d left this hole years ago. She wasn’t going to dig herself into another hole now! It couldn’t have been him! Dead as a door nail he was. She’d seen his grave, she was there.

Though no one ever recovered his body. A treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind. And anyhow what was that line that he had recited then? It was word for word from the letter she had written to him all those years ago. No one other than himself could have read it.

Her treacherous mind continued to drift into dangerous territory, and though she tried to steer it away, the barriers were all but down now.

She’d rather it had been a stormy night. That thunder and the rain, they would have distracted her from her thoughts. But no.

The moon was a beacon hung against a starless backdrop, and through the half parted curtains, the clear moonlight filtered in, illuminating every feature of his in a white halo. Everything was so calm, so peaceful, in comparison to the raging storm within her.

She’d never stare into those warm brown eyes again, never run her hands through his thick golden curls, never feel his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest or his beating heart on her palm-

“Darlin’?” Jasper’s lashes fluttered, he had sensed her uneasiness somehow and was struggling to rise from his slumber.

“It is nothing darling.” She murmured before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, relishing in his strong embrace one last time. “It was only a dream.”

He grunted and soon his breathing was even again.

With his handsome face and his wits and charm, he’d be able to rise up in the ranks, and get a fine rich Southern Belle for a wife quick enough.

Father’s threats were still fresh in her mind.

Better this than a mangled body, six inch deep in the ground.

Better leave now when he still loved her, than when he learnt of the truth, the ugly horrible truth.

Every move was another battle. How she withdrew herself from his arms, how she struggled not to sob or to crawl back into bed and confess every little sin she had committed. To stay for another day, for him to tell her that everything would be alright for another day. How her heart broke to leave the ring on the dresser and the heartless note she had written.

One final kiss to his forehead because she couldn’t bear to turn back a second time for she was sure that she would lose her resolve and strength to leave him.

But another day would become another week, another month, another year. What then when Father returned for her? Or when he realised that his wife had not aged a single day since she turned 17?

Better this farewell now. Better to look back with love and fondness and regret, than to let it be corrupted by hate and disgust or worse… blood.

Tomorrow he will wake and she will be gone. And when the time is just right, he will forget her, he will move on, fight the war, get married, grow old. All men do, the world must go on. And only she will be stuck in time, reminiscing the past through rose tinted lenses.

It was alright so long as he lived. She would live with this pain. She would bear this petit mort.

Every. Single. Time.

Until there was nothing more left of her heart.

Was this all for naught then in the end?

Was there no need for to leave him then? Or was his death inevitable regardless of what she did? Was it something that she had done? Something she had miscalculated?

Was he even Jasper to begin with?

She needed to be somewhere, anywhere other than being alone with her thoughts. And as the little house at the end of the lane grew bigger, only then did she realise where her subconscious had lead her to.

“Adeline?”

Standing at the doorway was her half brother, Anakin, smoking. Jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail, tanned torso bare displaying all his tribal tattoos. His black eyes held surprise as he eyed her carefully.

“I didn’t think I would see the likes of you for the next few years.”

“Change of plans Anakin. Is Father here?”

“It’s only me and the tyke; you know me and the old man can never stay in the same room long before ripping each other throats.” Anakin snorted before flicking his cigarette butt away. “But Ad are you alright? You look awful and you’re shaking so badly; and you’re soaked through and muddy. What happened, Ad?”

“Nothing.” She mumbled. “Just invite me in for a bath will ya.” Though now that he mentioned it, she was feeling kind of faint. Intending to push her way in, Adeline stumbled instead and Anakin was by her side in a flash, supporting her.

“Shit you’re weak. When was the last time you even fed Ad?”

“Addieeeeeeeeeeee.” From within the house, a shrill cry sounded. It was followed by loud footsteps and a young girl of 7 or 8 bounded straight into the foyer; her features were Asian, soft brown eyes and straight dark hair. And a sunny smile on her face. “You came!”

“Hey Loreen.” Adeline tried to smile and felt another wave of nausea.

“Lorie be a good sport and run the bath will you? Addie needs a good bath and rest after her long journey.”

The child straightened her back immediately, sensing the edge in Anakin’s voice and the urgency of the matter. “Alright.” She chirped and turned to go into the bathroom.

“I see you’ve both been well.” Adeline remarked offhandedly, to which Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Bath and get changed. I’ll go get you some blood.” Anakin sighed eyeing his dirty sister. “And take those shoes off, I don’t want you trekking mud into the house. I just cleaned the floor this morning.”

Adeline pulled at his sleeve before he could turn to leave.

“Anakin thanks.”

The frown line over his faced softened and Anakin smiled a lopsided smile.

“Well what are family for?”

This time she didn’t have a smart comeback.

[chachacharlieco]

Changing Equipment During A Hunt.

Just a small Mophin and Shield fluff fic.

enjoy 👀

—-

“Ill equiped.”

That was the last thought that went to his mind when he was slammed against the wall by a tempered monster. He fell to the ground with a nerve wracking thud and he was out in an instant.

He slowly came to, his eyes slowly opening and saw that the environment was moving before his eyes. He lay on the cart, a bumpy ride, as the cats brought him back to camp and simply plopped him back on the ground as they reached their destination. He rolled on the ground and slowly stood back on his feet. A little dizzy, but he could go for another round. First, he needed to change his equipment. The last thing he needed was getting carted again.

He entered the camp’s tent and his breath hitched once he found who was inside, waiting for him.

“Shield.” He said, eyes wide. She stood up, her hand on her belly before she reached up to him to give him a soft peck on his cheek.

“I’ve made you some tea.”

“Thank you.” She handed him a large mug, but compared to him, it looked like a tea cup. The stench of strong medicinal tea hit his nose and his face scrunched for a moment from the impact of the smell. “I didn’t... How come you’re here?”

“Well, I noticed my husband went off to hunt without the proper gear on so I went and brought them with me.”

He gulped his tea down before shaking his head. “You didn’t have to- I would have asked the palicoes. You shouldn’t have carried equipment with-“

“Nonsense. I am fine and I’d be happy to do it again for you.” She gave him that warm smile that always made his stomach do flips. He felt his cheeks burn and immediately looked away, using the mug to hide his face as he drank the rest of the tea.

Newlywed, they were, but they both still felt shy at times. Especially him when opening up to someone was something he found difficult. But Shield managed to peel off those walls, not with force but with such gentleness that he just finds himself weak against.

“I’ve placed the Dober Armour in the chest.” She began to clean up the mug and the pot. He walked over to the open chest and he gulped. He could put on the gear himself with no problem. But...something popped up in his mind. It was something he’d kind of wanted to do with Shield, yet he was unsure how she would react.

...Well, might as well try...

Shield noticed Mophin standing by, doing nothing but stare inside the chest.

“S-Sheild” He whispered.

“Yes?” He jerked slightly as if he didn’t expect her to hear him. But with those inhuman hearing of hers, of course she would. He glanced at her and back at the chest.

“W-will you help me... Put it on? I-I need help with the paint.”

She blinked a few times. A blush creeping up on her face.

“Okay.”

--

After putting on the rest of his armour, he made his top half bare for her to paint. His head down to his shoulders was practically red from his blush, She chuckled softly at the state of him, kissing his forehead as an attempt to calm him down, and also to tell him that she was grateful he was showing this side of him.

She heard him gulp once she began her work. Dipping her hand in the paint, she felt some sort of energy from it. She noted, it must be a concuction of sorts made from elder dragon parts. It felt tingly on her skin and invigourating.

She started on his left arm, drawing symbols, and he watched her intently, admiring how smoothly her small hands felt along his skin as she painted.

Finished, she suddenly grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. His heart throbbed hard in his chest when she did, eyes widening. She giggled at his response.

“Don’t speak. Let me do this for you.”

Well, he wasn’t able to. From then on, he was completely enraptured. And when she went to the other arm. She did the same and kissed his other palm.

She asked him to stand so she could paint his thighs. And again, she kissed them after she finished. The same with the other thigh too.

She moved on to his chest. His gaze wouldn’t leave her. After a few minutes she stood back to admire her work. When her eyes met his, there was a sense of excitement and anticipation in them, as if he was looking forward to what would happen next. Her smile became bigger, approaching him and kissed his chest. A low growl came from him and she felt his lips on her head.

“Thank you.”

“Not done yet.” She went and dipped both of her hands in the paint bowl. His brow raised, wondering what she was going to do next.

“I haven’t painted your face.”

“Oh. It’s alright. The helmet would-“

“It’s more for me. I want to see my work done.”

She put some paint on her lips and then she held his face, painting his cheeks with her palms.

She leaned and pecked his lips, slowly dragging her lips down to his chin, successfully painting a trail down.

“There.” She let go of him, leaving hand marks. “Finished.”

He couldn’t even move from that. He was dazed. He felt spoiled. His heart full of all that love she had given him and he was sure it was spilling. He was melting. He was putty in her hands.

She handed him his helmet and his hammer. “Now go get ‘em. My Mophin man.” She grinned from her pun.

He simply stepped out of the tent like a zombie. Obviously trying to concentrate, and yet, unable to think clearly. And this time, Shield asked his Palico to go along with him just in case he decided to stare into space again.

[primasveraas-writing]

Star Wars Preference- Hurt and Reckless Reader

Request: “Star Wars preference on how the originals trio + prequels trio + Rogue One crew would react to the reader almost dying? Like they did something real reckless during a mission, got injured, nearly died & now they're trying to brush it off, much to their partner's incredulity. Sorry if it's too specific lmao love u”

Thanks for requesting! All requests are currently open!

XXX

Anakin:

 Anakin is exasperated, but not surprised. He kneels down next to you, checking you over to make sure you’re too excessively injured. With one hand, he keeps you down, ensuring that you’re not about to bound out into danger again. Anakin raises an eyebrow high, sighing. “I thought that was my move,” he says, shaking his head. Although his tone is light and joking, the concern doesn’t leave his eyes. He can tell you’re okay, or going to be, but his heart is still pounding in his chest. But you just smile innocently, exhausted but safe, and he knows that everything will be fine.

Obi-wan:

Less capable of hiding is worry and weariness at your continued rashness, Obi-wan immediately demands to know what in the world you were thinking. Only half-sheepish, you grin tiredly, still trying to hide the blood seeping from your side. But he pushes your hand away, face growing ever-paler when he sees your wound. “Don’t ever do that again,” he says, hugging you to him suddenly, and you have to spend the next several hours reassuring him between lectures on “just plain common sense” that you won’t worry him in a similar manner again in the future.

Padmé:

Padmé runs to your side, holding you at arm’s distance to examine your wellbeing. Hair falling in her face, she is slightly disheveled, breathless as she asks if you’re okay. A smile flits across her lips when you tell reassure her that you’re alright, but her eyes travel to your wound, and her happiness fades. She hugs you close to her, calling over a medic and sitting by your side as you’re healed. Anxiety dominates her features, but she leans her head against your shoulder, attempting to calm herself as you put aside your pride, murmuring quiet reassurances to her until her shock faded enough for you to revel in the absolute glory of your reckless victory.

Luke:

Resigned to your impulsiveness, and already accustomed to recklessness by the nature of his closest friends, Luke only smiles at you, helping you to medical attention, asking repeatedly to check if you’re in pain and what he can do for you. You melt at his worry, letting him walk you to safety. Through the Force, he can feel the steadiness of your life energy; he knows that you’re no longer at risk of dying, although this was not a certainty just a few minutes prior as you plunged into danger headfirst. Luke tells you as much, but his tone is more admiring than scolding, and you know he would have done the same in your shoes. As a couple, you have a penchant for danger that just can’t be helped.

Leia:

Ever indignant, Leia is furious at your apparent recklessness despite your heroics. She rages at you, ranting furiously, ignoring the fact that you’re still bleeding. Although she helps you to your feet and supports you as you struggle to a medic, she makes it very clear that you have put yourself in this position, disregarding the fact that you did indeed save the day. You know her well enough to realize that this is just her worry, blinded by incredulity, and you press a kiss to her cheek as she helps you along. Looking at your face, she softens just a little, but scoffs to her self at the way you are, and holds you just a little closer to her.

Han:

Han doesn’t hesitate to scold you for your actions, loudly complaining about how near you were to death and how ridiculous you are to put yourself in danger like that. However, you know him and his antics, and you remind him of all the times that he himself has foolishly rushed into something without thinking, how many sticky situations you’ve had to rescue him from. Beside Han, Chewie roars in agreement, and Han, frustrated and impertinent, bickers with you all the way to the medic about the matter.

Rey:

Rey, ever sweet and soft with her lover, is at your side and comforting you in an instant. She brushes aside your thin attempts to claim that you’re fine, telling you straight to your face that no, she can clearly see the blood dripping from your side;  you’re definitely not fine. Her hands find your face as she surveys you, your eyes meeting her concerned ones. Lips upturning slowly into a smile, you reassure her that you’ll be alright, and you gently apologize for scaring her. She smiles back, letting the untempered worry flood her features, and she draws you into a hug.

Finn:

Finn runs to your side, skidding to a halt next to where you lay, trying to recover from the daze of your rapid, thoughtless action. Breathlessly, he asks if you’re alright, already tearing a strip of fabric from his shirt to press against your side, stemming the blood seeping through your top. He scolds you for your recklessness, shaking his head at your determined ways, but in his heart, he knows that you’re alright, and that he loves you all the more for your heroics and stubbornness.

Poe:

Shouting as he runs to you, Poe quickly is at your side, asking after you in a rush and ignoring your attempts to claim that you are indeed totally fine. Without hesitation, he pulls you to your feet, slinging your arm around his shoulders, mostly carrying you as you make your way towards safety. He’s not angry, that much is definite, and you can tell by his quietness and his smirk that he probably approves of your battlefield moves, even if you are stubborn and reckless. Poe sees much of himself in you for those reasons, and although he’s relieved at your recovery and the fact that you just made it out alive, the danger has passed and he genuinely appreciates your bravery and determination. 

