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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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The Thief of your Heart - Chapter Nine.

A huge thank you to those of you still with me on this! Your lovely reviews and reblogs are so hugely appreciated :) as are you!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Tag list - In the comments, please reply below to be added/removed

Words - 5,336

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Chibs mentioned that you were, what did he call it, a fire hazard in the kitchen. These are damned good, though,” Gemma spoke through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, Abi smiling as she put the plate down at the table, going back to fetch the bacon and toast, enough made for everyone. They were all in good spirits after the long-awaited return of Abel the previous evening, celebration of the child’s safe handing over to his father following.

Fiona and Kerrianne had left early that morning, spirited back to their home, after much had come out in the wash regarding Jimmy, now on the run, wanted by army and MC alike for his rogue, reckless behaviour. Clay and Jax were due to sit down with the kings later that day, Kellan also stating that they’d requested a meeting with Abi immediately afterwards.

Her breakfast making was a much needed distraction from the meet, also to keep her mind busy in the wake of learning the disturbing truth that McGee had been in cahoots with Jimmy all along to betray SAMCRO. To discover that, it had been a huge blow, and Abi’s heart hurt. He’d been almost like a second father to her. It stung to her core, the lengths he’d gone to in order to hurt the club, Chibs of course included in that. Anyone who posed a threat to his safety was automatically cancelled out from any charity in her soul, but still, the softer side of her nature was bruised.

“It’s about the only other thing I’m good at, except for curry,” she revealed, Gemma nodding.

“He mentioned that, too. Said something about needing an asbestos lined mouth?”

Abi chuckled, pouring out a coffee from the pot, tending to Gemma’s cup too. “I’m a fan of heat. I can eat raw chillies like bell peppers, doesn’t bother me at all.”

“You’d love Hap’s chill, then. He makes it so damned hot, you come out of eating it with only twenty percent of your taste buds left.” She snorted, imagining it was likely the perfect heat for her, the thud of footsteps preceding the appearance of the man himself.

“I hear someone baggin’ on my chilli,” he spoke, sitting down and helping himself to the assembled breakfast items.

“You’ve burned my mouth out one too many times for me to be complimentary, sweetheart,” Gemma spoke as he sat, suddenly getting back up again. He returned with a small bottle in his hand, Gemma eyeing him curiously. “You brought your hot sauce with you?”

“Hell yes, I did,” he began, turning to Abi. “I make it myself. Part habanero for smokiness, a little garlic, smoked paprika, ghost chilies and Carolina reaper pepper, hottest in the world. Here, try it.” He broke a corner of toast from the slice, sprinkling the sauce on before smothering his eggs in it, Abi taking it from him and popping it in her mouth. He waited for her reaction, surprised at the one he received.

“That’s fuckin’ gorgeous!”

“Not the reaction I’m used to, but you’re correct,” Happy stated succinctly, pointing a fork at her, Clay, Chibs and Juice all heading over.

“You cooked, Gem?” Chibs asked.

“I helped. Mostly, it was your girl, though.”

He stopped in his tracks. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You’re so rude!” Abi admonished, everyone laughing.

“I’m cautious, knowing your history,” he sat down, eyeing the food suspiciously, making a show of looking indecisive, Abi’s frustration growing. “Looks great, darlin’.” he finally relented and praised her with, kissing her cheek and loading his plate.

Jax, Opie and Bobby eventually emerged, everyone eating before the boys sat down to talk, Gemma and Abi heading downstairs. “I have to ask,” she began, lighting a cigarette Abi offered her. “What went down with you and Fiona the day before yesterday?”

Abi drew on her cigarette, holding the smoke tightly. “The confrontation that’s been coming for fifteen years. She let me have it, I the same with her.”

“Chibs seems very frosty with her, a definite atmosphere there where there was none before.” Abi knew what she was doing, fishing for more information to sate her curiosity. One thing she’d noticed about Gemma even more this time around in spending time with her, was that the iron lady of Charming hated to be out of the loop on anything. Abi wasn’t in the habit of sharing anything she didn’t want to, though. It was something she very much intended to keep an eye on with Gemma, going forward. She liked her, a lot, in fact. She didn’t care for her nosiness, though.

“Aye. He had it confirmed that it was her running to my father in his last days alive that led to him being banished from Ireland. I’d call that a pretty contemptuous bone to pick, wouldn’t you?”

“Jesus Christ,” Gemma began, Abi glad that she seemed sated by her revelation, because she wasn’t about to reveal the rest. It was for the sake of her pride, mostly. “No wonder it was colder than a nun’s crotch between the pair of them. I have to say, I’m surprised she left with her face intact.” Nodding in her direction, Abi was under no illusion over what she alluded to.

“I wouldn’t hurt Kerrianne like that, by giving her mother the beating she deserves. I’ve never known the girl, Fiona keeping me well away and her ears filled with poison over me, most of which I do likely deserve for being the reason her parents split up, but she’s Fil’s little girl. Wouldn’t be right.”

Gemma nodded slowly, her eyebrows fluttering a little. There she was, a terrorist, and arms dealer, a truly frightening individual, but she had a line she wouldn’t cross, a code of conduct, still. It was surprising to her, knowing only too well what a different breed the IRA were. Even more hardened and less scrupulous than outlaws, and Gemma knew first hand, that took some beating.

“A very honourable stance to take,” she voiced, looking over her shoulder, watching Chibs walk out and head in their direction.

Abi cocked her head, half-shrugging. “Perhaps the only honour I have left within me, where it concerns him and my family, although they’re one and the same.” If there was one thing Gemma could identify with, it was that. She left them to it, Chibs taking a seat behind where Abi sat side on, pulling her back against his chest.

“So, since we’re no longer on lockdown, do you want to do something today, go out somewhere?” he asked, Abi turning to look up at him.

“What did you have in mind?”

He grinned, kissing her head. “It’s a surprise. Get yourself ready.”

“I’m ready. But you know I hate surprises!”

He chuckled, standing. “Aye, I do. Come on.” Being out on the open road, on the back of his bike (or rather, the one loaned to him) was something Abi had missed greatly. There came a certain freedom in riding a motorcycle that just wasn’t attainable behind the wheel of a car. It definitely did her the power of good.

However, such a notion was challenged when she began to notice their journey becoming very familiar. She knew halfway through exactly where they were going, closing her eyes and groaning a little when she realised the destination.

“Really?” she questioned, taking off her helmet after they’d pulled up outside her mother’s house.

“Really. It’s time I faced your mother, made good with her, put the past to bed.”

Abi was touched by the gesture, but her snort still erred on incredulous. “You know she hates surprises almost as much as I do, don’t you?”

“I do,” he began, looking pleased with himself. “That’s why I got her number from Maureen and called her while you were talking to Gemma earlier.”

“You sneaky fuck.” He laughed at her assertion, wrapping his arm around her, kissing her head.

“Come on, we’re expected.”

She halted him gently, hand encircling his wrist. “Are you not even a little bit nervous?”

“Of Bridie Maguire? Oh no, hen. Not at all. Shitting maself is more accurate.” She threw her head back, chuckling, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him. “Luckily, you’re worth it.” He kissed the tip of her nose, grabbing her hand and walking her up Bridie’s rose bush lined path towards the cottage.

It was the house she’d wanted since she was a child, the exact one, not just something that fit the mental picture of her dream home, Michael being very persuasive with the owners, offering them cash well above market value for the property, surprising his young bride once they’d returned from their honeymoon. While watching them interact with one another and walk the path from her seat in the lounge, Bridie couldn’t deny it, that her daughter and the man she still harboured a certain degree of bitterness towards did look every inch as in love as she and her beloved Michael had been, when he’d first brought her home there, when she’d walked that same path.

“Kit, Lennie, come now, back you go,” she instructed her dogs when they responded to the door being knocked with a barrage of barking, wagging their tails, expectant to receive their guests. “Morning, love.” She kissed Abi’s cheek, her daughter passing her to lavish the waiting dogs with affection, her demeanour visibly stiffening when she took in Chibs. “Filip.”

“Hello, Bridie. Thanks for agreeing to this,” he spoke, watching her nod curtly.

“I’m very interested in hearing what you have to say,” she began, closing the door behind him. “Abigail, I think this needs to be done between your chap and I. Would you mind taking the boys out for a wee while?”

Immediately, her eyes shot to Chibs, who gave her a nod that all was fine. “Okay, where are their leads?”

“Back of the cloakroom door.” Once two very excited dogs had been clipped onto their leads, Abi kissed Chibs and headed out, Bridie jerking her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Aye, thanks.”

“Milk and sugar.”

“No, ta.”

She snorted, pouring out two cups, adding milk and one sugar to hers. “I’d ask if you were sweet enough, but I know that not to be the case.”

“Am I actually gonna get a chance here, or have you set your mind to despise me forever, regardless of what I might have to say?”

She sat down, mirroring his action in lighting a cigarette, pulling one from her pack with her teeth, her eyes not leaving his. “I don’t despise you. I resent you, Filip. I resent the heap of shite that was dropped on my husband, four days before he died.”

“Which was the fault of my wife, not me,” he pointed out, Bridie slamming her hand to the table aggressively.

“And if you hadn’t been shagging my little girl behind her back, there’d have been nothing to tell, would there, boy?”

He took a long pull on his cigarette, contemplating his next words carefully. He found it a little entertaining to be referred to as boy by a woman only nine years his senior, but didn’t let that show. Now was not the time to pull her up on such. “I was ready to leave her for your daughter, actually be honest about things. Abi and I, we wanted to do it after the dust had settled from Michael’s death, go public with it at an appropriate time. The last thing either of us wanted to do was burden either you or your husband in his final days. I will never forgive Fiona for not having the decorum to keep quiet on that. I acknowledge that having an affair wasn’t right, but for the love of Jesus, Bridie, I was, and have remained in the time between, in love with your daughter.”

Bridie scoffed, flicking her ash aggressively. “Didn’t start as that though, did it?”

“Well, of course not,” he began, taking a gulp of coffee. “I won’t pretend that it did either, but quickly, very quickly, that’s exactly what it became.”

“You made vows though, Filip. Vows to god that you broke! And for what? Did she really mean that much to you, as much as you did to her?”

He sniffed, his eyebrows rising in acknowledgement. “And that’s between me and god. I admit my wrongs there, I was an awful husband to Fi. But yes, what I had with Abi, it meant that much to me. She meant that much to me. You have a truly wonderful daughter, someone who I found I had a profound connection with that ran much deeper than what had initially brought us together. No one knows me like Abi, and in turn, no one knows her like I do. And I know, we know, had it not been for the shite that followed my wife finding out about us, things would have been done properly. Now, I want you to know that as well. Your daughter was no fling I had to pass the time because I was bored. She’s the love of my life.

“We’d have gone the distance, Abi and I. I’d have gotten a divorce, married her, given her babies, your grandbabies. That was always my intention. I had fifteen years with her stolen from me, and I intend to make up for that. Part of it begins with making sure things are good with you. As long as the kings have no issue with her changing her base from Belfast to California, we very much intend on being together, so I can begin righting everything that’s been denied to us. A large part of that will be asking her to marry me in due course, once my divorce is finalised. So, that’s one thing I’m here today to ask of you, for your daughter’s hand.”

It took a huge amount of bravado to do what he had done, coming there to speak with her, confessing all, not shying away from his misdeeds. Bridie acknowledged that. What shined through the most, though, was knowing that Abi could live to be a hundred, and likely never meet a man she was better suited to, or who loved her more than the man sat there at her table. To have stayed as in love with her, too, in all the time he’d been without her, just as her daughter had with him, it hammered it home. They were meant to be.

“Jesus god,” she whispered, softening, reaching to cover his hand with hers. “I think I’ve needed to hear those words for a long time.” She paused, looking at him, blinking her long eyelashes slowly, taking another drag on her cigarette. “I didn’t know until recently, how she felt about you, and still does. That made me understand it more, but what you just revealed, it brought that understanding full circle. I see now why you risked so much, broke so much, and while I don’t condone your infidelity, I get it, why you succumbed to it. You truly love her like no other, don’t you?”

Chibs nodded slowly in confirmation. “Aye, Bridie. I do.”

“Then I give you my blessing.” Standing from the table, she smiled, a smile that his love had one hundred percent inherited from her, opening her arms. He embraced her, Bridie holding his face in her hands, bringing his forehead to her lips and kissing it, “And you will treat her right, or by god, you think you know fierce in her? I pray to Jesus you never see me in full swing.”

He laughed softly, nodding. “You’ve nothing to worry about on that score.”

“Isn’t me who should be worried,” she winked as they sat down again.

“Aye, but if I was stupid enough to ever mistreat your daughter, she’d remove me of my balls way before you got a chance to dole out a liberal smattering of hellfire.”

She snorted, laughing hard. “That’s my girl.” She then paused, picking up her cigarette. “That’s our girl.” Their girl returned after half an hour with two very content dogs, pouring herself a coffee from the pot and taking a seat beside Chibs, enjoying the rest of the afternoon, until she had her second important visit to make. In light of learning where her daughter was heading, just after they’d left, Bridie picked up her phone, dialling a number, knowing what she had to do. She didn’t make a habit of calling in favours, but when she did…

After riding out to the area, Chibs waited for her down the street, Abi walking to the meeting point in question, the secret location of the king's dealings that only senior members of the army or invited guests knew about, tapping the door softly with her knuckle.

The sound of multiple locks clicking open preceded the door opening, revealing the face of Brendan Roarke. “Abigail.” he greeted her with, nodding.

“Brendan.” He led her through to the table, Peter Dooley and Declan Brogan seated, both acknowledging with the same address, Declan gesturing to a seat before he began.

“As you may be aware, we met with Clay Morrow and Jackson Teller earlier this afternoon, to discuss with them Jimmy’s betrayal. It’s likely no secret to you, the shame he’s brought on our organisation through his chosen misdeeds and rogue behaviour. You might surmise that pretty soon, he shall no longer be in a position to do either. We’re handing the kill to the club, as well as a deal that will ensure a greater weapon push through North America, opening up the variety of guns available to the MC.

“The original reason we called you here today was to inform you of such as a courtesy. If we were to deal with this in house, we would have offered the job to yourself, given your history with Jimmy. Handing it to the club was the right choice, though. However, that does not mean that you shan’t be compensated a little,” he began, Peter nodding as he took up the explanation.

“Your father, god rest his soul, was a dear, lifelong friend, you, your mother and your sister always treasured by us because of that relationship. The retribution he made clear, for what befell you and Telford, was us merely honouring his dying wishes. In light of the fact you are one of our highest earners, a damned efficient solider, someone who has worked tirelessly for the course, to compensate a little for what Jimmy was tasked with, we want to open the floor to negotiation, shall we say. Especially in light of the phone call I just took from your mother, Jesus bless her.”

Declan took a breath, re-joining the explanation. “That brings us on to what we have been discussing in the last half an hour. Ideally, it would make sense to move you up into Jimmy’s place, but we’re realists, Abigail, and in reality, a woman could never front us. Galen O’Shay will take over there. To reward you, though, as you do deserve a lot of credit, we want to make ourselves open to any offers that you might have, in way of aforementioned compensation.”

Bridie Bernadine Maguire, oh, those tricks she had up her sleeve. If there was ever a woman who had sway with the kings, it wasn’t Abi and her years of loyal service. It was her mother, who had known each of them since before she’d even met Michael. Those ties ran deep.

“I’m aware that I cannot pull back from Libya, nor would I want to. I don’t wish to cease my work, merely cut it a little, perhaps, so I have more time at home? Home too, going forward, would be California. My middle eastern contracts I would like to bring Brendan up into leading. I think he’s ready. He’s a good lad, sharp, formidable. I’ve given a lot of years to the army, working harder than people like Jimmy or Galen. I think I’m due a wee bit more free time.”

“Spend the time in bringing Brendan up from your number two, to a standard that the Saudi’s are comfortable in dealing with, and it’s yours. Relocation is no issue you either. Truly, you don’t need to do more than touch base in Belfast for your cash drops. Once a month, shall we say. Fair?”

“Aye, Brendan. Very fair. Thank you, all of you.”

The kings nodded sagely. They might have owed Michael his dying wish, but now, they realised they owed his legacy a little more in the way of lenience, and she was right; she did pull her weight in greater measures. Jimmy and Galen, they’d had time to establish families, had lives away from the cause. Abi’s life had been – and from such a young age – solely revolving around the cause. It was time for a change.

She shook hands with each of them, expressing her gratitude once again, leaving the location and pausing on the other side of the door, taking a deep breath as she lifted her head to the sky, the fading light gilding her in the pink hue from the impending sunset, a soft patter of rain refreshing as it sprinkled against her cheeks. Finally, after so long, so much heartache, so much taken, god was giving her a little bit back. Picking up the gold crucifix around her neck, she kissed it, looking to the sky.

“Thank you.”

As she walked back down the street, she looked ahead, seeing her man there waiting for her against a backdrop of pink and blue sky, smiling as he saw her coming. Finally, she could begin the life she’d always wanted, with him by her side.

“And?” he asked, leaning back against his bike, Abi reaching for him, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs.

“And now we start again.”

He chuckled, a happy rumble echoing his chest as he threw his arms around her, exploding into joyous laughter as he stood, hauling her up and swinging her around in his arms.

At last. They were them again.

They’d never get those fifteen years of being torn apart back, but by god, they could make up for lost time. It was a shame they would have to be parted again soon, but that was only for Abi to get her middle eastern affairs in order, facilitating her move to California. She was fine with that, though, because of what she got at the end of it. Her Filip.

“Well, since I’m not going to see you for an as yet undefined number of months after tomorrow, I’d better make this good,” Chibs began as soon as they arrived back at her place, Abi shutting the door behind them, turning to look at him with an arched eyebrow of curiosity.

“Oh, aye? Until I can’t close my legs?”

He ducked down, throwing her over his shoulder. “Until you cannae fuckin’ sit down, either.” A thrilling prospect if ever she’d heard one. Once upstairs, he kicked his boots off at the bedroom door, Abi letting her heels slide from her feet, being carried in and placed atop her dresser, his mouth hungry at hers, her hands unzipping his hoodie, nails dragging his chest through the black t shirt he wore. She yanked it from him, her tongue gliding up his chest, nibbling his neck as he began to strip her, her own hands unbuckling his belt.

“God damnit, I love you naked,” she exclaimed, after they’d both removed each other of their remaining clothes. He'd never really thought much more of his body than being average, a bit skinny, quite lithe, but definitely not as much as he’d been in his thirties, back when he’d had abs, and what Abi hilariously referred to as cum gutters, the creases of muscle over his hips that maybe a few too many beers had now hidden.

“I might have to start working out again, so that you love it even more,” he quipped, Abi raising her eyebrows between kisses.

“I’ll never be off your cock then, BDT.”

He chuckled, gently grasping her throat. “Aye, that’s the plan.” Smouldering kisses were exchanged again, his hands trawling her long, blonde hair, like golden, spun silk tumbling through his fingers, taking two fingers and pushing them into her mouth. “Get ‘em wet, princess.”

She sucked them with a lustful moan, the coil of arousal within him snapping tightly, pulling his fingers back and yanking her to the edge of the dresser, stroking her folds, a grunt of arousal rumbling through his chest as he felt how wet she was already, pushing them inside her as their heated kisses resumed. A shuddered breath fluttered from her mouth to his as he crooked his fingers and stroked her exactly where he knew made her see stars, his mouth moving to her neck, Abi turning her head, to locate a certain bottle, one containing her cocoa body oil, pouring a liberal amount onto her hand.

“What are you – oh, that’s what you’re doing,” he began, her hand closing around his erection mid-sentence, a well-oiled grip that made his hips judder on the very first pull up his shaft. “Christ, that feels good.” he hissed, mouth at her neck again, teeth nipping, fingers rutting into her a little harder.

Her hand went to his hair, fisting, pulling his head back until he was facing her, staring into his dark, inky brown eyes, maintaining that eye contact as she panted through flushed lips, her squeeze upon him tightening a little, his groan all gravel and sin. “I fucking love you so much.”

“I love you, too. Always.” He rested his forehead to hers, groaning deeply again, mouth claiming her beautiful lips, his finger rotation sending her to the edge of heaven, small trickles of pleasure skittering through her soft walls as his cock throbbed in her slick grasp. Feeling him stiffening more, that glorious, thick swell filling her grip, it arrowed right to between her thighs, imagining him filling her, a soaking, well-oiled, hard dagger of heat piercing into her, her cunt beginning to sting with want at the very thought.

His arm muscles flexed with the effort his dexterity evoked within her, the slip of her palm dragging the head of his cock as she twisted over it making his hips buck forward, little sparks trickling down his spine, his hand weaving into her hair, a sharp tug pulling her head back, exposing the elegant curve of her throat to him. He ran his tongue in a slow glide up the side of her neck, nibbling at her jaw, his fingers retreating briefly to stroke her clit until it was slippery, sliding back in, his thumb taking up the soft strokes of stimulation that had her mewling softly, her head resting to his shoulder, her other hand stroking his neck.

“Does that feel good, darlin’?” he whispered, gently nipping her earlobe, Abi’s soft little cries absolute bliss to his ears.

“I’ll give you about a week to stop, oh my god! How are you so amazing?” she whined, panting as her hand tightened on his cock, tugging with more friction, the muscles beneath his abdominals bouncing in response.

He chuckled, tongue running up the outer edge of her ear. “Because I pay attention.” And she’d never known a man like him for doing just that. He probably knew how to turn her on more thoroughly than she did, taking such a keen interest in being the invocator of her pleasure. Their diligent hands had one another escalating sharply, Abi feeling the coil within her tightening, her hand splayed out between his shoulder blades, nails flexing, her cunt fluttering around the continued nudging and sweeping of his fingers.

He had her ascending beautifully, their mouths meeting again, steamy kisses exchanged, his fingers slipping from her, grasping her wrist to remove her hand from his cock, moving closer between her legs to stroke at her folds with the head of his steely hardness, Abi gasping as it rubbed over her clit, her thighs trembling in response to feel the slick push of him parting her walls. Kisses of love and hunger abounded, Chibs gripping her hips as he bottomed out, slid back and drove into her again, Abi clutching his head in her hands, panting against his tongue.

He drew back and forth, lost in the ease, the soaking, tight heat of her, the friction perfect, scraping her walls, her legs tightening around him, thriving on the many thick, hot inches assailing her insides. Her hands slid to his broad chest, nails scraping, adding to the marks she’d already left, wailing as the action prompted his hips to drive up sharply, fucking her until her bum pounded off the dresser, the wooden structure shaking with the force of each barbaric thrust.

The coil of pleasure winding through her core was intensified by the feel of that deep spearing, her body keening as he drove into her with force. His hardness claimed her entirely, hips rocking into each of his thrusts, Chibs hooking his arms under her legs and drawing them up a little, allowing him to sink into her until every inch was buried.

Her mouth dropped open, a feral wail exiting, his cock heavy within her fluttering core, her cunt tingling for him as he fucked her with merciless delivery, pounding her wet centre, dragging heat from her with every thrust. All that was hurried and urgent then abated as he slowed down, a slight rotation of his hips shifting his weight a little further, bearing down into her core and making sparks ignite.

He coaxed a string of expletives from her as he fought against the tight clutch of her clenching around him furiously, bathing his cock in her wetness as he arrowed into her so deeply and precisely, she hollered as glimmers surged through her body, pouring pleasure into her, igniting ecstasy right to her bones, the pace becoming uncontained once more.

Abi felt as if he was about to go through her with the voracity, her body lighting up gradually until suddenly, the light completely illuminated, white hot and charging, striking each nerve ending and reducing her to a quivering wreck, Chibs showing no signs of ceasing in the wake of her flesh scratching, shoulder biting, growling release.

He did change the location, though, picking her up and placing her down on the bed, not losing the tangency between them, the pace slowing as he held her legs wide, enjoying the beauty of her cunt flexing around him, wet heat contracting against his girth, his hand moving between her legs to rub at her clit with his thumb while speeding back up again.

The sensations are intensity unmatched, his cock stroking her insides so deftly while his thumb caused waves of warmth to emanate, making her so dizzy and high on pleasure, he had her soaring with the constellations. His hips smacked against her body, pounding her with primal need once more, her moans disturbing the still silence of the night, only fettered slightly when he held her throat gently, fingers flexing as he stared at her, winking and leaning down to assail her mouth with his.

Before long, he had her pulsing once more, the ebb and flow of sexual energy now relentlessly flowing, a hum of utter erotic divinity between them both that did nothing but gain momentum as they both groaned helplessly. The bed began to furiously bang against the wall as the pursuit of climax was zealously undertaken, both of them chasing their releases with illimitable determination, until they shattered at the same time, a rarity, but an intense one nonetheless.

“Well,” she panted, spaced out, quivering all over. “If that’s all I’m getting for the next five months, I think that’ll last me.”

He chuckled, leaning to kiss her. “I ain’t done yet, darlin’.”

