#am I nauseous again or just hungry and broke | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wordsmithwhumpsandfluff · 1 year

Note

Hey! I just wanna say that I love Spirit and Isaac. I think they're my favorite of your oc's.

I was wondering if you could do a story where maybe Keiko gets a nauseous and sick while hanging out with one of his friends (preferably Spirit or Oliver, in my opinion) and they take him home where Amberlynn takes care of him and cuddles him and stuff.

Bonus points if Keiko gets embarrassed or emotional or all soft while Amberlynn is taking care of him.

Hey, anon!! Thank you for requesting! Isaac is my favorite of all of my oc's, too.

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It was a rare day for Keiko, he had no classes and a completely open schedule. Spirit also had a free schedule, and the two of them decided to spend the day hanging out at the gym.

Keiko wasn’t as big of a gym buff as Spirit was, but he enjoyed going every now and then.

Things started off good. Keiko and Spirit were at the gym for about half an hour, chatting about school—Kei actually managing to get more than three-word responses out of Spirit—before Kei started to feel strange. He and Spirit were on the bicycle machines when his stomach started to churn and his head began aching. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

Spirit noticed and frowned. “You okay, Kei?”

Keiko nodded and smiled reassuringly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Spirit stopped peddling. “Wanna take a break?” she asked. “Or we could grab a bite or something.”

Kei knew Spirit didn’t actually want to stop. She usually worked out for an hour straight before taking a break, and then she’d go for another half-hour. But he figured he was probably feeling weird because he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything but cereal that day.

“Yeah,” he said, getting off the machine. “Sure. Let’s grab a bite.” He was sweating through his shirt as he and Spirit walked over to the locker rooms. He changed into a dry shirt and chugged half of his water before leaving the boy’s locker room. Spirit was waiting for him, a too-huge white tank top tossed over her sports bra.

She squinted at Kei’s face, studying him. “You sure you’re okay? You look. . . pale. And tired.”

Kei waved her worry off and started towards the door. “I’m fine,” he said as she walked up beside him. “So, where do you wanna eat?”

She shrugged as they left the building. “I dunno. Just anything that’s not super greasy.”

“Tropical Smoothie Cafe?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

They went to Spirit’s car and started driving.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

Kei’s head started to throb. And the churning in his stomach became ten times worse.

He tried to hide it, but Spirit didn’t have any of her usual Metallica playing so when Kei’s stomach let out an unhappy growl, Spirit noticed and looked at Kei out of the corner of her eye. “That didn’t sound good.”

“I’m fine,” Kei lied again.

Spirit rolled her eyes. “So you keep saying.”

“I am!”

But in that moment, Kei’s stomach let out another unhappy growl as he was hit with a cramp. He groaned, leaning his head on the dashboard and wrapping his arms around his churning gut. His shirt sticks to his back with sweat, and he shivers as a gross-feeling chill runs through him.

Spirit makes a sound that sounds like a scoff and a laugh at the same time, and Kei looks at her.

“So, you’re ‘fine’?”

Kei groaned, not completely from pain this time though.

“Kei, you better not throw up in my car. I swear, I will murder you if you do.”

Kei chuckled softly.

He was realizing that he wasn’t hungry at all. In fact, the thought of eating suddenly made him nauseous, and he frowned. “Spirit. . . pull over.” He then gaged and clamped a hand to his mouth, and Spirit cursed as she pulled into the shoulder of the road.

Kei thrusted the door open and bent out, just in time for the water he drank at the gym to come back up. In the back of his throat, he could taste his breakfast, too.

He gagged over the grass for a few more minutes, Spirit’s hand on his shoulder, before he sighed and slumped back against his seat. “Mmmm’done.”

Spirit nodded and leaned over him, shutting his door. She then sat back down, her hand still on his shoulder and facing him. “Okay, so I don’t think you’re fine,” she says in a voice so jokingly serious and sarcastic that Kei snorts a laugh. Then he winces as his laughing makes his headache double with pain.

He then feels Spirit’s hand move from his shoulder to his forehead. “You have a fever,” she says.

“My head and stomach hurt like hellfire. But I think I just have a bug or something.”

Spirit’s normally so serious face was slightly twisted with worry. “Should I— Do you wanna go to the hospital?”

Kei shook his head. “Nah. Just take me to my place. I think I just need some meds and some sleep, and I’ll be fine.”

“Fiiiiine,” Spirit repeated back sarcastically, making Kei smile.

His place wasn’t far. It was only a five minute drive before they were at his place.

Spirit moved to get out of the car with him, but Kei stopped her. “You don’t have to come in. I can take care of myself.”

Spirit cocks a brow. “You never let us take care of ourselves, Mr. mother-hen.”