+Jyn:

Jyn is not amused, but her frustration is foremost concealed by her concern. She rushes over, cupping your face in her hands, and asks if you’re okay, words coming out all at once so that you can barely answer her rapid questioning about your wellbeing. You can tell she is near tears, but you give her a gentle smile, reassuring her that you’re okay. As an attempt to prove this, you try and stand, but Jyn has to catch you when you stumble. Her exasperation is clear, yet she’s only scared for you, and she, in a stern yet shaking tone, tells you to be more careful and warn her before you ever try such a thing again.

+Cassian:

Angry at first, Cassian approaches you with incredulity and disbelief at your recklessness. His every move as a spy is carefully calculated and thought out, whereas you rush into danger without hesitation or a plan. Cassian scolds you for your impulsiveness and trying to downplay the amount of harm done to you, but his fear and exhaustion penetrate his words. More than anything, he doesn’t want to lose you, his fierce protectiveness dominating his concern and love for you.

+Bodhi:

With wide, worried eyes, Bodhi can’t help but to reexplain what he just saw you do, as if he can’t quite believe your reckless actions. Although you try to deny your injury, he exclaims that you’re clearly not okay, his words hurried and filled with concern while he oversees the medic healing you. You have little choice but to be subjected to his endless worry, unfiltered and rambling, but it is sweet nonetheless, a sure sign that he loves you.

+Baze:

Baze is incredulous and grumpy, but you know him and don't doubt that this is his way of showing his care for you. He hurries to your side after you get injured, and holds you as you come to from your daze of adrenaline and pain. Hugging you to him, he keeps you close and ensures that you are alright again on your own before dragging you to your feet, half carrying you to the nearest medic, lecturing you the whole way. Undeniably gruff and unhappy, he sits with you the whole time as bacta patches are applied to your side, but you manage to elicit a soft smile from him with a squeeze of the hand, letting him know everything will be alright.

+Chirrut:

Chirrut sits by you where you lay on the ground, waiting patiently as you regain your bearings. He is smiling gently, and offers a hand to you to help you up. He doesn’t have to say anything to chide you, coloring any concern with his support as he guides you to a medcenter. After assuring you what you already know- that you don’t have to pretend to be fine with him- he listens with interest as you try to explain yourself and attempt to justify your reckless actions, then give up and admit that just maybe, you didn’t think things through. Chirrut wraps an arm around you, telling you everything is all right; after all, you are both successful in your mission, and more importantly, still alive.

[mamourland]

Kissing Prompt #30 - Magnum/Higgins

Prompt #30 - Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

 Context: post first night together

 Rating: Explicit

God, she was melting, and not in a good way like she had done less than an hour ago. No, this time she was just sweating and sticking to the sheets.

 Higgins was in Magnum’s bed, lying naked on her stomach with her arms folded, acting as a pillow for her heavy head. She was staring at her new lover who was resting on his side facing her, his head held in his hand. His fingers were lightly grazing the expanse of her back, up and down, again and again, in a mesmerizing pattern and if it weren’t for this stifling heat surrounding them, it probably would have lulled her to sleep.

 She closed her eyes briefly and took a slow, deep breath, enjoying her partner’s touch. They hadn’t exchanged a single word since they both came simultaneously but their tender looks were enough to convey their newly discovered feelings.

 It hadn’t been a surprise, ending up in bed with Magnum. The sexual tension between them had been increasing for a few weeks until it had reached an intolerable level tonight and they had crashed against each other.

 Juliet had always suspected he would be a skilled lover, but the reality far exceeded her expectations. Her body was still reeling from the multiple orgasms he gave her.

 It was dark and moist, and both of their bodies were damp, yet Magnum kept brushing his lips against her sweaty skin, from her shoulder to her butt cheek before going back up as if he wasn’t ready to relinquish his connection with her yet. He ended up at her lips and when she felt his presence in front of her face she opened her eyes, only distinguishing his features thanks to the moonlight streaming through the open French doors.

 They exchanged several lazy kisses, the air around them too humid to even find the will to deepen them.

 “If it wasn’t so fucking hot, I would make you scream again,” he growled against her lips.

 Her breath hitched and heat pooled low in her stomach. She wanted him again but these high temperatures were taking the last of her energy away.

 She moaned as she seized his lips between hers again, showing him she felt the same.

 She suddenly found out how they could cool off and surrender to their hunger for each other at the same time. She quickly rose up from the bed, startling her partner before offering him her hand to join her.

 “Come on, I have an idea.”

 His eyes roamed her naked body hungrily before he took her hand and followed her downstairs. They exited the guesthouse and walked towards the main house, completely in the nude. Kumu was away for the weekend therefore they had the entire estate to themselves.

 On their way to their secret destination, they came across the lads who started to growl at Magnum. Instinctively, he cupped his free hand in front of his manhood. Higgins chuckled after ordering the dogs away.

 “Are you afraid for your man parts, Magnum?”

 He scoffed.

 “Hey, they could attack me out of jealousy since they have been castrated!”

 “Don’t worry, I’m sure they would prefer to chew on something far more tender.”, she reassured him before she pinched his butt cheek.

 He yelped in surprise and threw her a dirty look when she laughed at him. It felt so good to have the upper hand during their banter for once.

 They entered the main house and she led him towards the French doors that opened on the pool deck. She noticed his grin when he caught on to her idea. Before they went outside, she turned on the lights that were inside the pool so they could see where they were going without injuring themselves since the moonlight was illuminating the other side of the house.

 As soon as they stepped outside, Magnum let go of her hand and ran towards the water before diving head first in the pool. She shook her head; he was such a little boy sometimes. She chose to use the stairs, dipping her feet in the cool water on the first step before sitting on the ledge, waiting for him to reemerge.

 He gasped as he resurfaced, running his hand through his hair to get rid of the excess water. He met her eyes and he frowned, not understanding why she was staying so far away from him, until she let her knees fall apart, exposing her folds to him.

 His gaze grew lustful in an instant and he quickly swam to join her. He crawled across the immersed steps until he covered her body with his and fused their lips together in a deep kiss, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth to meet hers. She moaned, both at the kiss and the delicious feeling of his now cool body against her hot one. She leaned back with one hand behind her and threaded her fingers through his wet locks. His hair was getting longer and she loved pushing it from his forehead when it fell down.

 After a few minutes he glided his lips across her cheek, nipping down the length of her neck and collarbone until he captured a nipple between his teeth, scraping it; then the other until she let out a soft cry. He continued his journey downwards until he reached her spread thighs where he deposited small kisses, purposefully avoiding where she wanted him. She pushed her hips towards him, trying to initiate contact between his mouth and her drenched center as she panted in anticipation.

 He surprised her as he plunged his tongue inside of her before dragging it through her folds to her engorged clit.

 “Fuck, yes!” she shouted wantonly to the dark sky as her neck arched when he put the right amount of pressure on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

 He kept one hand on her hips to prevent himself from floating away from her and pushed two fingers inside of her, turning them so the pads were pressed against her front wall before he started a steady rhythm in and out of her.

 She let out a strangled noise as he created sensations in her body that she had never felt before tonight. Her climax was approaching, tension and heat pooling low in her belly, waiting to be released in the most delicious way.

 “Faster,”she whimpered, her desperate plea and he obliged, increasing the speed of his movements while he gently bit her clit, making her hips fly upwards in surprise.

 He chuckled, proud of his little effect and she pulled on his hair in retaliation. He groaned against her clit and the vibrations he emitted against her made her snap and she came, loudly screaming his name along a few well-chosen curses across the deserted deck. He kept lapping at her gently while he slowly withdrew his fingers from her. She hissed when his digits rubbed against her sensitive walls as they left her.

 He didn’t let her catch her breath before he lifted her hips from the ledge and pulled her into the water with him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, afraid she wouldn’t remember how to swim in her dazed state. He held her against him, the cool water doing wonders on her overheated body and she felt his erection trapped between their stomachs.

 She wrapped her legs around his waist and they both groaned when the move nestled his hard cock between her wet folds. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered:

 “Fuck me, Thomas.”

 He growled at her words and pushed his pelvis forwards, creating the most delicious friction between their bodies. He walked them to the side of the pool and pressed her against the wall so his hands were free to roam her legs and ass before gripping it so he could hold her still to thrust into her slick heat smoothly.

 He swallowed her moan as he pushed his tongue into her mouth at the same time his member entered her. The contrast between his hot shaft sliding in and out of her and the cool water around them almost brought her into sensory overload, her skin prickling everywhere on her body.

 “God, Magnum, you feel so good,” she sobbed against his lips.

 He started moving and she tried to follow his rhythm, wanting to bring him as much pleasure as he was giving her. He broke away from their kiss and buried his face into her neck.

 “You feel amazing around me, Higgy,” he groaned. “I never want to leave your wet, tight, heat.”

 His words made her heart race. They didn’t have time to discuss their feelings yet but it seemed like their little tryst would morph into something a lot more serious and she felt unexpectedly giddy at the thought.

 He gripped her buttocks to stop her moves and increased the speed of his sharp thrusts. She dropped her head back against the concrete as she wailed her appreciation of his new rhythm.

 “You’re so gorgeous, Juliet. I want to see you come one more time,” he breathed in her ear as he pressed the pad of his thumb against her bundle of nerves that was craving attention.

 She panted a litany of ‘yes’ until she let herself be submerged by her release, squeezing him with her fluttering walls at the same time drawing him closer to her with her arms, never wanting to let him pull away from her.

 He roared her name into her neck when he finally let go of his control and pounded into her until he came in powerful spurts deep inside of her.

 She felt his whole body tense before going lax again. He brushed his lips from her neck to her shoulders before going back the same way to her ear where she could hear his ragged breaths. She caressed his shoulders, back, and butt while they both regained their senses.

 That was it, Magnum had ruined her for any other man. How could she have spent so much time without his kisses, his touch, or the feeling of him inside of her? He better agree to be in a relationship with her because she was now addicted to him and there was no way she would let him go.

 She grabbed his hair at the back of his head and tried to pull him out of her neck to draw his lips to hers yet again. It had been too long since their mouths had been in contact. He eagerly responded to her kiss while he walked away from the ledge of the pool, bringing her with him since her arms and legs were still wrapped around him.

 She smiled against him, enjoying the flowing water against her back as he turned around and marched towards the center of the pool. Suddenly he bent his knees, diving beneath the surface with her. She gasped and tried to yell ‘Magnum’, but she wasn’t sure her voice carried on under the water.

 He brought them back up and laughed at her annoyed expression.

 “Come on, babe, it was funny,” he cajoled her as he pushed her wet hair from her face.

 “Don’t babe me, Magnum,” she pretended to be upset with him but he saw right through her.

 “What can I do to make amends then?”

 She buried her face in his neck.

 “Carry me to bed, I’m tired,” she mumbled against his skin.

 He marched towards the steps of the pool with her still attached around him like a koala bear. Once they were out of the water he turned towards the lounge chairs, sitting on one with her straddling his lap, then laying down with her. She placed herself against his side, tangling their legs together.

 “Are you ok like this?” he asked her as he wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her even closer to him.

 “I want to stay like this forever,” she breathed into his chest as she fell asleep.

 “The feeling is mutual,” he answered even though she didn’t hear him.

 He pressed a kiss to her forehead and joined her in Morpheus’ arms.

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 1.5 OR Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Notes: I’m so excited to finally share this series. I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out, so get ready for a rollercoaster, y’all.

cr.

The moving truck wakes you.   It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the vehicle backing up. With one eye open, you grab your phone to check the time. It’s ten minutes before your alarm.