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dollycas · 3 months

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Special Guest - Anna St. John - Author of Clocked Out: A Josie Posey Mystery #AuthorInterview / #Review / #Giveaway - Great Escapes Book Tour

Clocked Out: A Josie Posey Mystery by Anna St. John It is my pleasure to welcome Anna St. John to Escape With Dollycas today! Hi Anna, Please tell us a little bit about yourself. I’m from a small town in Kansas, happily married to my high school sweetheart for more than 50 years. We have two sons and will have a total of four grandchildren by the end of 2024. After a career in journalism, public relations, and advertising, I finally plunged into writing my first book. I landed a fabulous agent and signed a five-book publishing contract – but I still can’t believe I’m living my dream life as an author. What are three things most people don’t know about you? - I hate to exercise, but I do it anyway. Five days a week. - I’m a three-time cancer survivor. - I still have the original set of Nancy Drew books I read as a child. What books/authors have most inspired you? This is a difficult question because I find inspiration in many books. My favorites change almost daily, as I discover new authors. Limiting my list to the cozy genre, I’ll share only a few here. When I first started researching cozies with an older protagonist, I discovered the Gladdy Gold series. I wrote to author Rita Lakin and she encouraged me with a two-word response: “Keep Writing!” Rita died March 23, 2023. I had hoped to thank her in person one day. Because I’m drawn to “senior sleuths,” I also love what Richard Osman has accomplished in his Thursday Murder Club series. The books are smart and funny. His retirement community characters are wonderful. I’m grateful to the many contemporary cozy authors who have provided wisdom, feedback, and encouragement. Two of those are authors who recently released their own new books: Daphne Silver, Crime and Parchment, and, Heather Weidner, Christmas Lights and Cat Fights. What kind of research do you do, and how long do you spend researching before beginning a book? I spend a lot of time on research to give my stories greater authenticity. Sometimes this involves an interview with a knowledgeable source, but more often I research through the Internet or my local library. On any given day, I may research the weather, the blooms of a specific flower, the particulars of an unusual tool, or the date a children’s book was first published. I have researched the names of inventors, the dates of public events or concerts, the height of ladders and photos of covered bridges in the Cottswolds. If one of my characters grew up in the 40s, I research music, hairstyles, fashions and news of that era. Of course, as a mystery writer, I also search for unique way to kill someone, so my browser is filled with questions about death by poison versus a blow to the head, etc. Though I spend several weeks researching the location and premise before I begin a book, I am never finished. I add more as I write, because I believe details help bring a book to life. If the words are flowing quickly, I won’t allow myself to stop for an exploration of the Internet. Instead, I highlight a sentence and make a note to go back and add more content later. Do you ever suffer from Writer’s Block? Only when I’m answering an interview like this one. :) While I don’t generally have trouble putting words on a page, I sometimes write myself into a corner and have to find my way back to daylight. When that happens, I set the project aside for a day or two. Usually one of my characters suggests a solution and somehow it all comes together again. What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer? I love to encourage new writers because I so appreciated the published authors who guided me. I always suggest three things: - Do your homework. Learn as much as you can about writing and publishing, as fast as you’re able, from every resource available. Help is everywhere, if you look for it. (And most of it is free.) - Believe in yourself. No matter what else you do, never stop writing. Even for those with exceptional natural talent, writing is a skill that improves with practice. Accept feedback from those you respect. Be grateful for it. Use it to improve your writing. - Be flexible. If your first book doesn’t sell, write another one. And another. Change your genre if you must. There are many ways to get published: traditional, hybrid, and self-published. Each offers different benefits. Consider all the options and choose the one that’s right for you. Then make it happen. When you are not writing what do you like to do? When I’m home, I do simple things: read, watch movies with my husband, and take walks with our Old English sheepdog, Oliver. I enjoy playing mahjong with friends, spending time with my grandchildren, or going for a drive in my vintage Triumph Herald convertible. Most of all, I love to travel with my husband. We have been fortunate to see many countries together. If you could travel anywhere in the world where would you go and why? Australia and New Zealand are high on my list, for their natural beauty and diversity – with a mix of cities, beaches, rainforests and wildlife. Australia is the only island that is also a country and a continent. We’ve heard great reviews from personal friends who have visited there. What is next on the horizon for you? I recently completed a narrative nonfiction book about a Czechoslovakian family who immigrated to the United States after WWII. Hopefully, my agent will find a publisher for this story. Meanwhile, I’m excited to begin book three of the Josie Posey series. I hope your followers will watch for it in February 2025. Hint: It’s about a doll collector. Thank you, Anna, for visiting today! _____ Keep reading for my thoughts about Clocked Out. About Clocked Out Clocked Out - A Josie Posey Mystery Cozy Mystery 2nd in Series Setting: A small town in Sunflower County, Kansas, named English Village Level Best Books (February 6, 2024) ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CRFY4R6P Josie Posey and her posse of Mahjong Mavens are at it again, in this cozy mystery where the retired big city crime reporter turned small town crime solver uncovers another murder in picturesque English Village. When the clockmaker’s daughter returns home for a visit, reporter Josie Posey is assigned the task of interviewing the talented watch designer. That very afternoon the young woman falls from a ladder while inventorying antique clocks. At first, Josie is certain the fall was an accident. Everyone loved Ella McGregor Benjamin. But Ella’s deathbed statement is a mysterious riddle that can’t be ignored. With her Old English Sheepdog Moe by her side, and an ever-growing list of suspects, Josie scrambles to identify the killer before anyone else gets hurt. The local police chief wants Josie to help solve the puzzle, but stay out of his murder case. The editor of The Village Gazette wants an in-depth story for the next edition. And somebody wants Josie to stop asking questions. Deadlines loom. In this fast-paced rollercoaster ride of a mystery, the clock is ticking as Josie vows to find the killer before time runs out. Dollycas's Thoughts We are back in English Village, Kansas. Josey Posey's next assignment for The Village Gazette is interviewing Ella McGregor Benjamin, a very skilled watch designer, who has come home to visit her father. Later Ella falls from a ladder while doing an inventory of the clocks in her father's store and is badly injured. At the hospital, she regains consciousness long enough to say a few words before she passes away. Words that convey that her fall wasn't an accident. Now to determine just what those words mean. Police Chief Marshall wants Josie's help with that but doesn't want her butting into his case. Her boss at the Gazette wants a full-in-depth story as soon as possible. There is also someone who wants Josie to mind her own business. Josie knows she doesn't have a lot of time but she is determined to catch the killer no matter how complications there are. _____ After reading the first book in the series, Doomed by Blooms, I couldn't wait to read this one. Josie and her “posse of biddies” also known as the Mahjong Mavens and her lovable sheepdog Moe are so much fun. Police Chief Marshall has apologized for calling Josie, Kate, Sharon, and Nellie "biddies" after he saw their efforts were helpful on his last case, so much so that he asks for Josie's help this time. Josie is a great protagonist. She uses her talents learned as a reporter to ask the right questions, do the right research, and sort through all the clues until they make sense. Her friends are wonderful sounding boards but they sometimes come up with key information too. I love the way the author has written this group of women. They are vital with big hearts and they love mysteries. They also cook and bake up some delicious food. I was drawn in by all the details of clock-making or horology. The victim had a dream of making a very valuable clock with many "complications" or features. In a time when hardly anyone wears watches anymore and clocks are mostly digital, and maybe because I love grandfather clocks and have a son that collects watches, it was like I fell down a rabbit hole learning about these fantastic timepieces. I love learning new things when reading cozy mysteries. It makes me feel smarter when I turn that final page with new terms and meanings added to my vocabulary. With a victim whose life was all about a certain number of complications, the author has penned a very complicated mystery. Ella McGregor Benjamin's deathbed statement set off a wild investigation with several people having motives to kill the watchmaker. Clues were found in unique places including one that Josie's Moe uncovered. Josie's index cards with her notes were shuffled through many times as she tried to make all the clues fall into place. It was a "well-orchestrated" mystery that was very hard to solve. I sure wasn't playing the right tune or winding the watch. I was so caught up in the story that I think I fell for every misdirection and twist so I was surprised when everything was revealed. While the clockmaking theme was interesting it was the people in this story that really shined. The small community of English Village is full of good people. The Mahjong Mavens are a tight-knit group that will always have each other's back. Josie also has a very good friendship with Harvey that is building into something more. She has a good relationship with the police chief too. Ms. St. John has created I place I would love to visit and people I would love to meet. Clocked Out kept me on my toes from beginning to end. Engaging characters and a complex mystery took me on quite a journey. What I learned about timepieces was just icing on the cake. I am eager for the next book in this series and to meet up again with Josie, and the rest of her friends soon. Oh, and Moe too! Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent More About Anna St. John Anna St. John writes cozy mysteries featuring a mature, yet feisty, former crime reporter, Josie Posey, as the amateur sleuth. Her debut novel, DOOMED BY BLOOMS, was released by Level Best Books in February 2023. CLOCKED OUT is the second book in her Josie Posey Mystery Series. It is scheduled to release Feb. 6, 2024. A former journalist, award-winning advertising copywriter, and ad agency owner, Anna is married to her high school sweetheart. She writes from her home office in Kansas, with her Old English Sheepdog by her side. Anna is represented by Cindy Bullard, of Birch Literary Agency. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the Kansas Authors Club. Great Escapes Praise for Clocked Out: A Josie Posey Mystery by Anna St. John I confess… I decided to read/review Clocked Out by Anna St. John strictly because of the cover. It’s absolutely adorable and I absolutely needed to meet that dog! Grab your fave hot beverage, find a comfy reading space, and curl up with this fun mystery! ~Reading is my Superpower What a delightful read this was! It has all the elements I love in cozy mysteries–small town, wonderful friends and the perfect pet side-kick. ~Sarah Can't Stop Reading Books I’m enjoying the Josie Posey series, and Clocked Out is a solid addition. I got caught up in the story and had fun on the ride. I highly recommend this book for fans of small-town cozy mysteries. ~Novels Alive Author Links Website Facebook Purchase Link Amazon TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops. January 31 – Mystery, Thrillers & Suspense – SPOTLIGHT January 31 – CelticLady Reviews – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT February 1 – Literary Gold – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT February 1 – Reading Is My SuperPower – REVIEW February 2 – The Mystery of Writing – AUTHOR GUEST POST February 2 – Read Your Writes Book Reviews – RECIPE February 3 – Brooke Blogs – SPOTLIGHT February 4 – #BRVL Book Review Virginia Lee – SPOTLIGHT February 4 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT February 5 – Sarah Can't Stop Reading Books – REVIEW, AUTHOR GUEST POST February 5 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT February 6 – Sneaky the Library Cat’s blog – CHARACTER INTERVIEW February 6 – Christy's Cozy Corners – AUTHOR INTERVIEW February 7 – Novels Alive – REVIEW February 8 – Hearts & Scribbles – SPOTLIGHT February 9 – Ascroft, eh? – CHARACTER GUEST POST February 9 – Books to the Ceiling – SPOTLIGHT WITH EXCERPT/PODCAST February 10 – Reading Authors Network – AUTHOR GUEST POST February 11 – Guatemala Paula Loves to Read – REVIEW February 12 – The Book Diva's Reads – CHARACTER GUEST POST February 13 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW, AUTHOR INTERVIEW a Rafflecopter giveaway Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” Read the full article

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sustraiii · 4 months

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TEAM ZRCN ARC 4 CHAPTER 15

After a whole year has passed we finally come back to the arc 4 storyline! A short but sweet chapter before all hell breaks loose!

Neela

"Are we sure this place isn't an actual maze?"

From behind her, Xanthos made one of his usual light-hearted quips. Neela had to admit it certainly did feel that way with long corridors that seemed to loop around on each other and big empty rooms that seemed to lead nowhere. They had seen blueprints of this place before coming here but it didn't do justice to how massive it was.

"Can you talk about something else please?" Wisteria grunted.

Although all of ZRCN had been patrolling together with Cherry and Wisteria, they had since split up when encountering Helia by chance. The connection in this building had proven spotty at best so it was been easier to communicate in person. Helia explained everything that happened thus far with Elio and herself facing off against Laurel and Biggs - or Nerine and Jesper as it turned out their names were - and then Morgan and Calantha encountering Bianca and Belleza. Apparently, Nerine, Jesper, and Bianca had all abandoned Belleza and were working to help them. And they weren't the only ones who had defected, as Helia revealed that the Crest sisters had also chosen to work with them.

It was all a little confusing in truth and Neela longed to ask more questions about the situation but recognised they still had a job to do and that now was not really the appropriate time to be asking extensive questions.

Helia had also revealed one of the Crest sisters was willing to take them to where they were holding their hostages. She was going there now and asked if any of ZRCN wanted to accompany them. Zelde and Cordovan had agreed to go, with Neela and Xanthos remaining to patrol with Cherry and Wisteria. They promised to all meet up at the medical bay afterwards, which had apparently become a sort of unofficial meeting point for the group of allies. As they departed, Neela sent her teammates off with a wave and some words they could say to her sister when they found her.

As the smaller group of four continued to patrol, the topic of conversation eventually shifted to who among the Rossi allies remained. Disregarding those who they now knew had defected, the three of them drew up Miho, Maia, Sparrow, and Belleza herself as remaining candidates.

"What about that other guy?" Neela asked, looking at Wisteria. She struggled to recall the name for a moment before snapping her fingers when it came back to her. "Uriah?"

"He would probably still try and initiate a fight but I doubt Belleza would be impressed if he tried to come running back to her," Wisteria answered.

"Would he try something like that?" Cherry asked.

Wisteria gave a noncommittal shrug. "Possibly," She conceded. "For reasons unknown to me, Uriah practically worships the very ground Belleza works on. He'd probably jump at the chance to defend her or give his life for her." Suddenly, Wisteria started to chuckle. A glance passed between Cherry, Neela, and Xanthos, who all seemed confused at the sudden humour of the situation. Perhaps realising that they were all staring at her, Wisteria promptly stopped laughing.

It was Xanthos who asked, "What's so funny?"

"Oh, you wouldn't appreciate it," Wisteria said, giving a dismissive wave. "I was just laughing at the irony that Belleza is now more likely to kill him herself for him abandoning her."

The same confused look passed between Cherry, Neela, and Xanthos before they pressed on. Eventually, they came to a balcony which looked down upon an open atrium. Somehow they had made it up to the third floor, much to Neela's surprise.

“Well, well, well! Would you look what the cat dragged in!” A voice behind them jeered. The four of them turned to see Miho Ryuzaki stepping out of an adjoining room. As the woman made her presence known, Cherry ushered Neela and Xanthos behind her, whilst Wisteria rather confidently stepped forward.

When she saw Wisteria step out from behind them, the other woman’s eyes flashed with delight before she gave Wisteria a menacing smile. “Wisteria,” She said, dragging her name out. “I did wonder if you’d ever crawl your way back to us.” Miho’s eyes glanced towards ZRCN and she smirked. “I’m not sure what surprises me more that you’re working with them, or that they’re working with you.”

Wisteria rolled her shoulders. “Oh you know how the saying goes - the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“If you had any sense you would have run far away from here when you had the chance, Wisteria,” Miho said, idly messing with one of her gauntlets, which Neela noted were already on and looked primed for use. “I shall have fun squashing you just like I did that little bug.”

Before anyone else could react, the red-haired woman raised her left fist and punched the air, firing a blast at Wisteria. Neela and the others were forced to scurry away though as the blast did not land directly by them, it kicked up a fair bit of dust and small bits of debris. Cherry gestured for Neela and Xanthos to stay back, before stepping forward with her bhuj. She didn't directly engage Miho at the moment but the intent was clear. On one side stood Wisteria and Cherry, and on the other side stood Miho.

"Never faced an Atlesian Specialist like this before," Miho mused, that same menacing smile reappearing as she spoke to Cherry. Neela tensed when she saw how she looked over Cherry. "That isn't to say I haven't gone toe to toe with one of your kind before. Although they were incredibly young and inexperienced. Not much of a challenge, you know? Especially when they went down after one hit."

Cherry did not show in her face but Neela could tell she was irritated. She could see her grip tightening on her weapon, her knuckles starting to pale from the strain.

The brief lull in battle did not last long as Miho was quick to charge the two. Even when not using the dust in her gauntlets, she was still a powerful combatant, punching, kicking, and shoving whenever she got an opening. Wisteria was able to fair quite well, but Cherry was having difficulty manoeuvring her weapon to parry and attack Miho.

Miho made a lunge towards Xanthos and Neela but was caught by Cherry and Wisteria who grabbed an arm each and hauled her back.

"Your fight is with us!" Cherry snapped

Miho sneered at her. Rather than give an audible response, she twisted at a right angle, freeing her arm from Wisteria's grasp before aiming a punch at Cherry. Luckily she was quite aware of what was going on, managing to turn her body to avoid a punch to the face but still catching a blow to her shoulder. She managed to avoid the brunt of that hit but was caught by Miho bringing her knee up and catching her in the gut.

Fully free from both women, Miho jumped back a bit, before aiming two shots at the same time as Cherry. There was nowhere for her to dodge, so she was forced to bear the blast, using her bhuj to take some of the hit. Luckily her aura seemed to be holding, as Neela doubted she'd have still been standing if it had taken too much of a dent.

"Do you not give a shit about your home or something?" Wisteria asked, gesturing to the further damage Miho had caused.

Miho shrugged, rubbing her nose on the back of her hand. "Homes can be rebuilt," Miho responded in a flat tone. "Or you can just buy a new one. I hear there's an open apartment in the Aeris District that's recently come back on the market."

Neela noted there was a slight edge to her voice, though she could not make out if it was a teasing remark or something more dark. It was only when Wisteria lunged forward, making a sound akin to a growl, before practically throwing herself at Miho, that she got her answer. Both women began punching and kicking each other, clearly intent on doing as much damage to the other as they could. Miho was doing more damage but Wisteria's overall nimbleness meant she was able to dodge the worst of the blows - for a while at least.

After some back and forths, Miho seemed to give up on striking and when Wisteria moved in for another jab, Miho wrapped her arms around her.

"Let go of me!" Wisteria yelled, thrashing in Miho's arms.

"As you wish," Miho smirked.

She inched closer to the edge of the walkway. It had been damaged from the earlier blasts from Miho, with some of the glass panels fractured or shattered from the shockwaves of her rounds. And some of it looked bent and warped, with only minimal pressure to break it or further damage it. Miho kept going until pressing Wisteria against the balcony, leaning her backwards.

"Stop!" Cherry called out, rushing to intervene. Miho only relinquished her grasp slightly, freeing an arm to shove Cherry away sharply, where she stumbled and dropped to a knee, her weapon skittering away.

"She said stop!" Neela urged, inching forward with her weapon, snapping it into her more preferred of a single spearhead.

Miho glanced over her shoulder, giving Neela a wry smile. "Is that supposed to frighten me? I could snap your weapon over my knee if I so wanted."

She dipped Wisteria a little further over the balcony before inhaling sharply.

"Actually this isn't really my thing," She said, before hauling Wisteria back, and throwing her on the floor next to Cherry. She was offered a brief moment of respite before Miho was quickly upon her again, hooking an arm around her neck and bringing her back to her feet in a chokehold. Wisteria’s feet kicked out, trying to steady herself but found no such luck. Despite having pulled away from the balcony before, she was moving back to it now. Once she reached it, she turned Wisteria around so she was facing her again, and used one arm to hold one of Wisteria’s arms down before putting her arm against her throat. This time when she leaned her over she was leaning into her as well.

She looked over her shoulder at Neela, Xanthos, and Cherry menacingly. "Wisteria here can confirm that I prefer a more personal touch."

It was then that Miho began to apply pressure as Wisteria began to cough and splutter. Although Miho had restrained one hand, Wisteria was clawing at her with the unbound one, trying to get her fingers in her eyes.

Neela and Xanthos moved to intervene but Cherry held a hand out. Cherry made a gesture to her weapon which she had managed to slide closer to herself. With careful hand movements, she freed the concealed dagger in her bhuj's hollow shaft, a glint of polished steel shimmering in the light.

The three of them exchanged a glance before nodding. To her credit, Cherry moved frighteningly fast and made little noise as she closed the gap between herself and Miho, before plunging her dagger into Miho’s lower back.

Miho screamed out in pain, relinquishing her grip on Wisteria, and backhanding Cherry across the face which sent her sprawling to the floor. Miho turned to face Wisteria again but the purple-haired woman had pulled herself away, punching Miho in the jaw before darting to the side to avoid retaliation. Sensing Miho needed to be pushed further back, Neela bolted forward and jabbed her sharply in the gut, pushing Miho back against the balcony where it accidentally knocked the blade still lodged in her back.

Grunting with effort, Miho carefully moved her arm around to remove the blade, pulling it out of her with gritted teeth. She held the bloodied weapon up by her head, looking at it for a moment and then down at Cherry, who Xanthos was helping to sit up. “Cute,” She said with a sneer, before tossing it over the edge of the balcony.

“You’ve had your fun now-”

Miho appeared to have been attempting to goad them again but something gave her pause. Neela didn’t see any potential cause but after a moment she noticed something strange happening to Miho. The red-haired woman seemed to be trying to say something, but either could not or would not get the words out, and not only that but her chest was rising rapidly as she took big gulping breaths. Miho’s eyes darted around and then landed on Wisteria.

“Wisteria!” She roared. “Stop this!”

“No!” Wisteria responded immediately. “You will feel exactly as she felt when she died!”

Miho grimaced and tried to remain standing. Neela had only experienced Wisteria’s semblance sparingly in the past but it seemed Miho was being treated to the full force of it. Even Wisteria appeared to be straining from the effort it was taking to direct her semblance at Miho. So much so that blood was starting to drip out of one nostril.

Eventually, Mihp seemed unable to bear it any longer, wincing and gripping onto the balcony for support. It was then that Wisteria let out a mighty screech and lunged at Miho. She managed to hook her arms around Miho’s waist and with the momentum gathered from running at her the two of them went crashing through the balcony and tumbling to the ground below.

A small scream was heard but was snuffed out pretty quickly when a sickening thud indicated that the two women had hit the ground.

Neela was not sure how to react for a moment, wanting to check on the two of them, but also not daring to peer over at what potential gory scene she might find below. Instead, she focused her efforts on helping Cherry back to her feet.

“Are you good?” Neela asked as the woman used Xanthos to help stand up straight.

“I’m good,” Cherry confirmed. “The slap hurt but didn’t do too much damage.” That didn't seem to stop Cherry from massaging her jaw as if it still ached.

Cherry moved towards the edge of the ruined balcony and peered down. Neela and Xanthos followed suit and nervously peered down below.

There was an old dried-up fountain on the ground floor, which Miho was now hanging halfway out of, a shard of glass sticking out of her abdomen. Neela did not even need to query if she was alive or not. The blood pooling out of her, as well as the unnatural way her body now lay told her all she needed to know. On the other hand, it was harder to determine Wisteria's fate. She lay on her back, gazing up at the massive skylight. Other than her left leg and a bloodied gash in her right shoulder, she seemed to have fared better than the red-haired woman, though it was hard to tell if she had survived or not.

"We need to get down there," Cherry said, pulling away from the edge. "We need to check if either of them are alive."

"Looking at Miho's body I would say-" Xanthos began to talk but stopped short by the look Neela shot at him.

Cherry frowned but didn't say anything. "Hopefully Wisteria might have survived," She muttered, already turning to walk away. "If she hasn't Wren will surely have my head. If not Wren then the general certainly will."

Neela imagined Ironwood would have a lot to say to all of them for this little mission. With what had just happened and everything Helia had told them, it was clear that their plans had not gone as well as they thought they would. All their planning had amounted to nought in the face of the Rossi allies' sheer determination not to lose.

Neela was not foolish enough to hope the rest of the Rossi's allies would come quietly but she could hope that she and her friends would make it out of here in one piece.

#team zrcn fic #team zrcn #neela oxford #xanthos ravindra #wisteria bloome #cherry linnet #miho ryuzaki

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luveline · 2 years

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self preservation, part 3 | remus lupin x reader

He opened your mouth and pushed his thumb past your lips until his knuckle was touching your top row of teeth. He drew a wide circle on your tongue and you felt your cunt twinge as he withdrew, pulling down your lip and bringing a line of spit with it. He pushed his wet digit into the round top of your chin until he reached the corner of your mouth, forcing you to frown.

“Why so down, pretty?”

summary do friends with benefit usually kiss so often? [4.7k]

warnings smut, fluff, fem!reader, coworkers to friends to friends with benefits to friends with benefits who kiss just to kiss and hang out together but not lovers (unless?), muggle reader secret wizard werewolf Remus, anxious reader, 18+ please

read part one | two | three | four here

You were walking backwards down the aisle in the pharmacist’s and mumbling something about how it’s lucky, really, that we’re both losers, cos I hate how condoms feel and you’re not fucking anyone else and I’m not fucking anyone else and I don’t want to use them. And then further, how you were on birth control and it sucked but it sucked less than getting pregnant. He almost laughed aloud, almost said, well, you wouldn’t have to worry about either of those things, and then remembered he couldn’t actually tell you why. He was grateful you were on birth control because he wasn’t about to start casting spells on you and also because he couldn’t afford emergency contraceptives every time you fucked and doubted you’d be receptive to a magic potion.

You snapped out of your babbling to smile at him like you’d caught him doing something silly and said, “You don’t want to use condoms, right? Wait, that’s a loaded question, don’t answer that. Do you want to use condoms?”

“Don’t you think we should’ve talked about this a long time ago?” he asked, watching as you picked through bottles of lube, mildly interested.

“This one’s cherry flavour,” you said. Then you looked at him and smiled, embarrassed. “Probably.”

“I don’t want to unless you want to.”

You nodded, pleased, picked up a different bottle. “Aloe Vera flavour?”

“Does Aloe Vera have a flavour?”

“Want to find out?”

He wasn’t sure if this was a small hint or if you were generally curious, but he said yes for either scenario. If you wanted to use lube and were too shy to say he didn’t mind, and if you wanted it for other activities he wasn’t about to say no.

He held his basket out and you smiled as you dropped it in. The small bottle clinked against a tube of toothpaste, a small bottle of oil for your hair, a packet of antihistamines. You’d asked if he would drive you up to the pharmacy during lunch and he’d seen no reason to deprive you, and now he was carrying your basket as you mumbled mostly to yourself all through the shop, trying to pick what you wanted.

“If you forget something I can always bring you back,” he offered. You smiled while biting your bottom lip and nodded your thanks, looking way too appreciative of such a small thing.

The car was more for show than anything else, he really didn’t mind using it to take you places. He could disapparate to work if it weren’t for appearances sake, and now you. He really didn’t mind the long drive when you were in the passenger seat for most of it, making conversation about anything that stuck you or tired after a long day intermissioned with a good fuck.

The pharmacy would be closing soon. You were both on lunch, a blessed forty-five minutes. The pharmacy trip had only eaten into the first fifteen, so after you paid and walked out into the darkening streets with your bag swinging between your fingers and humming a song that had been playing over the radio, you made your way to the car. He’d parked in some side alley, and in the dark he couldn’t fight the temptation. He put your bag in the front and opened the back door, beckoning you in.

You crawled backwards and he followed quickly, up in your lap with the doors locked before he could really comprehend what he was doing. You were laughing, always laughing, and he wanted to kiss your smiling mouth and hope that it never ended. You caught his face in your hand before he could. “I’m not trying anal with you in the car.”

“Shut up,” he said, kissing you, ardent lips curving in a twin of your own grin.

“I’m serious,” you said.

He dug his fingers into your thigh because he knew it tickled and kissed you while you were too distracted to make anymore jokes, your laugh sweet in his mouth.

He pulled away to breathe. “I don’t want to try anal with you in my car, idiot.”

“Oh,” you said, sliding down so your head was leaning against the window. “Why’re you so eager then?”

“You realise,” he said, both your hands in his, clasped loosely, “you’re really fucking pretty?”

You looked embarrassed and stole your hands away to cover your face. “Shut up. I hate when you do this.”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Don’t act clueless!”

He was kneeling on the seat with his head craned so it wouldn’t hit the car roof. Your legs were hiked up. He pulled them open and pulled your crotch to his abdomen so your head was flat on the seat. You made a small “Oomf,” at the sudden pull, looking at him dazedly. “I’m not a rag doll, you know.”

He smirked, “That’s exactly what you are.” He was mostly joking, pleased when your thighs tried to close around him in evidence of your arousal. “What, you like that? You wanna be my little rag doll?”

“Would you give it a rest?” you pleaded. You were too shy for all this.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not very sorry. It was getting darker and darker as time went on. Soon it would be difficult to tell hand from face. “Let me make it up to you?”

You twisted in his lap and he gripped your legs harder, keeping you positioned, spread over his lap. “You say that like it won’t end up with me sticky, embarrassed and maybe crying.”

“I like you sticky, embarrassed and maybe crying. I know you like it, too,” he said lightly, smoothing his palms down your thighs.

You engaged him in a battle of wills then, staring at him mock angry. It was weird. One second he was determined to win, and then he was really looking at your face, could see every detail of your skin despite the dark — could’ve conjured it from memory alone. You were silent and staring. He was trying to understand what you were thinking, trying to suss it from your gently pinched eyebrows and your puckered lips. You reached up and put your hands on his face tentatively, soft fingers smoothing his skin, index finger on your right hand tracing the scar that stretched over the bridge of his nose and split his eyebrow.

The good natured joking between you both had suddenly slipped away. You moved up at the same time he moved down, and you kissed in a way he knew you hadn’t before. He wasn’t rushing to find you, wasn’t filled with an urgent need to kiss you as deeply as he could, be as close he could. You were patient and pliant and pretty under him, learning his mouth as he learned yours, one hand staying delicately on his cheekbone and the other fisting the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to you, chest to chest.

He pulled away to nudge your nose with his own in the opposite direction. You made a sound at the back of your throat as his hand found your wrist at his face, the other roving appraisingly across your torso, stopping over your beating heart. You kissed for so long it made him lightheaded. When he pulled away to check the time you were both late to get back.