Kei rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, none of you know how to take care of yourselves, Ms. broken-nose-four-times-in—high-school-sophomore-year.”

“That jackass had it coming!”

Kei smirked. “I’ll be fine, Spirit. We’ll get smoothies another day.”

Spirit sighed and nodded. “Okay. Bye, Kei.”

“Bye.”

Kei left Spirit’s car and made his way to his apartment.

He swayed in the elevator and stumbled down the hallway to his apartment. As soon as he was inside, he shut the door and didn’t bother showering even though he felt gross and sweaty. Instead, he went straight for his couch and flopped onto it, letting his eyes shut and slipping into unconsciousness.

— — —

Kei woke up to a soft voice whispering his name. Gentle fingers stroked his hair.

“Keiko, wake up. Please, Kei.”

Keiko blinked awake and saw Amberlynn in front of him, a worried look on her face.

“Am?”

She smiled. “There you are. Kei, you’re burning up.”

He frowned. He was burning? He felt cold.

Amberlynn was growing more worried. There was a concerning dazed look in Keiko’s eyes, and his skin was hot against her hand.

“Have you taken any medicine?” she asked.

Keiko shrugged, eyes slipping shut again. “Mmm’tired.”

“Don’t fall asleep,” she said, patting his cheek. “I need you to sit up, baby. I’m going to get you some medicine.”

Keiko didn’t want to get up. His stomach was aching, and his head hurt so badly.

Amberlynn had to manhandle him into a sitting position, and the movement made his stomach slosh so much that he gagged, doubling over.

Amberlynn’s eyes widened as she realized what was about to happen, and she ran to the kitchen and grabbed a bucket from under the sink before rushing back to Kei and shoving it on his lap, just in time to catch a thick stream of barely digested milk-soaked cereal.

He choked on the flakes for a minute before cursing under his breath. The puking had snapped him out of his half-asleep daze, and now he was in a slightly more coherent feverish daze.

Amberlynn’s hands were brushing his green-tipped longish hair out of his face, and he groaned as his cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. “This is gross,” he mumbled.

Amberlynn sighed and sat beside him on the couch. “Spirit called me and told me you were sick. I didn’t know you were this bad, though.”

“I wasn’t earlier.”

Amberlynn nodded. “Can you stomach meds? Or water? You’re probably dehydrated.”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll just puke again.” He was suddenly aware of just how sticky he felt, and he almost wanted to cry. “I feel disgusting.”

“You wanna take a cool shower? And then cuddle?”

He nodded, feeling pathetic.

Amberlynn helped him to the master bathroom, and she started making the bed and grabbing stuff while he showered.

She decided to take her own quick shower in the guest bathroom, and when she got out—wearing a pair of Keiko’s shorts and one of his t-shirts—and back to the bedroom, Kei was wearing sweatpants and pulling a hoodie over his head.

He looked at Amberlynn once he had the hoodie on, and he smiled at the sight of her with cheeks flushed from the shower and damp curls tied up into a messy bun.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” Amberlynn said, walking over to him and cupping his face. He was still warm, but the shower must’ve cooled him down. “You feel a bit better?”

“Just a bit. My stomach is still all gross.” He leaned forward and hugged Amberlynn, burying his face in her neck. She smelled like vanilla.

Because of how much bigger Keiko was, Amberlynn couldn’t help but laugh at him as he practically melted against her without actually putting any weight on her. He was a giant teddy bear.

They moved to the bed and Amberlynn held Kei close, her chin on top of her boyfriend’s head as he buried his face in her shoulder. Amberlynn had gotten the thermometer to take his temperature, but he was already falling asleep and she didn’t want to disturb him so she forgot about the thermometer and let her own eyes slide shut.

When she woke up, it was to the sound of gagging and the slightest bit of light shining against her eyes.

She sat up and realized that the light and sound were coming from the slightly open bathroom door. She climbed out of bed and hurried to the bathroom and felt a fresh wave of concern at the sight in front of her.

Keiko was hovering over the toilet, arms around his gut and tears streaming down his face. Amberlynn, unbothered by the smell, walked into the bathroom and crouched beside Keiko. He flinched a bit when she touched her hand to his back, but relaxed again when he realized it was just her.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

She sighed. “It’s fine, babe.”

He sobbed. “God, this is so gross.”

Amberlynn almost chuckled. “You don’t say it’s gross when I’m sick.”

Kei suddenly felt embarrassed about being embarrassed. He was used to taking care of sick people, not being the sick one.

He and Amberlynn sat in the bathroom for a while as he continued to puke and sob quietly before he was finally empty.

Amberlynn flushed the toilet and cleaned the puke from his chin with a wad of toilet paper before handing him a water bottle she brought from the bedroom. “Here. Rince and then try to take a tiny sip.”