You begrudgingly rise, getting ready for the day and humming while you brush your teeth to warm up your throat. You change your clothes, then eat cereal in silence at your kitchen counter. Once you’re ready, you leave. But not two steps out your door are you clumsily tripping over a cardboard box.   You make sure not to scream too loudly in case you draw attention. So with a muffled sound and your ankle throbbing at how it was twisted, you stand again.    Someone’s moving in next door.   There are messy boxes littering the hall, the door wide open, and from what you can see inside, the living space is empty. But you don’t dwell, making your own way down the hall to the stairwell.   The timing is poor. By mere seconds, you miss the brunette boy sticking his head out the door with pouty lips and cute eyes, peeking down the hall to catch your retreating form.   You limp to the station and as your shitty luck would have it, the train becomes delayed while you’re squished in the middle cart that’s packed like sweaty sardines. It halts suddenly, everyone jolting and you flinch when someone stomps on your right foot by accident.   There’s no apology.    “Hey, watch it,” the man beside you grumbles and you’re pushed again, at least with your foot free this time and throbbing inside of your worn shoe.   “S-sorry.”   The delay makes you late by the time you arrive in Time Square. You run through the street, shouting more apologies as you dive through the busy crowds and tourist groups. Once you make it to New 42nd Street Studios, you sprint down the stairs to the basement of the building. You nearly trip and tumble downwards to your death, but you catch yourself on the sticky railing.   It’s three minutes past nine o’clock.   “You’re late.”   “I’m sorry.”   “Sorry doesn’t make you earlier.”   The director sighs and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and claps his hands together, scanning the rest of the bustling crew. “Today’s the day folks! We have dress rehearsal and then the show begins at six sharp! It’s showtime! So let’s get moving. You there, intern, go get coffee. And try not to be late this time.”   “Y-yes, sir.”   Up the stairs you go again. It seems like you’re always running, whether it’s for this job or to this job. But you quickly remind yourself that it’s a privilege to be here. Years ago, you would’ve cried tears of happiness if you knew you’d be on the production team of Phantom of the Opera.   Of course, you would’ve assumed you were performing. But being an intern was good enough. Everyone had to start somewhere.   “Hi, can I get ten americanos, six iced and four hot, three chai tea lattes, four vanilla lattes, three espressos, seven cappuccinos, and a green tea?”   The barista runs the company card into the side of her screen and then her eyes flicker up at you. “Sorry, it keeps saying declined. Do you have another method of payment?”   “O-oh. Sorry about that.” You end up paying out of your own pocket for the drinks. There’s no point in telling the director the company card failed — he’ll find some excuse to pin the blame on you, and it’s a small problem not worth the trouble.   You run back while balancing the plastic bags and cup holders in your hands, trying not to spill any of them. Once arrived, you hand them out to the crew members, actors, and actresses.   “Intern! What’s this?!” The director approaches and sighs. You prepare yourself, already reading that expression on his face. “I said six hot and four iced americanos. You got the order wrong!”   You bow your head. “S-sorry, my apologies.”    “You and your apologies!” His teeth are gritted, face reddened in anger. “Apologies doesn’t make my americano hot does it?!”   “I can go get another one if you need—”   “Don’t waste my time more than you already have.” He waves you off, sighing, and you’re left to drown in the humiliation as the others around you snicker underneath their breaths.    You release the air held in your throat and you narrow your eyes sharply into his backside as he walks away from you. You hold your tongue, reminding yourself that being here is a privilege.   //   The curtains draw.   There’s bated breath held in the audience, a certain sense of anticipation that builds the suspense until everyone’s on the edge of their seats. The lair is shown, mist spiraling on the floor, candles all around. The phantom with his cloak and half-mask sits at the organ.   Christine is enchanted, walking closer towards him slowly like she’s been bewitched by a spell.   The actor recites his lines, and then the music begins.    “Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.” It’s a baritone voice, rich and seductive, but still sweet. “Darkness wakes and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses.”    The violin strings pull as if echoing after the voice.   You hold the microphone to your lips, singing and pulling the notes from deep in your stomach. The mic has been moved down several pitches to match the baritone vocal range that you wouldn’t be able to reach on your own, but the tone is rich and believable to be of the actor’s.   After all, one of the biggest efforts the director made was to be able to pull this off.   “.....the darkness of the music of the night.” Your eyes are shut, headphones on and you press the left side closer down to your ear, drowning in the lovely instrumental. “Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be.”   The note is belted out, streaming out from your lips like silk. And when it’s over, you grin. It’s thrilling, a kind of pride blooming inside your chest that’s rare for you to experience. Even if you’ve done it so many times, it never fails to bring you delight — you’re unable to believe that you actually did it.   Once the song is complete, there’s thunderous applause.   A smile spreads into your cheeks, one that’s infectious but no one sees when you’re hidden behind the curtain. And had you been standing on the stage in the spotlight, you might’ve noticed the brunette boy with pouty lips and cute eyes amidst the crowd.   He’s become enraptured by your voice. He’s enchanted, heart stuttering, speechless beyond words. This was the voice he was waiting for. This was it.   The show eventually comes to a close and everyone holds hands to bow to the audience. You peek out from backstage to watch the curtains being brought down.    “Good job everyone. Nice job crew. Taeyeon, beautiful job as Christine once again. You were lovely, darling. Your sound is like melted caramel.” The director continues with his praises, and the other girls playing more minor roles flock to Taeyeon’s side to also shower her with compliments. The whole gathering parade themselves into the dressing room, brushing right past you. “Oh, yes, there’s the star of our show! Kim Seokjin, you never cease to amaze me! Beautiful job as Phantom!”   “Of course.” Seokjin grins, charismatic and charming as always. “You shouldn’t expect any less of me. With a face like this, how could I ever fail?!”   There’s bellowing laughter that rings and pierces your eardrums. “You’re right!”   You wait as they come closer.   Your breath is held. Maybe today, you did a good enough job that he’ll acknowledge you—   But then the director walks past you like you’re a plant. Wallpaper. A backstage prop.   “I loved that emotion you expressed in the final piece. Almost moved me to tears.”   “I tried to do a different interpretation of it this time…” Their voices fade off and you sigh.   You’re envious. Kim Seokjin has a good face. He can act. He can dance. He has stage presence. He’s magnetizing and charming. But he just can’t sing. The man can’t hold a steady note for the life of him. You suspect he’s tone-deaf.    Understandably, the director couldn’t give up on his godly face, so you became his voice. A ghost singer.   It actually works out well. You don't have to be on stage in the spotlight where every single person can scrutinize you, but your voice can be heard. In a way, it’s like you’re performing. But you can still be comfortable. You just wish you were acknowledged. Even if it’s just a little.   You’re suddenly shocked out of your thoughts when one of the crew members hands you a stick, clearing his throat obnoxiously. “Start sweeping.”   You carry the broom and dustpan, beginning to brush away at the confetti that exploded, clearing the floor of dust and dirt. And you end up missing the boy who sneaks himself backstage, who looks around and slips into the shadows.   He walks down the corridor, luckily finding the dressing rooms and he follows the nameplates until he discovers the one that reads ‘Kim Seokjin’.   The boy knocks three times in rapid succession. He puts on his best smile and tries to push the wrinkles out of his suit jacket that’s too small and worn. The door opens. The laughter tapers off.   Jin’s makeup and fake burnt skin have been removed. What’s left is pure godlike genes, and he’s blinded by the older man’s handsomeness, having to resist the urge to shield his eyes.   “Who are you?”   “M-My name is Park Jimin. I’m a fan, I-I absolutely loved your voice on the show.”   “You want an autograph? Of course you do.”   “Who’s that?” the director calls out, lounging on the sofa and drinking a glass of red wine.   “A fan,” Seokjin turns his head to say, and then he grabs a piece of paper. He makes an enormous signature with permanent marker and several loops in his name. Once finished, he slaps it to Jimin’s chest before the younger can even breathe. “Thanks for your support.”   “Wait. Mr. Kim.” Jimin puts his foot between the door before he can shut it. The actor raises his brow and looks at him. “My dream is to be on Broadway. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but can you please mentor me?”   Jin stares at him and then frowns in annoyance. “Mentor you?”   Jimin quickly adds, “I promise I’ll try my best. I am willing to give up anything and learn and you seem to be the best of the best. I haven’t heard such a great baritone voice like yours in so long. Please accept me as your student.”   There’s an extended silence. “Sorry. I don’t accept students.”   “W-wait. Please!”   “Security!” Seokjin shouts outside the door. “Get him out of here!”   Jimin’s shell-shocked, unable to move when his feet are rooted in the ground. His bones have been frozen. The precious image of his idol that he’s created in his own mind for the past two hours has shattered. He’s left in utter shame and disappointment.   “Hey...you’re not allowed to be here!” One of the crew members suddenly points to him.   And then a hand plops down onto his shoulder, a grip firm and intimidating. Jimin looks up to find a stocky security guard, and he sighs. He drags his own legs, shoulders slumped, escorted out.   //   It takes an hour to help the crew clean up. You assist them in sweeping and putting away the props, all while waiting patiently with your eyes pinned on the entrance of the corridor. You dust your hands off, and you’re lucky with your timing.   The director is walking out with his bag slung over his shoulder, jacket over his arm, busy sipping on some warm tea.   “Director Kang!”   You stop right in front of him and he looks at you in boredom. “Why haven’t you gone home yet, intern?”   You’ve been cleaning up the entire time, but you don’t bother telling him in case he tells you that you’re too slow to complete tasks. You’re too preoccupied anyways, catching your breath. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “D-Director. I know we’ve talked about this before, b-but I really hope you’ll reconsider the referral.”   He sighs, rolls his eyes, and continues walking. You follow beside him frantically while he pulls out his phone to message someone.    “I think I’ve been trying my hardest at this job and I've been putting in a lot of hours. I’ve thought about what you said and your advice and I feel like I’ve improved in my singing, s-so….please give me a referral to an agent.”   All you need is a referral. One measly call and you can be in touch with someone who could expand their hands and help you. You could finally make a break in the industry, make a debut on Broadway. It’s what you’ve been trying to achieve your entire life. It’s your dream. Your goal. The reason you left everything back and home and came all the way here.   But he’s not paying any attention to your desperate pleas.   “Director?”   He’s irritated — you can tell with the way he huffs out. It makes you flinch, but he at least stops. “Intern, don’t make me repeat myself. You need to focus on what you’re doing now. Frankly, you’re not even good at this insignificant job. How are you supposed to achieve big things?”   “B-But…”    “You can’t take big leaps when you can’t even take small steps yet. You’re not ready. Not yet. If I happen to notice that you’re finally putting in some real effort and some hard grind, then I’ll think about it again. But now’s just not the time.”   “I…” You’re at a loss, on the verge of sobbing.   “Now if you’re finished, I have a call to make.”   He presses his phone to his ear, a universal sign that he’s not continuing the conversation. You watch him get into his car, driving away, and you’re left there on the street in a cloud of his gas exhaust.

Jimin is at a loss.    He paces around in his empty apartment room with still taped boxes scattered everywhere. He doesn’t feel like unpacking and putting away his belongings. Not when his mind was stuck on something else.   He came all the way here to look for a mentor — having followed his community theater director’s instructions to work on his singing. But without a teacher he can’t make his big break.   “What am I going to do now?” he sighs.    Maybe he jumped the gun a little too soon. It was pretty intense of him to go to a show right on the day when he moved in when he probably should’ve gotten settled. But there’s no time to waste when time is of the essence! Maybe he could somehow convince Seokjin to take him as a student. He is pretty insistent and not one to give up just after a single rejection….   Jimin sits on his couch, the only piece of furniture intact in his home, and he folds his hands together. His brows are furrowed, in deep contemplation onto the next step. But then suddenly, he hears a voice.   “—your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams.” It’s coming from the window. Sweet and melodic. Jimin’s captivated and stands on his feet, following the sound as if he was being gently tugged by a red string tied around his finger. “Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.”   He steps out barefoot onto his chilly balcony. His eyes are fixed on the balcony beside him, the tiny flower beds that are wilting, the warm lights that pour out from inside the home, how the doors are slightly open to welcome a breeze. “Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!”   He hangs onto the note, relishes in how it stirs his very soul, and then rushes out. “And you'll live as you've never lived before....”   Jimin throws his front door open and then pounds onto the door next to his with his fist.   Three beats. One — two — three. And it opens.   He smiles. Then it falls. His line of sight comes a little lower than expected. He was anticipating a man singing, perhaps someone alike to Seokjin, lean and handsome. But instead, it’s a timid girl in pajamas — you.   “H-hello?” you squeak, nervous.   “H-Hi. I...I just….” He taps his ear, trying to explain himself. “I thought I heard…heard....never mind.” Jimin hitches his thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly tilts his body. “I just moved in.”   “Y-Yeah. I saw this morning.”   “So…it’s-uh-nice to meet you, I guess. I mean I don’t guess because it is great to meet you. I swear I’m not usually like this. What I mean is usually I’m not so direct. And, um, bad at speaking. We’ll be neighbors from now on. So I wanted to say hello, since usually, that’s the polite thing to do. Or at least what my mom tells me. She’s great. My mom. But right, I didn’t even tell you my name. My bad. I’m Park Jimin.”    He extends and opens his hand. Then he realizes it’s idiotic for him to shake hands with you. It wasn’t like this was some sort of business transaction. So Jimin lowers his arm….right when you’re opening your palm.    It’s a missed handshake, and he’s cringing so hard, he’s tempted to jump off the balcony. But instead, he musters up stiff laughter and raises his hand to shake yours. He muses how soft your skin is, but tries not to think about it too much in case that’s a weird thought. Which it is.   God, he’s usually not this nervous. It’s a fucking mess.   Yet, you still offer him a polite smile. “I’m Y/N.”   “Nice name. I mean all names are nice, but yours in particular. Not that I mean anything by it. Like it’s quite normal, but not normal in the sense that it’s overused. Not that overused names are a bad thing.” It’s terribly awkward. That blank stare you’re giving him doesn’t help with his perspiration either. Jimin tries to smile to show that he’s not a freak. But it might also be doing the opposite effect. “Well, I should get going now. Lots to unpack.”   “Okay.”   You’re about to close the door, and he steps away. But in the last second, Jimin spins around before you can seal yourself inside.    “Um, were you playing music?”   You’re silent and you blink at him owlishly. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.”   Jimin nods. It’s not exactly what he meant — he wasn’t complaining. But he doesn’t linger to tell you so. He doesn’t want to make you feel tense and he feels like a creep enough. The last thing that Jimin wants is to be kicked out before he’s even fully settled in for being a complete weirdo.   Typically he’s not this socially inept. But he accepts that he’s made a horrible first impression and shuts the door.   Though as he leans on the smooth surface of it, he quirks his head to one side and his brows furrow. Strange. That voice sounded so familiar. And so tangible as if it were here and not a recording.   But he doesn’t dwell, going on about his night.   In the meanwhile, you try to sing quieter.

[atomicpugs]

The Gift

happy birthday to one smug boi~

and endless thanks to @pdrrook​ for this amazing game! ✧ﾟ*ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

(ao3) 

⬫

Not even a tier-five gift of allure can relieve you of the torment of retail.

Despite completing your runs for the week, you’ve been inordinately busy at the perfumery. A big holiday approaches, bringing with it an irregular influx of customers. The day had flown right past you, and you feel exhausted after being on your feet all day, greeting and serving one customer right after the next.

With a tired nod, you bid Dia goodbye as she locks up the shop. She’s quiet, but returns your goodbye with a quick nod of her own before stomping away towards her car. Clearly, she’s just as tired as you are and equally ready to go home.

Unfortunately for you, you’re not heading home just yet.

As you approach Alan’s bar, you could already feel the thumping music under your feet. You stop before the doors to rub your jaw, sore from giving your best customer service smile nonstop the entire day, and you take a deep breath.

The city air is stale but it’s daisy fresh compared to the bar, and your olfactory nerves are burning and dull from sampling perfume all day. With a slight grimace, you open the doors and feel the music immediately flood your senses. You’re not at all a fan of the placement of the speakers right by the door. Alan said it was good for drawing people into the bar. You always thought it was a stupid idea.

Your eardrums are throbbing, but it’s not the worst of it. The bar is completely packed tonight with patrons. Like the music, they’re too loud and too boisterous for you right now. From the state of the sticky floor, the bar appears to have been busy for a while. You feel submerged in the smells of alcohol and sweat and other things you’d rather not think about.

A voice sounds in your mind, as warm and inviting as the day’s first cup of coffee. “Ah, cara, I’m in the back.”