Late shift meant you and Remus were always half asleep on the drive home. You feared rejection in asking, but you had to. “Will you spend the night?” you asked him, three streets from your flat.

Because he’d kissed you and kissed you and kissed you and you thought maybe he’d never stop. His hands had smoothed over your body in a way that had made you feel worshipped, devout touches that had you warm through your entire body. You’d felt the soft strands of his light brown hair between your fingers, the mysterious, fine white scars on his face, felt his pretty mouth against yours with your eyes shut lightly, wanting to sneak a glance at him as he opened you up but too afraid, and you’d thought fuck, I’m in so much trouble.

You realised you’d missed his answer when he parked up, felt his hand turning your face towards him. “D’you hear me?”

“What?” you asked, too loud.

“I’ll stay, but don’t you have work in the morning?”

You winced. You really did. He looked disapproving, and so you felt a little pool of shame slip down your throat to burn your chest as you said, “Please?”

His hand travelled down your neck. He squeezed your shoulder and got out of the car. You followed.

The walk up to your flat was very quiet. You were nervous and excited at the same time; unnerved by his absent banter and hoping against your better judgement that he was going to kiss you. Again, you were so deep in thought that when he spoke you missed it.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked him. He rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at you, nudging you through the lift doors.

You quickly opened your door and trudged into the small, dark flat. Mistaking your head-in-the-clouds for exhaustion, he encouraged you to sit down on your ragged sofa. “I’ll make dinner, yeah? What do you want?”

“Whatever you can find that looks edible,” you called to him, untying your shoe laces. Your trousers were digging into your tummy and your shirt was rumpled from a very long day, your hair and general appearance similarly bedraggled. You kicked your shoes off and folded them underneath you on the leather sofa. You found yourself tracing the part of the sofa you’d almost ruined the last time he was here with your thumbnail.

Remus came back missing his jacket, shirtsleeves unbuttoned and rolled up past the elbows, shoes still on but belt discarded. “Chicken soup and crusty bread?”

You smiled blissfully for a moment and then sighed.

“I'm not sure that bread counts as crusty anymore.”

“I’ll firm it back up in the oven,” he said easily, leaning over the sofa to push the hair from your face. “Your eyes are tired.”

“All of me is tired.”

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“How long will the soup take?” you asked.

“Not long.”

You slumped down on the sofa and groaned. He rubbed the top of your head lightly, like he’d wanted to ruffle it and felt sorry for you. “I’m gonna go get my spare clothes from the boot.” You nodded listlessly, more tired than you’d first thought, and imagined the tender kiss to the top of your head. “If you hear hissing, go stir the soup.”

You turned to him and gave him your best, most awake smile. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

You did not got this. By the time he’d returned with your flat keys in hand you’d not only failed to stir the soup but had also managed to burn a stripe across your wrist where you’d leaned over the electric hob. You were running it under cold water when he entered.

His hand instantly came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“What have you done?”

“It’s a very small burn.”

His hands were gentle as he pulled your arm from under the stream to assess the damage.

“It’s my fault. I knew you were tired.” He spent a few extra seconds looking at your wrist before letting you return it to the cold water.

“It’s not your fault I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He took the soup from over the hob and eyed the charred ring where it had been. “Soup looks fine though. Just can’t scrape the bottom.”

You ate soup and ignored the burnt taste every now and then with his zombie bread. You let him shower first and sat on the edge of your bed and was flipping through one of your books when he returned.

“That was fast,” you complimented, getting up with a moan as you stretched. He shifted from foot to foot. You pointedly ignored the water dripping down his chest, failed when it disappeared along with the v of his torso into the towel around his waist.

“I didn't want the water to run out before you had one.”

“How thoughtful,” you said under your breath, sing-song.

In the shower, you ached. Your arms hurt from pushing the cage, your back hurt from standing, your eyes were dry from the bright lights. The water soothed you and you stayed longer than you needed, forgetting the handsome boy in your room in favour of the sweet relief. The knots in your back dissolved, washed down the drain with your sweat and oil.

You stepped out of the shower and wrung your hair out, searching for a brush in the steamy room. Once you’d taken care of your dripping hair you wiped the fog from the mirror and washed your face off properly with a flannel. You looked fresh in the face, the tiredness from your eyes had somewhat receded. You dried off and wandered into your room, a little embarrassed. Remus had fucked you countless times now but he didn’t often see you fully naked. You tried to look on the bright side — you were clean as a whistle.

Remus had turned the big light off and turned on your reading lamp. He was dressed in grey jogging bottoms and a white Rolling Stones t-shirt, standing by your bedside table looking at the photograph stationed there. He turned when he heard your padding footsteps and smiled at you happily. He took your face in one hand and ran his fingertip over your eyelid softly.

“You’re not looking so sickly now.”

“Nice,” you said dryly, refusing to lean into his hand despite the overwhelming urge.

“Do you want some privacy?”

“For what?”

“To get dressed.”

“Who said anything about all that?” you murmured, avoiding his eyes.

“You’re sure you're not too tired?” he questioned skeptically.

You didn’t answer, moving your hands slowly from the middle of his chest to follow his neckline, pushing the tips of your fingers under his shirt. His thumb dragged across your lip, drawing your eyes back up. There was a pit in your stomach and the look he gave you had it widening.

He held your gaze as he untucked your towel from under the crook of your arm, held it as it fell away. You didn't know what was worse, if he was going to look at you or if he wasn’t. You wanted to scream, look at me and you wanted to hide.

His expression looked as if to say he could hear everything you were thinking and he didn’t look down at your naked body as if to prove it.

His thumb was playing with your bottom lip, pushing the flesh of it in a small circle. You’d be laughing at his antics if you weren’t transfixed. You knew what he’d do before he did it — could tell from the look in his eyes he was planning something mean. He opened your mouth and pushed his thumb past your lips until his knuckle was touching your top row of teeth. He drew a wide circle on your tongue and you felt your cunt twinge as he withdrew, pulling down your lip and bringing a line of spit with it. He pushed his wet digit into the round top of your chin until he reached the corner of your mouth, forcing you to frown.

“Why so down, pretty?”

You felt suddenly like you could cry. You couldn’t pinpoint why, only that the anticipation of his touch had grown so fierce in your chest and your torso and your cunt that your skin was alight with tingling.

He brought his other hand up and cradled your faceYou were begging yourself not to lean into his touch, pleading with your traitorous brain, and then you did it anyhow. He pushed his chin toward his neck and cooed. “Oh, baby.” He was teasing, tone light and mischievous.

You pressed your lips together and he visibly melted. He pressed a kiss to your spit-wet mouth, holding your face firmly in his palms. Tracked kisses up your cheekbone to the corner of your tired eyes, one on each side.

He pulled away. “You look sad, sweetheart.”

“Tired.”

“D’you wanna sleep?” he asked, hands falling away.

“Want you,” you said, stepping into his arms, chest pressed to his shirt. You wrapped your arms around his neck and paused with your lips poised just over his, hovering. He pulled you up by the small of your back. You kissed with more urgency now. He was letting you lead, though he reciprocated enthusiastically.

He made a pleased sound that vibrated through your entire body, arms crossing, pushing up over your shoulders. He inhaled quickly enough to steal the air from your mouth, head swimming.

Remus led you backwards into your bed, pulling the cushion up behind your back so you were at an angle whilst he sat on the side with his legs crossed. It was casual enough to make your heart twinge. He rested one hand spread across your stomach and the other on your neck, thumb pressed gently into your throat as he kissed you slow. The room was filled only with the sounds of your breathing. His palm stayed stationary as his fingers tipped in line with your slit, roaming slowly down, back up, down a little more.

You pushed your knees together, wanting his touch so badly the thought of it made you sick. It didn’t matter how badly you wanted, he wouldn’t give in. You wouldn’t complain, not usually, he was a good kisser; firm and soft, knowing when to wade deeper and knowing when to recede, kiss like a gentle tide. But the echoing ache between your legs was driving you to madness.

Then, finally, when you’d figured this was to be a night of sick torture, he parted your legs. His thumb came down the centre of you. He stopped kissing to laugh generously at your slickness. “And what did you want lube for?”

“You know what I wanted it for,” you mumbled, trying to hide your trembling. His eyes softened with sympathy at your shyness.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’ll stop teasing. You’re feeling needy, hm?”

“S’your fault.”

He wiped wet over your clit and started circling the sensitive bead, your breath coming in quick, small gasps. He caught them in his mouth, devoured each one as they came. You moaned and it got caught in your throat as the sound egged him on, had him doubling down with his kisses and his slow ministrations on your heat.

He hit a stride, pleasure shooting through your abdomen. You broke away from his kiss to turn your head, blinking rapidly.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, turning your face back. Before he could reconnect your lips you were moaning, a whimpering sound. He brushed the width of his thumb up your cunt. Then, cruelly, he pulled away entirely.

“Please,” you started.

“Please what?” he asked, amused.

You didn’t know what you were asking for. It must’ve showed in your face.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” he asked, chuckling.

When you didn’t answer he squinted at you. His hands came around your back and he half-lifted you on top of his torso, crotch over his navel. His hands ran up the backs of your thighs, tugging you closer still, and you found your face in his neck. He smelled like heaven. You tried not to sniff him too obviously.

His hand came up to your cunt, curious fingers circling your entrance. Everything he said had taken on a silky quality. “You’ve been so patient today, you’re always so good for me.” Your hands tightened around his neck. His fingers pushed in, two at once. The feeling had your legs coming up, the tops of your feet ghosting over the backs of your thighs as he established a rhythm. One hand fucked you gently, searchingly, moving from a shallow thrust to a deeper curling of his fingers while the other held your ankle, forcing your cunt to spread wide open. “Poor baby, little hole all wet like this,” he said, squirming inside you for your sweet spot. “I didn’t mean to get you so worked up.”

��Liar,” you whimpered, gasping as he switched tactics and pushed his fingertips against your clit.

His circles were relentless. Your legs twitched, one falling down to the sheets and the other in his tight hold. You pushed up away from the intensity and he tutted, stopped touching.

“You gonna stay still for me?”

You nodded into his neck. He let go of your ankle and squeezed the hill of your arse before he went back to finger fucking you, index and middle finger quickly joined by his marriage. You whined into his skin.

Everything you did amused him. You’d plead and he’d stop, you’d whimper and he’d chuckle, his chest rumbling underneath your tummy. He’d slow when you asked him to speed up and speed up when you were gasping. When you came, he ran his hands down your legs gently and didn’t let up until you pulled your face from his neck with glassy, exhausted eyes.

He wiped his knuckle across your bottom lashes. “You sound so pretty, cumming ‘round my fingers,” he praised, tucking you back into his chest. His hand ran down your spine. “Good girl.”

Remus answered his phone reluctantly, coat still on, knowing exactly who it would be.

“Remus! Finally! Where the fuck have you been?” Sirius asked.

Remus considered hanging the landline back up and leaving the house entirely, maybe even the country. He remembered exactly what Sirius had said to him when he’d started working at the supermarket. Don’t get involved with muggle girls, Moons. They’re crazy. It’s the birth control - fucks with their heads.

Remus had disregarded this as mildly misogynistic and wildly misguided advice. Sure, you were a bit wild during your time of month, but he kind of liked that. Plus, it might’ve been hypocritical of him to think otherwise, what with the whole werewolf thing.

“Working.”

“Liar! Prongs and I asked. No hours this weekend. Your boss is still terrifying, by the way.”

Remus scratched the back of his neck. What lie to tell now?

“I was-“

“Save it, Moons. We already know the truth.”

“And what’s the truth?”

“You’ve got a girlfriend.”

He looked around the kitchen suspiciously. “Are you spying on me?”

“You don’t deny it?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Interesting, then, that a handsome, extremely chatty man at your work says you’ve been spending all your time with a pretty girl.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But there is a she!”

“Yes.”

“You bastard.”

Minutes later there was a tremendous knocking at the door. Remus, thinking he’d dodged this, groaned. He put his drink back down on the coffee table and went to open the door, unsurprised at who stood on the other side.

James had a bottle of wine suspended by his face. Sirius was dropping a cigarette by the door, smooshing it out with his shoe. “Moony!” he said excitedly. In his other hand was a cake. They’d written, Congratulations on losing your virginity in red icing.

He let them in with a long-suffering sigh.

“I was not a virgin.”

“Handies don’t count.”

“I really still wasn’t a virgin, even with those rules.”

They made themselves at home quickly. James opened the bottled and drank from it. Remus wrinkled his nose.

“Let me get you a glass. I'm not drinking anything that comes into contact with your mouth.”

“And who said I was sharing?” James asked, kicking his feet up onto the settee. Remus batted his legs off.

“No shoes on the sofa.”

“Yes sir,” he said, putting his shoes right back up again when Remus turned away.

“So. Who is it? When do we meet her?”

“Never,” Remus called, face in the cupboard. He blew dust out of two wine glasses and returned to the living room. “Not ever.”

“How long have you had this secret girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Have you fucked?” Sirius asked.

“Boo!” James said, and then, when Remus didn’t answer, “Oh my god, you have!”

Sirius laughed, a bundle of deep-belly sounds that made Remus grin despite himself. “You dog. What did I tell you about muggle girls?”

“She’s not some wild animal, you know.”

“How long?” James asked, pouring wine into his glass.

Remus considered lying, and then sighed, rolled his shoulders. “Since New Years.”

“New Years!” James actually looked offended at this.

“I didn’t know it was going to keep going.”

“But it’s going?” Sirius asked, pleased for his friend.

Remus had the decency to blush, then. “It’s definitely going.”

“Awful,” James said. “I’m happy for you, mate.”

“She’s really not my girlfriend.”

“But you want her to be,” Sirius said.

Remus drank his wine rather than answer. Sirius smiled in triumph, leaning back in his chair like a king atop his golden throne, hands behind his head. He was wearing dangly earrings.

“Why don’t you ask her, then?” James asked.

Remus groaned, looked up at the ceiling. “That would require a bit more honesty. And things I wouldn’t even be able to tell her.”

“The wolf thing,” Sirius said, like this hadn’t been obvious.

“Yes, Pads, the wolf thing. How astute of you.”

“But she’s seen all this?” James waved his hand in a circle towards Remus’ chest. Remus nodded. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. She hasn’t asked.”

“She’s a keeper, then,” James said.

“Or disinterested.”

James attempted to kick Sirius and missed by a mile. “Dickhead.”

“I don’t think she’s… not interested. I don’t know. She’s hard to read.”

“What’s her name?” James asked.

Remus told them, struggling to keep the fondness out of his voice. James grinned like a maniac, throwing his arm around Remus’ shoulders. “Who could reject my Moony. Oh, can I tell Lily? She’ll be so pleased.”

Remus rolled his eyes and shrugged out of his friend's hold. “Tell whoever you want. She’s not a secret. But she really isn’t my girlfriend.”

“You keep saying that,” Sirius muttered, turning the television on.

“You’re fucking, so that’s, like, thirty percent of a relationship.”

“Only thirty?” Sirius asked.

“Forty?”

“I guess it depends. How often?”

“Guys, don’t be pigs,” Remus scolded. Then, quietly. “Pretty much everyday.”

“Is it good? Or just, eh?” Sirius asked.

“Pig.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m not trying to be disgusting, I just really think the sex is a good indicator of compatibility, you know?”

James and Remus both looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. “Compatibility,” James repeated.

“You know?” Remus asked.

“Fuck off, both of you. Solve your crisis by yourself.”

“It’s not a crisis.”

“Do you go on dates?”

“No,” Remus admitted.

James hummed and downed the last of his wine, pouring a second glass.

“I did take her to the pharmacy? That’s romantic,” he joked. “And I drive her home most days.”

“So you’re her boyfriend,” Sirius said, poking at the virginity cake with his finger. James aimed to kick him and this time succeeded. Sirius looked unaffected.

“I’m not her boyfriend. I’m pretty sure you have to ask someone to be their boyfriend. James is a good example of that.”

“Why are we poking fun at me? I’m on your side!”

“You’re fucking, you’re taking her places, and you like her,” Sirius summarised.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Yeah, I really like her.” And then the kind of honesty that came with years of friendship and a lack of privacy. “She’s fucking - she’s insane. She looks like a fucking movie star. And you should hear her talk.” He shook his head despondently. “I’m fucked.”

James ruffled his hair. “That, my friend, is the opposite of fucked.”

“Nah, he’s fucked,” Sirius said, collecting icing on his finger. “Totally fucked.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Remus said, sinking down into the sofa.

my masterlist <3

tag club! :3

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s @mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @thatonecomfyjumper @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #Remus Lupin x y/n #fem!reader #marauders era #no Voldemort #remus x reader #Remus x you #marauders #remus #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin smut #post Hogwarts

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caffeineforbucky · 3 years

Text

As Time Goes By...(Chapter One)

Post-blip (five or six months later)

A/N: This is my first time writing on this website or anything public really, I usually just write for me, please just bear with me if it looks or sounds janky. Also, thanks for taking the time to read. I deeply & wholeheartedly appreciate you. Enjoy!

Summary: I suck at them but, I'll give it a shot. You- the reader, are surprised by 'old' friends when they show up out of the blue, asking for your help on a mission. (This is just the sum for chap. 1)

Word count: 2,760

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, ex-boyfriend jealousy...

The day was coming to an end, a small heatwave conjuring up a sweat as you wiped down your last table for the night. You blew out a breath, brushing back a sheen of perspiration with your forearm, watching the last customer walk out of the restaurant as the bell chimed above their head.

You never understood why people chose to sit inside when there were tables out on the sidewalk. It was hotter in here than out there, especially since the air conditioner had gone out just a few days prior and the fans above the tables were only circling the air inside. It was an actual oven, but they contended.

Your hightops heaved across the tile, dragging yourself with the sufficiency of a person who was only working because they had to. You kicked up the doorstop, pulling the door towards you with a small amount of goodwill and vigor to finish locking up, flipping the paper sign over from open to closed. It wasn't as if you hated your job. You thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of it all. It was the only person working the night shift job you hated with every fiber of your being. You weren't completely alone in the restaurant, having a few cooks and the owner to keep you company, especially on busy nights like the one you just had.

"I'm clocking out, Mrs. Turner!" You call out, reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your apron, pulling it up and off your neck once the ties came undone. Trudging back to the table, you picked up the disinfectant wipe and toss it in the bin, making your way to your boss's office before hanging up your apron on the hook. "Mrs. Turner...?" You murmur softly, poking your head in through the doorway, only to see her counting the profits for the day. "I'm heading home," You chime, pointing behind your shoulder with your thumb as she glances up at you.

"Alright, Honey," She beams, a bright smile pulling at her lips as her eyes meet yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Working for the Turners wasn't supposed to be a permanent job, in fact, it wasn't even your original plan, as opposed to the small favors you would complete now and then for the people that were willing to pay a pretty penny for your...services.

But you figured having a stable job was smarter and safer than the alternative. And the help wanted sign was very persuasive, due to the pretty colors and splashes of glitter. It looked like it was made by a child, which you later found out, was decorated by Mrs. Turner's seven-year-old. "Always." You accede, tapping the doorframe as your goodbye before parading into the breakroom to gather your things from the lockers.

You take your backpack off the hook and swing the strap over your shoulder before time punching your card and going straight through the back door. The sounds of the city hit your ears as the heavy door slammed behind you. Traffic honks and tires treading against the grain while you walk further into the busy streets of San Francisco.

As you were about to turn the corner, you were met with the sight of your friend's van, followed by a trumpet rendition of La Cucaracha. You grinned widely, gripping your strap tighter as you jog up the 1972 Ford Ecoline, aka Big Bertha. At least that's what you called it. "Luis!" You rejoice, resting your palms on the ledge. "What are you doing here?"

"Scotty sent me out for a few things," Luis answers, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his head turned to you. "I was just about to go when I saw you. Thought you might need a ride." He shrugs, a cute smile playing on his lips.

You nod, reciprocating the smile at his answer. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble..." You drag, your voice hesitant, as if he didn't offer at all.

"Nah, get in." He gestures, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. "Your place is on the way," Luis loosens his seatbelt, reaching over to the passenger side to pull up the lock, opening the door for you.

You climb in, plopping down on the tufted leather seats as you pulled the door towards you, closing it shut. "Thanks, Lu," You breathe, dropping your backpack below your feet, then you fasten your seatbelt. "How is Scott, anyway?" You ask as Luis changes gears and presses the gas, the van rolls onto the street.

"Ehh...he's...he's alright, know what I'm sayin'?" He answers, glancing at you before focusing back on the road. "I mean, he missed like five years of his daughter's life. He's just trying to spend as much time with her to make up for years they both lost."

You nibble at the inside of your cheek, nodding softly in agreement as the city lights passed you by. There wasn't much you could say to that, having lost so many people yourself. People you considered family just...gone.

"Yo!" Luis pipes up, snapping you out of your train of thought. "Didja see the news today?!" He shakes his head, whistling at the thought. "I can't believe they would just give some random dude the shield like that, ya know?"

You drew in your bottom lip in contempt, nodding once again at Luis. You had seen the news, and they couldn't have picked a better time to broadcast. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner asking you in, you would've hunted Sam Wilson down and kicked his ass yourself.

The van rolled to a stop, brakes squealing as Luis pulled up beside your apartment. You sighed heavily, glancing at the small apartment you shared with your Ex-boyfriend. By the looks of the living room light illuminating behind the curtains, he was home, and you absolutely dreaded when he was. It wasn't as if you wanted to live with him, but you had no other alternative. Ever since dropping your side job, money was tighter, and he was kind enough to let you stay, just until you found a place. "Thanks again for the ride, Lu." You mumble, unclicking your seatbelt as you took hold of your backpack. "You didn't have to."

"Don't even mention it, Y/N," Luis reassures, watching you as you pull at the door handle, opening it to get out. "I know how hard it is to get back into the norm."

You shut the passenger door, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you around?"

With a smile, Luis waves goodbye and drives off into the night, the exhaust pipe blowing smoke as he rode off. You shook your head, cracking a smile at the honk of his horn. You turned towards the front entrance of the apartment, your stomach twisting as your smile dropped completely. You swallowed thickly, rolling the tension from your shoulders to prepare yourself before jogging up the small flight of stairs.

You fished your keys from the front pocket of your backpack, taking a breath before shoving the key into the lock, twisting as you pushed the door open with your shoulder. "Joshua?!" You voiced, calling out your ex's name to make sure it was him. You dropped your belongings beside the door, pushing your sneakers off before kicking the door shut with your foot.

"Yeah, in here!" He responds quickly, a slight tremor to his tone.

You frown softly, tossing your keys into the bowl on the console table before sauntering to where his voice was emanating from. "Josh, are you...?" Your voice came to a halt, your footsteps stopping altogether as you walked into the living room.

"Hey!" Joshua exclaims once your figure comes into view. "You wanna explain who they are?" He presses, his face crossed with fear as he gestures to the two men sitting calmly on your living room couch.

You remained quiet, your body tense, eyes wide as your focus shifted between the men on the couch and your ex.

"Well...?" Joshua demands, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his stance at the unsettling glare one of the men was sending his way. "I was in the middle of hosting game night-as you can see, when they showed up," Josh drops his arms, hands splaying out to gesture to the coffee table consisting of five different dips, two bulk-sized bags of tortilla chips, and a twenty-four pack of Blue Moon beer. "The guys were just about to come over."

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to refrain from any and all insults towards your ex. That explained why he was home. "Um..." You utter, pinching the bridge of your nose, "Fucking hell," You curse under your breath, eyes fluttering open to look at Joshua. "Josh," You begin, clearing your throat as you start with the man on the left. "They are Sam Wilson and..." You hesitate, eyes settling on the man to the right, his sight alone bringing back the memories that you swore you didn't want to remember. "James Barnes," You finish, ripping your eyes away from his baby blues to look at your ex. "Aka-"

"The Falcon and The Winter Soldier..." Joshua finishes for you, his eyes flashing with amazement, head whipping towards the guys. "Shit!" He curses, smiling widely like a kid in a candy store. "Can I get you guys anything? A plate? Beer?"

"Actually," You grunt, interrupting before Sam or Bucky could answer. "Can you give us a minute, Joshua?" Insisting while your foot tapped impatiently against the hardwood floor.

"Should I be worried?" He inquires, eyes filled with confusion as he looked between the three of you, trying to piece together the situation at hand. The main reason you and Joshua couldn't work it out was that you kept a lot of secrets, mostly from him. He didn't like the fact that you wouldn't let him in. Sure, you lied to him, the biggest lie being that you were an Avenger, but that was just to keep him safe. There were other reasons why you decided to split up as well. Joshua knew...he knew deep down you were just with him to pass the time. He could see it when he looked into your eyes. There was someone else in the reflection and it wasn't him. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that it did hurt him. That he wanted a chance to make it work with you, but with the way you were staring at James, he finally recognized that reflection.

He should've noticed it early on-like that day he had somehow convinced you to take a trip to D.C for a tour of the Captain America museum. You were hell-bent on not going, trying to make up some elaborate excuse or an alibi of sorts, but alas, you still went. And for some odd reason, you couldn't stop coming back to the Bucky Barnes portion.

"No," You reply, keeping it short to dismiss him.

Joshua's mouth set in a hard line, a foreign feeling forming in the pit of his stomach-jealousy. He never had to worry about it before, especially when his friends used to come over, back when you were still together. Except for that one time, but how could he blame them? You were the kind of person that listened, laughed at the jokes being made, could lend a hand when needed, and your looks were just a bonus in his book. "Uhm, yeah," He coughed, frowning softly while nodding his head at you. "I have to go pick up the pizza, anyway," Josh brushes past you, fetching his keys from the bowl while slipping on his Vans that sat up against the wall ledge that separated the front door from the living room. "Are you going to be okay?" He mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

You shoot Josh a smile, nodding reassuringly, his footsteps approaching closer before stopping in front of you, the palm of his hand landing gently on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Let me know if you need anything, m'kay?" Josh's voice is soft, the concern in his eyes making you feel guilty. You knew he cared about you, and there wasn't a time where you'd catch him staring at you for far too long, but you were well past that. "I'm just a text away," He notes, waving his cell in his hand.

"Josh, I'll be fine," You sigh, stepping away from his touch, the sound of his hand hitting his jeans as it dropped from your shoulder. "I always am."

"Right," Josh nods, looking over at the men on the couch before gazing back at you. "I'll see you in a bit, bug." And with that, he turns, opens the front door, and steps out, shutting the wooden door behind him.

You close your eyes, the pet name Josh had coined for you making you sigh. He agreed to stop calling you that all together and it only made you feel that more guilty for ending things. "So..." You pipe up, opening your eyes as you turned to look at the guys. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Bug?"

Bucky is the first to speak, his jaw clenched at the mere sound of the word. Indignant at the way Josh had touched you, even if it was just your shoulder. "I didn't know he knew you like that," Bucky flashes you a taut smile, nodding softly as he shared a look with Sam, but the falcon only shook his head. "How long have you been..." Bucky couldn't even finish the question, his glove-clad hands tightening at the thought of you being with somebody else...someone that wasn't him. Though, it was his own fault. If he hadn't done what he'd done-you'd have never found another.

"Wow," You scoff, padding closer to where they sat. "You don't miss a beat, do you? Just..." You sink into the sofa adjacent to the one they occupied. "-Right into the big stuff."

"I didn't bring you here to question her about her love life," Sam voices, his scolding eyes on the man beside him. "And she sure as hell isn't obligated to answer you, Bucky."