He did, and he managed to keep the water down. They went back to the bedroom and Keiko collapsed onto the bed. Amberlynn laid down next to him, and he turned his back to her. “Spoon?” he asked quietly, and Amberlynn smiled as she spooned her tall boyfriend. He took her hand and put it on his belly, and she started to rub softly.

She was starting to fall asleep when Keiko sleepily whispered her name.

“Yeah?”

“When I’m feeling better,” he mumbled, half-asleep, “can you come with me and Spirit when we go get smoothies?”

Amberlynn smiled. “Yeah. We’ll invite the others, too.”

He smiled and scooted closer to her, trying to steal more of her warmth. “That’ll be fun,” he sighed, eyes falling shut and falling back asleep.

#thebrilliantidiots #whump #keiko #amberlynn #spirit #fluff

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adrienne-lafayette-official · 2 years

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Prove That You Love Me

Summary: Adrienne hears about the affairs Lafayette is having, and wonders if she’s good enough for him. (Yeah, apparently he historically had affairs…)

Warnings: angst

Adrienne felt nauseated at the thought, more nauseous than she already was. She wanted to scream. She wanted to go up to Laf, and take off her wedding ring right in front of him. For a moment, she even thought about plotting revenge on him.

But she didn’t do any of those things. Instead she sat against the wall, pressing her knees against her chest, crying softly. She had learned about her husbands affairs about ten minutes ago, but the thought was slowly starting to sink in.

All she could think about was her husband sleeping with other women in their bed that they sleep in. She thought about how pretty they might be, and how better they might be at pleasuring him than her. She shook, burying her head into her knees.

She heard the door open, and Lafayette walked in. He tilted his head at his wife, and she tensed up in anger. “What’s the matter? Are ‘ou alright?”, he asked, showing genuine concern on his face. She stood up, “get out… just get out! I heard about what you did! I know what you did! You were with other women behind my back! Am I… am I even good enough for ‘ou..?”, her voice began to tremble and break.

Lafayette stepped back in shock. “Adrienne, Ma chérie-“ she slapped him firmly, “don’t call me that! Just get out!” She cried in anger, falling to her knees and sobbing. “And… and I hope you’re happy to know that you will be having another child!” Lafayette stood there, dumbfounded, watching his wife sob in pain and heartache. He kneeled down, “Adrienne..”

“Have ‘ou heard what I said? Get out! Just leave me alone!”, she yelled. Lafayette turned around and walked out with his head in his hands, “what have I done..”

Adrienne locked Laf out of the bedroom that night, not caring that he might’ve not gotten any sleep. She still thought about what those women might have done with him, how he knew how much he would hurt her. She sniffled, burying her face in her pillow.

She heard a knock on the door. “Adrienne, please come out, I made breakfast…” she groaned, “I’m not hungry.” He knocked again, “Adrienne, I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry… please come out, not for me… but for the sake of our son.”

“Good. Tell him that ‘ou broke his mothers heart.” She cried again, not feeling good enough for her husband. “Adri…” she could be heard sobbing. Lafayette didn’t want to do this, but he dug through a drawer, grabbing a key for their bedroom.

He unlocked the door, to be hit in the face by a pillow immediately. “Go away!”, she said again. He calmly walked over, sitting next to her.

“Adri, what I did was so messed up, I’m so, so sorry. It’s alright if ‘ou cannot forgive me…” she looked up at him. “And I am open to questions..”

Adrienne’s voice shook, “a-am I… am I even good enough for you..?” Her lips quivered as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Of course ‘ou are good enough for me, those affairs were a big mistake. I love ‘ou, my dear heart, so much. You’re a goddess to me, my muse, and the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Adrienne sniffled cupping his cheek, and Lafayette looked down at her stomach, “you’re pregnant?”, he whispered. She smiled and nodded, as he gently placed his hands on her stomach, softly kissing it. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently kissing his head. “Oh… Georges will finally have a sibling…” he smiled, looking up at her.

She lay in his arms, and he gently rocked her, “Je t’aime.” She looked up at him, “prove it. Prove that you love me.”

“Tonight, alright, ma chérie? Let’s hold each other for now.” Adrienne nodded, cuddling close in his arms.

She didn’t fully forgive him, but was glad to be in his arms.

#angst #fanfic #marquis de lafayette #lafayette #frev #lafayette x adrienne #:(

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sixeyesgojo · 3 years

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jjk characters handling your period

Summary: “What do you mean, no baby this month either? Okay, suffer then.” - your damn uterus

Pairings: Gojo/Megumi/Nanami/Naoya/Toji x Reader

Content warning: the monthly bloody nightmare your uterus puts you through and the whole shebang that comes with it, language warning, suggestive themes, explicit warning for Toji (you’ll see why)

A/N: purely self-indulgent because I suffer. @megumifushi and @sukirichi , my gals, I gotcha. Also dedicated to all readers who suffer from the same fate (may it be right now or not). Also: Yes, absolutely open the video I linked in Megumi’s part (it’s safe, I promise).