You’re holding your breath as you squeeze yourself between half-drunk dancing patrons, making your way to the back of the bar. Your oldest friend－Reed, as he calls himself now－is seated at a high top, thankfully the farthest away from the blasted speakers. Normally his natural charisma attracts attention, but tonight, he sits alone. You envy his ability to maintain a dignified space from the crowd.

“Evening, carina,” Reed calls out, espresso in hand. An odd choice for a bar, but it doesn’t surprise you one bit. You simply nod in return.

His brow lifts as he takes stock of your appearance. “You look beat.”

“Uh huh,” you reply bluntly, eager to get to business.

Earlier that day, Reed had dropped by the shop, but you were so busy, you barely gave him a second glance. So he scribbled a cryptic note for you: Meet me at Alan’s after work. He wouldn’t make such an effort if it wasn’t important.

You don’t take a seat, choosing instead to stand close to Reed as casually as you can to hear him over the booming music.

“So?” You ready yourself for anything.

For his part, however, Reed is calm, relaxed even, as he finishes his espresso. He dabs his lips with a napkin. It’s either very, very good news… or possibly the worst.

Reed’s eyes center on you, their previous warmth draining away as quickly as he drained his espresso.

You feel your heart drop. This is bad.

“Fuck, what happened?” Your heart beats almost as fast as the music banging in your ears. His brows furrow as a distinct look of disappointment shadows over his features. Oddly, though, his scent remains unchanged. The dissonance confuses you.

His eyes burn into you, and he finally answers.

“You completely forgot my birthday yesterday.”

Oh. Oh no.

Your heart sinks further. This is really bad.

Shit. How the hell did you forget? You've never forgotten his birthday. Never. After all these years, you’d learned that Reed took these things seriously, so you always made an effort to celebrate it with him.

The knots in your stomach tighten. Time to grovel.

“Reed, I－”

Then it hits you.

“Wait…” you whisper.

You’re incredulous.

“I did not forget your birthday!” you exclaim. “Your birthday is months from now!”

In an instant, Reed’s bitter frown suddenly melts into a pout. A fucking pout.

“I wasn’t talking about my real birthday.” He’s whining.

No way.

Is he really referring to the completely, absolutely fake birthdate on his phony papers? Is he really that petty enough to be upset at you for missing it?

Of course he is. This is Reed.

The realization hits you like a bulldozer, and Reed has the nerve to knowingly grin at you. You’re pissed, but a tiny involuntary ripple of guilt runs through your brow and instantly he looks more smug, victorious even. The shithead.

You snarl. “You’re a fucking brat.”

“And you owe me a gift,” he declares and slowly eyes you up and down. “Seeing as you’re empty-handed.”

Reed pouts but a quiver of a grin remains.

“Okay, alright already!” You throw your hands up, nearly knocking over someone’s beer nearby, but you couldn’t care less. You want this over and done with so you can finally go home. If you hadn’t been friends for so long, you would’ve been out the door by now.

In the most caustic singsong voice you can muster, you ask, “Reed, what would you like for your birthday?”

Your irritation clearly fuels him. Reed smirks widely, tapping his chin and making an exaggerated show of deep thought.

“Hm...”

The constant thumping in your ears halts as the music changes. This new song is a much, much slower tempo, it’s melody practically delicate in comparison to the previous one.

Nonchalantly, Reed leaps from his barstool. “I love this song.”

You don’t recognize it, but the change is a welcome respite for your ears. Suddenly, Reed grabs your hand and leads you to the center of the bar where the other patrons are coupling up to dance.

In a swift and graceful movement, Reed whips you around and pulls you close. You let out a haggard breath as if you were holding it this whole time. With him so close, the scent of the bar promptly dissipates, leaving only Reed. His sweet, smoky scent fills your senses. It is so familiar to you now that your body immediately relaxes in the comfort of it. The fight in you fades. The warmth of him is welcome amidst the chaos of the bar.

His hand grips yours tightly, but you feel his other hand graze your waist in surprisingly careful manner. Absentmindedly, you rest your forehead on Reed’s shoulder. For just a moment, he stiffens, then immediately relaxes and leads you in a slow dance. You let out a long, drawn-out breath into his jacket.

Reed switches the conversation to your mind. “Long day today?”

With a sigh, you nod wordlessly. As you inhale, you immediately detect something astringent coloring Reed’s scent. Bitterness and worry echo in the aftertaste.

“Look, I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says, sincerely.

“Sure you are, asshole.” You can’t help but bite back still. To this, Reed chuckles so deeply, you can feel it vibrating through you.

“I am,” he whispers, despite speaking telepathically. His tone turns serious. “You know, you’re working too hard.”

You’re unsure how to respond. “I guess.”

“You are working too hard.”

Reed’s words haunt you. Without thinking, you lean harder into this shoulder, and he instinctively holds you closer. No one knows better than him what little choice you have in the matter.

“You don’t need to worry about me so much,” you say, with some finality to your words.

You feel his grip on your waist tighten just a bit, his thumb tracing you slowly.

His voice echoes heavily in your mind. “I will always worry about you.”

When the two of you are speaking like this, it’s easy to drown out the sounds of the bar. For a spell, you’re both silent, swaying to the music and basking in the comfort of each other’s presence.

You feel safe, almost perfectly at ease. A foreign feeling, these days.

Reed breaks the silence, his chin brushing against your hair. “You know, I still remember the first gift you ever gave me.”

“I bet,” you attempt to snark, but your voice is timid. Reed remembers it more clearly than you do. A small smile curves on your lips as the memory of it gradually comes back to you.

Strangely, Reed releases you, and though your heart should know better, it instantly sinks, craving his embrace. The feeling stuns you. You look up, and Reed is gazing at you with a curiously unfamiliar expression. It’s intense, his amber eyes are burning into you. The two of you are still, almost frozen.

Reed wants to say something. Something important, you know that for sure. It’s his hesitation that alarms you. His full lips part, and he takes a deep breath.

But the song comes to an end. Heavy beats of the next track immediately invade your senses.

You almost dread letting him go. But when you look down, you find that Reed is still holding your hand, though limply this time.

“So for my gift,” Reed’s voice calls out in your mind, full of mischief. His signature smirk returns, quickly replacing whatever was there before.

“Gift?”

“Technically,” he shrugs, his smirk widening. “I never answered your question.”

“Wait, what?” you gawk.

“You owe me a birthday gift. The dance was a nice bonus though.”

Reed laughs. It’s exuberant but rings hollow.

“Are you fu－”

He pulls on your hand, leading you towards the exit. “But first, dinner. Dancing with someone so pretty really works up the appetite.”

“Oh, for the love of…” you mutter, unable to roll your eyes any harder.

“I’m thinking that one place by the square!” he giggles.

“I can’t afford that place, Reed!” you haggle as he continues to lead you towards the exit. The music gets louder as you get closer to the speakers. Earlier you struggled to navigate through the crowd, but Reed cuts through it effortlessly.

His laugh cuts through the crowd just as easily. “It’s on me, of course! Can’t discuss the important matter of my birthday gift on an empty stomach.”

Of all the things, Reed is an excellent negotiator. He knows you well enough to see that you’re starving before you’re even aware of it. You’re wracking your brain on what you could possibly give the guy. The infamous Reed, with his bank account much deeper than yours, typically wants for nothing.

“Reed!” you try to shout over the music, out loud this time. “What else could you possibly want?”

Without looking back, Reed pushes the doors open, and you feel the cold air pour in from outside. He squeezes your hand, and you hear him mutter something out loud instead of in your mind.

But your hearing is overwhelmed by those damn speakers.

⬫

[kylosupremeimagines]

Kylo Ren X Reader: Together At Last

Request: Can I request for Kylo Ren? The reader knew him before he left for the dark side, and during that time, they had feelings for each other. When he left, she joined the resistance. When Chewie gets taken by the knights of Ren, it was the reader instead who was taken. When Rey tries to get the ship that was thought the reader was on back as she was battling Kylo, it was when she thought she had killed her and Kylo didn’t know that she was supposedly to be on the ship until Rey screamed her name. He finds her alive when he goes back to base as she was trying to escape with Finn, Poe, and Rey. She convinces him to back with her to the Resistance and they start a relationship in the end.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1426

Blog Master List | Commissions

Your (E/C) gaze focused on a single red light as you  stood in thought, hidden away in a tiny supply closet aboard the First Order Star Destroyer. As your heart pounded against your chest, you bit down on your lower lip.  The darkness emanating from Kylo - Ben Solo - plagued the entire atmosphere of the ship. Being Force sensitive yourself, it was sickening to sense  around you. Although you hadn’t openly embraced the dark side, its pull on your Force Energy was numbing, almost as if it didn’t need your consent to take over your mind and soul. 

A soft sigh escaped your plush lips as your hand fell to the silver saber clipped at your side. With your finger, you tapped against the warm metal. The others were on the opposite side of the ship preparing to capture the ship again to leave, waiting for you to hurry back to them before escaping. It was only a matter of time before you all were stormed with troopers, putting urgency on your escape even further. 

You carefully rolled up your sleeves to your elbow as the  raw skin around your wrists from yanking yourself from the durasteel restraints that held you captive stung. The First Ordered had captured you, separating you from the Resistance. When you learned that they had boarded the ship, you forced yourself out of captivity. That the stars that you had been able to reach out to Rey and assure her that you would meet up with that, that you were alright for the time being. 

Huffing out, you used the Force to push open the door and bolted out of the supply closet. You darted down the gloomy corridor, sending life forms every now and again to avoid them crossing your path. The echo of clicking boots sounded through the halls, stopping you in your tracks. Your foot slid back as a pair of troopers rounded the corner, but before they could raise their blasters to you, you slammed them against one another to knock them out in an instant. 

Your eyes widened, heart sinking as a chill ran down your smile. “Ben…” you breathed out in retaliation, sensing the very man you had been waiting to meet him once more after years of being apart. For years, you worried for him as you could sense his pain ever so slightly through your bond with him through the Force. There was no telling what was happening to him, but it certainly couldn’t be anything that he deserved. 

“You’re really here?” you heard a familiar voice breath out in disbelief, his modulator distorting his deep voice. Breaking from your thought, you turned to him, his broad form wrapped in his black cloak. Kylo took his mask by the sides to pull it off of his head, holding it at his side as his honey brown eyes stared at you as if he had seen a ghost. Tears pricked the corner so his orbs as he took in the sight of you before him.

Sensing no ill intent within the man, your muscles relaxed with slight hesitation. “Of course I am. Your Order kidnapped me and brought me here.”

“When they told me they captured you, I couldn’t believe that it was you,” he came to confess in a low tone of voice. 

“I’m here now, but I’m not staying,” you glared at Kylo. He was still a new person, far different from who he was during his Padawan days. Deep down, however, you had faith that he would cease to hurt you in retaliation to your escape. There was still a glimmer of hope in him as the light side still burned with the darkness that had consumed him. Although it was nothing but a tiny flame, there was still something in him that proved he was not too far gone. “please don’t try to stop me. Don’t let it come down to us fighting. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” 

Kylo’s free hand balled into a tight fist at his side, gaze ceasing to fall from you. He swallowed a lump stuck in his throat as he tried desperately to stop his tears. “Even after all this, I could never do that to you, (Y/N),” In the years that you were apart, although it had been ingrained in him to let everything of his past go, you were the one thing that he refused to forget about. 

Your heart rate skyrocketed as he breathed out, still pounding in your chest. The pain in his eyes was fresh, as if it had been ages since the last time he let himself accept his emotions. It radiated from his aura, just how much he hurt. What in the stars had he been subjected 

You were his trigger. 

“Ben, leave all of this. Leave the First Order and everything else behind. Come back with me, we miss you,” you pleaded with him suddenly, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. “your mother wants to see you again and she tells me every day that she would do anything to have you back. Chewie, even if he is willing to try accepting you back over time. But me? I’ve been so lost without you, worrying about you every day. I don’t want you back. I need you back.”

“You know as well as I do that I can’t do that, (Y/N),” Kylo insisted. The very moment that he betrayed Luke and joined under Snoke, he assumed that he had damned himself to such a life. How could he ever deserve anything different than the pain that he had led himself into? 

“You’re wrong,” you shook your head in protest. “there isn’t anything stopping you from coming with me. I know that you don’t want this, and that you want to put an end to Palpatine. If you just come with me, then we can do that together. And then we don’t need to be apart again. I kriffing miss you, Ben. I really do want you back. I’ve never stopped loving you since we were Padawan, even now I still do.” 

“You what?” Kylo froze, eyes sharp on your gaze as he stared deeply into it. 

“I love you,” You slowly approached Kylo, reaching your hand out for him. “come with me. I miss you so much and want nothing more than to have you with me again. I can sense the pain and I want to take that all away from you. If you would let me.” 

His mask dropped to the floor with a metallic crash, eyes flickering down to your hand. “I-“ he started to say until he stopped himself.  “I swear on the Force that I won’t leave you again,” Kylo promised, reaching for your hand. He gave it a small squeeze, taking in how warm your Force aura was after missing it for so long. “we can’t go with your friends, it’ll be too suspicious. Tell them to leave without you and we can go to my personal ship.”

“But-” 

“No buts. Just listen to me,” he begged. “trust me on this.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, holding his hand close to you. After you spoke out through the Force to Rey to assure her that you were alright and had a way off of the ship, your focus returned to the raven haired man. “where do we go?” 

“Just follow me,” was all he said before he dragged you along with him, racing down the long hallways of the star destroyer for his personal hangar bay. As the Supreme Leader, he had his own shuttle in a bay with no other ships, a private wing. He huffed out as he scanned the hangar bay, thanking the Force that there were no officers or workers in sight. “come on, you’re going to need to sit in my lap. I’m sorry about the lack of space,” he apologized. 

Kylo hopped up onto the top of the TIE, using the Force to lift you up with him. He opened the hatch and let himself in, standing up as his gaze returned to you. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yes?” you raised an eyebrow as he stalled. 

“I want you to know that I love you too,” he whispered softly, pulling you in close by your tunic. Your lips collided with his, instinctively melting right into the kiss. Your hand trailed up to cup his freckled cheek, caressing his soft skin soothingly. “I always have, and I always will. That’s a promise.”