You smile gratefully at Sam before glancing down at your leg that had begun to bounce in anticipation. "What are you guys doing here? And how'd you find me?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity as you look up at the guys. "When I resigned from the Avengers initiative, they ensured me that I wasn't able to be traced, not by your or any other remaining member. I was supposed to be scot-free," You declare, hitting your thigh with your fist.

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Sam chuckles, shaking his head at the naivety. "We both know that's a bunch of bullshit. The government is always going to have its eyes on us. Especially free agents like you and us."

You draw in your bottom lip, biting down, eyes flickering between Sam and Bucky. You knew it was too good to be true, and part of you sensed the bullshit when the government explained it to you. You just didn't want to believe it.

"You were an ex-assassin. How could they not keep tabs on your whereabouts?" Sam recounts, emphasizing that it was in the past. At least, that's what they thought. "And I had some help from Redwing as well." He shrugs nonchalantly.

You choke out a laugh, shaking your head at the smug demeanor emitting from Sam. "Redwing," You whisper, smiling thinly. "Of course, nothing could ever be hidden from your personal P.I, huh?"

"I hate that thing," Bucky grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. in annoyance. "Invasion of privacy, I'm telling you."

"You love redwing," Sam jokes, playfully jabbing Bucky's arm with his elbow, "It's okay Bucky, you can admit it."

"Can we get back to the issue here?" You interject, "Not one of you has explained the reason you're here. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to see you...one more than the other," You whisper that last part but, completely aware that Bucky could hear it. "But, you both showing up out of the blue...? That's almost a bad omen."

"I didn't ask him here, by the way," Sam acknowledges, raising his hands in defense, "I just want to get that out of the way. Bucky came because he wanted to. I'm here," Sam gestures to himself, "-For one reason and one reason only..."

"And what's that?" You ask, leaning forward in your seated position.

"I need your help, Y/N."

#james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #angst #jealousy #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnesxreader #marvel #post blip #bucky/reader #samuel wilson #sam wilson #ex boyfriend #bucky x female reader #james barnes x reader

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homoose · 4 years

Text

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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markosmate · 3 years

Text

lady

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au:// Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)

I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!

Part 2

I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.

But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.

I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy.

“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”

“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”

“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”

I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly.

“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”

“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.

The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.

Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.

Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.

“Looks like he’s dead.” Michael remarked.

“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.

“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.

“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom.

Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”

That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.

Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.

“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.

I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”

“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.

“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.

Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.

Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.

I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.

“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”

“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.

“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.

He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”

“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.

“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”

We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.

“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.

I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”

He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.

“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.

We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.

She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.

He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.

“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.

“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.

He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”

Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.

If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.

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sidespart · 3 years

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The Fall of King Romulus Part 2

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Prologue Chapter 1

“Young Sir! Come look at this! A beautiful gift for your sweetheart, no?”

Logan bit back a curse as Roman, once again, slipped form his side and almost skipped towards the merchants stall.

They had finally left the forest earlier that morning. Barley a quarter- mile beyond the tree line the path merged with the great eastern road, already heaving with traders wagons heading to Steveange for the monthly market. Roman had gone to work immediately, finding an exhausted looking couple and charming them into exchanging a ride in the back of their cart for a selection of songs to soothe their gaggle of bored children.

Even Logan, no lover of music, could admit that Romans voices was objectively pleasing. Even the wailing baby settled down under the effects of his lullaby.

The closer they got to the city gates the more densely packed the road became, to the point where their pace might have been improved by walking. But the rest was welcome and the sun was still high in the sky by the time they had finally made it to the city square. They might even have made it to their target in good time, had Patton not insisted that they stay to help the family unload every box and crate from their cart before moving on.

Patton stood nearly seven foot tall, with shoulders to match and the patience of a Raspanzean monk. Moving him when he had decided not to move was difficult at the best of times. Currently, with a good deed in need of doing and no less than three small children clambering all over him, it was going to be impossible.

Logan looked at Virgil for support.

Virgil was already manhandling the smallest sack of produce down from the cart, under close supervision of a surly looking nine year old.

Logan looked back at Patton. Patton had somehow acquired a fourth child, and was swinging the small boy gently back and forth with one giant arm.

Logan sighed.

Eventually they agreed that Patton and Virgil would stay to help the family, and then set about finding the four of them somewhere to sleep. Logan and Roman would head down the main street, complete their mission and return with, hopefully, enough coin to let them settle here for at least a weeks rest.

Which Logan would have no problem with. Except that the monthly market seemed far larger than when Logan had visited the city as a young apprentice. The city square was packed with stalls filled with meat, produce, spices and enough live animals to generate a stink so strong even Patton and his twice broken nose winced. The main road meanwhile was filled with more temporary looking stalls offering books, jewellery and potions of every colour alongside the usual clothing and home wear. These continued the whole length of the road from the square to the city temple and even spilled over into the side streets and thoroughfares of the city proper.

All of which apparently meant Roman couldn’t walk for more than two minutes without stopping to gawk at whatever gaudy display was on offer or chat with the seller.

“Roman!” he caught up with the wayward bard at a jewellers stall, where a heavy set man with salt and pepper hair was holding up an extremely impractical looking necklace for him to inspect

“Oh there you are specs” Roman grinned at him, “have you seen Master Galvenets wares? Look how shiny!”

“Is this your sweetheart?” The jeweller – presumably Master Galvenet – grinned at Logan with far too many teeth and reached below the makeshift counter top, “Then may I suggest this one instead – to match his eyes?”

The necklace he presented was even bigger than the last. With blue glass masquerading as the sapphires surrounded by enough ostentatious filigree to decorate a dukes bed chamber. Logan stared, momentarily struck dumb by his own disdain.

Roman nudged him, waggling his eyebrows and giving him a lecherous grin “What do you think sweetie? It does match your eyes.”

Logan blanched. Turning quickly to the seller her snapped out “We are NOT together. And also - we’re, extremely poor. And not interested.”

He grabbed Roman’s wrist and proceeded to drag the giggling bard with him back towards the main street. “Can you try to focus?” Logan glared at him, “remember this package is time sensitive.” Superstitiously, Logan patted his pocket, feeling the shape of the vial they had been entrusted to transport to Steveange still safely stored inside.

Roman failed to look chastened. “Logan, it’s a herb. And we we’re asked to deliver it within a week – it’s only been five days! Your forest short cut worked, alright, the worlds not going to end if we stop to appreciate some fine wares on our way.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You consider Master Galvenet’s works, ‘fine wares’?”

Now Roman had the grace to look a little sheepish “They had a charm of their own.”

Logan hmphed. “They were very clearly fake.”

“Oh?” Roman linked their arms together, tugging him back into the steady stream of south bound shoppers, “How could you tell?”

Logan told him.

The ensuring lecture took them the rest of the way down main street, and into the rabbit warren of alleyways that branched out behind the city’s temple.

Even here, there were traders. Many had their wares spread out on blankets on the ground instead of stalls, but they seemed less inclined to call over whilst the two of them walked together deep in discussion and so, mercifully, there was less opportunities for Roman to get distracted.

“A festival?” Roman suggested. Logan shrugged, it was possible, something was certainly occurring to draw such an enormous throng.

Eventually, Logan had to admit that his boyhood memories were not enough to navigate every twist and turn of the city streets and Roman stepped away from him to ask a couple for directions. Logan took the chance to study him, but whatever fit of irrationality had led to him wandering back through half the forest the previous night seemed to have past. Even the scratches on his hands and arms had healed almost completely overnight, helped along by a generous slathering of healing salve from Virgil.

(Logan had, at the time, pointed out that the healer was using up rather a lot of their dwindling supply for an extremely minor injury. Virgil had hissed at him)

Roman was often contradictory. He would spend a day whining about his need for beauty sleep but then stay up till the early hours to fulfil every song request from whatever crowd they managed to gather. He fussed with his makeup and performance clothing as much as a lady at court, but kept his hair cropped unfashionably short and made no effort to seek out high class patrons who could have kept him in silks and finery. He was talented enough with a lute to spend the social season entertaining upper class lords, and talented enough with a sword to spend the rest of his time as a body guard or becomes some towns local hero. Instead he travelled with them.

“You know, I’m fairly sure there were some gentlemen painting miniatures on the main road, if you want to keep staring at me that is.”

Logan flushed, caught. “Don’t be insufferable.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that” Roman grinned cheekily.

This was an old joke. Virgil had originally found Roman, and hired him as a body guard and escort for a three day trip through a bandit ridden mountain pass. Three weeks and many diversions later, they had emerged on the other side of the mountain. Roman had become as much a part of the group as any of the others and had stayed to travel with them as a friend rather than a hire.

Logan was glad of it. Most of the time.

“Did you get the directions?”

“I did, I had to ask three people before I found someone who recognised the address – the city’s full of tourists!”

The woman who opened the door looked like the word crone ha been invented especially for her. Her grey hair stuck out from a shoddily tied scarf and her face looked like at any moment it might collapse under the weight of her own frown. She scowled at the pair of them, looking like she already learned everything there was to know about them from one glance and found it all spectacularly unimpressive.

“What do you want?” She snapped.

Logan resisted the urge to smooth down his waistcoat like he was presenting to a lecturer and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon. We have been sent by Madam Valarie to –“

This, if anything, seemed to make the scowl deepen.

“My sister? What does that witch want?”

“To deliver you …this”

With a flourish Logan produced the vial and held it aloft. The thin shaft of light spilling from the doorway made the red herb glow a burning orange in the dim of the alley.

“And you think I’m dramatic.”

“Shush.”

Needlessly dramatic or not, he had the woman’s attention. She reached towards the vial with trembling hands but Logan drew back before she could make contact.

“Your sister paid us half, with the promise of the second half on delivery.” Reaching into a different pocket he produced an envelope and held it out. “She told us to give you this – it should validate our story.”

The woman muttered something decidedly uncomplimentary under her breath but accepted the envelope. Without speaking further she turned and retreated into the hovel, leaving the door open behind her

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Roman deftly stepped around Logan to walk in first, one hand on his sword.

He needn’t have bothered, the short hallway opened up to small kitchen, where every conceivable surface was covered with books, scrolls and bric-a-brac. Three of the four walks were taken up with shelving where kitchen ingredients and appliances sat shoulder to shoulder with ornaments, candles and what looked like half a taxidermy ostrich.

If the old woman had hired muscle ready to take to leap out and take the herb by force, they would have had a hard time finding space to stand.

“My sister claims this was picked under the glow of a full moon.”

Logan nodded, “that is what we were given to understand.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “For this to be worth the price it needs to be used within ten days of the moon’s glow, my sisters village is two weeks ride away on the eastern road.”

“We came through the forest.” Logan explained, “Also, I sealed the herb in a pre-sterilised sample jar – the lack of air exposure should help it retain its freshness far beyond its normal time frame!”

The was a silence. The woman was now looking at Logan not with suspicion, but with the exasperation of a teacher whose student has just said something rather stupid.

Logan crossed his arms.

“If you look at the specimen carefully you will notice no discoloration or other signs of degradation – this method can be used to prolong the lifespan of most vegetation and-“

She interrupted him by laughing, an awful crows call of a noise, and held up a hand for silence.

“You are obviously quite uneducated.” she told him cheerfully “And you are bothering Mittens.”

“I beg your pardon I- wait what?”

“YOWCH!”

Logan spun round, as much as he could in the cramped space, only to find Roman desperately trying to relinquish a scrambling ball of fur back onto one of the high shelves. The cat had already dug its claws deep enough into the bards wrist to draw blood, and was currently clinging on for dear life as Roman waved his hand around like Patton trying to kill a spider.

“My apologies Master Mittens” Roman told the cat a few moments later, after Logan and the crone had finally convinced it to release him “I thought you were a hat.”

“Why must you touch things.” Logan hissed and was surprised by a much gentler laugh from their hostess.

“Aw now, Mittens is not the most dangerous thing you could have touched in my kitchen. Here. Drink.”

Logan blinked as she shoved hot cup into his hands. Its contents was extremely dark and disturbingly viscous. A few drops glopped over the side, singeing his finger. He held it as far from his body as he possibly could.

“And for you?” She held up a second cup towards Roman who smiled politely but shook his head ‘no’

“No thank you, Madam.”

“We’re both fine.” Logan said firmly, putting the cup down on one of the first patches of exposed surface he could find. “If you wouldn’t mind completing our transaction we will take our leave of this…place.”

She looked at him for one long moment and then turned back to Roman.

“Your friend says you passed through the Serpents Forrest”

Logan frowned - “That’s not what the locals called it.”

“Well that’s who lives there.” The crone snapped without turning around, “One of the darker fae. I’m not surprised he” – she jerked her chin back towards Logan – “ got through alright, since the gods look after fools.”

“Excuse me!”

“But how did you manage?”

Roman juts shrugged, eyes sparkling with mirth at Logan’s outraged expression. “We saw no one Madam, but if we had done - I carry iron.”

That rusted hunk of junk Logan thought, but the crone was nodding approvingly

“A clever boy” she patted Roman cheek, “I thought so when I heard your accent – you’re from beyond the mountains.”

Logan frowned. He was not gifted when it came to interpreting expressions, but he thought Romans smile had suddenly become very fixed.

“So are you.” Roman replied softly.

There was a moments quiet whilst the two looked at each other and Logan tried not to roll his eyes out of his own head. All they needed to do was a simple swap of coin for produce and instead Roman had manged to find the only other grown adult in Steveange who still believed in fairies.

Whatever northerner to northerner communication was happening seemed to pass, and the crone reached past Roman to pull a small burlap sack from the shelf. Mittens took the opportunity to skitter across her arm and settle himself on her shoulder.

“Here you are then.” She tipped the sack out on top of an open tome, producing three cloves of garlic and a hefty pile of coins Logan couldn’t help but stare. That was more money than Logan had seen in one place since he had started traveling.

The crone picked out three gold pieces and a fistful of silver and handed them to Logan. He counted quickly and handed her the vial. Transaction complete, Logan headed immediately to the door, but turned back when he realised Roman wasn’t with him

He was still trapped between the crone and the shelving. “Will you come and see me before you leave the city?” she asked “It would be nice to share my tea with someone who would appreciate it.”

Logan thought to the gelatinous mess in the tea cup and gagged but Roman just smiled

“If time allows my lady.” He brought her withered hand to his lips and deposited a courtly kiss before sidestepping her and heading after Logan.

The city alley smelt almost like fresh air after the over mixture of incense, garlic and cat that her permeated the crones kitchen, and Logan breathed it in gratefully before setting off. Roman falling into sept beside him.

Logan glanced at him, uncertain.

He knew Roman was from the Northern Kingdom. He guessed from his speech patterns that he either grew up upper class or was truly committed to his larger than life bard persona. He had mentioned a brother once, off hand, and during an argument compared Logan to a tutor he’d disliked who had made him study maps until he could recount every river on the continent by heart.

That was all he knew.

Logan was curious by nature, a trait which tended to get him in trouble. He would have liked to pepper Roman with a hundred questions about life beyond the mountains, but Patton had told him once he should only ask a question about a sensitive subject if he was prepared to answer one himself.

None of them like to talk about where they came from, but that was fine. They were going forward together.

It was obvious though, that meeting his countryman had shaken Roman. He walked silently, even when they turned into a wider street and found the market still in full swing, shoppers crowding around each stall, he made no comment, only stepped closer to Logan.

If he was Patton, he might have known what to say to sooth whatever emotion was clouding Romans features. If he was Virgil, he might have made a joke or pointed out an interesting stall to distract him

As it was..

“So do all Northerners believe in fairy stories or is it just you two?”

“What?”

“The dark fae of the forest? She can’t have been serious.”

Roman straighten up, fixing him with a mock glare “Logan! You’re honestly going to keep pretending you don’t believe in magic? You travel with an elf!”

“Half-elf. And there’s nothing mystical about him.”

“He makes potions Logan!”

“He mixes herbs into useful medicines, it’s no different than any human herbalist.”

“He chants when he does it. And his eyes do that thing.” Roman wiggled his fingers in front of his face, apparently to illustrate ‘that thing’.

“Which I’m sure helps him know how long each concoction needs to stew before adding the next ingredient. You cannot decided a race is magical just because they’ve failed to invent clocks.”

“Urgh!” Roman threw up his hands, “Sometimes you sound like you’re from Arkaze’yed.”

Arkaze’yd was on the western coast. The most industrially advanced of the great cities, they had recently converted the city temple into an extension of the university.

Logan preened. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Roman pulled a face. “You are such a - ooh! Jam tarts!”

He darted away again, but this time Logan couldn’t fault him. A boy was hastily unpacking a crate of what looked like fresh jam tarts onto his masters stall and the scent was delicious

They had to wait for three families ahead of them before they could finally have their turn. Roman picked out four of the tarts and chatted happily with the seller whilst Logan carefully counted out the money.

“I had herd the monthly market of Steveange was something to behold but this! Are you going to go all night?”

“Most likely.” The trader told them happily, “The towns packed for the coronation.”

“Coronation?”

“Princess Stephanie is to become queen,” the man gushed, one hand over his heart in what Logan considered to be an alarming display of emotional royalism. “The guests have been arriving all week.”

Logan nodded absently. That explained the hubbub. The rich went traveling and the poor went to see them. A coronation was a good enough excuse for a festival. If you liked that sort of thing.

“They say,” the trader whispered leaning forward, apparently unbothered by Logan’s total lack of interest in royal gossip, “That even the mad Prince is coming - Remus of Notaleveale!”

“Is that so.” said Logan, monotonously “Here’s your coin.” He turned to Roman to claim his pastry and – stared.

All the colour had drained from Romans face. He gaze was fixed on the trader, his eyes so wide he looked quite wild.

“Roman?” Logan asked, as gently as he could. He realised that Romans hands were shaking the second before the bag of pastries fell from his grip.

“Roman- ROMAN hey-“

Other customers were starting to push between them, Logan bent down quickly to rescue the bag form the floor and reached out to grab his friends hand.

But when he looked up, Roman had gone.

Part three

#creativitwins #logan sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #Roman Sanders #TS: Fall of Romulus #this features #10% more plot but 100% more logan #this is the second full fic ive ever done and the first multichapter so feedback appreciated :o

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

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😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 1)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, clit stimulation, angst, dirty talking, cursing, name calling,(possible part 2?Idk)

Notes: I think it’s time for me to face my biggest fear: Drew McIntyre! 😂 all jokes aside, I’ve lost count of how many one shots I have written and soon after deleted about this handsome hunk. There are so many good stories of him out there that I’ve always felt like mine were actually horse shit compared to those so I’ve never had the courage to make this Scottish wet dream an official brand of my writing, but I’m looking forward to achieve new accomplishments on my writing in 2021, so here goes nothing folks! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Oh Thank God! Just the woman I wanted to see”

I turned around to meet Becky Lynch, one of the few dear close friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a massage therapist.

“Hey Becks! What’s up?”

“Y/N I need your help, I was doing some training with the guys when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and now I feel like I wanna cry”

“Oh Becky, c’mon let’s go to my office”

Once we got there I mentioned for her to sit on the massage table.

“So tell me exactly what you were doing”

“I was doing some regular weightlifting, then all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain stretch from my elbow to my shoulder”

“Ok, did you warmed up before hand?”

“Yes”

“Did you added the weights in progressively or were you in some sort of competition against Sheamus, Cesaro and McIntyre as to whom could perform a proper weightlifting faster?” I crooked my eyebrow

“Y/N! You know I would never do that” She tried to hide her shame for being caught

“Becky, I know you! I know how competitive you are and how competitive you GET when you train with Sheamus, Cesaro and the Scottish prick.”

“They started ok?! They said I was no match for them, so I had to make them swallow word by word” She said slightly angry

“Calm down” I chuckled “And I presume you won?”

“Of course I won! As if they stood a chance” She scoffed

I touched her shoulder and palmed the back of her upper arm til I reached her elbow

“And your prize for that my darling is” I looked into her eyes “Six muscular knots, probably some small damage to your elbow nerves resulting in a little trip to the physical therapists and shit ton of pain, congratulations! Are you happy now?”

“Oh no!” She whined “Y/N, please don’t send me to the physical therapists, they will eat my ass off and they’re gonna tell Hunter about this. Please Y/N, please tell me you can fix it?” She stared at me with begging eyes

“Becks” I sighed “I can undo the muscular knots but I ain’t no fairy godmother! If you have some sort of nerve damage that’s up to the physical therapists...there’s nothing I can do about that honey”

“Please Y/N give me some of the red magical relief juice you gave to Kofi” She pleads

“Red magical relief juice?” I asked confused

“Yes, Kofi said he had this horrible pain from an injury and you gave him this red magical relief juice that helped him better than any medicine! Please give that to me too!”

I laughed before answering

“Oh Kofi, Kofi... it’s not an juice, it’s a liquid... a toner. A home made medicine I learned with my grandma. Technically I’m not even allowed to use that, but I know it works, better than these crap versions of Vick’s Vapor Rub” I tossed a little small green package in the trash can.

“Can you give that to me?” She asked with her eyes full of hope

“Fine” I said and she smiles widely

“But, you have to promise me that you will stop with these stupid and senseless competitions! They could permanently damage your nerves you know?!”

“Ok I promise”

I took a small plastic bottle from the cabinet and filled up with some small amount of the toner and placed the bottle inside a small paper bag. I also gave her a little bit of my grandma’s famous ointment in a tiny tin can.

“Alright, so here’s what you’re gonna do: once you get to your hotel room, you’ll take a hot shower and before you put your clothes on, you’re gonna rub the toner from your neck to your elbow all over your shoulder and back upper arm” She nods and I proceed “Then right after you’re going to take a small amount of this ointment” I show her the little tin can “And rub it all over your shoulder, back upper arm and elbow. Right afterwards you get dress with a long sleeve shirt and go to bed. Remember that you cannot leave your skin exposed to the cold air of air conditioning, because if you do it will make your pain and damage way worse! Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“If in three to four days you still feel any sort of pain you’re gonna have to go to the physical therapists”

“Ok”

“Becky I’m serious”

“Okay Y/N I got it” She smiles softly

“Good, now please, don’t tell anyone about this” I shook the little bag “And tell Kofi to keep his mouth shut. I know he means well but I could get fired for this”

“My lips are sealed” She pressed her lips in a thin line

“Thank you” I chuckled “Now, go on and take 20 drops of this” I give her some Ibuprofen “And come back in 20 minutes”

“Why?” She asks confused

“Because we still have to undo those knots and it’s not gonna be the fun kind of pain my dear”

“Argh” She groans

One week later

I was finishing tidying up the massage table from the session I just had with Bayley when someone knocked on my office door

“Come on in”

“Hey Y/N” Seth Rollins said in a voice full of pain as he tried to walk towards me

“Seth are you ok? Jesus, you look like somebody just kicked your balls so hard that they went up to your throat! What happened?” I tried to hold back my laugh

“A long story involving Cesaro and Drew. Moral of the story is my back is fucked up, do you think you can help me?”

“Can you lay down here?” I patted the table

“I guess so” He made his way to it excruciatingly slow as I helped him to lay down

“Where’s the pain worst?”

“My lower back” I touched and he gasped in pain

“Do you think you could give me some of that red magical relief juice?” He whispered so only I could hear it.

Of course I wasn’t surprised about him knowing of the “magical relief juice” since he and Becky were together I figured she told him.

“Did Becky told you?”

“Only today, once she saw I was in a tremendous pain...When she was using it I pressed her to tell me who gave it to her but she didn’t wanted to say, she said it was her fairy godmother”

I couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s inside joke and loyalty. I truly love that girl.

“Sure thing Rollins, just please don’t-“

“I won’t tell anyone Y/N don’t worry! Your witchy recipe is safe with me” He chuckled “Ouch fuck, that hurts” He groaned

“Did you bring any jacket on with you?” I laugh

“Yeah Becky told me to”

“Ok, let’s get start it”

Forty minutes and a relaxed thankful Seth Rollins later. I was finishing washing my hands while Seth pulled the zipper of his jacked up. I could feel his eyes on me

“What is it Rollins?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If the question is if I am a 450 year old witch then my answer is, you will never know” I whisper as I turn to face him with a smirk

He laughs before saying “Well I’m sure you are sweetheart” He winks playfully “But that’s not the question though unfortunately”

“What is it then?”

He looked at me with a sense of caution before asking

“Why do you hate Drew so much?”

“McIntyre? The Scottish prick? The shitty bearded version of Gastón from Beauty and The Beast?” I ask in disbelief

My hatred for Drew McIntyre goes way back to 5 years ago. To make a long story short he has being a pain in my ass every since I started working here. It all resumes to the bad flirting and endless fights. We’ve always fought at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. It’s like a weekly ritual for us, and our fights are always petty and ridiculous such as who will get in the elevator first or who will rent the last SUV car.

“Yeah...” He answers slightly embarrassed

“Well that’s simple, he’s an asshole! A smug fucker who thinks he’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth and that every woman alive must fall for him in all fours”

“Is there anything else beyond that?” He asks

“No! Of course not!” I lied. As if I could tell him about my deep sexual desire for the Scotsman

“Are you sure? I mean, you must agree with me that he is very beautiful” Seth answers

“I’m not saying he’s not. I have eyes, so trust me, I know he’s hot as fuck and a very handsome man but that doesn’t mean that every woman on this company wants him!” I scoffed

“Does the ‘every woman’ equals Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked aggressively

“Look, there’s no need for you to get all defensive ok? I’m your friend and I’m just asking this as a friend. I’m not coming for you by any means” He says with a soothing voice

“Sorry, it was just my automatic response”

“It’s okay sweetie”

“But Seth...why this question now?”

“Let’s just say that I may or may not have heard some backstage talk and I would like to know this from your own mouth instead of other people’s”

“Backstage talk? About what?” I ask angrily

His eyes widened “You know what? Let’s forget I ever men-“

“No no no Rollins you’ve started this now you will finish it!” Now I was really angry

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut” He murmured

“But you didn’t! So spit it out”

“Ok...I’ve heard one of the girls say that the reason why you hate Drew so much is because you kinda have a hidden want for him to fuck you but since he’s ‘not interested’ you get pissed off” He whispered

“I WHAT??? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“Y/N please keep your voice down! Somebody is gonna hear you”

“I COULD GIVE TWO FUCKS IF SOMEBODY CAN HEAR ME! Who’ve said that Seth?” I was boiling with rage

“Sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you who’ve said it because I know you will-“

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered

“If you don’t tell me who’ve said that right now Rollins I swear to God on God in heaven that I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

He gulped

“Now who’ve said that?”

“Carmella” He whispered and I smiled letting go of his collar “Y/N please don’t do anything stupid!” He said as I removed my coat

“Don’t forget to rub the toner on your back once you’re out of the shower” I patted his shoulder and made my way to the door

“Y/N where are you going? Y/N please whatever you’re thinking about doing it, just don’t ok? She’s not worth it! Y/N PLEASE!”

But his screams were now faint as I make my way down the hallway to find the blond gossiper girl.

I finally find Carmella “talking”, to Sheamus in one of the hallways.

“Oi Y/N, how’s life treating ya lass?” Sheamus smiles widely at me, making his usual greeting. At any other day it would’ve made my afternoon happier to find that amazing Irish man, but not today! I was so furious that I ignored him and went directly to Carmella

“Would you mind telling me why the fuck are you not only minding my business but also spreading rumors about me and McIntyre?”