Gojo Satoru

You turn and turn in bed uncomfortably. Something isn’t right, you think and it’s not the fact that Satoru is missing next to you. Not knowing immediately irritates you. All of a sudden you become painfully aware of your lower region. Yes, of course it had to be that time of the month. You just knew you already stained your panties and perhaps the sheets haven’t been spared either. Getting out of bed, then realizing it was already past noon, you sprinted to the bathroom. Fuck, moving fast was not a good idea.

Having changed the sheets and your stained panties, you made your way to the kitchen. Your stomach growled, signaling you were hungry, but at the same time you feared. Smelling food, let alone tasting too much of it, was a slippery slope – either your nose would protest or your stomach, no in-between. Regardless, you had to eat; or were you supposed to starve to death because of this? Not in this lifetime. “I AM BACK!” an annoyingly loud voice rang through the apartment. You groan and turn around. “Fuck off, Satoru,” you say. Your irritation flaring up for seemingly no reason. “Stop being so motherfucking loud. My head feels like it’s going to split in two and my pussy is fighting the crimson war right now,” you snarled at him.

“Oh honey, seems like I called the right shots then,” he declared proudly and held up a bag filled with... snacks? “I already called in sick for you for the next few days,” Satoru continued to explain as he wrapped his arms around you, “and I’ll be by your side 24/7 for the next two days. We’ll do fun stuff. How does movie night with lots of cuddling for tonight sound?”

“Why are you so nice to me right now?” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Simple: I don’t want to be castrated by you,” he whispered back and planted a kiss on your cheek. “Fair enough. What will we do tomorrow?” He stayed silent but pulled out a black card out of his sleeve. You gasped.

Fushiguro Megumi

Ping. A notification. Quickly, you scrambled to get your phone to see what that was about. You desperately needed some distraction right now. The pain was too much. Your boyfriend Megumi had gone somewhere you didn’t know. All you knew was that your boobs were sore, the sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric were already too much. In addition to that, you also experienced period cramps, resulting in back pain as well. Life was not easy at the moment but at least you could lay in bed for today, doing absolutely nothing.

Unlocking your phone, you saw a new message from Yuji: “omg look at this???” [Video link] It was a video of 42 seconds. There was a cute seal – probably the cutest and fluffiest seal you have ever seen – and background music. It may have only lasted 42 seconds but it definitely triggered some happy feelings inside you; it was so pure and you loved the energy of the clip. Perhaps these feelings were a bit too intense and overwhelming. Tears streamed down your face and you started sobbing uncontrollably. Why were you like this? It wasn’t even a sad video, was it?

You buried your face in the blankets, weeping as if someone just broke up with you. Through your loud crying, you did not notice the door opening. A jangling noise could be heard from your nightstand. Instantly, you shot up to check for intruders but luckily, it was Megumi. A frown spread on his face. “What happened?” he asked as his thumbs wiped your tears from your cheeks. You showed him the video, still sobbing, “Look at the seal... It’s so c-cute. I just... got emotional because it really t-traveled the world. This cutie deserves the whole world...”

“And so do you,” he bluntly stated, “now take the ibuprofen I brought you for the cramps and rest up.” As a matter of fact, he not only brought you painkillers but a hot water bottle and food as well.

Nanami Kento

“No, give me that. Lay down and rest. I can dust off the shelves on my own,” his deep voice commanded. If there was a man that screamed “male wife” it was definitely Nanami Kento, particularly when it came to you being on your period. You weren’t allowed to do anything in the house, except for very light chores. With good reason. “Kento, I can do–” Yeah, no, it wasn’t possible and Kento knew it too well.

You weren’t lucky when it came to period symptoms. Besides excruciating back pain, extremely sore breasts and headaches, you also had the luck to suffer from dizziness every single time you experienced the monthly nuisance. The first time you even passed out. In fact, it had happened several times. And that was precisely how Kento decided to not let you do anything. Still, you felt bad to leave everything to Kento. His work already demanded so much from him and here you were, being babied and even spoon-fed. You didn’t even have to cook your own meals or wash and iron laundry.

You had barely said those words when the unwelcome whirling sensation took you over again. Your feet wobbled, you were in danger of crashing to the ground. In a flash, Kento was by your side to steady you. “I told you not to overdo it.” He cupped your cheek with his warm hand. “Sorry, Kento. I’ll... just rest for a minute.”