Tag List: @scheherazades-horcrux @alladeline @attorneyl @babybluelukex@glitzescape @dancewaterdance02 @celiholland @crkylo@celestiaelisia @xsister-serpent @fizzywoohoo @topsykretts92 @ayatimascd@delicatelyherdreams @ddriveringg @littlegirlsdontplaynice @yymmaarr@darlinguris @bellaren18 @queenofheartsmegs @themauvemage@starlingmehdarling @anti-climactic @mollmoll01 @reylokisses @smallt1ddygothgf @mira-winterlight @glassythoughts @moon-390 @fralackles @zaneholtzwrites​ @pinkmoontribe-blog

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Panoramic - Part 2

(Finally) @damnshipper I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

—————

Eve arrived. Night fell.

It was dimly lit on the highest balcony. This particular one was carved into the façade of a riad. The embroidered, balustered structure was stunningly furnished with its lush hanging plants and swaying pendant lamps. The rectangular frame wrapped around pillars. Giving way to the lancet arches that mirrored one another, from end to end. It replicated the shape of the enclosed courtyard it overlooked down below.

The glowing courtyard was filled with palm trees with fan-like fronds and potted plants. And wild roses, winding, as they grew around alabaster pillars. Scattered yet strategically arranged, the fanous provided warmth and light, resplendent. The decorative lanterns were placed around corners of a rectangular pool perfectly centered in the ground. Glazed-clay tiles of ivory, turquoise, and cobalt blue glistened along the bottom and sides. The lacquer lustrous in the light.

A dark hooded figure stood hunched over the wrought iron mashrabiya carved railing. A heavy-bottomed glass of scotch in hand. He shook it once, passively observing that the ice had melted. He paused to squint closely at the amber liquid. Through the glass he could see a blurry silhouette. As if it were a window.

The large hand slowly lowered.

The shadowed figure approached. Instantly he knew. The mysterious girl occupying his thoughts - she had appeared. She had come to him. Once more, she was covered from head to toe. Nothing was visible, save for the bright, glinting gems that were her eyes.

She placed an outstretched hand on his shoulder.

He clasped it for but a moment, before pulling her right to his chest. And he took no time to begin lowering the gauzy material from her face. Fully enjoying the process of unveiling such a striking visage. A coy quirk of her full lips, was all the encouragement necessary. His breath was on her neck. His hand on her hip, and dropping lower. To dip under the fabric at her feet.

The large hand skimmed her ankle.

Her legs were bare.

He arched a daring brow, as she reached up, her hands flush to his abdomen.

His mouth pressed harder into her neck, hearing a sharp inhale and feeling the rush of blood. A feminine gasp cut the air. The fabric on her legs had begun moving. He was gently unraveling her. Slowly… and surely, unwrapping.

“Rrraven…” he whispered into her neck over and over, her breathing became labored. At the sensations. The undulating rhythm of their bodies in motion together. And the hypnotic tremolo of his tongue.

Her hands loosened their hold on him. A tilt of the head, and she turned. The fabric slipped out of his hands, and her body out of his grasp. His hand beckoned her back, as she shirked back into the shadows.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Please…”

Before they opened.

Indigo and purple grew wide. Raven Roth woke with a start. Stripping back the sheets. “Damian.” She whispered, searching the darkness.

—————-

For the next two days, Raven found herself walking back to the souk. Her intention was merely to stop by and see if she’d missed something. To check if there was anything else she wanted to buy. Maybe try her hand at some more haggling. Those were the only reasons. At least, the only ones she was willing to admit to herself. Really, Raven didn’t even know what she was doing back here. What she was hoping for - or expecting to find.

Just…

If there was a chance she might, Raven knew she had to see him.

The pale girl adjusted the indigo scarf around her neck. Tonight, she decided to try the spot where she’d initially rejected his gift. She had only visited during the day, so it was worth a try. She turned and touched the fabrics slowly. They were lovely, but nothing was really catching her eye. Had the highlight of her vacation already occurred? And this soon? It was ludicrous - insane for her to think that her trip had somehow peaked.

But… was it?

Because, for the last few days, her stay in this gorgeous city had suddenly seemed…lacking.

Uneventful. Dull.

Raven sighed.

No…

This was a trip she had taken by herself. For herself. She had hardly seen all the country had to offer. Even if now, she just wanted whatever Damian had to offer.

A light gust of wind blew. And the hair raised on the back of her neck. She sensed the presence of someone behind her. It was night time in an unfamiliar place, yet, she didn’t turn around. A hand slid over her eyes. In spite of her present vulnerability, the pale girl knew she was safe. Raven just… had a feeling. A hot inhale on elicited a frenzy of goosebumps on her nape. She shivered at the sensation on the surface of her skin…

“‘Ant… jamila…” She felt her breath catch. With long fingers, he turned her face to his.

It was him.

Raven flushed at the man’s words and peered down at her feet. She was having great difficulty staring directly into his piercing green eyes. The rough palm slid down her cheek. “Come…?” Damian asked.

He hesitated, until he saw her pink face move up and down in a nod. His head angling curiously. He offered a half smile.

“Yes.” She would go with him. There was hardly any question as to whether she would. Suddenly, Damian reached down for her hand, as he had done before. And he pulled her out of the tent. Leading her away somewhere.

Then, he was walking with her down a long line of stalls in the souk. Full of tea and textiles. Cups and cutlery. Scarfs and silks. They walked out and around, leaving the market in their wake. And she let him guide her. She didn’t know why exactly. Raven peered up at his towering form and loose djellaba billowing in front of her as he led her away.

But…

They walked through the medina. Under elaborate archways. Through alleyways. Along narrow streets.

Raven still couldn’t stop thinking about it. That holding his hand felt right. Almost…natural. She gazed down at their interlaced fingers. Admiring the contrast of her pale ones on his darker ones. Raven found herself enraptured with the sight and feel of her skin on his skin. They had this unspoken connection she couldn’t quite explain. Not even to her own mind. It was like he was someone she had known.

Or needed to know.

Desperately.

Like a kindred soul. Or a… soulmate? It was the only explanation, because she had never let someone just take her like this. She had never been taken with someone like this. Why was it that wherever he was leading her, she wanted to go?

Needed to go?

Was it the euphoria from being in a foreign land with a handsome stranger? Or was it somehow more? She could only ponder these thoughts briefly. As they were suddenly made not so pressing. Because at last.

They were here.

Another gorgeous refuge from the busy streets.

This one with a tudor arch that framed a teal and white porcelain tiled fountain. A couple of tall palm trees and a wall ensconced in vines. The thick water stream spouting as it rose and fell behind them - that was the only sound around. At least the only thing she heard before…

His palms were on her shoulders, as he pulled her to the ornate wall. He slipped off his hood. And gently asking with his eyes, before removing hers from her head. Her dark braid tumbled out. And he gazed in wonder into her eyes. Tirelessly, she stared back into lush green. She had escaped to another secret sanctuary just for her. Raven knew next to nothing about the man. Yet there was an instant need to share his space. To breathe his air.

A palm raised to hers.

His spicy, rich fragrance. The breath on her lips. The intensity of his jade-green gaze searching her own. The indigo irises moved back and forth. Right and left. She could see every brown and black fleck and aqua speck in his vibrant eyes. The colors in them - unfathomable. Boundless. They were so much more than just green. The hues in his eyes were as endless as the city around them. Goddess. All of it was starting to make her ache. For more contact. For more of him. She closed her eyes. The pounding of her heart echoing in her eardrums was unrelenting.

Raven was so swept up, she was subtly mouthing gibberish into the air, as if trying to wordlessly communicate that she wanted - no needed him to kiss her. If only she could project her thoughts to him for a moment. Would they even make sense to him with their language barrier?

She bit her lip, feeling his nose trailing along her cheek. His sweet breath nearing her. Damian must have picked up on what she was feeling. Finally. She arched her back off the wall in her effort to get close. Raven leaned as near to him as she could. She was getting closer. And closer. And closer…

By now, her lips should have met his mouth… Or his cheek… Or chin… Or skin…

But nothing…

Just air.

When she heard a deep, far-away chuckle, the deep violet-purple peeled open, with a furrowed brow.

“Tch…” His body propped on the opposite facing wall of the archway. Far away. She flushed. Raven’s head dipped down in her disappointment. He clicked his tongue a second time, as his long legs carried him back over to her.

There was something of a knowing smile carved onto his face. He didn’t appear to be oblivious. Though, she couldn’t say for certain. Of her advances, he had not rejected her. Or dissuaded her outright. She almost wished he would. Or say something to make her feel less foolish. Raven couldn't believe what she had done.

Tried to do…

Silence stretched heavily between them. Footsteps shuffled as Damian and Raven walked on into the night.

Oh…

Raven hadn’t meant to be so eager. So forward. What was the matter with her? She hardly knew him. And he hardly knew her.

They were strangers, after all - weren’t they?

Damian paused. His back facing her. Offering no explanation. Why had he stopped walking? He turned back to her with an unreadable expression.

Abruptly, he pressed her body against the tadelakt wall in the alley. Wide blue-violet eyes tilted upwards. Fingers slid down her face. A slow, steady trace on her lips with a fingertip. Circling the top and then the bottom. Memorizing a path in her pout. Every inch he explored tingled with such sweet sparks. He did know what she wanted.

Was he going to…?

Damian's lips parted. Maybe he shouldn’t. Or he wouldn’t. Was this right? She thought it was. She hoped it was. Were they right? When he saw her flushed stare - wide and surprised, he stopped. Releasing her for a moment. Then, a smile, and his hands slipped around her waist. He held her. And nuzzled her neck. Raven’s eyes shut. They were nose to nose, as she folded her arms around his neck in an impassioned embrace.

His terracotta pink lips, but inches from her own as he murmured,

“'Ant hlu…”

Her head was swimming. Another hit of the smell off his skin and she felt lighter than air. Damian thought… She was sweet. Beautiful and sweet. In an indescribable way, they were bound. Yes. She did want him to kiss her. Maybe… he was just playing hard to get with her. And that was alright.

It was working exceptionally well.

Because she thoroughly enjoyed these moments she had spent with him. And Gods how she wanted more. She didn't think twice about her previous plans for this trip. If everyday was like this one, her time in Morocco would have been well spent.

One could only hope.

—————-

A week.

They had somehow agreed to meet up in the same spot in the souk. For a week straight. Raven honestly didn’t know how, but somehow they had. With her limited Arabic knowledge. And his limited English. And nary a translator insight.

He would greet her the same way. She would find herself exploring a stall or two near what had become their spot. All of a sudden, she would feel the sensual rush of his teeth tracing her ear, the sensation of his breath. The spicy, sweet aroma this man brought everywhere with him. Something in Arabic was murmured sexily in her ear, “Rrrayie, Rrraven…” Her heart would race and her legs would shake.

And she knew it was Damian.

And off they would go.

Together.

They explored Fez. Her, for the first time. And him, for the first time with her. Every so often when they walked, she would feel compelled to place her head on his shoulder. She felt so safe with him.

Her troubles and doubts subsided and ebbed away. As she delighted in Damian and the gorgeous cityscape.

Although, the practical part of Raven was surprised by everything. That she had spent so much time with a person she could barely understand. And that was at the best of times. But whether she could verbally confer with this man or not, it wasn’t important. Not so much as him and his company. She could feel his emotions and his soul just by being in his presence. They matched Damian’s outsides, as they too were beautiful and kind. And mischievous.

It had to be something beyond her. That they were able to converse so richly, even though they didn’t fully understand each other. It hadn’t affected things at all. She enjoyed every breath with him. Maybe even more because of it.

Raven could see aspects - views she hadn’t truly considered. Until now. Because there was much more than words that one could use to communicate with another.

Raven and Damian did them all. They experienced the spectrum. Ranges of shades. All of the various ways.

Expressions. Gestures. Laughter. Body language.

A smile. A look. A whisper. A touch.

Drinking.

Dancing.

Tasting…

“Try…?” His forefinger and thumb proffered a piece of halva, a rich milk based dessert. It hovered right by her mouth. She opened and let him feed her. Raven nibbled it right from his fingers.

“Mmm…”

Damian was very pleased. Viridian eyes never left hers, once, as he licked the residual sweetness from his own hand. She blushed and felt other parts of her body were warming.

Raven licked her lips slowly, with an expression that didn’t often cross her face. One of appetite. Voraciousness. Greed. A desire to devour something decadent. But not food. No, a fodder of another kind.

She had never tasted anything so luscious or sweet.

As his sapor of his skin was the true confection underneath the syrupy treat.

So it was undeniable.

Despite the language barrier, they still managed to find common ground between their tongues.

So to speak.

Their days together felt vastly more intimate than any time she’d spent with anyone else. In spite of how dissimilar they appeared. Surely two people who lived practically worlds away could never come together in this way.

And yet they had.

Damian was showing her his world. And in his spheres of malachite, she saw yet another one waiting to be discovered.

[minnuet-archive]

Boring

Rating: G

Trigger Warnings: None (that I can think of- let me know if you find anything)

Word Count: 1,632 

Fan-fiction or Original Work? Original Work

Story Type: Short Story

Notes: I wrote this in response to the required prompt— ‘write about someone that’s opposite of you in any way’— that I needed to have along with my portfolio to get into an art high school for creative writing. I got in, so that’s good! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Bill doesn’t do much. Every day, at 6:30 AM, his alarm goes off and he gets out of bed. He puts on slacks, a white button-up, a colorful tie, and a blazer to match his slacks. 

He then uses his beloved coffee maker to make instant Nescafe coffee, which isn’t good but does the job. He pulls open a drawer and takes a spoon out so he can add a spoonful of artificial sugar before throwing the used utensil in the sink.

Finally, he puts on his socks and Ecco dress shoes before grabbing his ‘#1 Employee’ mug (which he bought for himself) and walking out the door. 

Today is no different than any other day for simple Bill. As he walks into his office, he waves at his coworkers with a bright smile. Not a single one of them seems nearly as happy as he does.