From where I stood I saw Sheamus visibly gulp

“Hey Y/N, what do ya say about we go to tha catering grab some coffee huh?” He said urgently pleading

“So? I’m waiting for an answer” I said to her fully ignoring what he just said

“Well Y/N, from woman to woman, I think we both can agree that it’s no rumor. It’s quite visible, to not say pathetic, the way you can’t deal with rejection my dear” She batted her lashes

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“The obvious Y/N! That you want Drew in between your legs but he doesn’t! I mean, let’s face it, he’s too much of a man for you anyways! It’s not like you can handle him, because we know you can’t” She measured me from head to toe making me feel very conscious about the difference between her slim toned body and my thick one full of curves.

I know that most of the men’s in this company usually date or even have one night stands with women who were body equivalent to their own - slender and beautifully toned - , but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t saw my own curvy beauty. Hell, I even got some dinner invitations from some of the guys! Cesaro, Baron Corbin, Finn Bálor and even Seth Rollins (before he got with Becky) were some of them.

“I bet that I received more dinner invitations in a week than you in a year” I scoffed

“But not from the man you want the most right darling?” She evilly grins and I see red! Pure rage in it’s rawest form took ahold of me and I jumped towards her neck but a pair of strong arms stopped me from attacking her.

“Wow, easy now lass” He said

HIM! The cause of all this gossiping with my name, I couldn’t get even more angry even if I tried.

“Let me go McIntyre!” I roar

“Uh, enjoy it while it lasts Y/N, it’s as far as you’ll ever get anyways” Carmella chuckles

I tried to wiggle out of his arms “What the fuck did you just said bitch? I’ll feed you your own teeth you fuck-“

I couldn’t finish my sentence thanks to Drew, who lifted me off from the floor and tossed me on his shoulder, taking me to back my office.

“What are you doing? Let me go! I’m gonna punch her stupid rat’s face!”

“No you won’t”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preventing your ass from getting fired!” He answers

I tried to release myself from him, but who was I fooling? The man is a brick wall, I couldn’t let myself go not even if I tried hard!

Once we got into my office he locked the door, placing himself in front of it and released me.

“Don’t you never, EVER, dare to manhandle me like that again! Do you hear me?” I stare at him with my eyes full of rage

“You know Y/N, all that anger is not good for you...you could have a heart attack” He chuckled

I was so mad, that tears of anger rolled down my cheeks as I cut the small distance between us and begin to punch his torso, arms or whatever I could reach

“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON WHY I AM NOW A FUCKING BACKSTAGE GOSSIP SUBJECT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF AREN’T YOU HUH? SHITTY ASS GASTÓN!”

I was starting to loose my strength due to my ferocious attack, and I would be damned if I let him see that...

When suddenly everything changed, the air in the room thickened and I saw myself now pressed against the door with my hands forcefully pinned on top of my head.

“Aww, that was sweet princess” He smirks confidently

“What are you doing Drew? Let me go” I murmured

“Oh it’s Drew now huh? Why the sudden change love? What happened with ‘Scottish prick, asshole and Gastón’?” He cackled “What’s wrong princess? Not feeling so confident and in charge anymore are we?” He pouts

“You’re hurting me” I lied

“Nu uh, we both know that, that’s a lie. I know you Y/N, every inch of you so don’t you lie to me now! That’s not what pretty little girls like you do” He reprimanded me

I felt confused and slightly turned on by his whole dominant character. But still I felt the urge to fight back.

“And what do you know about me McIntyre? NOTHING! So don’t YOU dare to pretend that you do! You know nothing about who I am or my needs, so quit the act”

He laughed before saying “And that’s where you’re wrong princess” He towered over me, securing my wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed my cheeks making my lips pout(like one would with a child) and tilted my head up to meet his blue gaze.

“You see Y/N, we’ve known each other for what? 5 years? I’ve done a lot of observing in those years... I became quite good at reading you” He leaned forward..his beard,lips and mustache brushing against my own lips

“So I know for a fact that what triggered you into fighting Carmella wasn’t what she said...But the fact that what she said is true” He searched my eyes for confirmation and when he found it he smirks in appreciation

A murmured ‘Fuck you’ came out of my lips the best way I could since he had this vicious grip on my cheeks.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N... what am I going to do with you princess?” He asks amused as he release my cheeks “I must say though... I agree with almost everything Carmella said” He vaguely added

Pure humiliation filled me, the thought of him knowing that deep down I had a thing for him which wasn’t reciprocal at all made my stomach turn. I felt the tears of humiliation start to rise to my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see that he had broken me. Instead I reached for the safety of the one thing I knew I could do: fight!

“You let me go right now you fucker or I swear you will regret it!” I said as threatening as I could

“Oh my, won’t you look at that? Kitty has claws huh?” He chuckled lightly

I took advantage of his distraction and yanked my arms as fast as I could out of his grip. The action caught him by surprise, giving me the upper hand to turn around to unlock the door so I could leave. But his surprise didn’t last long as for he saw what I was about to do and pressed me against the door once more, instead now my back was the one facing him so he pressed his semi hard bulge up against my ass with my hands and face now pressed on the wooden door.

“Where do you think you are going princess? We’re not done talking just yet” He whispers in my ear, making my whole body shiver.

“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me” His lips were glued to my ear “I almost, I said almost, agree with everything that she said..except for one thing”

“If you’re gonna say that-“

“Maybe I’ll have to buy you a ball gag, since you don’t seem to ever know when to shut up...or maybe I should choke you instead,what do you say?”

I gulped loudly

“Or even better, I should fuck your mouth..bury my cock so deep on your throat that you will have no other option but drool all over yourself” He pressed his bulge harder against my ass “, that will make you shut up! I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look with my cock shoved down your throat” He moaned “Would you like that princess? Would you like for me to show you where’s your place? Where you really belong?” He grinds his erection on my ass and the feeling makes me moan softly

“Drew...” I pleaded

“The only thing I don’t agree with Carmella” He continues his previous statement ignoring my plea “Is that I’m too much of a man for you. To be honest I think you’re the only woman in this company who can actually handle me! The only one who will love and beg to be fucked faster and rougher..” His hands let go of my wrists and roam down to cup my breasts roughly, pulling me even closer to his body

“The only one who is the perfect fit for me...who will let me use every single hole as I please” He bites my ear making me gasp for more air.

“Won’t you Y/N? Do you want me to use you like the good little whore that you are?”

My head was buzzing with excitement, I could feel the now very wet pool of desire in between my legs. To think that all of my darkest fantasies with this man were about to come true made me moan a faint ‘Yes’ to him

He grunts at my positive response while one of his big hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so his hand could sink down the fabric to find my very wet core.

“Hmmm I’ve been waiting 5 years for this lass...Fuck, you already feel amazing on my hand I can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy around my cock” He growls

“Fuck Drew, please” I whisper

“It’s Sir to you, my good little pet” He smirked “Now tell me, do you think I should fuck you right here, right now so that everyone in this company can hear me make you my fuck toy or should we head back to the hotel? What do you say pet?” He asks as his fingers firmly circles my clit making my legs shake

“W- Whatever pleases you Sir” I stuttered

“I see you’re a quick learner huh?” He chuckles amused “I say, let’s show this roster who is the only woman who can properly handle me” He says as he removed his fingers from my core and licked them clean while staring at me. I softly moan to that scene and he smiles deviously before whispering

“Strip now pet and show what a beautiful fuck toy you are for Sir”

To be continued...

Please let me know if you would like to see a part 2 🥺?

#drew mcintyre #drew galloway #drew mcintyre one shot #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre x oc #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre smut #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes

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cas-kingdom · 3 years

Text

Tricky

A/N: Because Neal Caffrey would be the best big brother.

Title: Tricky

Summary: You’re sick and tired of Neal constantly doing things to land himself in prison.

Words: 2390

You knew your brother was tricky.

You’d be an idiot not to know it.

He was Neal Caffrey, after all, and your entire life he’d been stealing and thieving, robbing and running, never really having the time to stop.

You’d asked him once why he’d never just dropped you off on the door of someone’s house and go on about his own life, free of his baby sister, free of the weight on his shoulders, but he’d told you to stop being silly and had moved onto another subject entirely.

Peter had asked him as well, though. Not when you’d been nearby. It’d been on a night the man had come over to June’s for a drink with Neal, and they’d gone out to the balcony and left the door wide open. They’d thought you had been asleep, but you hadn’t, and you’d heard Peter ask your brother more or less the same question.

“Because she’s mine,” Neal had responded, just loud enough for you to hear. “My sister. My responsibility. My kid, you know? She had no one else. I had no one else. And my life was a... crap thing for her to be involved in... I know that. But I couldn’t let her go, Peter. I don’t know if that was selfishness on my side, but I couldn’t. And I’m glad I never did. If I’m at all sane, it’s because of her.”

You’d been able to sleep peacefully after that.

It hadn’t been that you’d feared the answer. More that you’d simply wondered if the thought had ever crossed his mind. Living the crime-high life surely wasn’t as easy with a child tailing him every step he took. Of course, Mozzie and Kate had helped, especially when he’d gone to prison, but since he’d been out and he’d somehow managed to persuade Peter he was capable of caring for his sixteen-year-old sister himself, it’d just been him and you. And Mozzie. But Mozzie was always there.

In the four years you had been apart from your brother, however, you’d learnt a lot. The ideals of the human, crime-free life. What it felt like to live in one place, despite the fact that one place wasn’t with Neal. What it felt like to not be in constant fear of the police and FBI chasing you around the world...

So, somehow, much to Peter’s satisfaction, you’d been the one person keeping your brother on the almost straight and slightly narrow since his release from prison. Or, rather, escape.

In a way, his job working for the FBI and newfound life meant he’d been given a second chance. To spend time with you that wasn’t limited or uncertain. And it was something the both of them had not taken for granted.

But, Neal Caffrey was tricky, and you knew it.

You hadn’t seen him take the key to his anklet, but then you never did. He’d once taken a slice of birthday cake right out from under your nose and had been so good a liar you’d blamed it on Mozzie for five minutes until the slice magically appeared again, a bite taken from it.

You’d still blamed Mozzie.

Now, you knew better.

And you’d thought that after four years in prison, Neal would more or less know better, too.

But the moment he’d found out Fowler might have been the cause of Kate’s death, he’d taken his anklet’s key from his pocket. It’d been a waiting game for him. You hadn’t even known he’d taken it.

The both of you had been at home. You were sat at the table, scrolling mindlessly through irrelevant articles on your laptop to pass the time. Neal had been out on the balcony, but he’d strolled in a moment ago, and the second you absently flicked your eyes up to look at him, you saw him pull the key from his pocket.

“What’s that?” you asked, knowing full well what it was. You sat up straight in the chair.

Neal paused, turning his head as though he’d forgotten you were there. “Uh-” He lifted his foot- “nothing, Y/N.”

You shook your head, standing to your feet. “That’s the key to your anklet,” you said. “When the hell did you get that?”

Neal was quiet. He put the key to the anklet and slipped it off. “Look,” he said, putting it on the table, “it doesn’t matter. Just- stay here.”

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but you did. Your face was a picture of something between fury and disbelief as you took long strides until you were standing between him and the door.

“What are you doing, Neal?” you asked, and Neal gave your a look, clearly sighing through his nose. “Does Peter know?”

“Of course he doesn’t-” He shut his eyes for a brief moment and took a step forward. “Could you just-”

“No!”

“Y/N.”

“I said no!” Your hands were balled at your sides and your brother straightened, lips pressed tightly together. It wasn’t often you clashed. You were the best of friends. Peter often called you, including Mozzie, the three musketeers.

But when you clashed, you clashed.

“You can’t do this, Neal,” you told him, a harsh edge to your tone.

Neal didn’t have much of a temper, but it was rising by the second. “Do what, Y/N?” he asked.

“Risk your life! Again!”

“I’m not risking my life-”

“Yes, you are! You’re risking it all and you don’t realise you’re risking me, too!”

Neal was a little taken back by that. His eyebrows furrowed and he had no time to respond before you suddenly leapt towards the table and grabbed up the anklet. You also snatched the conveniently placed pair of scissors next to them, and held them up for him to see.

His frown deepened and his mouth dropped open the slightest bit.

“I’ll cut it,” you threatened, without him even saying a word. He was beginning to worry, and not because you were threatening to alert the FBI to his almost escape. “I’ll cut and then Peter will come here and you won’t be able to leave.”

Neal put both hands slowly up, watching as you tensed and drew the scissors closer to the anklet. He involuntarily rose both eyebrows and shook his head.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his tone hopefully a lot more calming than he was feeling. “Put the scissors down.” He was gentle, but for some reason you only grew more agitated.

“Go to hell, Neal!” you spat out. Your eyes were getting glassier by the second.

Neal’s confusion was etched so clearly on his face. No, he hadn’t thought you’d appreciate him stealing from Peter and managing to effortlessly get his anklet off, but he had not expected you to stand there like one of the clay statues he was working on, completely different to how you normally were.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” he tried, “what’s this about?”

You swallowed, lifting an arm to wipe at your eyes. “You.”

“What about me?”

“You want to leave me!”

“Leave you? Y/N, I-” He licked his lips and shook his head, eyes flicking around the room in utter loss for what to do. Fowler was still on his mind as they moved swiftly past the clock on the wall, but only barely.

Another thing you knew about your brother was that he was quick. And so when the door behind you opened, and you snapped your head around to see Mozzie, you stupidly didn’t account for suddenly being tackled onto the ground, the anklet and scissors knocked easily from your hands, head cushioned by his own hands so it didn’t hit against the wooden floor when you fell back.

The wind was knocked from you for a moment, and you took a moment to breathe normally, but when you did, and you opened your previously tightly shut eyes to see Neal’s, your face hardened again and you struggled.

“Get off!” you yelled, and Neal slipped his hands from under your head, grabbing your forearms.

He glanced up. “Not now, Moz,” he said, and you heard the door shut before you were forced still.

“Enough!” Neal rarely rose his voice at you. You were his pride and joy, and you were a good girl, and the two of you got on like a house on fire (“that’ll probably be literally, one day,” Peter had remarked once) so he’d never had need of it. But you were acting almost psychotic, and he’d never seen you in such a way.

Fortunately, you ceased your struggling at his voice, so stern and loud you had no other choice. You squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel his hands tight around your wrists, your own hands balled into fists.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but you need to stop this.” There was still that edge to his tone, but he spoke lower this time. “What happened to talking, huh? Like normal people? We do not pick up sharp objects and threaten each other! What the hell, Y/N?”

He wasn’t angry. He was confused. Which was why, when your face scrunched up, and tears began leaking from your eyes, he sighed and let your arms go. A rattled breath ripped from your throat and he shook his head, dropping to lie beside you and gently grasping you to pull against him.

“Please don’t go,” you all but choked out, your balled hands tucked under your chin.

His hand automatically came to the back of your head, legs bent at the knees. “If Fowler killed Kate-”

“But you don’t know that!” You raised your head, staring down at your brother with red eyes, and Neal pressed his lips together, his hand dropping beside him. “He-” You sniffed, swallowing back further tears- “He could be innocent, and you would be risking everything on something that doesn’t matter. You’d be risking us on something that doesn’t matter.”

It clicked like the last puzzle piece, and he mentally called himself a fool a hundred times over. Of course he’d known you had grown into somewhat of the personification of super glue in the years he’d been in prison. He’d returned, and suddenly the little girl he’d raised and taught to pick pockets and stand and look cute while he slipped into a top security building had grown up, and you’d thrown out any inkling at all that you would become like him. He wasn’t complaining. He’d never complain. If anything, he was thrilled you were further from the criminal life than him. But you hadn’t been that far before he’d gone away, and it’d been something for him to get used to. He doubted he’d be so lucky sticking to the right path if he didn’t have you nearby, but it seemed at times you took your so-called job a little seriously.

Not that it was a job.

You just wanted a normal life with him.

How could he fault that?

He’d stolen from an FBI agent, escaped his tracking anklet, and murder was on his mind. You knew him, and so you knew that. No wonder you’d said all you had. He was a terrible influence, and everything he’d done and was thinking of doing could garner him more time in prison than either of you would’ve able to handle. You knew that. And you’d somehow deducted that, minus the hypothetical murder, perhaps alerting Peter to the fact Neal had broken free would save your brother some time. Time with you. Time he shouldn’t have been taking for granted.

“Y/N...” He brought a hand up to cup the back of your head, shifting. An imploring love melted into the blues of his eyes as you simply stared into them. “I’m- I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.” He pulled on your head and you rested it on his chest, silent save for the occasional quiet sigh.

“I just don’t want you to have to leave me again,” you muttered.

Neal nodded, closing his eyes. “I know. I don’t want to. I-” He grit his teeth and shook his head. “Sometimes I forget you’re not thirteen anymore.”

The corners of your lips lifted a little and she rubbed at your eyes. “I didn’t mean to pick up the scissors like that.”

“Thought I’d have to drop you off at a psychward,” Neal commented, claiming victory when you breathed a short laugh. It was a quick victory, however, when his face sobered a moment later and he stared aimlessly at the ceiling. He could just about hear the clock ticking behind him. Time was running short.

“I gotta do this, Y/N,” he said slowly. Quietly. His fingers rubbed circles on the back of your head. He wondered briefly if you’d grab the anklet and scissors again, but you stayed exactly where you were.

“I have to- to know if Fowler killed her. It’s the only way.”

You blinked before sniffing and sitting up. You turned to face him, crossing your legs, and absently bit at your lip.

“Then I’m coming with you,” you said.

Neal sat up. He had half a mind to say no and tell you you were to stay home, but he knew it’d likely send you off in another frenzy. Sighing barely audibly, he leaned forward and wiped at a tear track on your pink cheek.

“Okay,” he said resignedly.

“And never do it again.” You posed it as more of an innocent question, and you glanced down at your fidgeting hands after you said it.

Neal gazed at you. “C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll try, but you know me. Can’t make a promise like that.”

You shut your eyes against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You knew he couldn’t promise a thing like that. But it made you feel better to know he’d at least try.

“Uh, you guys done being sentimental?”

You glanced up as the door opened again and Mozzie stuck his head in. Neal turned slightly.

“Yeah, Moz,” he said. He pressed a kiss to your head and the both of you stood up. He looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“You ready?”

You shrugged, sparing another glance at the anklet and scissors, and smiled back. “Not at all.”

#white collar #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #neal x reader #mozzie #mozzie x reader #mozzie x neal #neal x mozzie #peter burke #peter burke x reader #peter burke x neal caffrey #neal caffrey x peter burke #peter x neal #neal x peter #sister reader #sister!reader #teen!reader #teen reader #mine

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years

Text

Take My Hand (Part Four)

Summary: doing what you think is best for another person never ends well (four of ??? parts - more parts to come!)

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Reader, Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 7,579

Song: I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush / I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush (gold rush by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, lots of angst, but a happy ending?

A/N: thank you to all of you for reading, your comments and reblogs have kept me going! thank you to @laneygthememequeen and @bucky-of-the-opera for being the best beta readers!!

“Rafael, you don’t have to leave—” Sonny crossed his arms, as Rafael raised an eyebrow at him over his drink, sipping at his scotch mournfully, “McCoy said you could still work—”

“You know a lawyer’s reputation is everything, Carisi,” he swirled what remained of his drink in his glass, “it’s our main commodity, and mine has been taken out back and shot — by my own hand,” he downs the rest of the drink, “besides,” he sighs, “there’s nothing left for me here.”

Sonny frowns, sipping at his own drink, “What’re gonna do next?” Rafael shrugs, “I think I’ll broaden my horizons— this is the first time since before law school that I haven’t had a plan for my life — it’s just wide open.”

“And that’s?”

“Terrifying, surprising — I never thought I’d have to start over at this point in my career, but,” he leans against the counter, “it’s a change,” and then he looks over at Sonny, “and what about you?”

He furrows his brow, “What about me?”

“Are you going to apply for the opening in the D.A.’s office?” Sonny nearly chokes on his drink, “come on, Carisi, you’re more than qualified.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know — I’m not sure if I’m ready for that change quite yet, besides,” he shifts in his seat, “I heard from Liv that McCoy has someone else in mind for the job.”

“Stone?” Rafael asks, and Sonny tilts his head, “I may not be in that office, but it doesn’t change the fact that it leaks like a rusty faucet.”

“If you know that—”

“Sonny, a piece of advice,” Rafael turns to face him, one elbow on the counter, “no one job is forever — Stone may last a while, he may not — but get your name in the ring at least because the next time the position is open, they’ll look to you—”

“But—”

“You have been part of the squad, you’ve seen these cases for years, you’re an officer and you have the education to back it up,” he pulls his wallet out, waving off Carisi, and placing a few bills on the counter, “Look, you went to law school for a reason right? If you keep making excuses, you won’t be able to do the good you could do.”

Sonny knew, he knew that he should but— “I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to handle it,”

Rafael raises an eyebrow, “You are a detective in one of the toughest units in the NYPD and you went to law school at the same time — I think you’ll be fine.”

Sonny blinks, trying to hide his smile, “Thank you — for everything. I’ve appreciated you mentoring me these past years.”

Rafael gives a small chuckle at that, “You shouldn’t be thanking me,”

Sonny tilts his head, “Then who should I be thanking?”

Your name leaves his lips, and Sonny frowns, “I didn’t really want to mentor you, but with some encouragement, well—” he shrugs, “my point is there’s no need to thanks, at least not me.”

A sentence burns on his tongue, hot as the anger sitting on his chest, and I should thank the person who cut me out of their life without any to-do? But Sonny doesn’t say that, he only smiles — as always.

He didn’t want to admit how much it hurt when you left. When you didn’t say goodbye. When you quit without warning. When you left him with nothing but a note and no explanation, only the feeling of your lips on his.

But it did hurt.

Especially because he didn’t know if it was because of him. He didn’t presume himself to be that important in your life — and maybe he wasn’t with how easily you had removed yourself from his life — but what other explanation was there really?

“I should go,” Rafael slips off the stool, pulling his coat on, and he holds out his hand to Sonny, “I hope to see you again sometime, Detective,”

Sonny offers a smile, shaking his hand, “Counselor, I expect to hear things about what you do next.”

“Same to you — your name is associated with me, I can't have you sullying it, now can I?” but then he grimaces, shrugging, “well, at least the bar is low.”

“Bye, Rafael,” and he nods, disappearing out the door, and Sonny straightens his coat, walking towards the door, before glancing at the bar stool you had sat at the night he picked you up — so much had changed and in so little time.

“How long has it been, Jack?” you skip the handshake for a hug, sliding into the booth across from him.

“Far too long,” he sighs, already had ordered his own food, “I heard about the stir you’re making in the Bronx,” he splits his chopsticks, dousing in his food in a very modest amount of sriracha, as you raise a questioning eyebrow at his remark, “The Brown case — I heard an earful from the Bronx D.A. about that case.”

You shake your head, ordering yourself a soda, “It was his fault that he didn’t have proper chain of custody on that evidence—”

“I know,” Jack nods, “it was a good catch.”

“Thank you,” you smile, pleased with yourself, “although I suspect this isn’t just for you to compliment me on my exceptional work.”

“Developed an ego at No-Go?” you roll your eyes at his “loving” nickname for your firm, Noble-Gordon LLP, before shrugging, “you know you could start your own practice and make more money.”

“I could, but I also wouldn’t get some control over where their pro bono hours go,” you order your food, stirring your drink with a straw, “now what do you want McCoy? And then I can bore you with the details of my life plan.”

Jack smiles, “Always straight to the point, huh, counselor?” he leans back, “what do you think of Detective Carisi?”

You furrow your brow, “Sonny? Is something—”

“Nothing is wrong,” Jack waved you off, “but what was your opinion of him?”

You tilt your head, “As what? Detective, a barred attorney, or person?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Let’s start with detective, and then we’ll get to the other two,”

You pause — how could you describe Sonny? “When he first started, I didn’t know what to think of Sonny — he was eager to learn, but green,” you suppress a snort at the thought of him the unfortunate incidents of him pestering victims and suspects alike, “but despite that, he was always willing to learn, quick on his feet. He was good with the victims, maybe not at first, but he’s a seasoned detective now, and I have confidence in his skills.”

“And as an attorney?”

“Well, I never was around to see him get barred,” and you feel a twinge of guilt crawl up your throat — you had promised to help him study, promised to help him celebrate — you didn’t do either, “but when he applied his legal knowledge to cases we worked on together and while shadowing at the Manhattan office, he showed aptitude, skill, and passion.”

“And as a person?”

You smile softly, “Sonny is kind, to a fault, but he’s practical, he knows there are grays to S.V.U. cases — he’s seen them firsthand. He knows how to handle tough cases, while having the empathy to handle victims,” Jack nods, sipping at his drink, “now I assume you’re asking for a reason?”

“Stone resigned,” Jack sighs, “effective immediately — and we’re looking for someone to get their foot in the door — quick.”

“Peter? What—”

“It wasn’t the right fit,” he shook his head, “he’s landing on his feet — don’t worry.”

You frowned, you didn’t know Peter personally, but you had heard stories of him and his father — both were legendary, “I’m sorry to hear that, but,” you tilt your head, “you’re considering Sonny for the position?”

“Yes, and now hearing what you had to say, I think I will," and you smile, "after an interview, of course."

"Of course," you shake your head, "I remember interviewing with you."

He raises an eyebrow, "And?"

"I think I convinced myself you thought I was a moron, until you gave me the offer after a week," he shrugs.

"Had to make you sweat," he purses his lips, "do you regret saying yes?"

You glance at the bar, a frown pressing onto your lips, "I regret a lot of things," and your food arrives at the table, and you break your chopsticks, smiling, "but never that."

You were not happy.

You hurried up the steps of the Manhattan courthouse — steps you had hoped you wouldn’t have had to hurry up ever again — not only had this case been unceremoniously dumped on the firm with a notice of one whole day, but it had been shafted to you with a whole two hours notice after one of your junior associates called out sick.

Sick or hungover? You couldn’t tell over from the 4:00 AM message left on your voicemail, but by the sounds of the clinking glasses in the background — they certainly didn’t have the flu.

This was not only the son of one of your firm’s biggest clients — the firm practicing not only criminal defense but also some business law matters. It was a simple case — a white first time offender on a petty marijuana possession — he would likely get no jail time, and get time served at most — with an expungement in the near future.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The crime was committed and the son charged in the jurisdiction of Manhattan, so that meant this was in a Manhattan courtroom, one that you hadn’t stepped into in what — two, nearly three years?

And on top of it all, there was the matter of who the prosecutor was. A silent curse muttered under your breath as you rushed to the courtroom — and it was someone you hadn’t seen in about the same amount of time.

Why a sex crimes prosecutor was covering for a narcotics case — you didn’t know, but you figured it was either a chance to learn the ropes in different departments or the D.A. needed someone to cover, and the new guy drew the short straw.

Just your luck.

You stood outside the courtroom, catching your breath, your heart thumping against your ribs — and you didn’t know whether it was from the running or from the fact you were about to see Sonny again for the first time in three years after you kissed him.

And he didn’t know you were coming.

Fuck it, you pulled open the door, stepping inside.

And you saw him— standing where Rafael and you once stood, his eyes first lying on his notes, but drawn to the noise of the creaking door and your footsteps against the marble floor.

You try not to look at him. You can’t help it, as you pass him by you catch a glimmer of his reaction — shock scrawled plainly across his face, eyes widened and nearly slack jawed.