Zenin Naoya

Period pain? Laughable. Naoya thought it was pathetic. A woman – these already weak creatures – having period symptoms was a mystery to him. What could possibly hurt about bleeding a little? He couldn’t understand. Your pitiable and sorry state was only another inconvenience to him. Not that you hindered him in any way – you were obedient enough to be quiet and complain as little as possible – but he absolutely despised seeing that annoying expression of pain on your face every time he had to look at it.

Hell, he didn’t even want to engage in sexual activities with you during that time, even though he had randomly picked up somewhere that it might help. Not that he wanted to help you, it was your problem and yours only, not his. “Stop looking at me with those eyes. It’s disgusting,” he remarked condescendingly as he got dressed for wherever he had to go. “When will you be back?” you croaked out but he totally ignored you.

“Women are so damn weak. It’s so fucking pathetic, I almost want to give you a hug,” Naoya gagged. He was about to leave the room but stopped in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of your face that was contorted with pain. In long strides, he made it to one of the cabinets, fished out a tiny box and threw it on the bed. “Tsk, you better get well soon so you can serve me again, dumb bitch.”

Fushiguro Toji (soft)

Work hadn’t been treating him kindly: not yesterday, not today, not ever. Although he was highly capable and never failed to exceed himself, all Toji truly wanted to do was to go home. When he finally made it through the door, he called out, “Am home.” Usually, you would come running to greet him but when nothing but silence greeted him, his hand instantly moved to the cursed creature lingering on his shoulder. It was suspicious. Did enemies manage to find this hideout? Where were you? His hands started sweating.

Stealthily, he approached the kitchen. To his surprise, he saw your form in front of the counter, hunched over in pain. Dropping his offensive stance immediately, he quickly strode over to check on you. “Hey, what are you doing there?” he asked, hesitatingly putting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, grimacing with pain, “Oh, Toji. I didn’t realize you were home yet. Sorry, I’m not done cooking dinner yet, I just feel so nauseous, exhausted and my entire back and shoulders hurt so much. It’s so sore.” “I see.” He nodded, understanding what was happening. Suddenly, he lifted you effortlessly. You squealed, “Toji!! What are you doing?!” “Taking care of you,” he promised. “But dinner!” “Don’t care.”

Making his way to the bedroom, Toji laid down with you on top of him. Something about his warmth already made you feel better but as his large palms rubbed your back in circular motions, you felt as if you were in heaven. Toji’s ministrations soothed the pain so well, you almost let out a moan. Now that the pain didn’t overshadow all the other symptoms anymore, the drowsiness took over. “Toji, ‘m tired,” you mumbled; eyelids fluttering already. “Then sleep. I’ll take care of dinner later,” he whispered. You only hummed in response, already far too gone. Slowly but surely, his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep. “Sleep tight.”

Taglist: @megumifushi @gojos-mochi @assbuttbaek @bleueluna

#gojo x reader #megumi x reader #nanami x reader #naoya x reader #toji x reader #gojo satoru #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #zenin naoya #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen naoya #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #tw: period talk #tw: periods #tw: menstruation

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uwusenpaiuwu · 3 years

Text

Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

��Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

#mikey x male reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjirou x male reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjirou #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #manjirou sano #i tried #im so sorry #pls dont cancel me #PSA: don't masturbate in the same room as baji

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goldenavenger02 · 3 years

Text

I can't be alone with all that's on my mind

But the hatred took over, after all. He should've been the green ninja. He should've been the one who was chosen to defeat The Overlord. "I don't want to control it! This isn't anything I don't already feel!"

Takes place after The Forgotten Element

•••

Kai's stomach convulsed as he gripped onto the toilet seat tightly, his knuckles going white.

As soon as the horror had sunk in that Skylor and Lloyd were injured by his greed and that Skylor had been taken, he had bolted to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet in time before his stomach spilled over.

Which brought him to where he was now, bent over sick in the small bathroom just outside of the main room.

•••

"You have to destroy the staff, Kai!" Lloyd pleaded, running up to him as he continued to blast Chen's lackies.

"Chen was right! This thing's awesome!"

"Kai, it holds too much power! Destroy it!" He heard Lloyd say to someone "if we don't get that staff out of his hands-!"

"No one is taking my staff!" He yelled, anger in his voice. This was his now. He deserved it, after all. Lloyd just wanted to be the special one again. "You had all the power, now it's my turn!"

He shook the thoughts out of his head briefly, glaring at the offending object. "What am I saying? I can't… I can't control it!"

"No, Kai! Don't!" Lloyd pleaded, his arm in front of Skylor. A pathetic attempt to stop him, really, as he started to use the powers, the rush flowing through his body

"I should've been the green ninja!"