Sitting down at his desk, he opens an excel spreadsheet. Numbers are written and deleted, emails are sent and received, and he doesn’t mind a single second of it. When he looks up from his computer to take a sip of his coffee, he sees a woman standing outside his cubicle.

“Hi, Marianne! How’s your day treating you?”

She grins at him although he’s not quite sure why. “It’s treating me pretty well. How’s your day going?”

“Good as always!” Bill laughs lightly as he raises his coffee mug to show her how much coffee is helping his day. He wonders if she got the joke.

“That’s nice. Actually, I wanted to ask you something. A few friends of mine are going out to get a few drinks and some food after work. You want to come along?” Bill’s eyebrows furrow for a moment as he contemplates why she would ask him to come along. Suddenly, he remembers that he was planning on eating a microwave dinner of chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and corn. 

He can’t help but sigh in content. “I wish I could. I’ve been looking forward to heating up my favorite frozen meal all day!”

Her face drops and she nods her head. “Have a good rest of your day, Bill.” When she left, she had looked a little bit disappointed, but Bill can’t put his finger on why.

Shrugging his shoulders, he looks back to his screen. Around the bottom of his computer, he sees a glowing purple light. Luminescent, it intrigues him. As he goes to move his computer, he hears the familiar chime of an email appearing in his inbox. His attention turns to the home page of his Gmail account once again and he dismisses the purple light without a second thought.

Emails later, he stands up to stretch, getting ready for his lunch break. He feels a vibration coming from his front pocket. 

Bill pulls out his phone to get a better look at who’s calling. In place of a phone number, there’s a single word.

ADVENTURE

He squints at the letters, confused as to why ‘Adventure’ is listed as the phone number. After five whole seconds of careful consideration, he decides that it must be a spam call and presses the button to decline it.

Slipping his pen and pad of paper into his bag, he takes a few steps out of his cubicle. As the confidence he shows would suggest, this is his routine.

Heading to the break room, he whistles to the tune of It’s A Small World.

Eugene stands in the break room, making himself a cup of coffee. Bill grins widely at him and Eugene waves at him. “Hey, Bill,” Before Bill can respond, he adds on. “Oh! I have something for you if you want it.”

Walking over to Eugene, Bill tries to peek and see what he has for him. “I made muffins with my wife the other day and we didn’t finish them. They’re a little bit old, but I think they’re still good. Do you want one?”

His eyes are practically glowing as he stares at the muffin. “It looks amazing! I’d love to take it!” He looks up at him.

As Eugene holds his hand out for Bill to take the muffin, Bill smiles gently at him and looks into his eyes. They stop for a moment and Eugene’s eyes contain a sense of longing (not that Bill notices). Bill takes the muffin and stands up straight again.

“Thanks, Eugene!” He spins around to the table and sits down, peeling the saran wrap off the muffin. 

Eugene looks like he has mixed feelings, but hides it well with a grin and walks out of the room. “Have a good day, Bill.” 

As Bill continues to eat his (most likely several) day-old muffin, he remembers his cat at home and becomes visibly excited to see him later.

Is Earl missing me? I hope he isn’t too worried! Thinking of Earl, he pulls out his phone to check the kitty cam he had installed. When he opens the app, he finds Earl lying lazily atop a grey couch covered in white cat hair (Earl had claimed it as his own and there was no going back).

He smiles lightly at Earl before putting away his phone and grabbing an apple and a slice of leftover pizza from his bag. The pizza is cold, dry, and hard, but Bill doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems to enjoy it.

After eating the rest of his lunch, he sits back down at his desk, ready to work and do as much as he can.

Around 6:30 pm, as he exits the building, he begins to think once again of his microwave dinner at home. 

A wondrous sunset of yellow, orange, pink, and purple is painted across the sky and Bill stops to appreciate it for a second. When he looks back to the street in front of him, he adjusts himself and starts walking towards the side of the street. 

Despite not being built in any way, he has no trouble walking down narrow alleyways and waving at people surrounded by plumes of smoke. 

As he marches down the sidewalk of Maple Street, approaching his house, something brushes against his leg. He turns to see what it was, but finds nothing. Confused, he turns back around and catches a glimpse of a small creature scampering around the corner. 

The creature looked like it had been sparkling. It must have been the little guy’s collar. “Poor animal. I hope it finds a home!” He smiles sadly and begins to unlock the big glass door in front of his apartment complex. 

He spots the clerk sitting at the front desk and acknowledges him with a wave before entering the elevator. He presses the number five and whistles to himself as the floor moves below him. The red carpet muffles the sound of his footsteps and he unlocks the last door he’ll need to for the rest of the day. 

After heating up his microwave dinner and opening it up, he walks to his couch and plops himself down next to Earl. 

He eats in silence, but not in sadness, as he scratches Earl’s neck and ears. Without warning, he hears a voice. “We’re supposed to leave you alone, but I just can’t. I need to know why.” Her (he assumes she’s a her) voice is velvety and smooth, but also has a whimsical sort of feeling. 

For whatever reason, he sees a picture in his head of a quaint cottage made of soft light. Bill cranes his neck to see who could possibly be the owner of the voice and finds a woman with auburn hair down to her thighs. 

Her eyes look as if they’re made of melted gold— and they very well may be— and her freckles are stunning. But Bill isn’t phased. “Why what?”

She rolls her eyes in annoyance. “We’ve spent all day giving you ways to get away from reality. We went through a lot of work to give someone with a boring life a chance to have fun. But you didn’t even try to cooperate! You literally declined a call to adventure. I just need to know why.”

He nods his head slightly, finally understanding why today had been so off. “My life not being your ideal life doesn’t make it boring.”

She looks taken aback. “What?”

“You called my life boring and said you tried to help give me a chance to have fun. The thing is, whether or not you agree, I don’t think my life is boring. I love my life. I don’t need help or a call to adventure.”

“I don’t understand.” She looks sincerely lost as she looks at him. In comparison, he seems sure of himself.

His eyes are soft and caring as he speaks. “I don’t hate my job. I love numbers so it’s great to be able to work with them all day. My microwave dinner might look gross to you, but I enjoy it.”

Her face is flooded with understanding and she makes an ‘oh’ shape with her mouth. “I think I get it now.”

“I’m not oblivious to Marianne and Eugene— I just don’t think I need love in my life. At least not that kind of love and at least not right now. It might not be your definition of a good life, but it’s mine and that’s all that matters.”

She puts her hand on his shoulder for a few seconds before taking it off again. “Okay. I think I understand. I hope you keep doing what makes you happy. I’ll make sure to come back and visit sometime.”

He nods his head. “I’m looking forward to it.” With that, she dissipates and the apartment is once more wrapped in silence.

Tag List: @just-perhaps @ettawritesnstudies @abalonetea @rhycantspell @sssifonix @antisocialdragonenby @holdup-pause @sunandshinee @writingamongthecoloredroses @monstrouswrites @gaydemiboy @uptown-worm 

Let me know if you want to be added (or permanently added) or removed to the tag list! I just added a lot of close friends and people I would love to read my writing. =)

[optimizche]

Angelic: Sire and Seraphia (Park Chanyeol/Reader)

Her

“Ohh my god, Lu,” I groaned around a mouthful of blueberry pancake. “These are delicious!”

Sitting in front of me, nursing a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, Luhan beamed at me with pride. “I’m glad you liked them, princess.”

“‘Like’ is an understatement, Lu,” I said, ravenously forking some more of the syrupy, buttery pancake into my mouth. It melted on my tongue and I let out another groan, shutting my eyes in pure bliss. “These are divine.”

“Hey!” came Baekhyun’s indignant exclamation. “I made them, too, you know? I need some credit, okay?”

I smiled at my brother who was standing at the stove, flipping more pancakes on the skillet. “Of course, Baekkie. You’re a culinary genius!”

He blushed at my praise, waving his hand dramatically as if to say oh stop it.

I laughed.

Beside me, Yixing was watching us with a fond smile on his face, drinking a cup of coffee. He always took his coffee with a splash of cream and two sugars.

Underneath the table, his free hand rested upon my bare thigh. Fingers playing with the hem of my silk shorts.

His touch on my skin felt like a blanket of comfort, a direct result of his innate healing abilities.

Just being around Yixing made me feel at ease, his touches ameliorating any distress or disquetude within me. He was like a walking, talking safety net for me and in his vicinity, I felt calm.

The calm and comfort that Yixing’s presence brought me was rivalled only by the serenity and tranquility that I had always felt around Junmyeon.

I wanted to lean into Yixing, crawl into his lap and dissolve into his embrace. Maybe take a nap, even. But we had to be discreet around the rest of my brothers.

Instead, I placed my hand on top of his, threading my fingers into his. He gave my hand a squeeze.

“You’re working at Seraphia with Minseok and me today, aren’t you, love?” Luhan asked, pulling me out of the quiet moment Yixing and I were having.

I turned to him with a smile. “Yep.”

Seraphia was a cosy neighbourhood cafe that Luhan, Minseok and Baekhyun had started. And the establishment was quite popular among humans, having garnered numerous loyal patrons over the years.

Lu smiled back at me, while Baekhyun began to animatedly talk about all the pastries he was going to teach me to bake.

Just as he was explaining the intricacies of making the perfect blueberry compote, Minseok walked into the room, Jongdae on his heels, both wearing identical grins on their faces.

“What’s gotten you both so chuffed?” Lu asked, quirking a brow at them.

“Junmyeon is coming,” they both announced together.

I stayed frozen firmly in my chair, silent, while the rest of my brothers erupted into cheers. Yixing beside me remained silent as well, giving me a look.

The message in his glance was clear: we both were going to have to be deathly careful around Junmyeon.

Being the oldest among us, it wasn’t going to be easy to make him believe that everything was fine and dandy. Junmyeon could sense an impending peril within a second. He could read through us all.

And the consequences of him finding out what Yixing and I were truly up to… I didn’t even want to imagine them.

It was Minseok’s voice that drew me out of my own thoughts.

“Aren’t you happy that Jun is coming back, ___________?” he asked, regarding me with an air of expectation. And suspicion. “He said he was missing you the most.”

I felt a shard of guilt stab at my heart. Beneath the table, Yixing gave my hand another squeeze, sensing it immediately.

Mustering up the most radiant, shining smile that I could manage, I said, “Of course I’m happy, Min. I’m just… a little anxious about working Seraphia. I’m still a novice, after all!”

Minseok waved a hand dismissively in the air, shrugging off my worries with a grin of his own. “Don’t worry, princess, you’ll be great.”

“Did Junmyeon say when he was going to arrive?” Yixing asked.

“He didn’t say when,” Jongdae mused over a bite of pancake. “He just said ‘soon.’”

I gave Yixing a glance once again.

We had little time to prepare and rehearse our lies, then.

“Will you be coming to Seraphia, Yixing?” I asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

“I will try, love,” he replied, looking apologetic. “I have some commitments at the studio to complete.”

Yixing worked as a music composer, while Jongdae was the lead vocalist at a studio that the two of them ran nearby.

And as crestfallen as I was that I wasn’t going to be able to be around Yixing until tonight, I managed to smile at him.

God, life could be tough around here on Earth.

_________________

The sweet aroma of Luhan’s baked goods on display was making my head spin, the scent of Minseok’s strongly brewed coffee becoming the perfect accompaniment to it.

Even as I stood at one of the empty tables, scrubbing down the tabletop as best as I could, I couldn’t help but think if Luhan would allow me to sneak out one of his chocolate eclairs during lunch break.

He knew that I had an insatiable sweet tooth.

Which is why, when I caught his eye as he stood behind the counter, he gave me a wink. He knew.

If you work well, princess, I’ll let you have as many pastries as you like, was the implied bribe behind his wink.

I grinned at him, walking over to him as he beckoned me to the counter with a curve of his finger.

Tightening up my ponytail, I approached him. “Yes, Lu?”

“Princess, you’ll have to man the coffee bar, since Min has to leave early today,” he said.

“Leave early? Why?” I asked, my brow furrowing with instant anxiety.

It was only my third day of work at Seraphia and until now I had only helped with Luhan and Baekhyun with all the bakery products.

I had zero experience at brewing coffee. Especially nowhere as good as Minseok did.

“He has some official business to attend to with Baek and Jong,” he said, a significant look in his eyes.

Realization dawned on my face immediately. Father had asked them to do something for him.

“Fine,” I said, shrugging. “I’ll do it. But you need to teach me the basics, Lu.”

“No worries, princess,” he said, beaming, before pressing a grateful kiss to my cheek. “You’re a quick learner.”

___________________

The lunch time rush hour had passed smoothly and I had hardly any problem with fulfilling all our customers and their caffeine cravings.

Everything had been going well.

I was silently eyeing the array of chocolate eclairs on display, which were practically begging me to devour them. My stomach growled painfully.

“Ugh,” I groaned, glancing at the clock. “Where are you, Lu?” I muttered, wanting Luhan to return from his lunch break as quickly as he could, so that I could go for mine.

“Excuse me?” came an impossibly deep voice, jolting me harshly out of my eclair filled fantasies.

I looked up from the display case to the man standing on the other side of the counter.

Red.

That was the first word that came to my mind as I took in his lush, spun-crimson hair. He was practically a giant, easily a head taller than me, dressed in a pitch black suit. By his attire, I would’ve thought him to be a businessman. But for some reason, this man in front of me didn’t exactly seem to be a businessman.

Unable to help itself, my heart gave a stutter when my gaze fell from his hair to his face. High cheekbones, full lips and deep-set, dark eyes, he was the textbook definition of devilishly handsome.

“Excuse me?” he repeated, voice dropping an octave and his rosy lips turning into a smirk, now that he had noticed my blatant staring.

“Y-yes, sir?” I squeaked, inwardly cursing myself for sounding so much like a breathless schoolgirl.

“How c-can I help you?”

He grinned openly.

My heart skipped another beat.

“I’d like four shots of espresso, please,” he spoke.

I stared at him, the cogs in my brain turning. His voice sounded so familiar, yet so foreign. Something I knew, but couldn’t put my finger on, just yet.

“Of course, sir,” I said, trying to muster up my composure. Trying to hold my own in front of this obviously very intimidating man. “Anything else?”