“Your Honor, I apologize to you and to my client, ” you spare a small smile to the privileged 18-year-old, Jason Baker, beside you, before your eyes flicker over to Sonny — dress in a pressed suit, his hair slicked back, lips no longer curled in the smile he once had for you, but instead, in a thin line, “ as well as A.D.A. Carisi. I was only informed of this case this morning and I rushed here as soon as I could—”

“Yes, I understand,” Judge Lopez nods — Lopez being a judge you had dealt with many a time on cases — tough, but always fair, a definite leftist progressive (even by New York standards), “Do you need a moment to confer with your client?”

“Just a moment,” you confirmed the details of the case with Jason, before nodding, “I think we’re ready to proceed.”

The hearing went without much to-do, both of you agreeing to meet about a plea agreement to settle this case out of court. You promised your client you would meet with him after, as Sonny began to make a beeline out of the courtroom.

You barely caught up to him, on the heels of him striding toward the elevators, jaw set, “Sonny—”

“Counselor,” he replied coolly, and you frowned, “do you want to set a time for your client’s plea agreement?”

“Yes, but—” the elevator dings and he steps in without another word.

“I’ll send you and your office an email,” his smile is curt and cordial, but his words have an edge to them, “nice to see you again.”

And the doors shut.

So, you stare at the closed elevator doors, he was mad.

"Can you believe—"

Rollins sighs, leaning back against her sofa, head resting against the top, "No I can't, Carisi, just like I couldn't the first twenty times," she murmurs under her breath.

He pauses, his jaw tight, “Am I annoying you?”

“No, Sonny, but—” she gestures for him to sit, “you’re stressing me out with all that pacing, can you sit down?”

Sonny collapsed into a chair, arms crossed and leg still bobbing up and down, “I always thought about what I would say when I saw—” he cuts off, “it was like no time had passed, acting like nothing had happened—”

Amanda raises an eyebrow, “What did happen between you two?” Sonny falls silent, his eyes falling to the carpeted floor, “this is what I mean, you’re telling me half of the story and expecting me to have a reaction,” she pushes his knee, “what happened?”

He said nothing, and Amanda sighs, “When I gave you the sweatshirt, you barely said anything, and now you’re not saying anything when you saw—” a cry breaks her sentence off, and they listen as the baby settles back down, “You know I always knew you had a thing for—”

“I didn’t have a thing—” he cuts off when he sees her raise an eyebrow, “okay maybe I did, but it has nothing to do with this—”

“If it doesn’t, then why are you mad?”

“I’m mad,” his voice raises, before she shushes him, and he sighs, apologizing, “I’m angry because I didn’t get a goodbye.”

You were gone.

You were gone before he woke up. You were gone from S.V.U. before he came in. You were gone from your apartment when he came knocking — moved out.

And he was only left with a note and a sweatshirt.

He continues, “I didn’t get a goodbye, but guess who recommended me for the A.D.A. position?”

It hadn’t been long enough since the last time he had thought about you. And the last time was his interview for the A.D.A. position.

“I’ll cut to the chase, son,” Jack said, making Sonny sit up straighter in his chair — he had spent the last forty-five minutes trying to impress Jack McCoy only for him to cut the chase now, “You know I’m not the type to mince my words, so I’ll ask you the question that really matters — why should we hire you over other candidates with more experience?”

This was the question he was dreading — he fought the urge to tug at his collar or wipe the palms down the front of his pants.

“Honestly, sir, I’ve thought about this question a lot, and yes, I don’t have the legal experience of some of the other candidates,” he didn’t — he had shadowing, he had done clinics, but he hadn’t practiced since being barred, “but I know S.V.U. — more than any of your candidates because I’ve seen these cases firsthand. Not only have I seen the cases, the victims, but I’ve worked with the team — I know the ins and the outs, and I’ve worked with A.D.A.s before—” he nearly flinched at the thought of you, “I know what I’m getting into — I know a lot of cases aren’t a win and I know we have to push sometimes, and I’m not afraid to do that,” he swallows, his throat dry — unable to discern the expression on Jack’s face, “You’ll have to train any candidate you have — whether they have practiced or not, especially when it comes to S.V.U., but you will have to teach one less thing, and it’s the most important one.”

And after the longest moment, he smiles, and Sonny can barely hear what he says over his blood roaring in his ears, “I think you’re right,”

“You do?”

Jack laughs, “Don’t sound so surprised, Dominick,” he tilts his head, “after hearing you talk about your work in and out of the department, I thought you would have more faith in yourself.”

And you would think that but—

“I’ll work on that,”

Jack smiles, clearing his throat, “Based on that and the recommendation I received from who you shadowed—”

He frowns, “You talked to someone I shadowed?”

When your name leaves his lips, he blinks, “Haven’t you spoken—”

Not since leaving my apartment and disappearing, “Not in a long time,” he gives a tight smile, “How are—”

“Doing great at Noble-Gordon as a defense attorney in the Bronx — giving the Bronx D.A. hell,” he smiles with pride, and he remembers how you had told him that McCoy had been one of your mentors, the man who had helped you become the attorney you are today — and now he was Sonny’s boss, “Better them than us, right?”

“Sonny—” Amanda’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

He gets to his feet again, walking towards the window, “Leaves, and then thinks to interfere in my life, doesn’t even bother to reach out, I haven’t heard a thing in years — years — but still gives me a recommendation,” he gives a bitter chuckle, “apparently our friendship meant that little.”

Apparently he had meant that little.

“I’m sorry, Sonny,”

He shakes his head, “What are you sorry for?” he asks, getting to his feet — I got kissed. I got cut out. And I didn’t even get an explanation — “Nothing happened.”

“I want jail time,” your head snaps up at the sound of Sonny’s voice, closing the door behind him, as you sat waiting in his office — the one that was next door to your old one, “at least six months.”

“What?” No greeting, no handshake, no smile — that much you half-expected, but jail time— “it’s a first time offense, and it’s not 1980, we’re not in the war on drugs—”

Sonny slides into his chair across from you his hands folded, “Counselor, your client isn’t an innocent school boy — he is an adult—”

“Barely, he just turned 18—”

“Exactly my point, he’s an adult, and—”

“And no competent attorney would ever take that deal—”

Sonny leans back in his seat, “Well a competent attorney would consider any deal in front of them, wouldn’t they?”

And your eyes narrow, “My client will not accept anything more than probation with no jail time, and hell, maybe we'll even throw in drug tests in, but anything more is a disgrace to the legal system,”

“Then I guess a jury can decide,” his jaw is set, and you see the quiet anger in his eyes — frigid as an icy lake, one that you were currently drowning in. His chair screeches as he moves to rise, and you stop him.

“We both know this isn’t about the case, Sonny,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my prosecutorial authority?”

“Are you trying to send a barely adult first time offender to jail when it makes absolutely no sense?” he grits his teeth, “is that justice? Is that what you’ve learned in S.V.U.?”

“I’m sorry that I’m not playing soft ball with you, counselor—”

“I’m sorry that you’re trying to take your anger at me out on my client,” you snap, rising from the table. And it snaps him into silence, his eyes falling to his notes, brow furrowed, mouth a thin line. Your anger simmers slowly, but as you speak again, your voice is even, but tempered, “The way I see it — we have three options — one, get over yourself and let us make a reasonable plea agreement; two, I get someone else from my office to handle this; or three, we work out our issues like fucking adults and move on with this agreement,”

His voice is quiet when he speaks, “So are we finally going to act like adults now?”

You waver, “Sonny—”

“After you cut me out with no explanation and left, I didn’t realize now we could act like adults,” he flips shut his leather folder, “I apologize for my behavior — maybe you’re right, someone else from your office should handle—”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off, and he doesn’t look up, “I’m so sorry, Sonny, I didn’t mean to—” you swallow, fuck, “I thought — I thought it would be easier after—”

“Easier? For you or for me?”

The truth cut deep, especially when you know it was true, “You’re right — I know, what I did,” you sigh, “It was awful — I was so embarrassed after how I treated you, after I kiss—” you break off, “I know I have a lot of things to make up for, but I want you to know that I didn’t cut you off because of anything you did — even if you know that already — it was me, I didn’t want to burden you—”

“How did you think cutting me off wasn’t going to burden me?” his words are softer, but sharper, digging into your chest with the guilt you knew was yours only to bear, “how did you think losing one of my friends wasn’t going to— you kissed me after I picked you up, and then nothing for three years. Nothing.”

“I wanted to call, I wanted to text—”

“Then why didn’t you?” and you wonder if this is how a suspect felt when they were being interrogated by him, but surely his eyes weren’t nearly this glassy with emotions then, “You promised me — you promised me you would be there for me—”

Your voice breaks, “Sonny—”

“Do you know the hell I’ve gone through?” His voice is quiet, “do you know?”

And you didn’t, “I don’t,” your words are quiet. “Because you’re right — it was easier, after what happened — not with you — with everything else, it was easier to cut ties and move on. It was easier to pretend none of it happened,” you admit, “but it wasn’t right — and I can’t change that. But I’m sorry,” you add, “and I know I have a lot of making up to do, if we ever can get to that point again, I would like to try.”

His expression is inscrutable — and you know Sonny has changed, you could read him so easily before — an open book who’s pages that you had familiarized yourself with, his emotions scrawled clearly across his brow, nose, lips, and eyes. And now you could barely make out a single word.

“Try?”

“Try to be your friend,” you bite your lip, wringing your hands in your lap, “I missed you, Sonny, and I know I don’t have a right to say that, but I did. And seeing you has only made me realize how shitty I’ve been — please?”

A frown pulls at his lips, and he wavers, before rising, tucking his folder into his briefcase, “Probation with weekly drug tests, and I want him do some community service—”

“But—”

“He’s spent years with a silver spoon in his mouth — let’s try to fix that,” and you tilt your head, hiding a smile.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” you get up too, beginning to pack up your things even as you watch him turn to the door, “Can we discuss it over lunch? My treat.”

He pauses, his back turned, “I’m a little busy these next few weeks,”

You wave him off, feeling your chest squeeze, rejection stinging — as it should, as you deserve — “Of course," nothing was that simple — trust was easy to lose, hard to get back.

“But how about I call you?” you blink, as he looks over his shoulder, there’s a hint of a sigh in his throat, a certain sort of begrudged reluctance, but still an almost undetectable smile ghosts his lips — and you’ll take it.

“You got it,” But it wasn’t impossible to earn trust back. Your heart swells with hope, your hand brushing as your hand moves to hold the door open — and you would get it back, one way or another.

“Penny for your thought, counselor?” Sonny’s head snaps up, finding you standing, suit jacket slung over your arm, a smile on your lips, “I would say a dollar, but I know you took quite a pay cut compared to your old job.”

“But I could make a buck prosecuting you for stalking,” and you scoff, looking at the table strewn with pages of briefs and yellow legal pads marked in reds, blacks and blues. It had been your fifth time running into him the last few weeks — and you had weaseled your way into conversations, though not a lunch. You were trying to earn his trust back, and you had gotten a little closer each time, but it didn’t mean it was all over and done with.

The distrust still sat squarely in his expression — but this time it was being overwritten by something else — stress.

You gape at him, affronted, “Forlini’s was mine before it was yours, thank you very much,” you gesture to the seat across from him, he grunts, nodding and you slide in, “I think I can settle for joint custody if you can.”

“I’d fight ya on it, but,” he sighs, eyes flickering back to his notes, “I got my hands full already.”

You purse your lips when you see the heaviness in his brow, “What’s wrong?”

He gives a grim smile, “You already know what’s wrong,”

Yes, you knew it well — your first tough case had the ability to unravel you to pieces, especially one from S.V.U., “Well, the facts aren’t any different when you’re the prosecutor versus the detective,”

“But the job is completely different,” he shakes his head, covering his face, before wiping his palm down it, “and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You frown, “Have you eaten?”

“Eating isn’t the problem,” he shoves his papers aside, a few wrinkling and falling under the booth, the legal pad slamming against the end of the booth. He squeezes his eyes shut, before relaxing, “sorry, I—”

“No, trust me,” you catch a glimpse of the photos of one of the victims — a bruised and battered girl no older than fifteen, “I get the frustration, but you know there’s only so much you can do in these cases.”

“I’m not doing enough,” he leans on his elbow, his fist pressed to his mouth, before resting it against his forehead, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I have my first grand jury tomorrow and I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Sonny,” you resist the urge to reach out to him, “you can do this.”

“You would say that,” he mutters, and you tilt your head, “you recommended me for the job, McCoy told me.”

“I didn’t recommend you — Jack was already looking at you, he asked for my opinion and I gave it,” you raise an eyebrow, “do I need to tell you now?”

He shakes his head, “I—”

“Sonny,” he looks up at you, “I have not an inch of doubt in your abilities — I’ve seen you grow as a detective and as a law student, and now,” you smile softly, “I’ve seen you grow as an attorney the last few weeks. You are ready — you know why?”

He sighs, his hands folded on the table, “Because of my training?”

“No,” you say, and he frowns, “because you are sensitive and kind, but you are also tough — tough enough to make the hard calls,” your hand brushes his tentatively, hovering before settling, “weren’t you nervous before becoming a detective? When you were a cop?”

“I was, but I was confident, bordering on arrogant — I always went in, guns blazing, so to speak,” he adds, shaking his head at the implication, “now, I’m—”

“Now you’re cautious — it comes with experience, that’s normal and good — overconfidence bites you in the ass, every time,” you squeeze his hand, “you will do great — and more importantly,” he raises his gaze to meet yours, “you will do your job and do it well — and that’s all you can do.”

He purses his lips, “You really believe in me?”

You scoff at his disbelief, “Sonny, I’ll always bet on you — every single time,” his gaze softens, a smile gracing his lips and your stomach flips when he squeezes your hand back.

“Thank you,” his words are as soft as his touch, his fingers intertwined with yours for a moment, and your eyes flicker across his face — how was it you never realized just how beautiful he was?

And the moment is broken when he pulls his hand away, gathering all his materials and slipping them into his bag, “If you need any help—”

He frowns, “Y’know as well as I do that these cases are—”

“I meant with your self-esteem or advice about how to phrase questions — no specifics and no actual questions,” you cross your arms, “I know about confidentiality and professional responsibility, counselor — I have been at this longer than you have. You could afford to take my advice.”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing, “Pulling seniority? You’re not at the D.A.’s office anymore,”

“But I know your boss,” you tease right back, and he rolls his eyes, as you lean forward, “and it’s ‘counselor’ to you,”

He dares forward, “Well, counselor,” he replies, lips curled in a smile, “I’ll take it under advisement, and I’ll give my boss your best,” And he slips from the booth, pausing only to add, “do this again?”

And you can’t hide your smile, “Next week?”

He nods, slipping out of the doors from Forlini’s and you watch him, your eyes falling across the bar — and the two seats where you had sat, now reupholstered and refurbished — and then back again to the door he left from, before turning back to your booth. As you sat, his smile and the faint fluttering left in your chest, a smile you couldn’t stave off

Things really did change, didn’t they?

“Trial’s in a few weeks?” and Sonny nods, Rollins sips at her drink, “you have to testify, Amanda?”

“Unfortunately,” she jerks a thumb towards Sonny, setting her drink down on the counter of the bar, “he’s been prepping me and it’s somehow worse than Barba.”

The sting of his name hurt less, your easy smile not wavering, “I find that hard to believe,”

“Oh believe me,” Amanda turns to Sonny, who sips at his drink sheepishly, “how long did we practice yesterday?”

“Not important,” he brushes her remark off, as you and Amanda share a look and chuckle, “I just want to be ready — Hadid has been all over me about this trial. If she’s been looking for an excuse to fire me, this would be the perfect one.”

“Hey,” your hand finds his, “you’re going to do great. You have practiced your closing a thousand times — I’ve heard it half a million times — you know what the points you have to make are. I know you’re ready.”

He squeezes your hand back, smiling softly, “Thank you,” and butterflies bloom under his steady gaze, before he slips from the stool, “I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” his hand grazes your back before he finds his way to the restroom.

You sip at your drink, before you find Amanda staring at you. You frown, placing the drink down, “What?”

“What’s going on between you two?”

You wrinkle your brow, as Amanda scratches her brow, her lips pursed.“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to get involved, but,” she craned her neck to check if Sonny was gone, “I know something happened between you two before you left,” Your head snaps to your drink, biting your lip, “I may be a detective, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you two, whatever this is,” she gestures, “it’s not just a friendship,”

You blink — but wasn’t it? “But—”

“I don’t know how you feel, but I’m not blind,” she tilts her head, trying to catch your gaze, “just don’t hurt him okay?”

“Amanda—”

“I don’t need to hear specifics about what happened,” she shrugs, “I just want him to be okay ‘cause he may not be my partner now, but he is my best friend.”

You nod, “Of course, I won’t, Amanda — I care about him too.”

But it was complicated.

It was simple before — but it was different — you were in love with someone else — blinded. Sonny was your friend, one of your closest, but a friend nonetheless. Your stomach didn’t flip when you saw him, you didn’t text him so often, there weren't brief touches that you wished would last forever — like there was now.

And you couldn’t deny it forever.

Amanda chuckles, shaking her head, “I can’t believe I just said Carisi is my best friend,”

You smile, “Guess he really grew on you after he shaved the ‘stache,”

Amanda raised her eyebrows, snorting, “Like an infection,”

You grinned, sipping at your drink, “What are you two laughing at?” and both of you share a smile, “what?”

“Nothing, Sonny,” Amanda waves him off, “I gotta go — babysitter’s time is almost up, and I have to check on the girls,” Amanda nods at you, “It was nice to see you again, counselor.”

“Same here, Amanda,” and she nods at Sonny, slipping from the bar, as he takes her seat, leaning against the counter, his knee brushing yours. The low light of the bar catches in his eyes, a dark blue that makes your heart stutter a moment as his lips curl into a smile. And you remember the moment you kissed him.

“Now what?” you blink, biting your lip.

Would it be so bad to fall in love with him?

To fall in love with an A.D.A. again? Falling into old habits?

“Walk me home?”