And with that, he launched the blast, watching the terror in their faces. He relished it with a grin.

•••

"Kai?" A voice broke him out of his thoughts, resulting in a shudder. He couldn't quite place who it was, but then it came again. "Kai, can I come in?"

A cough cut him off from responding to Cole, but he swallowed it back. "Yeah."

The door opened and Cole sat on the floor next to him, setting his hand against his back, "FSM, you're sweating through your gi." He heard him mutter under his breath, "I brought some water if you're up to it."

Kai shook his head; he wasn't very nauseous anymore, but he also wasn't sure he could keep anything down just yet since the nausea was now being replaced by the sinking feeling of guilt.

"Sensei G's got Lloyd," Cole spoke, clearly knowing exactly what Kai was thinking, "He's got some burns, and he's kinda weak from the whole "powers being sucked out of him" thing, but he's gonna be okay."

Kai nodded, but then the second thought came to his head. 'Nya still thinks I betrayed her and everyone else.'

Once again, Cole cut him off before he could even speak. "Lloyd explained the whole thing, they're not mad. Nya said your plan was dumb, but that was it."

Kai couldn't hold back his chuckle at the mental image of Nya critiquing his plan, but it was short-lived. 'Skylor's still hurt. And missing.'

"No one blames you, you did what you thought was right." Cole spoke softly, gently setting his hand on Kai's shoulder, who finally mustered up the strength to move away from the toilet and take the cup of water from Cole's hand, muttering under his breath as he drank.

"Don't think telling Lloyd that I should've been the green ninja before blasting him was right."

"You weren't in your right mind, the staff-"

"The staff brought out my subconscious thoughts that I've had since we found out about the prophecy." Kai interrupted, setting the empty glass down on the floor.

"The staff makes one greedy, power hungry. I don't know how it does it, but it obviously does. The reason it had no effect on Chen was because the dude was already cuckoo for cocoa puffs," Kai couldn't hold back a snort at the ridiculous phrasing, "and if you don't believe me, you can go ask Lloyd for his two cents."

Kai sighed. He knew he should talk to Lloyd, at least see that he was okay for himself, but at the same time, he had hurt Lloyd, the one he swore to protect when he was fully aware of what he was doing.

"It's up to you. Alternatively, you could help us try to find Chen, but considering you just threw up your guts, I'd go with the safer choice of talking to Lloyd."

Kai used the wall to pull himself to his feet, hitting the knob on the toilet before allowing Cole to support some of his weight since his legs were still shaking before speaking.

"Take me to Lloyd."

•••

Lloyd winced as Nya wiped at the cut on the side of his cheek.

While most of his injuries were from his fight with Chen, that one had occurred when the jet crashed into the basement and the staff hit him across the face as it flew out of Kai's hand.

Although, if he was being completely honest, he didn't remember much of the whole situation.

•••

Lloyd winced as he was pulled to his feet by two of the lackies who kept referring to themselves as Kapow and Chop, his side throbbing horrendously from his fight with Chen.

Despite trying to fight back, he was weak both physically and emotionally, not to mention the vengestone keeping his hands behind his back.

As he was forced down the halls and the echoes of the large serpent hit his ears, he fought back the tears that wanted to stream down his face.

'How could Kai do this? How could he hurt the team like this?' He tried to push back the selfish thought of 'how could he hurt me like this?' and tried to replace it with 'how could he do this to Nya?' but he couldn't do it.

As the chanting grew louder, he tried one more time to break out of the two men's hold, but one just kicked him in the leg, forcing him forward into the large room all four of them had snuck into on their first night here.

But Cole and Jay were nowhere to be seen, and as he looked at Chen, Clouse and Skylor who were surrounded by guards, he swallowed harshly, seeing Kai standing next to them.

The chanting rang in his ears as he was forced to kneel, the vengestone quickly being replaced by two giant chains attached to the floor.

He looked up as footsteps approached, seeing Kai grow nearer; the sadness and fury consumed him as he demanded, his voice thick with tears. "Why would you help them?"

"Don't worry," Kai insisted in a hushed tone, but as Clouse approached, he raised his voice, "it won't hurt. Much." Before walking away from him with a cackle, the chanting stopped altogether.

Lloyd watched as Skylor offered herself willingly to the spell, a pit growing in his stomach as she cried out in agony.

He had to shut his eyes.

But the cries stopped shortly afterwards and he opened his eyes, only to see Chen approaching him with a wicked grin on his face and his stomach dropped in fear.

"And now for the final element," the staff was pointed towards him and out of the corner of his eye, Lloyd saw Kai turn away, "only one can remain."

The white light surrounded him, and he was immediately hit with a searing pain in his chest that sent him to his knees before forcing a scream from his throat.