He pointed at the display case with a long, elegant finger. “What would you recommend from these?” he asked of the baked goods.

“T-the chocolate eclairs,” I said. They were my own favourites, after all.

He smiled. “Perfect. I’ll have two of those, please.”

“Certainly,” I said, turning to the till to enter his order into the system. “Who should I make the order out to? And will you have it here, or to-go?”

“Chaniel,” he said simply. “I’ll have it to-go.”

My eyes immediately grew wide, the hair on the back of my neck prickling in a completely instinctive reaction that my mind couldn’t understand just yet. “Ch-Chaniel?”

“Yes,” he said, grin growing wider, as if he were enjoying an inside joke. “C-H-A-N-I-E-L,” he spelled it out for me, while I scrawled out his name on a styrofoam cup with a rather shaky hand.

“Please wait right here,” I said, turning away from this man who was making me suddenly feel a whole array of emotions that I couldn’t quite process just yet.

It didn’t help that I could feel the burn of his gaze upon my back, following me behind the counter as I prepared his coffee and packed up his eclairs with fumbling hands.

I had not reacted in such a way to any of the previous customers I had tended to in the past few days.

Why was I behaving in such a flustered way around him?

Discreetly, I turned around to sneak another look at him. He was looking at the pastries in the display case, hands in his pockets. A small smile playing on his lips.

God.

What was wrong with me?

Finishing up his order, I approached the counter, to hand it over to him.

He took the coffee and the bag of eclairs. But instead of leaving, like I had expected that he would, he reached into the bag and pulled out an eclair, holding it up to me.

“Is something wrong, sir?” I asked.

He smiled, almost radiantly, pressing the pastry into my hands. “I bought this one for you,” he said and promptly turned on his heel to leave.

Before I could ask him to stop, or say anything, for that matter, he was gone.

Leaving my hands searing with a pleasant heat where his skin had touched mine. And my heart buzzing wildly like a honey-bee with an inexplicable reason.

And then it happened.

The heat from where our hands had touched, for barely a moment, began to spread its way all over. I could feel it crawl up my wrists, up my arms, to my neck, down my torso and legs. And all the way up to my head.

My breaths began to come in heavier than usual and my trembling hands suddenly let go of the eclair I was holding. In slow motion, I saw the pastry fall onto the floor, and the realization came to me.

It was him.

Him.

The man who had kissed me that night.

Satan’s child.

Between heaving gasps, I leaned against the glass counter, heat flooding through my body like an inferno. So strong that I felt my knees buckle and give out from under me.

But before I fell to my knees on the floor, a pair of arms caught me.

“Princess! Are you alright?”

Luhan’s face came swimming into view through my blurring vision and I staggered, pushing him away violently.

“Y-Yixing…” I breathed out, trying my best to restrain myself, despite the excruciating heat that had now settled deep within my core. “I need Yixing…”

And with that, I turned on my heel and ran out of the cafe.

_______________

Him

The taste of the eclair remained sweet upon Chanyeol’s tongue, a smile firm upon his lips as walked back into his home.

There was a spring in his step, all from the joy to the next phase of his plan coming to fruition, as he hummed a pleasant, sprightly tune, walking through the expansive courtyard.

He could see all of his brothers’ multi-million dollar worth luxury cars parked in the driveway.

Good, they’re all home.

“Boys!” Chanyeol yelled out, as soon as he flung open the front door. “I’m home!”

Silence.

His ears were met with a deafening silence, a stark contrast to the usual ruckus his brothers created whenever they were all home, making an irate Kyungsoo the one to implore them to just keep it down.

Almost immediately, Chanyeol knew that something was up. And his suspicion came true when a very distinctly familiar voice called out to him in a musical lilt.

“In here, son!”

His stomach dropped, nerves growing tenfold at the sound of that voice. He was hoping that he was hallucinating. Or that it was one of Sehun’s playful pranks.

But all his hopes came crashing down when he turned the corner and walked into the dining room.

All of his brothers were seated along the sides of the long dining table, their backs straight, expressions tense and their hands resting clasped together upon the edge of the table.

And at the head of the table, sitting at the seat that was reserved for Chanyeol, was him.

The one man Chanyeol feared more than life itself. The one man Chanyeol had been hoping to avoid for quite a few centuries.

He hadn’t changed in the slightest, Chanyeol thought as he watched him sip a deep red wine from a crystal goblet, clutched between elegant fingers. If anything, he looked younger than before. No one could have guessed that this man, if you could only call him that, had been around since the creation of the universe itself.

He glowed, pale gold and unblemished skin, impossibly high cheekbones, rosy lips and a pointed chin. An array of earrings adorning one ear. Devastatingly handsome, what with his raven hair flopping artfully over the right side of his forehead. He was dressed in his usual, all black suit. Chanyeol had never seen him wear another colour in his life.

“Is this the way to greet your sire?” he spoke, the playfulness in his voice edged with a tinge of irritation.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Chanyeol said, hurrying over to where he sat, falling to his knees before him, bowing his head.

He chuckled quietly, setting the goblet aside to grasp Chanyeol by his shoulders, making him rise to his feet as he stood as well, before he pulled him into his arms in a hug so constricting that it made him wince.

“Do I look old enough to be called Dad?” he asked. “You know what to call me, son.”

Even though he was taller than his father, Chanyeol was nowhere even close to his level of strength. And as he hugged him, Chanyeol glanced at the tattoo etched on the nape of his father’s neck: an Angel falling from Heaven, with its wings spread wide.

The irony made Chanyeol’s stomach twist every time he saw the tattoo. An Angel etched on the back of Satan’s neck?

A sickening taunt.

And the gravity of it hit Chanyeol even more strongly now, as his thoughts went directly to his own angel.

Bile rose up his throat and dread rose in his heart.

Pulling away once his father released him from the embrace, Chanyeol looked at his smirking face.

“It is good to see you, Jiyong.”

[btsinlondon]

Voyeur

Yoongi x Reader (voyeur! Jimin) 

Three POV’s - Reader, Yoongi & Jimin

You found yourself in a taxi home, head slightly heavy from the amount of alcohol you had consumed, but you were slowly sobering up and the realisation that you were going home with a stranger was hitting you - this wasn’t something you would normally do. 

It was unusual for you to be this impulsive, but here you were, in the back of a black cab with a guy you’d just met. He told you his name - Min Yoongi. He asked you to come home with him. He looked at you so intensely and you didn’t want to refuse...

You

At a super hipster London cocktail bar, it was you who had approached him. Stumbling slightly as you crossed the room, 3rd cocktail of the night in your hand (or maybe it was your 4th?) you squared up to the guy who had been staring at you unapologetically. 

“So are you going to tell me your name seeing as you’ve been glaring at me for the past 20 minutes?” you confidently say, the liquor giving you a boost of confidence. 

“S-sorry, I - uh what?” he stammered. His vulnerable tone made you raise an eyebrow.

“What’s your name?” You repeated, a little more firmly.

“Min Yoongi” he blinked a few times and raised his head before resting it on his knuckles, elbow on the table. 

“Well Yoongi, may I buy you a drink?” you smirked at him, loving the role reversal as ‘may I buy you a drink?’ is universally understood as another way of saying ‘may I sleep with you?’

You were intrigued by him and the low and faint throbbing down below told you his stares were having a magnetic effect on you. 

Yoongi followed you to the bar and the bartender asked “what can I get you both to drink?”

“Two more of these cocktails please” you said pointing to your empty glass.

Yoongi was quiet and stood quite still, his stoic demeanour not giving anything away but he continued to stare at you with those intense, feline eyes. It was almost unnerving - you had no idea what he was thinking but when you both went to pick up the same drink, his hand folding over yours around the cold frosted glass, the electricity that pulled through your stomach was so intense you let out a sharp exhale.

Yoongi

She was buying you a drink, you weren’t quite sure how it had happened, but the attractive girl who you kept staring at across the bar had approached you and asked your name - or rather demanded to know your name. Inside your stomach was flipping and your heart was pounding in your chest but you knew you could keep your composure so she wouldn’t sense how intensely you wanted to pull her close and kiss her... keep you cool Yoongi

At the bar, you couldn’t help it - you just continued to stare. Her sparkle in those eyes, her soft skin, her delicate collar bones, her red lipstick - you wanted to kiss those lips so badly, to see what she tasted like. She ordered two cocktails and as you went to reach for your drink, she got there first. You palm closed over her fingers and that was it. The tension that had built in your chest wanted to burst out, the blood rushing away from your head making you slightly dizzy. You couldn’t help it, your bulge was growing and it was just from the touch of her hand. ‘God help me’ you thought. 

You

The dull throb had gone, replaced by an awakened thirst, an aching and in an instant you wanted him. Right here. Right now. 

“now” you said - shocking yourself slightly as he drew his hand away from the glass. “I mean, now! let’s go dance?” You cringed at how ridiculous you sounded, but it didn’t matter. Yoongi grabbed his drink and pulled you by your other hand over to the small dance floor. 

He moved his hips to the music, it was almost sensual the way he pulled in closer to you and brushed his crotch against your stomach. Was that? Did I feel? Is he hard? 

Yoongi

She clearly felt you hard, brushing against her, because she looked up suddenly, those eyes full of enticing lust. You wanted her closer, needed to feel her skin on yours.

You knew you weren’t imagining the sexual tension because soon she was grinding against you, her hips making blissful shapes against your body. You lost control and grabbed her body and pressed your lips to hers. She submitted into your touch and parted her lips, allowing you to brush her tongue with yours. She smelled delicious and tasted like fruit punch, you greedily deepened the kiss and grabbed her ass, all the while grinding in sync to the music. There must be some way you can get her alone.. get out of this busy bar...

You

His lips were like fire, burning with passion and tasting like pineapple - the cocktail he had downed was tossed aside, the plastic cup rolling on the floor beneath your feet. He grabbed your ass and you whimpered into his mouth. You pushed yourself closer to him, grinding yourself on his body - the thirst and need in your core was almost too much to bare. There must be somewhere we can go....but you were meant to be staying at your friend’s house tonight...

Yoongi

You needed to get out of here. Right. Now. Back at your place, Jimin was probably still awake playing video games or making out with someone from Tinder... but you could take your chances. Besides, Jimin had people back home with him all the time - sometimes more than one. Walking in on him having sex with a guy or girl had happened on numerous occasions so maybe it was time to get your own back. 

You

You needed to get some air - before you melted into Yoongi, your burning desire for him making your legs quiver, barely able to stand in your heels. Still driven by the confidence the alcohol had stirred up, you pulled away and grabbed Yoongi’s arm, leading him outside to the smoking area. The cool air outside hit your lungs and you breathlessly turned to him “Is there anywhere else we can go?” 

“Let’s just get out of here...taxi to my place” his low voice had a serious commanding tone that was inescapable. You never did anything like this - never. A stranger asking you back to his house...this just didn’t happen to you and you knew it could be risky. He could be a psychopath...But something about the way he looked at you lured you in. You nodded. 

Yoongi

You took out your keys and hastily unlocked the wooden front door. As soon as you walked into the long hallway, you turned to face her. Whispering you said “My roommate might be in...we have to be quiet” and sure enough, as you walked into the living room, there lay Jimin passed out on the couch. Arm lolling over the side, his head turned to face the end of the sofa so his face was obscured. “Fuck sake” you cursed under your breath “I guess we should go upstairs, but I’m currently sleeping on a blow up mattress on the floor as we only just moved in...” you were embarrassed but she held her hand to your face “Let’s just stay down here baby, I can be quiet...” she bit her lip and looked over at Jimin “He looks pretty out of it to me..I bet he won’t wake up” 

You took her bait and moved in closer, her hand on your skin was enough to make your cock twitch in your jeans. Suddenly she was kissing you, hands entangled in your hair, her fingers brushing your throat and closing around your neck tightly. You could see stars, it was passionate and intense and no girl had ever made you feel like this. You were getting hard for her and she knew it. She pushed you onto the other couch and kneeled over your lap straddling you, her v brushing lightly against your bulge - teasing you into submission. She began to moan, ever so softly, but the noise was incredibly sexy and you could feel her hips grinding harder and harder against your body. 

“Fuck....baby girl you are such a tease. If you carry on like this I’m going to have to rip you out of those clothes and fuck you right here” 

Jimin

You stirred. Head fuzzy and mind blurry, you couldn’t remember where you were. You fluttered your eyes open and saw that you had fallen asleep on the sofa. Something had woken you up but you weren’t sure wh- “hhngg, uh fuck yeahh”

- You could hear a female voice...was she moaning? Confused, you lifted your head slightly and through the darkness could see where the noises were coming from. Yoongi was sat on the sofa and someone was straddling him...shit...grinding on him. The image was fucking hot and you were about to shout out to them to GET A ROOM but instinctively stopped yourself. You didn’t want to end this little Friday night peep show. 

Their bodies were moving in sync and it looked like they were practically fucking, even though they were both still fully clothed. The sight was turning you on so much, you unwillingly felt yourself grow hard at the view across the room. Silently and without them noticing, you unbuckled your belt and top button of your jeans and began running your fingers over yourself, eyes fixed on the two bodies. 

“yes...Yoongi...I’m so turned on...I need more. Please Yoongi...please...fuck me” her moans were delicious and you began to quicken the pace of your hand.

You were rock hard, mouth open you let out a tiny moan which you were sure they heard. Yoongi hesitated for only a second and you were scared you had been caught. But instead he put his hands on the hem of her top and pulled it over her head. She undid her bra and flung it aside.

Soon all of their clothes lay in a pile on the floor and you nearly let yourself push over the edge just from the sight of Yoongi bending her over the sofa and pushing all the way inside.

The sound of his hips slapping against her ass, her breathless panting, Yoongi’s low groans - it was too much. You closed your eyes and pumped your cock faster, matching their pounding pace with your hand...

You opened your eyes to see the girl looking directly at you, bent over in front of Yoongi who hadn’t noticed that you were awake.

She pressed her finger to her lips and winked at you, moaning louder still. 