And fall you would.

~~~

It wasn’t a walk so much as it was a subway ride away and a walk to your apartment, “Do you ever miss the D.A.’s office?” and you spare a glance at Sonny.

“Why? Want another person bossing you around the office?” he chuckles, licking his lips.

“When you put it like that,” and you laugh, “no, I just mean—”

“You mean if I ever miss being on the right side of justice?” and he opens his mouth to retort, “I’m joking, Sonny — I mean criminal defense is a different way I can do justice — I get to take on a lot of the firm’s pro bono work and I get to help people who are at the lowest points of their lives put it back together.”

“Even murderers?” he frowns.

You bite your lip, “You saw the Ortiz case on the news didn’t you?” Ortiz, a husband who murdered his wife in cold blood — or that was the story the media and prosecutors’ were selling, “Did you read his interview?”

He raises an eyebrow, “No?”

“It turns out his wife had been abusive for years — verbally, emotionally, and physically—” your shoes scrape against the pavement, “he snapped when she turned it on their son.”

“Is that an excuse—”

“Yes, by law it is — it isn’t premeditated murder, it’s manslaughter,” you slip your hands into your pockets, “but even then, do people get any better locked up in cages?”

“Do you think they should be—”

“Walking free and clear? No,” you look up at the sky, “but you know in Sweden — they have one of, if not the, lowest recidivism rates? They have less than 4,000 prisoners, compared to America’s millions. It’s because they focus on rehabilitation, not punishment. Instead of locking up people in tiny cells and inhumane conditions, they give them care in all aspects of their lives — education, psychological help, medical — everything,” Sonny opens his mouth to interject, and you hold your hands up, “I’m not saying all people are capable of reform — but a lot of them are, and don’t we owe people that chance?”

“But with S.V.U.—”

“With S.V.U., it’s more complicated — I won’t deny that, rapists are more likely to victimize again compared to other crimes,” you shake your head, “I don’t have all the answers, but I know locking people up and having them be victimized in prison isn’t the answer,” you offer a small smile, “but to answer your question, I miss the people, but I’m happy where I landed. I think it’s the right place for me.”

“How do you know? I mean, how do you know it’s the right place?”

You shrug, “You just feel it after some time—” you tilt your head, “where’s this coming from?”

Sonny sighs, “I got a big case coming up in a week,” his hands slipped into his pockets, “My first trial.”

“Hadid letting you off the leash?” he barks out a laugh.

“Barely,” he shakes his head, “not that I blame her — this job, I swear I come home more tired than I did chasing down perps.”

“That seems like a stretch, and hindsight bias,” you add, elbowing him before rubbing your shoulders, biting back a shiver — wearing only a suit coat out was a mistake, “besides I know you can handle it.”

He unwraps his scarf, as you open your mouth to protest, but the scarf is already around your neck, and you can’t help but smile — it smells like him — “Sometimes I think you have more faith in me than I do,”

“I have enough faith in you for the both of us,” you pull the scarf snug around yourself, resisting the urge to bury your nose in it. You bite your lip, “is the gallery open to the public?”

“Think so,” he nods.

“Do you want me to be there in court?” the words come out carefully — afraid to cross a line you weren’t sure was there.

“Watching the case?”

“Just the verdict,” you say, “I didn’t get to be there for you when you passed the bar or when you got hired at the D.A.’s office — we could get dinner after — guilty verdict or not.”

“Not gonna disappear on me for three years, are you?” you flinch, and he sighs, “sorry that came out wrong—”

“It’s okay,” you smile ruefully, “I kind of deserved it, but,” you add, “I’m not going anywhere — and this time I mean it.”

The quiet settled over you both for a moment, and you knew he was going to ask — you knew he was working up the courage to do so, “Why did you leave?” you cross your arms, “you don’t—”

“I want to,” you shake your head — and you could see Rafael’s smile, feel his touch, and see his heart break — “It’s just complicated.”

“So complicated that you had to leave?” he pressed, and you nodded.

“I didn’t want to — but I had to,” you glance at him, see his brows knit together, “but the one thing I regretted and I will always regret is leaving you too, and I promise, I won’t do it again,” you reach for his hand, your fingers intertwining, just as you reach the doorstep of your apartment, “you can hold me to that.”

He stares down at you, the flickering light of your apartment barely illuminating his face, but a soft smile on his lips, “I will, sweetheart,” and warmth bloomed in your stomach — no, you really couldn’t deny it anymore could you? But he squeezes your hand, stepping back, “See you in a week?”

You lick your lips, heart thumping in your ears — you nod, “Yeah,” you feel his coat around your shoulders, “oh your scar—”

He waves you off, “Keep it,” he walks down your steps, turning around, pointing a finger at you, grinning, “But make sure Rollins isn’t the one bringing it by.”

You hear the humor in his voice and smile, “No promises.”

And you spare one more glance at his returning back, before slipping inside your apartment building and into your apartment. Your fingers fisted in the soft red cotton of his scarf — your cheeks and heart warm.

Oh, what were you getting yourself into?

Sonny tried not to glance behind him — you still hadn’t arrived. His nerves were shot after this week — everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong.

Of course it did — it did little to inspire faith in himself, or in Hadid for that matter.

“All rise,” Judge Abbas said, and Sonny had to stop himself from jumping to his feet — he knew, he knew in his gut that he had given his best case, though this case was sticky to begin with, “Foreperson of the jury, what say you on the charge of rape in the second degree?”

Sonny’s heart jumped into his throat, blood roaring in his ears, and he barely caught the verdict, mouth dry — the feeling of the victims’ gazes boring into the back of his head.

“We find the defendant guilty,” and he nearly couldn’t believe it — he had done it, they had done it. The judge announces they will reconvene for sentencing in two weeks. He turns around, shaking the hands of the victims, thanking them for their testimony, sparing one glance at the defendant.

Adneradline and relief is pumping through him, his chest lighter — he had done it, he had gotten justice.

And then he sees you — through the crowd, you’re standing by the door, smiling brightly at him, mouthing congratulations, jerking your head and slipping from the courtroom. He nearly trips over himself to get to you, trying to maintain decorum as he leaves through the double doors. He slips by people he knows and those he doesn’t until finally he finds you in a discrete corner of the courthouse, away from prying eyes and reporters.

“Sonny, I’m so proud of you,” you say, your hands on his shoulders, your lips curled in a smile he hoped that was just for him, “I knew you could do it,”

And you did — you had told him he could do it time and time again when he didn’t believe in himself, you had been there for him, as you promised to be.

Everything slows for a moment.

And he couldn’t help think you were the only one he needed to believe in him, to be by his side, the one he wanted to tell good news first, the one he wanted to wake up beside in the morning. He’s breathless as he looks at you, and you seem to realize — the air between you two becoming thick, as he looms closer, a bag on your arm, slipping to your fingers now.

“Sonny,” you breathe, as you tilt your head upwards to look into his eyes.

And he knows this may be a mistake — the last time he kissed you, you disappeared, and every relationship he’s had has ended in disaster, but he can’t bring himself to care — not when he could kiss you again.

“Can I kiss you?” the words slip past his lips without much to-do, and he has to stop himself from biting his tongue or stumbling back, especially when you nod, and his lips crash to yours.

His kiss is still hesitant, and so are you, your lips parting and meeting again and again — chaste, but he tasted you — and he swore he never tasted anything like you before, nothing so sweet. And he pulls away a moment, eyes fluttering and he sees your eyes do the same. And his heart is in his throat again — what if you thought it was a mistake?

But you only smile, your warm hand cupping his cheek, the bag slipping from your fingers, as the other intertwines with his fingers, “Where do you think you’re going?”

And you kiss him again, and he doesn’t hold back this time, his arms wrapping around you, tugging you impossibly closer, smiling against your lips. And he couldn’t help but think — as warmth bloomed in his stomach, your fingers curling in his hair — how did he ever get so lucky?

#sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagines #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagines #svu #svu imagines #law and order: svu #svu fanfiction

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elderbwrry · 3 years

Text

Girls' Night

tags: the knights of ren, All Women Knights of Ren, Girl's night, Girl's Knight, haha please like me, Fluff and Humor, Adversarial Kylux, Very much a WIP, Kylux, although fair warning it might not be that relationshippy

Read it on ao3

Summary: Hux is surprised by what the Knights of Ren get up to in their free time - it's strangely humanising. Unfortunately, Ren is still being the Lord of all Assholes. Hux needs a way to get back at him. It gives him an idea.

Hux marched down the corridor in the Finalizer's quarters deck, the section dedicated to command personnel. The immaculately tiled and polished floors glinted as he whipped past them. He was walking a little faster than usual, he noticed with distaste, but it wasn't surprising; this was his last task before he could officially count his shift as “over” and, instead of standing stiffly on the bridge checking reports, he could settle down to checking them in the comfort of his quarters. His sofa beckoned, along with another three hours of beloved admin, then five necessary hours of sleep before his next shift.

Moments ticked by as he had to pause and wait for a security door to open, and he felt his frustration manifesting itself in his brow. He was currently delaying himself by heading approximately six minutes out of the way of his own quarters, all to give Ren little more than a telling off. This wasn't the first time the glorified poser had caused him this kind of issue – trust Ren to get in the way, he excelled at it – but it was the first time Hux was personally carrying the message round to his quarters that he needed to file a report for the mission he returned from over a week ago.

Hux had tried the usual ways of getting hold of Ren; on his return to the ship, Hux had informed him a report was due; an automated reminder had been sent; a follow-up reminder had been sent; Hux sent a reminder himself. Today, when his agenda noted that Ren still remained unresponsive, Hux hailed him over internal comms. No reply. He called Mitaka in, intending to send him to Ren's quarters, but the poor man had paled at the knight's very name. So, Hux had dismissed him, and undertaken to deliver the message himself.

Hux didn't bother to wonder the reason why Ren wasn't completing the report – undoubtedly it was because he was irresponsible, disrespectful, possibly illiterate – he only amused himself to wonder what foolish excuse would be employed this time. “Meditation,” Hux's mind supplied in a mocking approximation of Ren's voice without that ostentatious helmet, “important Force matters,” “training,” “I was just really tired and forgot :(”

He was just shaking his head disapprovingly at the imagined pout as he drew up outside the door itself. He pressed the button to request entry, pushing it harder than necessary until his thumb joint hurt, as if somehow that would convey through the automated, equalized buzz sound how annoyed he was with Ren taking up his time like this.

The door puffed open, and Hux's mouth was already opened to give Ren a piece of his mind when he realised that the person in front of him was not, in fact, Ren. Instead, stood before him was a woman nearly a head shorter than himself, her long, black hair piled on her head in a decidedly non-regulation messy bun, drawn away from her face, on which was slathered some kind of light pink paste. She was wrapped in a fluffy, pink dressing gown, under which appeared to be heart patterned pink pyjamas.

Hux's planned rebuke of Ren fell away into an, “Uh.” Usually, he had time to prepare himself for any kind of non-work-related interactions, but he had planned to go into this with a clipped, righteous annoyance and come out of it with a self-indulgent bit of riling Ren up, and now that Ren was not available for that, he had nothing.

“Yes?” she said, about as neutrally as Hux supposed anyone would, when called upon while attired as she was.

“I must have the wrong quarters,” was what he managed to reply.

“These aren't mine,” she explained, pointing behind her, around a corner which Hux couldn't see, “You looking for Kylo?”

“Yes,” Hux said stiffly, “is Ren here?”

The woman leaned back inside the door, around the corner Hux still couldn't see. “Kyle!” she called, “visitor.”

“He's not getting up, wet nails!” someone called back, another female sounding voice.

Just what was happening in there? How many women were there, and what were they doing in Ren's quarters, of all places, clad in such unofficial wear? Hux shuddered to think. Was he also going to have to remind Ren of the rules against fraternisation with inferior officers? That was sure to be a fun conversation of Ren not giving a kriff and Hux being able to do little but barb his words and maybe mention the situation to Snoke. Odd, though – Hux had never thought Ren had showed any preference for women... or perhaps that had just been wishful thinking.

The woman before him remained still for a moment, her brown eyes glazing over just slightly in a way which made Hux think she wasn't entirely mentally present. Then the look was gone as soon as it had come, and she frowned, annoyed. “He wants you to leave,” she informed him, “but he wasn't very nice about it, so you're coming in.” She turned and retreated back inside, beckoning casually for him to follow.

After a moment, once Hux's brain had caught up – Ren had just communicated with the woman through the Force, and now he was being invited in against those wishes. He slipped through the door, letting it puff closed behind him.

The first fact of the place was that Ren's quarters were larger than Hux's. Hux had known this, of course – he'd scoffed over the confirmation for the allocation when Ren had first transferred over, perfectly happy to take moderately sized quarters himself – but, as he walked down the grandly inlaid corridor from the entrance antechamber to what was presumably a living space, it contributed to the sense of an impending mystery as to what, exactly, he was about to discover. He hoped it was nothing too debauched.

“You're that General, aren't you?” the woman a step in front of him asked over her shoulder. “Hanks? Hugs?”

“Hux,” he corrected. He disliked intensely when people got his name wrong. He was the General of the ship they were all currently hurtling through space on, he was the General Starkiller – how could she not know who he was? “Who are you?”

“Ushar,” she replied easily. No rank, no designation of any sort, no actual deference to him as a General; all things Hux made a mental note of for later, when he could check the ship manifest.

“Might I ask what you're...”

Hux had begun to speak with an acerbic self-confidence – it was his ship, and he demanded to know what was happening on it – but it all became clear when Ushar opened the door to the central living area and the situation was revealed. It was the second time Hux had been caused to falter in his words in the last five minutes, and he didn't appreciate it. “What is this?” he asked, minorly horrified, as he took in the scene before him.

Ushar shrugged. “Girls' night.”

The room looked like some kind of stereotypical, tacky imitation of a Zeltronian spa had taken over. There were tall glasses of something bubbly scattered around, half-drunk, the bottle chilling in a bucket of ice on the coffee table, which was scattered with cosmetic items. A holo-romance was playing off to the side. Boxes of chocolates fountained forth crunched up wrappers. There were four women – two humans, a zabrak and a twi'lek – lounging around in the pit of cushions the room had been turned into. The cushions were allpink to match the identical pink bath robes and headbands and fluffy slippers the room's inhabitants were sporting. And, at the centre of it all; Ren.

“You...” Hux started, under his breath just enough that no-one would take notice of the stammering. He had certainly not expected this. “I...”

Ren, clad too in pink fluffy bath robe, seemingly with nothingunder it this time, finally took notice that Ushar had led Hux in, as he sat up quickly and angrily, removing slices of some green vegetable from over his eyes. The woman who had been painting his toenails – black, possibly the only thing that could reconcile the Ren Hux was used to with this strange, pink perversion before him – protested, but he ignored her, instead hurrying to his feet and wading his way out of the pillows.

“I told you to make him leave,” Ren growled at Ushar, but the effect was considerably diminished thanks to his appearance. The bathrobe he wore was the short, fun kind of style which only came to his knees; the pink headband kept all his hair back from his face gave him a kooky sort of bird's nest; his face was slathered with a light green version of what Ushar had on, all except for comical spaces around his eyes and lips.

Ushar glared at him. “You shouldn't have ordered me like that, then,” she said, going over to sit next to the zabraki woman, shuffling in closer than was strictly platonic and picking up one of the glasses. “I'm not some stormtrooper.”

“You're ruining the night,” Ren brandished the vegetable slice at her. It wobbled.

“You'reruining the night!” the woman Ushar was sat next to shot back. “He's here after you!”

“Yeah, Kyle,” the twi'lek said from the sofa in a tone that was very much mocking, but still friendly, popping a chocolate in her mouth. Who were these people, that they could speak to Kylo Ren like this and get away with it?

Ren turned back to Hux, glowering. The face paste made him look like a clown. The outside finally reflects the inside, Hux thought to himself while wondering if Ren had waxed his legs or if they were just like that naturally, and had to force himself not to laugh. He obviously didn't mask his expressions quite as well as he should have, however, because Ren seemed to sense that Hux was amusing himself at his expense. Seizing Hux's upper arm in a grip to rival that of a hangar-bay droid, Ren manhandled Hux back to the door of the room, away from the group.

“Unhand me, you oaf,” Hux admonished, shaking Ren off him and lowering his tone a little so as not to disturb the ladies, who, in their disregard of Ren's plumped-up edginess, had endeared themselves to him.

“Why are you here?” Ren demanded before he'd even finished speaking, also at subdued pitch.

“Why are you here?” Hux returned, hissingly. “Who are these people? Why are you not completing the mission report which you have had no fewer than five requests for? Why the hells are your quarters this gods-awful colour?”

Ren took a moment to glare at Hux.

Hux interpreted this as having the upper hand. “Well?”

“I'm not completing any more of your stupid kriffing reports,” he said as if it were obvious. “I told you that already.”

Hux cycled through his memory quickly. He remembered Ren slamming down the last report onto his desk and threatening something similar, but he'd disregarded it, because reports were Necessary, and it was not a possibility for anyone to simply not do them.

“You will do the report,” Hux replied.

“No.”

“You'll do it now.”

Ren snorted. “No.”

Hux bristled. “Ren, I have been forced to come down here – well out of my way – to extract this report from you, only to find you sitting around like some... pampered princess, when I could be-”

“Good point actually, let's return to it. What are you doing down here?” Ren frowned and crossed his arms, but his lips curled cruelly, ready, Hux was sure, to make some insult about his doing such menial work.

“That brings me to the next matter,” Hux plucked the opportunity of throwing in this additional argument, squaring up. “You have intimidated my administrative staff to the point where it is necessary that I waste my time in a way which is thoroughly unacceptable to me.”

Ren widened his eyes in mock sympathy. “Did you forget how to use a comm?”

This only pissed Hux off more, because something about the movement was ridiculously attractive. He wasn't sure whether it was the slight shrug which emphasised Ren's muscular arms, the fact that the pink really brought out the rich shade of his hair, or even the cruelty behind the act itself, but it could not stand.

“I'm quite familiar with the comms system,” he spat, “it seems that you are the one having trouble, since you failed to reply to my hails. As my co-commander,” (Hux had practised in his bathroom mirror not grimacing as he said this) “you are expected to answer your comms when I call. It is highly unprofessional of you to shirk your duty like this.”

Ren momentarily pursed his lips. His next words were caustic. “I don't intend to waste my life away at work like you do, slaving over a tablet until I look like the living dead. At least I know how to relax.”

Hux's eye twitched. “I know how to relax.” An imagined image of himself on his icy blue sofa in his black and red robe, his cat to one side, his data-pad in hand, appeared in his mind. That was relaxing.

“No you don't,” Ren scoffed. “You should see the bags under your eyes. You look more drawn out than all the Starkiller blueprints put together.”

Mentally, Hux's self-image adjusted so that his porcelain skin turned grey, the lines of his face more prominent, the room dark until only he was visible by the harsh light of the data-pad. It could not have been more different than his current surroundings of pink and fluffiness and companionship and soft lighting.

“Get out of my head, Ren,” he said, putting the warping of his imagined scene down to some Force meddling.

“I'm not in your head,” Ren replied, “you're just sad and lonely and jealous that you have to go do a report while I have a nice night with my knights – my friends. You,” he pointed sassily, “could never have this,” he pointed back to the ladies. “Now kriff off, I'm not doing the report. Maybe you should do it yourself, since you have such a boner for that kind of thing.” The door far behind Hux puffed open, presumably manipulated by the Force.

“I expect the report before the end of my shift tomorrow,” Hux said, voice dangerous and low. How dare Ren speak to him like that. How dare he judge what Hux did to relax, while he was being a layabout with these random, cool ladies... doing... fun things like... painting nails and getting tipsy... and watching holo-dramas... and... he wasn't jealous.

“Leave,” Kylo told him.

Hux narrowed his eyes. “You will regret this, Ren.” He turned on his heel and marched from the room, commenting to himself once more as the door puffed closed behind him, “You will regret this.”

[line break]

Kylo watched Hux retreat from the room, waiting until the door had closed to turn and make his way back to his knights. He flopped himself back down onto the floor, jostling Ap'lek's sofa cushions in the process.

“Ah kriff,” he complained as he saw his black-smudged toes stretched out in front of him, “he made me ruin my nail paint.”

“I'm not doing them again,” Trudgen said, tossing the little black bottle at him, shifting around to watch the holo and grabbing a chocolate. “You shoulda been more careful when you got up instead of rushing off to be a bitch.”

Kylo sighed over-dramatically and called out, “Cardo!” She and Kuruk were in the kitchen, probably making an unsightly mess of the place, but Kylo knew only she would be willing to finish the paint for him. Of course, he would have to take the chance that the stuff would end up even more smudged than it already was, and, now he was thinking about it, he would probably be better off just dipping his entire feet in nail polish.

A chocolate wrapper hit the side of his head. He turned to see Ushar had thrown it. “Just do it yourself,” she told him, “it's not like it's hard.”

But he wanted to feel spoiled, that was the whole point of this spa evening anyway. He called Cardo's name again, whinier this time.

“What?!” came the shouted reply, “We're making mug muffins!”

Vicrul frowned, straightening up a little where her arm was thrown around Ushar's shoulders. “In the microwave?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh,” Vicrul shrugged, settling back down again. “Good luck cleaning that.”

Kylo groaned, letting his head fall back onto the sofa cushion behind him. First Hux was on him about a report, then none of his knights would do his nails for him, now Cardo was splattering his lovely microwave with chocolate batter. This was all Hux's fault. Kylo wasn't sure how yet, but it was.

He opened his eyes to see Ap'lek looking down at him, where his head rested by her left elbow. “What's this about a report then?” she asked flatly. Kylo just groaned again and re-closed his eyes.

“You can't be procrastinating this stuff again,” Ushar nagged him over the sound of footsteps, accompanied by a smell of chocolate, and a thunk-clink of a tray with spoons being set down on the table as the cooks brought the muffins through. “Your job is important, here, Kylo. Snoke wants you to do well.”

“To hell with Snoke,” Kylo mumbled, hoping the crusty fart wasn't spying on his thoughts as they spoke. Paperwork was a fate worse than a fate worse than all the Sith hells combined.

“Then we want you to do well,” she continued.

“Plus we blew up so much shit on that mission,” Vicrul added, and Kylo opened his eyes to glare at her as she accepted a mug from Kuruk.

“You have to tell the General about that some time, why not put it in a report? You'd save him lots of time, probably. I bet he'd be so appreciative.”

Kylo accepted a mug proffered by Kuruk and waved it about a bit. “Since when do we care about saving Hux time? I meant what I said, he loves paperwork so much he probably,” he picked up a spoon and stabbed it into the fluffy top of the muffin, watching steam come out as he tried to pick a suitably ridiculous image of Hux. “He probably sleeps with all the files strewn over his bed and like,” he made a face, “rubs them on his body, gets all cozy with them at night. I don't know.”

“I'm pretty sure he does paperwork on his data-pad,” Ap'lek said, and she was right, though Kylo resented that she'd killed his roll.

“Just do the kriffing report, Kyle.” Trudgen hadn't pulled her attention away from the holo enough to face him as she'd said it, but apparently had been paying enough attention to comment, “Anything to stop him showing up and interrupting us. Girls' night is a no-business zone.”

Cardo chose that moment to vault over the back of the sofa and land heavily on the cushions. “Ooh, General Hux came over?” she asked cheerfully. Her hands were, predictably, still coated in chocolate powder. “I can't believe I missed him, I want to see if his hair is gelled that solid from close up.” She grabbed her mug and dug into the muffin.

“The General shouts too much,” Kuruk said, sitting cross legged on a cushion by the coffee table. “He should check his blood pressure, it can't be good for him.”

“Hey, a bit like you!” Cardo added, “You must call me through next time. He's cute.”

Kylo opened his mouth – partly to gape at what had just been said, and partly because the muffin was too hot and he hadn't had the impulse control to prevent eating a large spoonful. “Hey!” he started a few times, mouth full and burning. Finally, he was able to swallow. “He is not cute, and there will be no,” he wobbled his mug and spoon in a no-fingered version of quotation marks, “next time.”

“Then do the report,” Ushar shot back.

Kylo made a loud complaint noise.

“He's not gonna do it because he wants the General to come over again,” Ap'lek teased, and, to Kylo's horror, all his knights laughed. Traitors. He didn't want Hux to come over again.

“I don't,” he replied vehemently, “I want him to kriff off and stop annoying me.”

“I think that's against his job description,” Kuruk said, prompting further laughs.

“You should just do it,” Ushar said, getting to her feet after a moment more.

“Hey, where you going?” Vicrul asked sadly, not letting go of Ushar's hand.

“Babe, I gotta peel my face.”

“Wait, let me come with, it's really satisfying.”

The two disappeared off, and Kylo had to add 'his knights screwing in his bathroom' to his list of sub-par things to happen this evening. He wasn't going to do the report. He couldn't be bothered, he didn't want to, he hated writing things and making them sound 'formal'. No, tonight he was going to finish his mug muffin, paint his nails and fall asleep with his knights in front of a trashy holo-romance. Hux would get the hell in eventually and do the report himself. Give it a few more days, and Kylo was sure Hux would drop the issue.

#kylux #fanfiction #my writing #girls night #armitage hux #kylo ren #knights of ren #the knights of ren #star wars #star wars sequels

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theleftovertaco · 3 years

Text

The HP Boys trying nail polish for the first Time

(This can be seen as romantic or platonic we love friendship)

We start with my boy Fred

Freddie here, as earlier discussed is already getting into skirts (or not honestly this post is kinda independent of the last one)

And after a long week of cramming for your classes (three essays and 4 tests, for merlins sake) You and your girls decide to paint your nails

So Angelina, Katie, Alicia and you gather with a box of polishes to paint each other’s nails

Around 11 pm, Fred and George walk in, because of course they skipped curfew

George goes up towards his dorms, but Fred stays down

“Why do girls insist on painting their nails”

“Well for one, they don’t, and two, it’s fun and it looks pretty”

That catches his attention. Fred’s always liked the idea of looking pretty

“Can u paint mine, then?”

So he picks out this red nail polish because of course he does and you start painting his nails

“Stop moving your hands! Your gonna fuck up the polish” “I cant help it” “you definitely can”

Finally the polish, albeit a little messy, is on, and throughout the next week fred does that thing that all people do when they first try on polish

He starts talking with his hands, he just starts acting a little more delicate

So Fred gets added to the bimonthly girls night and gets his polish redone

Mostly in reds, garish oranges and purples

Now we got our boy Georgie

George didn’t walk in on a girls night

Of course, living in a house with mostly boys, he never really grew up with girly things

He noticed that you always wore some

And he liked how confident you got when you had polish on

But he was too nervous to ask you himself

So he nicked one of your polishes and tried putting it on himself

Big. Mistake.

He spilled some on his comforter, and he hadn't been able to keep his hands steady so the polish gets all over his fingers, and he forget to find some nail polish remover, so he realizes he’s now stuck with light blue fingers

The next morning goes about like this

“Why are your fingers blue?”

“Uhhhh”

“Backfired product?” “No” “spell gone wrong?” “No” “A really oddly specific curse got put one you-” “I stole your nail polish!”

You were kinda confused

But then he explained, a little worried that you would be pissed off at him

You were just a little sad he didn’t think he could tell you

“You come to the common room after class today and I’ll repaint them for you

The next day he walks into breakfast with the biggest grin on his face

George tends to favor pinks, yellows, and other pastels

Next is Harry

Harry grew up in a very, uh, traditional family

The Dursleys are very conservative

They’re the kinds of assholes who use the f slur

So he grew up afraid of anything that would make him appear feminine

But you notice him always admiring your hands and running his fingers over the smooth polish once it's dry

But his stubbornness overruled his bravery in this case and he never told you

You actually had to ask him, not the other way around

And, to be honest, at first he’s kind of defensive

“Why would I wear that?” “Because it’s fun and pretty” “So?”

Until he finds out that you noticed him looking at yours

So you get him to admit that he likes the way it looks

And a week later he admits to wanting to try it

You start with a pale, kinda cream color, something most people wouldn’t notice because he's still a little insecure, but later, he really gets into it. Bright pinks, reds. He loves gold nail polish cause it's bright

Before every quidditch match, he asks you to paint his nails gold as a good luck charm

The one time you don't Gryffindor loses and you never miss a painting session again

almost exclusively gold, red, and black nail polish but likes other colors

Draco

Malfoy also grew up in a traditional family, albeit less homophobic

His family didn’t care about sexuality of other people, but the whole obsession on bloodline continuation meant that he got the pressure to marry a pureblood witch and have a son because he was the only heir

But pansy and you always wore polish, and he liked how intricate the patterns could be

You always spent hours free handing designs

Snowflakes and lace, flowers and crystals, you even drew a little serpent on your nails once during the first Slytherin quidditch match of the year

He knew how to appreciate art

But he didn’t pluck up the courage to ask for a year

You started him with a dark green polish with black and silver accents, to let him show his house pride

Very quickly he started liking all the different patterns you put on his nails

He even began growing them out a little bit

He liked how delicate they made him feel

Though he almost always stuck to dark patterns, he liked black the most, since it coordinated with his clothes

Unofficially, Draco actually started a trend, soon Blaise Zambini, Theo Nott, and even Goyle at one point start wearing polish

When you finally put snakes on his nails, you put tiny little crystals on the eyes

He puts a protection charm on his nails and refuses to switch them for a month and a half

Yeah, Draco really likes painting his nails

I’m gonna start with these four, if you want more HCs or people, please send me a message or an ask!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy headcanon #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley headcanons #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter headcanon #femboy #dom!reader

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babypandawrites · 3 years

Text

Allies, Pt. 1

A New Companion

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 3,102 Summary: You meet Team Avatar in the forest on a rainy night, and offer a helping hand.

Note: So, while I’m unable to write new pieces, I’ve decided to start posting this fic that I’ve been working on for a while- since a good part of it is already written. This is the first of many parts, it’s a pretty long slow burn. I’m also posting this on my Ao3, but figured I might as well bring it over here as well! Also apologies if my characterization is a bit off here, this was the first ATLA piece I wrote.

-Navigation- | -Allies Masterlist- | -Atla Masterlist-

Raindrops gently hit the leaves of the trees, slowly rolling off the foliage and hitting against the ground. Despite the fact it had been raining, Y/n found herself walking about the familiar forest, pausing her steps to crouch in front of a berry bush. She untied a small pouch from the piece of rope around her waist, and started to fill it with berries. Hearing voices in the distance, her movements ceased, and her head snapped in the direction they come from. Not only was it raining, but it was getting pretty late, yet it appeared others were in the forest as well. Strange. She tied the pouch back in place, and was quick to climb up the nearest tree. She perched herself on a sturdy branch, and grabbed onto her bow which rested over her shoulder. “-ot for your stupid water magic we wouldn’t have to be stuck in the rain right now, so yes, this is your fault!” “Even if we had our supplies, we would still be in the rain Sokka, we don’t have anywhere to set up camp!” She drew an arrow from her quiver as the voices got closer. “Guys! Can you please stop arguing? I’m sure there’s another way we can solve this.” Aligning the arrow with the bow, she pulled it back and aimed at the ground in front of the group of three. The arrow zipped through the air, lodging itself in the ground in front of the taller boy of the group. The sudden appearance caused him to jump back with a yelp, before he frantically looked around. “Where did THAT come from!?” The other two members of the group took on a fighting stance, looking around the area in front of them for the source of the arrow. Y/n settled her bow back over her shoulder, and jumped off the branch, to one that was a bit closer to the group. The rustling of the leaves caught the group's attention, and they looked up to the trees. They couldn’t see her seeing as she was shielded by the leaves, but they at least had an idea. Readying her bow again, she aimed another arrow at the group. This time, she waited to shoot it. “Who are you.” Her tone was harsh, threatening. The taller of the two boys looked around the trees, reaching for a boomerang. “Why should we tell you that?!” Eyes squinted, the aim of her arrow moved to him. Still she didn’t shoot it. “I’ll shoot again.” The shorter boy didn’t drop his guard, but took a step closer to where he guessed this mystery person was at. It quickly made her aim change to him. “Let’s not do that please. I’m Aang. This is Katara and Sokka, then these guys are Appa and Momo. We aren’t looking for any trouble, just a place to camp for the night.” Silence fell among them for a few moments, as the group waited to see what she would do. Dropping down from the tree branch, she rested her bow over her shoulder again, and slid the arrow back into it’s quiver. All three of them looked ready to attack when she revealed herself. “I see, sorry about that then. You can never be too careful.” The two boys seemed to relax, but didn’t lower their weapons. “I’ll just take my arrow and be on my way.” She took a step closer to them, but stopped when Katara held up a hand. The girl reached down and pulled the arrow from the dirt, and tossed it in her direction. Y/n caught it, wiped it clean on her shorts, then tucked it away in the quiver with the rest of her arrows. Turning on her heel, she started to walk away. “Hey, wait!” Turning her head to look back at the group, she raised an eyebrow at Aang who had asked her to wait. The others didn’t look very pleased by his actions. “Would you happen to know anywhere we could set up camp for the night?” “There’s a clearing nearby, I could show you the way.” She paused for a short moment, debating her words. “Though, if you’d like to get out of the rain you could stay at my base.” Y/n never trusted people easily, especially strangers. A lot of dangerous people came through this forest. But they didn’t seem like a bad group of kids, and she was ninety percent sure that Aang kid was the Avatar. Her knowledge of the Air Nomads was limited, but she knew enough to recognize the blue arrows tattooed on him were a thing only they did- and it was pretty common knowledge at this point that the Avatar was an Air Nomad. His expression brightened at her offer. “Really? That would be great!” Sokka glared at his friend, and leaned closer to him, whispering something she wasn’t able to catch. The two had a quick back and forth, before getting Katara’s opinion on the matter. The three paused, and looked at her, before all standing up straight. Aang offered her a bright smile, while Sokka looked mildly upset, and Katara looked like she had mixed feelings. “We would really appreciate that! Thank you.” “Sure thing.” She started walking, motioning for them to follow her. They did so, albeit a little hesitantly. “I even have room for your… For Appa to get out of the rain.” She wasn’t too sure what the large animal was if she was being honest.