It was over fairly quickly, but he collapsed onto his hands and knees, trying to regain his breath as his body, now weaker than ever and heaved harshly.

•••

"Alright, that's the last injury," Nya announced, bringing Lloyd out of his thought process to see a joking smile on her face, "unless you're hiding something from me."

"No, you got everything. Thank you." Lloyd smiled softly, receiving a hand in his hair and he couldn't hold back his laughter because of just how normal that was.

"I'm gonna go help them find Chen, but your dad is right outside if you need anything. Get some rest."

Lloyd nodded, watching as Nya exited the room before laying down on his back, biting back the sharpness of the bruising from where he was thrown by Chen with his own abilities directly into the leaderboard.

The pain dulled out enough for him to close his eyes and try to let sleep take him when the door opened and two sets of slow footsteps approached him.

He couldn't stop from flinching due to the sting as a hand gently touched his burned wrist, but he instantly regretted it when he heard the voice. "Lloyd? Are you awake?"

'Kai'

Lloyd opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness to see Cole and Kai standing over him. "Yeah, I'm awake," he noticed the guilty look on Kai's face, as well as the paleness, "you okay?"

"I should be the one asking you that."

"I will be," Lloyd nodded, getting a good look at Kai's face and already knowing that if he was gonna get any information out of him, they needed to be alone, "Cole, can you-"

"Yeah, I need to talk to your dad anyways," Cole smiled, winking to ensure he got the hint before making his way out of the room.

The door barely closed before Kai spoke up, "Lloyd, I am so sorry about all of this."

"You did what you thought was best, I can't blame-" Lloyd started, but he was cut off quickly.

"I meant the staff."

'Oh'

"Kai, that wasn't your fault-"

"I could have killed you!" Kai shouted, cutting Lloyd off again, "I could've killed you and Skylor, I said things to you that I haven't believed in years!" He had tears coming down his face now even though his cheeks were still red with frustration, "I hurt Skylor, I hurt Nya… I hurt you."

Lloyd wasn't thinking when he wrapped his arms around him, all he knew in that moment was that he needed Kai to stop crying, to stop feeling so bad for something that wasn't even his fault.

He felt hot tears soaking his shoulder as Kai's body shook against him, like he had been holding this in for a long time. 'How do I make him see that it isn't his fault?'

•••

Garmadon wasn't sure what he was expecting when Kai came out of the small room that his son was currently residing in while he recovered.

He definitely wasn't expecting him to come out with tears in his eyes and bright red cheeks though.

"Kai, are you alright?" He asked softly, in order to avoid startling the obviously in distress teenager.

"Yeah," he stopped to wipe his face on his sleeve, "yeah, I'm okay?"

Garmadon raised an eyebrow before motioning him closer. "Take a walk with me, Kai."

"No, you need to stay with Lloyd-"

"Just down the hall and back," Garmadon didn't like the idea of leaving his son, but he also knew that the majority of the elemental masters were nearby, and if there was an emergency, they would be informed before anything could happen to Lloyd, "Lloyd will be fine."

Kai relented after that and the two of them started walking at a steady pace with only the silence lingering in between them.

"You know, Kai," Garmadon spoke softly, watching as the fire elemental's gaze met his, "when I was bitten, I did a lot of things that I didn't have control over. I became corrupted and hurt a lot of people I care about. My brother, my wife, you four ninja, even Lloyd."

Garmadon heard Kai's breath hitch and saw a few tears forming in his eyes. "But after my son saved me, you all forgave me even though I didn't feel as though I deserved it. I still don't know how all of you did that so easily."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it took me awhile to forgive you for all of that." Kai said in a joking tone, even if his voice was thick from crying and the tear stains on his cheeks were becoming fresh again.

Garmadon shot him a soft smile before continuing, "there are things in this world that we cannot control, things that have to balance out. Although it takes time to heal from those things, to forgive ourselves for those things, that doesn't mean we can't let others forgive us for them and to give us a second chance."

Kai wiped his face on his sleeve again and Garmadon put his hand on his shoulder, feeling his body shake under his touch.

"You don't have to forgive yourself right away from what happened with the corruption from the staff. In fact, I wouldn't expect you to do so. But letting the others in, letting them give you a second chance… It's a good place to start."

Kai nodded, tears rushing down his cheeks at full speed now, "I'll do that."

"Good man," Garmadon smiled as the two of them turned to make their way back down the hall, "and if you need someone to talk to about this again, my door is always open."

"You don't have to-"

"I'll have none of that," Garmadon shook his head, "You will come to me if you need someone to talk to about this again."

"Is that an order?" Kai smiled, the tears finally starting to slow and his mood was clearly starting to brighten, given that his sass was coming back.