You

His roommate was awake. You noticed his hand first, it was moving furiously on his cock, his eyes closed in pure bliss and this turned you on even more knowing that he was lusting over you and Yoongi fucking on the sofa. Your eyes moved to his face - he was seriously good looking. His sharp jawline and soft lips...his head leaning back as he got closer and closer to the edge. Staring at him unashamedly, his eyes suddenly snapped open and he was looking right at you. 

You gasped and Yoongi took that as a signal to fuck you harder, your body moving violently under his grip on your hips, you were both starting to lose control... 

“Oh YES - yes right there, please..harder” you moan loudly knowing full well the good looking guy across the room is watching your every movement. 

Yoongi

You quicken your pace, loving the feeling of her slippery pussy around you, her moans growing louder with every thrust. It feels so fucking good and you start to feel yourself getting closer to letting go. You slap her bare ass and the sound of your hand on her skin is incredible, it sends waves of want and need through your entire body. Now you don’t fucking care if Jimin is awake, in fact you almost want him to look...and that’s when you spot him...he’s pumping his cock in his right hand...lids heavy, looking at you both, his mouth open and his head rolling back into the arm of the sofa.

The way he’s looking at her...such hunger and desire in his eyes...it lights a fire in the pit of your stomach and you groan “fuck baby, you feel so good. I don’t even care if Jimin is awake. He should be watching this. Watching you ride my cock, so wet for me”

Jimin

You’ve been caught. They know. They watch you touching yourself, so hard for the real life porn scene unfolding in front of you. They don’t stop what they’re doing and neither do you. Yoongi says your name and it snaps you back to your senses.

“Shit, Yoongi man. I’m sorry - I can’t help myself. This is too hot, watching you fuck her.”

“Don’t stop Jimin, don’t stop touching yourself. I’m going to make her cum so hard and I want you to make yourself cum too. Add this to the top of your late night fantasies...every time you touch yourself I want you to think of this moment - of me fucking her senseless and you watching from across the room. You can look but you can’t touch” Yoongi smirks and pulls out, flipping her onto her back and lifting her legs above his shoulders.

You

This new angle hits your g-spot and you moan so loud, body writhing beneath Yoongi, his hands firmly gripped on your legs.

“How close are you baby girl?”

“So....c-close” the tension inside your core building, Yoongi pounding into you, hitting that sweet spot every time. He reaches one hand down to rub your clit in long slow circles and suddenly your body jerks, you release in hot pulsing waves as you feel Yoongi cumming inside you, his cock twitching slightly as he collapses onto your body.

Jimin

Her body jerks and you know she’s cumming. You stare at the two hot bodies, both of them reeling in the pleasure of it all and you can’t handle it. Your hips buck as you cum, riding out the intense pleasure, panting and moaning you sink into the sofa, arms fall heavy against the sides of your sweaty body and you close your eyes.

Yoongi

So Jimin, next time you pretend to be asleep - maybe don’t touch your dick so fucking much and we might not notice.

The end.

Please reblog, comment and give all the likes as I’m still super new to this and need all the praise I can get 😘

[roughentumble]

alright, so, like i said i would, here’s the unedited chapter/rough draft of chapter 8, under the cut <3

keeping it basically unedited, so there may be typos, jsyk

Leg bouncing, nails chewed, eyes unfocused-- Jaskier is the image of anxiety, thoughts running around his head in circles as he waits for Yennefer to come downstairs. He'd heard what she said about making Geralt a tea, something to ease his symptoms, but questions still plagued his mind, and all he wanted was some godsdamned answers. He slumps forward a little, elbows on the table, and puts his head in his hands.

He's so tired of worrying. No answers, no respite, just... constant, low-level worry.

Heels on wood. Jaskier's head snaps up at the sound and there she is, decending the stairs, looking grim. She crosses the room altogether too slowly in Jaskier's opinion. His leg starts bouncing again.

By the time she's seated across from him, he's about ready to jump out of his own skin. "Is he going to be alright?" The words fly out of him, a little too loud, a little too fast, before she's even fully seated.

She makes him wait until she's sitting and comfortable, legs crossed. "He's not going to die."

The relief is instant. Just hearing that simple reassurance from someone who actually knows what's going on has his shoulders slumping and tears springing to his eyes. He'd been nervous, of course, but-- he hadn't been aware *just+ how nervous until now. It leaves him a little light-headed, and his hand flutters to his chest to quell his racing heart. "Oh," he mumbles, "oh thank the gods." After a breif pause, he tacks on, "And you as well. Thank you."

Yennefer shakes her head, something approaching fondness in the corners of her eyes. "Always theatrics with you."

He makes an affronted noise. "Excuse me, I just got some rather earth-shattering news, I'm entitled to a little excitement. I don't know what's going on, unlike you people."

That seems to bring her down, expression turning serious once more. "Right. He's been keeping you in the dark, hasn't he?"

"Yeah." He says quietly, rubbing his thumb across the pads of his fingers, feeling the callouses there-- a nervous habit. "I tried not to let it show, but... he was really starting to scare me, there."

She sighs heavily, and mutters *'that idiot'+ under her breath. "Well. I can't tell you everything-- it's his job to come clean, not mine. But I can shed a little light on the sickness for you." Jaskier inhales sharply, eyes lighting up at the prospect of finally getting a little clarity. "Because that's exactly what it is-- a sickness. Not a curse." Jaskier's face falls. She continues, undettered. "Magical in nature, yes, hence why witchers can have it, but it isn't catching, so you're fine."

"So--" He sounds lost, "so you're telling me," but as he continues the words grow bolder, angrier, "*you're+ telling *me+," heated, loud, "that he knew it wasn't a curse this entire time? He's just been-- been lying to my face, while I worried and doted and... and he just, what, didn't deign to tell me?"

Yennefer raises an eyebrow. "Don't shout at me about it, I haven't misled you yet, have I?" He grumbles, but concedes her point, collapsing back in his chair. "Much better."

She gathers herself for a moment, then leans forward a bit, hands resting on knees. Her tone shifts from informative into something more serious. "You should understand that this is a very... private affliction. Not only is it incredibly rare, but it also only afflicts those who are rather... witholding to begin with. He didn't lie to be malicious. Even if he were the most open man in the continent, he'd still be rather reticent to dole out the finer details." Jaskier softens a little, goes back to rubbing his fingers together. "Were he not a witcher, and were it not for the tea I'm about to supply him, he very well could've ended up dead."

He looks up at her sharply, heart squeezing painfully in his chest. "He--?"

"Rake him over the coals for all I care. But before you do, understand where he's coming from." She meets his eyes, tilts her head a little, as if sizing him up. "Surely you've had your secrets? Things you were too ashamed to share, thoughts too private to make known." He nods, averts his eyes. "He's scared. And I normally wouldn't betray his trust in telling you that, but honestly, I think he needs you to know. He isn't being cruel, at least not intentionally. He's frightened, and ashamed, so he hid it from you. Because your opinion matters to him."

Jaskier remains silent, and Yennefer pauses as well, allows the words to sink in.

"Be angry if you'd like, of course. He shouldn't have lied to you. And he's being rather stubborn about it all, if you ask me. You don't have to let him off the hook. Just make sure, if you're going to make him squirm, it's for the right reasons." She finishes, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"All I wanted..." Jaskier folds his arms across his stomach, curling in on himself slightly. "All I ever wanted was for him to be *okay+."

She sighs heavily. "Yes, I figured as much." As she stands, she curses Geralt under her breath once more for good measure. "Do with the information what you will." She says in lieu of an actual goodbye, and then strides out the door, presumably to work on the tea she'd mentioned.

Jaskier lets out a groan and slumps against the table, laying face down against it.

His stupid, awful, bull-headed, stubborn ass of a witcher, running him ragged, making him worry over nothing while hiding the true depths of the danger he was in right under Jaskier's nose, shouldering the burden himself as if Jaskier hadn't talked himself blue in the face about how he wanted to help. Maybe Yennefer was right. Maybe he *didn't+ deserve to be let off the hook. Maybe that would finally convince him to stop being such a prick about this.

He keeps working himself up like that, letting his irritation simmer. The image of Geralt bent over, clutching flowers comes to him unbidden, and he feels a pang of sadness at seeing his witcher so fragile, so... *exposed+... but he waves the thought away.

He just needs to set some ground rules, give Geralt a piece of his mind, knock some sense into the guy. He's going to march up there and tell Geralt how it is, he decides, and he stands up abruptly, determined.

===============

Jaskier marches right up to the door and shoves it open. "We need to talk." He annonces to the room, hands on his hips. Geralt blinks up at him, startled. "Yen told me," he starts, and Geralt instantly goes pale, "Yen told me that it's *not+ a curse, and, you know what else I learned from my conversation with her? That you knew all along, and you lied to me-- what, jsut because you're a *big tough manly man+ and you can handle it on your own? Well, I've had enough! Enough of the godsdammed lies, and the evasiveness, and the-- the *bullshit+, Geralt! You can't just keep me in the dark about everything all the time!"

He ends up in front of Geralt, hands still on his hips, and not entirely sure what to say next. He's realizing that he should've maybe come up with an outline of his grievances. They feel a little jumbled now that he's saying them out loud.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating it is, how frightening it is, to know something's wrong but not know what it is, or how to stop it, or how to help? I've been, essentially, squirming under your thumb for weeks now with no respite, all because of your--!" He pauses for a moment as he looks down at Geralt-- really looks.

He looks at Geralt, ready to chastize him further, and sees his wide-eyed stare. Sees his hands cupped to his chest. More blood on his lips. More flowers in his hands.

He looks... hurt.

Jaskier melts a little, expression softening. "Oh, *Geralt+," he says quietly, stepping a little closer, "did you have another attack? Why didn't you *tell+ me, why'd you just sit there and let me yell at you whlie you're hurting?"

Geralt shrugs, eyes downcast, pulls in on himself a little further, and the moment stretches out before him, fragile, like spun glass. Something in Jaskier's chest aches, and he wants to shout, *no, no, don't do that, don't close yourself up,+ but he doesn't want to shatter the moment, doesn't know how to say it without making Geralt retreat further.

"I... I deserve it." He says quietly, head bowed.

Jaskier makes a pained sound and suddenly he doesn't give a shit about shattering the moment anymore, he just wants to comfort the man in front of him. He rushes forward, clambering into Geralt's lap, throwing his arms around Geralt's neck, tucking himself into Geralt's space to hold him close, keep him from curling in. "No, you dolt, you deserve to be-- be chastized for making me worry, not... not sit there in agony and get kicked whlie you're down! I swear, you're always overreacting, always torturing yourself for no reason..."

Geralt sits stock-still, hands crushed against his chest, trapped between himself and Jaskier's enthusiastic grip. "Did you honestly think," Jaskier continues, hugging him closer, "that I... what, wanted you to suffer, or something? Did you think I was that mad at you?"

He's tense as a rock, like any wrong move might incite Jaskier's ire. Like a cornered animal. He doesn't say anything, but that's more than answer enough. Jaskier lifts a hand and starts running his fingers through Geralt's hair. For a moment Geralt stiffens even further, but after a moment his shoulders start to drop ever so slightly, and Jaskier feels him relax by inches. His head eventually droops a bit and he leans it on Jaskier's shoulder, pressing his face into the crook. "I... I didn't want you to leave." He admits, voice small.

"Oh, my dear witcher..." Jaskier rests his cheek against the top of Geralt's head, still petting. "And... what, you thought that I'd go as soon as I found out how sick you were?" Geralt nods, and Jaskier makes an admonishing sound. "Geralt, never, I'd *never+..."

"Should." He mumbles. "Got every right to. 'M no good as a muse, like this."

"As a...?" Jaskier blinks for a moment, processing his words, then he places both hands on Geralt's shoulders and gently pushes him back, just enough to meet his eyes. "You really think I give a shit about that? You're my *friend+. I don't care about the music. I'm not going anywhere, okay? You could literally set up shop in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere as a shephard, and I'd still be right there with you. Well-- admittedly, I might go on excursions to nearby towns n' such, to get nice clothes and good wine, but, I'd still come back to you. Every time. No matter what."

"I... really?" He stares up at Jaskier in disbelief, and Jaskier smiles back.

"Of course... I'm so sorry I let you think otherwise, I... I thought you knew. Especially after our conversation the other day. You're not just a job or a muse, Geralt, I... I thought you *knew+." He says sadly, brushing some of Geralt's hair out of his face.

Geralt keeps staring, looking up at Jaskier like he's a revelation. Then, all too soon, he's curling back over, coughing into his hands. Jaskier leans back to give him space, give him air, but keeps running his hands over Geralt's shoulders soothingly, murmuring gentle encouragements.

When he straightens back up, his eyes look a little misty from the effort, there's even fresher blood staining his lips, and two new blossoms rest in his palms, shaking from the effort.

Jaskier reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. He reaches for Geralt, and Geralt ducks back a little. "I... I don't need..." he croaks out, and Jaskier shakes his head.

"You may not *need+, but I want to, so." He reaches out again, slower this time. "So let me? Please."

Geralt stills, and Jaskier sets about cleaning his mouth for him, gently swiping the cloth along his lower lip. "Listen," he says gently, still dabbing at the red on Geralt's mouth, "if you don't want to give me all the details, you... you don't have to. Yennefer said it's... personal. If you don't want to tell me-- well, I'll still pester the hell out of you, we both know that, but... just don't lie to my face anymore, alright?"

Geralt swallows hard and gives him a single, weak nod.

===========

Deep down, Geralt knows that Jaskier is wrong. He knows that if he told Jaskier the truth, the bard would leave. Or, at the very least, would pity him, treat him differently, start pulling away, and the thought of Jaskier present but distant is almost more painful than the idea of him gone...

but he wants to believe him *so badly+.

Hesitantly, he leans forward again, and Jaskier accepts him back into the circle of his arms without complaint, lets him tuck his face back into the crook of his neck. Jaskier's grip is gentle and firm all at once, calming and grounding, and he never wants to move from this spot.

*Just for a minute,+ he thinks desperately, squeezing his eyes shut and sinking into Jaskier's touch, *just let me pretend.+