The group arrived to a clearing after not too long. Several tarps had been strung together and tied around the trees a good ways off the ground, keeping the area dry. In the center of the tarped off clearing was an unlit campfire, next to it sat a long log. A few feet away from the campfire a tarp way laid on the ground, several rocks sitting at the corners to hold it down. A sleeping bag was on top of the tarp, as well as a crate. Y/n walked into the tarped off area, immediately going to light the campfire. The rest entered the area as well. Appa found a place to lay down, Momo sat atop his head. Katara and Sokka moved to sit by the campfire once it was lit to warm up, while Aang approached Y/n. He offered her a small bow. “Thank you again for allowing us to stay here for the night. Sokka might be… a little sour about it but he’s just being cautious. I know he appreciates it as well.” She let out a nervous laugh, and rubbed at the back of her neck. “It’s no problem.” The siblings were having a quiet conversion that died off when Aang and Y/n joined them by the fire. They all sat in an awkward silence, before Sokka cleared his throat. “So, do you just attack anyone who walks around this place?” Katara gave her brother a glare, elbowing him in the side. “It was a warning, not an attack.” He mumbled under his breath. “A warning that almost stabbed my foot…” “Sokka…” There was warning in his sister's tone, he didn’t seem to pay mind to it. Y/n glanced off to the side. “If it was an attack I would have done worse than stab your foot.” Aang and Katara glanced at each other, as Sokka’s expression twisted to anger. “Wow, what a great way of greeting people.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Actually, when most of the people you come into contact with are willing to kill you to get what they want, it is a great way of greeting people.” Before the conversation could escalate any further, Aang inserted himself in the conversation. “You know what, I just realized we never got your name!” She took in a deep breath to compose herself. “Y/n.” Standing up from his spot nervously, he grabbed into Sokka’s arm to pull him up. “It’s great to formally meet you Y/n. Hey Sokka, can I talk to you for a second?” Before Sokka could give an answer, he was dragged off by his friend. Far enough that they shouldn’t be heard, but to where they were still underneath the tarps that shielded them from the rain. The two girls sat in silence for a moment, until Katara spoke up. “I’m sorry about my brother, he’s an idiot sometimes.” “Being idiots is what brothers do best..” She trailed off with a tense laugh. The other offered her own quiet laugh, rubbing her hands together before placing them closer to the fire. “Do you have a brother too?” Offering a small nod to the question, she pulled a knee up to her chest. Katara took a quick glance around the camp Y/n had set up, raising an eyebrow when she noticed it was only set up for one person. “Is he not with you?” “Oh, um no. He’s fighting in the war, so I haven’t seen him for a while.” “Must be nice.” They both laughed. “I understand what it’s like though, our father is fighting in the war too.” Katara had mixed feelings on the matter, when Aang suggested that they accept the offer for a dry place to stay. On one hand, she didn’t want to sleep in the rain, but on the other this girl had shot an arrow at them. Seeing and hearing a bit about the conditions Y/n had seemed to be living in though, made her agree more with Aang than her brother on the passed manner. This girl had just been acting in a way of self defense, making it known she wasn’t afraid to attack if they tried anything. Now hearing about her brother, she could feel herself sympathizing for the girl. “Sorry to hear about your dad.” Katara offered her a small smile. “And I’m sorry to hear about your brother.” Don’t be. When the boys returned to the campfire, Sokka took a seat next to his sister again, arms crossed over his chest, as Aang returned to his spot next to Y/n. Aang looked between the two girls. “What are you guys talking about?” Katara offered him a small shrug. “Not much.” Silence made its way into the group again, the four of them looking about awkwardly. Y/n found her gaze landing on Appa, the large animal who laid himself in the grass. She observed him and Momo- a small lemur who sat on his head -for a few moments before turning to look at Aang. “So um, what exactly is Appa?” “He’s a flying bison!” Sokka watched the two carefully as they conversed. Her eyes widened slightly. “Flying?” Aang offered her a nod. “Yeah! He’s been our ride for our adventure.” “What is your guys’ adventure?” Sokka cut into the conversation. “It’s none of your business.” He spoke harshly, earning a glare from Y/n. “Interesting. I don’t recall asking you, boomerang boy.” “Why you-” Katara intervened this time, clapping a hand over her brother's mouth to silence him. “We’re heading to the North Pole.” Y/n held back a laugh at Sokka being silenced. “The North Pole? You guys have some ambition, that’s on the other side of the world.” Aang laughed nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah.” When silence fell over them for the third time, Y/n stood up from her seat. “Are you guys hungry?” When Katara and Aang answered that yes they were, she grabbed her bow and pulled a small basket out of the crate she had. Sokka clasped his hands behind his neck. “I mean, I could eat.” She shot him a glare. “I wasn’t asking you.” “What- Are you just going to give food to Aang and Katara?” “Yup.” His expression twisted into one of offense. She snickered. “You’re free to come with and get your own food, boomerang boy.” “Would you stop- you know what, whatever.” Sokka stood up, and hooked his machete onto his belt. “I could probably catch better food than you anyways.” Y/n turned on her heel, and headed to the forest. “Hope you don’t mind the rain.” Slumping forward, his expression fell flat. Right, it was raining still. Great. Still, he followed after her. Katara watched with worry as the pair walked off. “Aang, do you think we should go with them?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Huh, why?” “They might kill each other.” Aang looked at the direction they went off to, before looking back at Katara. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Sokka followed closely behind Y/n as she led him through the forest. He had no idea where she was going, and he really didn’t like that. At the very least, she seemed to know where she was going, so they shouldn’t get lost. But that didn’t make him like the situation any more. After a while of walking through the increasingly growing rain, they ended up at a river. It was wide, and pretty deep as well. The tide rolled through it at a slow pace. It looked like a good place to fish. He assumed that’s what they were there for. Unhooking his machete from his belt, Sokka pushed past Y/n and approached the river. “I’m sure you’ll need a demonstration on how to fish properly, so let me show you how it’s done.” She raised her eyebrows in amusement, and took a step back. “Oh yeah, totally. Why don’t you show me how it’s done.” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she spoke with heavy sarcasm. He ignored her sarcasm, and used his machete to stab into the water in an attempt to catch a fish. When he pulled the blade from the water, there was nothing on the other end. “Wow! An invisible fish, that’s really impressive, those are so hard to catch!” He shot her a glare. “I’m just warming up.” “Mhhm.” She crossed her arms over her chest, watching as he stood still, doing nothing. “That’s a whole lot of nothing you're doing over there.” “Fishing is a waiting game, it’s all about being-” Pausing, he stabbed the machete into the river again. “Patient!” When he failed to catch a fish for the second time, Sokka let out a groan, and started rapidly stabbing his machete into the river. “Oh, yes, because you’re being very patient.” He paused mid stab, and took in a deep breath. “Rapid fire fishing is a Southern Water Tribe specific tactic, you wouldn’t understand.” Y/n raised an eyebrow at him. “My grandma is from the Southern Water Tribe actually, and she taught me how to fish.” She brought up a hand to her chin. “I don’t remember her ever bringing that up.” He turned his head to look at her with wide eyes. “Wait- You’re from the tribe? Why are you out her-” “Maybe I should show you how it’s done.” Cutting him off, Y/n readied her bow and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Aiming the arrow at the water, she waited for a few moments, before releasing it. The arrow zipped through the air, and lodged into the river bed. Sokka watched as she went to retrieve the arrow from the water. “Psh, I bet you didn’t even catch anything.” He quickly ate those words, seeing as there was a fish impaled on the arrow when she pulled it out. She gave him a look, as she threw the fish into the small woven basket she brought. “Oh. Well-” He just decided to shut his mouth, and turned back to the river to continue his fishing venture.

Once they’d both caught a handful of fish, they started to head back in the direction of the camp. Sokka carried the basket that was brought with them, agreeing to do so in exchange of him putting the fish he caught in it as well. He cleared his throat. “Um, Y/n?” Glancing over at him, Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” “Well uh, I wanted to apologize for earlier- It was unnecessarily harsh of me to attack you like that. It’s just not the most pleasant thing to get an arrow shot at you out of nowhere, y’know?” “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, it’s supposed to be threatening.” “It definitely is.” Silence fell over the two, as they continued walking back. Once the camp was in their view, however, Y/n spoke up. “Your apology is accepted, by the way.” Sokka smiled softly, as they rushed to get back under the tarps and out of the rain. Katara’s head perked up when she saw the two. “You guys are back.” She was honestly a little surprised they both came back in one piece. “Yup, and we brought dinner.” Sokka sat the basket down, before quickly going back to his spot by the fire to warm up. Y/n was also quick to get by the fire to warm up, not bothering to put her bow down until she was near it. Katara looked between the two, before getting up from her spot. “I can cook, since you two went through the effort of getting this in the rain.” Y/n offered the girl a smile. “Thank you, Katara.”

By the next morning, the rain had cleared up. Y/n had helped the group pack up the few things they had up onto Appa. Getting her attention, Aang bowed to her much like the night before. “I wanted to say thank you again. We really appreciated your help last night.” She offered him a smile, giving a small bow in return. “It was no problem. I wish you all luck with your travels.” “Actually,” He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing to the side for a moment. “Katara, Sokka and I we’re talking earlier and we were wondering if you’d maybe like to come with us? We could use your help on the team, and I honestly feel kind of bad leaving you out here alone.” “Well, I sort of live out here, alone, so.” She laughed quietly. “I mean, I guess I don’t really have a reason not to join you guys.” Sokka poked into the conversation. “So, is that a yes?” “I guess so.” Deciding to join them on their journey, Y/n got to packing up her own things. It would probably be best for her to get out of this forest anyways, the Fire Nation came through it a little too often for her liking. Once all her stuff was packed up, Katara and Sokka helped her get up onto Appa, and they took off. Joining the Avatar on his adventure wasn’t what Y/n expected to get out of this encounter, but, she wasn’t mad at the outcome.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar the last airbender x reader #atla x reader #reader insert #sokka x reader #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #team avatar #slowburn #book one allies

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sanghyukstattoos · 3 years

Text

Four

Characters: Lee Jaeyoon x reader, Kang Chani x reader, Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun x reader

Genre: Smut- smut- smut

A/N: I have goose bumps right now from writing this

And I appreciate feedbacks!

You could feel the warmth of Jaeyoon’s fingers gently caress your temple, occasionally pulling back the strands from your face. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, sometimes barely on your collarbone, calmly lingering as he pressed soft kisses to the skin. Various colours from the tv screen were reflected in the round glass table as you held a conversation with Chani who was sitting in front of you. He was relaxed, slumping against the material of the sofa head turned your way, fingers lingering at your ankles.

Sounds of a drum kit, guitars, saxophone and vocalists slowly resonated from Youngkyun’s phone. In the background, the music played softly and made the three of you move in some way, especially Kyun who was moving along to it. Jae’s arms encircled your waist and from your position, you could smell the perfume off him. Kyun walked out of the kitchen, pressing a kiss to your lips as he took a seat opposite Chani, grabbing some crisps from the bowl on the table.

‘‘We could try this’‘ Chani replied, showing you a picture on his phone. You held back a smile, already analysing the picture and trying to apply it to the bedroom. Jae nodded from behind you, agreeing and drawing Kyun’s attention who was munching on something. As he looked at the picture, he couldn’t hide the smile on his face, thinking that he was probably dreaming or something.

Once he had agreed, Chani asked if you were okay with trying it and immediately, their attention was on you. You felt yourself heat up at the attention but subtly clearing your throat, you thought of adding something to it- like a twist. Jae nestled his face into your neck as you spoke and you could feel the warmth of Chani’s hand, encouraging you. You causally agreed when they nodded, internally excited at the prospect of what you had just discussed.

Your joggers were pulled off your legs, slipping you onto your back in the process, the comfy material of the mattress enveloping you in its warmth. Kyun and Chani were standing on either side of Jae as they viewed you with inky eyes, unbuckling their belts. Sliding their belts off, they discarded it somewhere, each taking their time to undress. Having no idea who to look at, you just gave up, resting your head on the pillows, lying in anticipation.

Jaeyoon chuckled as he saw your head hit the pillow, pulling his oversized jumper in one go which caught your attention, widening your eyes as inklings of arousal trickled into your pupils. Kyun and Chani had already stripped to their boxers; the lighting of the room allowed you to see their toned bodies. The curves placed emphasis on their arms and upper torso, many years of performance succeeding that. Kyun chose to lay next next to you, peering at you through his beautiful eyelashes. He leant down to press his soft lips against yours, his fingers dipped into your jumper and pulling it over your head.

You were bare underneath, comforting fashion that came easy to you in your own house. They quickly realised that you had played games and danced with the four of them while being naked underneath caused a coarse amount of arousal to run through them. Jae leant to give your swollen bud a slight pinch, hearing you whine as you laid in Kyun’s arms. Kyun swiped a tongue over your lower lip, kissing your parted lips. Chani had settled on your other side, pulling out his cock and stroking himself to the sight of your naked body. Beads of precum trickled from his slit, member growing increasingly hard at the way his friends handled you.

Jaeyoon stroked himself through his boxers, his eyes drinking in the sight of your legs spread while Hwi hungrily groped your breasts, kissing you and squeezing the flesh in the palms of his hands. The more Kyun touched you, the more you softly moaned into his mouth, wanting someone to touch you. One of the two pulled your last piece of clothing from your legs, chuckling at the stain on them. Chani pulled your leg to one side, giving Jaeyoon more access to you as he leaned down and lapped his wet muscle at your folds.

Kyun leaned away, placing a delicate kiss to your cheek, the embodiment of all his lust for you. This allowed Chani to take over as he ran his fingers through your hair tugging your head back and attaching his lips to yours. You softly groaned at the stinging feeling on your scalp and them allowing you to take a breath in between. When Kyun’s lips shifted to Chani’s, the intensity changed. He messed your hair while placing your hand over his cock, groaning at the feeling of your warm hand stroking his erection. Kyun’s thumb ran over your neck as the other repeatedly groped the soft flesh of your breasts.

Jaeyoon collected his spit and smeared it over your pussy, the combination with your juices making it easier for him to side two fingers into you. He pressed his tongue flat against the opening of your pussy and swiped up, running over your sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing an erratic whimper from you. Kyun pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, nipping the skin as he completed a trail of hot, summery marks that lined your collarbone and stomach. While Chani tilted your head up, swiftly biting down on your lower lip and then licking the pain away, Jaeyoon’s smooth hands on your thighs firmly gripped them apart in place as he pumped you full of his fingers and Kyun’s air-blown hair gently tickled your breasts that he was nestled into, his full concentration on sucking the area of the skin.

The heaviness of your breaths drew Kyun’s attention, smiling as he loosely ran his thumb over your clit. You groaned into Chani’s mouth at the stimulation and he leaned back at the sound, chuckling as he looked at a familiar sight. Jae completely pulled his wet muscle out of your entrance, a little whine leaving your mouth. Your legs were spread as Kyun rubbed your clit and Jae licked your juices, your legs spasming as his actions further aroused you, drawing friction in between your legs. You lifted your hips to match the pace of Kyun’s fingers, his response to smack your clit and keep you still.

Chani and Jae were in awe as they watched the way your body moved off the bed. Your breasts shook with the movement, swollen buds hardening, waiting to be touched with the lack of wetness from someone’s mouth on them. You didn’t bother to hold back your cries, letting them know how sensitive you were feeling. The more Kyun teased your clit, Chani ran his hands up and down your body and Jae pumped his cock at the sight, the more you struggled to keep up with the lack of real stimulation.

Kyun slapped your clit again, this time to see your reaction and you scrunched your eyes at the feeling, hands reaching out for Kyun’s own. Chani’s fingers carded through your hair as Jae filled your with his digits again, hearing your sex squelch at the wetness. You were taken into Chani’s arms, his lips gently pressing against yours, muffling your cries and soft moans. Hwi began to stroke himself as he rested his head in between your breasts, comfortably continuing his teasing. Jae gripped your legs once again, placing a trail of comforting kisses to your inner thigh.

Jae occasionally smacked your inner thigh, watching you jerk a little with each slap. He smiled as you relaxed under Chani’s touch whose face was hovering above yours, fingers also gently stroking your cheek. Your breaths came out harder each time as you stared back at Chani, his nose scrunching at how adorable you seemed in a state where you were totally out of it. Your clit painfully throbbed at the sensations you were feeling, legs aching from being held back and skin tinting as Jae continued to deliver slaps to your inner thigh.

You had stopped stroking Chani, gasping at Hwi’s hand that landed a harsher smack to your clit. Hot tears spilt from the corners of your eyes as you struggled, ‘’Ngh, please’’. Jaeyoon awed at your form, knowing that you could very well throw them off and masturbate to a release without the teasing.

You were taken back to the time when you decided to pleasure yourself without them. As they had found you in a compromising position each of them made sure to fill your hole as you cried because you were not allowed to come for the night. Or when Jaeyoon caught you and he made you rut yourself against his jeans as he watched you try and reach an orgasm that he knew you would not reach.

Chani’s nimble fingers swiped each tear away from your cheek while Kyun adorably stared at you from between your breasts and Jaeyoon’s hand stroked his cock, using his precum to slide his hand easily over his member. You gasped as Jae added a third finger, having originally gone in with two, pausing as Hwi stopped his ministrations on your clit at the same time. Kyun used this to slip off his boxers while Chani did the same, discarding them to someplace off the bed. Hwi returned to heat himself up while Chani took your hand and returned it to its position on his cock.

Chani’s eyes held some sort of emotions in them when he saw your tears but before you could place them, his hand gently gripped the side of your face and whispering about how much he would love to fuck you, he kissed you. Your lips moved slowly against his, a contrast to his prominent dominance over you earlier. Somehow you didn’t realise that he had broken a little over your tears.

Jae- your baby- faced fling turned best-friend would spread your legs and eat you out if you asked- and you had before. His hands would have already started gripping your ass and wandered to other areas of your body, his first thought would have been to ram you from behind but he could control himself. As much as he desired you, your wishes came first and if you wanted him to pin your naked body to the kitchen table and lick your juices from your dripping pussy that messed up the surface below, he would have gladly done it for you.

Kyun had a distinct charm- one that radiated innocence but you knew that he could do worse. Anything new that you wanted to try startled him but he would try to do it the next time the two of you met up and you almost fell for this guy. In his eyes, you were his and he would treat you as such including laying you on your back, fingers intertwined and chests touching as he slowly made love to you. But he could also let you suck him off on your knees when you wanted too or roughly pull your hair as you rode him in the back of his car.

You felt Jae’s tip prod at your entrance and you moaned into the kiss with Chani, excitement filling your system. You hand went to caress Chani’s cheek and you deepened the kiss, feeling Jae’s cock start to enter you. You groaned as you felt the tip enter you, the whole head entering you next. Jae was slow, stilling so as to not hurt you and let you adjust, biting his lips as he heard you groan into Chani’s mouth and tug Kyun’s hair whose tongue was carelessly swiping at your nipple. A whimper left your mouth as Jae started to fully seat himself inside of you and Chani broke the kiss once again, to nestle his head against yours as Jae bottomed out.

Arching your back, Kyun took to placing light, delicate and even sloppy kisses from his position next to you. Chani delicately pecked your cheek, letting your fingertips trace his skin as he gasped at your fingers that found his cock, sliding your hands over his as he stroked himself. His member throbbed just like the first time the four of you had had sex. He was aroused at the way you wanted to be handled, letting Kyun tease you while Jae inserted his member into your sex. He twisted his hand around his dick, his vision blurring as the eyelashes that he peered at you through connected.

Kyun was content with his cock painfully hard and in desperate need of your attention, his brave exterior never betraying how he felt on the inside. Laying on your chest and nestling his head in your breasts made him feel satisfied enough while he was touching you again. The way you jolted and spasmed when you were close to reaching your high made him want to hold you and not to let go until you were tired. Jae had loved the way you felt around his cock from the first time the two of had had sex. The two of you were so well connected that after that ‘click’, you agreed to keep your friendship as well as explore the sexual tension between you two.

He slipped into you, the feeling of your walls enclosing around his cock causing a groan to leave the base of his throat. Moans left the two of you as Jae took on a quick pace, rubbing soft circles onto your inner thigh, occasionally lightly pinching the skin. Kyun lifted your chin, connecting his lips to yours while you used your other hand to take his hard cock and wrap your hand around the base. Swiping a finger over his tip, you used his precum to smear it all over his cock, using it as a lube to stroke him more easily. You drew out a moan from him as he breathed heavily into the kiss. You didn’t quicken your pace, instead slowing down and stroking him leisurely.

He liked it when you held back, so that when his high arrived, it would wash over him like a furious wave. Jae decided to hit your sweet spot, just as Chani reached to rub your clit, your lips parting at the extra jolts that his motion sent throughout your body. You moaned into the kiss with Hwi, infatuated with the taste of his lips and right now, you also longed to taste his cock on your tongue.

Chani watched Jae slowly thrust into you, tracing the way your pussy swallowed his cock wondering just how aroused you were to produce so much arousal. Your wetness covered Jae’s cock, his precum allowing him to slide into you much more easily. Legs spread and stroking his cock, he licked his lips when you started to stroke Kyun, the two of you heavily moaning into each other’s mouths. He smiled a little, reflecting on how much he loved the weekends.

Jae’s groaned and quickened his pace, pounding you into the mattress. You cried out at the change, the movements too fast to kiss you, so Kyun dove into your neck, pressing comforting kisses along your collarbones. You could feel your high near as well, the tightness growing as Jae grunted, kneeling in front of your body as he held your legs up, allowing him to access a much deeper part of your sex.

The new position made you fumble for Chani, his fingers adding extra pleasure to your clit as he rubbed the area in harsh circles, watching your face twist in pleasure as Kyun kissed you. As your fingers reached for your nipples, Chani grasped them, intertwining his fingers with yours so as to let Kyun do the work. You hadn’t stopped stroking Kyun’s cock and Kyun had started to notice that you were nearing your orgasm. Jae held your ankles at his chest level, continuing his pace on your pussy till he released inside you with one final thrust.

You unravelled at the feeling of Jae’s cum inside of you, coming all over his cock that twitched inside of you at the feeling of your cum. Jae tightly smacked your ass, letting you know that you had been good for him today. Chani who was watching the interaction and stroking his cock over you, groaned as he quickened and pumped his release over your torso, sighing in content at the feeling of releasing. You and Jae smiled at each other, breathing heavily and you pressed a kiss to Kyun’s lips who instantly returned it, excited for the next part.

Getting up, you got on your hands and knees as Kyun moved behind you and Chani and Jae moved to your front. Some of this was planned, especially this bit since the boys and you had been brainstorming different new positions to try out ever before the weekend had arrived. Kyun didn’t waste his time, grunting as he entered your tight pussy while Chani and Jae began to stroke themselves, watching your facial expressions turn into pleasure as you felt Kyun bottom out inside you. You were thrusted forward as Kyun started to slowly move inside of you, Jae’s cum dripping down your leg every time he slid out.

Chani tapped his erect cock to your lips which you opened and swallowed, his member entering your mouth and settling over your tongue. You held back a gag as he reached the back, positioning himself carefully as Jae rested on the pillows, acknowledging how hot the scene actually looked. Kyun bit his lips as he held your waist and bought you back on his cock, your ass bouncing with the movement. Chani held your head upright as you sucked him off from Kyun’s movements, breathing heavily at how the vibrations of your moans onto his cock added to the pleasure.

Kyun settled for a slow pace, knowing that he would release soon, his beautiful smile showing when you cried out as he gently rubbed your clit in circles. He was teasing you as he rocked you on his cock, confident that you wanted him to at least increase his pace seeing how glossy his cock was from having only penetrated you moments ago. You bobbed your head, taking in Chani’s cock that leaked precum onto your tongue. The corners of your mouth were soon covered in his juices, feeling your arousal drip down your leg and onto the mattress.

Jae pumped himself, twisting his hand around his cock as he watched you squeeze your eyes shut and revel in the pleasure. As he met Kyun’s eyes, he smiled, chuckling at your reaction to having your clit rubbed. Your nipples had hardened once again, breasts bouncing with the movement. Reaching for your nipple, he tweaked your bud which caused you to moan around Chani’s cock and clench around Kyun’s, both men groaning as a result.

He continued stroking his cock as he reached for your other bud, lightly slapping it twice before giving it a little tweak. You continued clenching around Kyun, feeling yourself tighten as you realised that you would come before Kyun and maybe Jae and Chani. Your hands had started to hurt from the same position but it dulled out as Kyun picked up the pace on your sex.

You let out sharp moans, feeling Kyun’s cock and fingers enough to let you release your juices around his member. He continued to thrust into you, letting you ride out your high and from then on, pounded into your creamy pussy. Chani on the other hand, grasped the back of your head and bought you down on his cock while Jae got on his knees and joined you next to Chani. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes as Kyun continued to fuck you, feeling sore from having released twice in one day.

Kyun noticed your tears rubbed your hips in comforting circles as he murmured, ‘’Hold on baby’’. You made a sound of agreement as Chani pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva dripping onto his cock from your mouth. Jae and Chani aligned their cock’s at the centre of your mouth and you opened up for them, watching them stroke themselves to their orgasms. Kyun threw his head back and released into you, groaning at the relief from his prolonged high as his juices filled your hole, dripping out and running down your legs as he pulled out.

You flinched as Chani and Jae released hot and tick white spurts of their release onto your face and into your mouth, sighing in relief as they also released for the second time. You sat down before your hands could give way, gulping as you looked at the dazed out look on their faces. They met your eyes and the four of you smiled and let out laughs, relishing in from the pleasure the four of you had just experienced. Chani held you from behind and Jae stroked your hair while Kyun rested on you, head in between your breasts as the four of you dozed off to sleep.

You woke up to the sound of the microwave door opening and closing, groaning at how early it must have been since the three of you had had a late night the day before. It had already been a week since the last time and this week, the four of you decided to try something new, in the kitchen. You made your way to the kitchen, stretching your limbs on the way and paused to smile at the sight in front of you. Kyun was there, his broad shoulders facing you, arms moving in a frenzy to navigate the yellows and whites of the egg floating in the pan while also trying to quieten and not disturb you.

You felt a rush at the sight and not wanting to scare him, popped up by his side with a quick, ‘’hey’’. A shy smile lit your face as you turned your attention from the pan to him. ‘’Did I wake you up?’’ he asked, after a quick ‘’hey’’ back, the smile growing on his face as he watched your cheeks pink. You shook your head in disagreement, adding a little, ‘’no’’ for comfort and one by one, you went to wrap your arms around him. ‘’Aren’t you curious?’’ you asked, nestling your face into his back.

‘‘Curious about what?’‘ he inquired, smiling at the eggs on the pan as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. His grip on the pan holder tightened, wanting to look at you so badly but he was afraid that the eggs would burn if he decided to look away from them for one second. You hummed in response to his question, not quite sure why you asked him in the first place. You either had to give an answer or not and so you chose not to, instead choosing your favourite way of communicating.

As soon as he turned to place the eggs onto a plate and switched off the stove, your hands slid from around his waist to the fabric around his hips. Your fingers twisted around the knot, letting the two ends fall loose and hooked your finger into the band. He paused at your actions and you took the chance to push yourself closer to him, close enough so that he could feel your body heat against his. Basking in his scent, you slipped your hand into his shorts and palmed him through his boxers, feeling the bulge grow. A breathy moan escaped his lips as he tightly gripped the counter.

You were aroused when you woke up and he only intensified how warm you had felt, your juices soaking your panties. You felt a little stain of precum soak through the material and you brought his boxers down, his cock red and hard as it sprang out. Using his precum, you used it to lube his cock, spreading the essence with slow, languid strokes. He bent at the feeling, food long forgotten and put all of his weight onto to counter to hold him up, You didn’t stop, motions continuing to tease him but he knew what you were about to do. You used your other hand to turn him around and your eyes never left his as you slowly lowered yourself onto your knees.

Pressing your lips to the tip of his cock, you opened your mouth to swallow him whole and he groaned at the feeling. He threw his head back, a soft knock being heard as he gently rested on the cupboard doors behind, eyes seeing nothing as they shut at the arousal flowing through him. You puffed your cheeks as you went down on him, suddenly aware that you weren’t wearing anything much apart from his shirt. The urge to remove it overcame you and you paused, removing your shirt and letting it slide next to you on the floor. You didn’t hesitate in taking him back, this time bobbing your head as you sucked him off, your saliva coating his cock as you tasted his precum on your tongue.

Jae and Chani could walk in anytime and just see you on your knees in nothing but underwear pleasuring Kyun but you could have cared less knowing that they would join you two anyways. You squeezed your legs together at the thought of them walking in on you, stroking whatever part of Kyun’s cock that you couldn’t reach. Your other hand was covered in his juices and you used it to grab his ass and fondle the flesh in your grasp. Your knees touched the tip of his toes and with his juices staining your lips, you licked the swollen head drawing a louder moan this time after the small, short gasps had begun to fill the room.

You popped as you left his cock, eyes meeting his and he pulled you onto your feet, lifting you up onto the counter. ‘’Where’s Jae and Chani?’’ you asked him and he replied, ‘’They’ll be out for some time’’ in what sounded like a hurry. You giggled and shrugged as he spread your legs and settled in between them, shifting your panties to the side and aligning his cock with your entrance. Heavy moans left the both of you and Kyun penetrated your entrance, thrusting his hips forward, making you grip the counters as you panted.

You moaned out his name, arousal spreading throughout your self as he held you in place, fucking into you. Your breasts bounced with the movement and he latched his lips onto a hardened bud, lapping to the sounds you made. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, moaning at his cock touching your sweet soft. He brought you closer to the edge but held your leg apart in place, bringing you naked body close enough to touch his.

The sounds of heavy breaths filled the area, the food getting increasingly cold as Kyun hungrily met your lips, tongue pushing past your lips and into the wet space within. His hands rested on your ass, smacking the flesh till you cried out into his mouth, his other hand grasping your head to keep you firmly in place. Rubbing your bruised ass cheek, he moved onto the other, stinging your flesh as you were pounded into, by his cock.

Your fingers tugged at his hair, the stinging sensation of his scalp causing him to groan into your neck. Nipping at your skin while he pounded into you, he pressed you onto the counter, stilling at the release of his juices into your pussy. He rubbed your clit in circles, helping you reach your high, hearing you cry out his name as your juices instantly covered his cock. He held you to his chest as you came, finally resting your head on his chest, taking a deep breath. ‘’We only did this some hours ago though’’ he pondered, drawing a laugh from you.

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