"Yes, it is." Garmadon nodded, seeing that he had accomplished what he set out to do, "do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sensei Garmadon." Kai winked as the two stopped in front of the door, his demeanor growing serious again, "I'm gonna go help them find Chen."

"Very well." Garmadon smiled, watching as Kai pulled his hood over his head before running to join the others outside.

#Ninjago #lego ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #lloyd montgomery garmadon #sensei garmadon #nya ninjago #ninjago skylor #kai angst #angst #hurt/comfort #takes place after the forgotten element #but also is slightly altered so Kai had blasted lloyd and skylor before the others came in with the roto jet #tournement of elements #kai and garmadon solidarity #emeto cw #emeto tw #its not that graphic but i know it can be triggering for some

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

New Opportunity (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: You and Javier fight over a new job opportunity as it threatens to take you away from him.

Warning: Angst, swearing, hints at smut (nothing descriptive), happy sad vibes, fem!reader (no y/n but use of pet names)

Word count: 2.6k

A/n: I will never give Javi a break, I refuse. Sorry baby but you’re too fun to hurt...

“Hey pretty girl,” Javi smirked as you walked into the office, “Is it my birthday?” He looked you up and down greedily.

“Didn’t know office wear was your thing,” You laughed ad shook your head at him, putting a lunch bag down on his desk before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Never see you in dresses. I like it,” He pulled you in for a kiss, his hands immediately going up your skirt, “and I know what’s underneath,” He added, flicking the band of your stockings. You yelped as the elastic stung your thigh.

“Hey! Hands to yourself, pervert,” you slapped his hand out from under your skirt. Javi chuckled and kissed you again softly, his hands around your waist instead. You sighed into him, allowing the moment to roll on until you broke for air. “I have a job interview today actually,”

“That promotion you were on about?” He asked.

“Uh no, actually,” You took a deep breath knowing his reaction wouldn’t be the best, “A CIA position,” You bit your lip and watched him carefully. He frowned, creasing his eyebrow, searching your face for signs you were serious. You were.

“CIA?” He repeated, raising a brow, “You don’t mind moving back to Bogotá?”

“It- um the jobs not in Colombia,” You said, slowly removing your hands from around him, nervously wringing them together.

“Where is it?” He bristled, taking his hands off you.

“I can’t say,” You said quietly, “it’s classified,” Javi shook his head disapprovingly, and leant back on his desk, crossing his arms.

“Well, it’s only an interview, maybe you won’t get it,” he shrugged going straight into denial. You cringed again.

“It’s the final round,” you admitted. Javier looked away, your heart sunk, “Javi- “He moved away from your quickly, shutting you out faster than you could blink.

“I’m busy, you need to leave,” He said sternly, moving back behind his desk. You tried to protest again but he ignored you. You sighed, this was the reaction you had feared, the entire reason you had not told him yet.

“Sure,” You gulped down your anxiety, trying to remain unaffected. You had only come in to have lunch with him as being around him calmed you down, “I- uh I’ll take my lunch out then,”

“That would be a good idea,” Javier said sharply. You nodded, eyes filling with tears. You pulled out the lunch you had brought, placing his on the table which he gave no reaction too. You rolled your eyes and walked out, slamming the door for good measure.

“Hey sweetheart,” Steve smiled as you walked by. You did not stop to talk, blinking back tears as you left the building. He frowned but didn’t press you, “Do I want to ask what that was about?” He asked jovially as he entered the office. Javier scowled, ignoring him as he tucked his gun into his jeans, and didn't answer. “Guess not,”

The argument, or lack thereof, threw you off your game. You were nervous going into the interview and even worse answering their questions. You could only think of the look of betrayal on Javier’s face, the bitter tone of his voice and how quickly he’d shut you out. You bombed it.

Javier would usually be the one person you would go to in times like this, but he was out of the question. You didn’t want to talk to him either, if he didn’t understand why, you wanted this job so badly, he obviously didn’t understand you as well as you thought he did. You weren’t going to not go for a job you really wanted because he hated the CIA, it wasn’t his job, it wasn’t his life!

You went to a bar and tried to drink away your sorrows but everything tasted bad and just made you nauseous. Your friends, fed up with your moping, left you alone at the bar. You had had enough and decided to walk home, except you turned in the opposite direction and gave in to your sadness and took yourself to the one man that you really wanted.

You stood in the hallway of his apartment block for a few minutes, deciding whether to knock. You had known Javier for a long time before you ever got together and knew that when you got in a fight, he had turned in on himself and ended up at a brothel or drunk himself into a gutter. That was before you’d gotten together, now you had no idea what he would have done. You prayed he hadn’t given up on you entirely and gone to see some of his old ‘friends’. You could hear the television inside his apartment. He was home at least.

You knocked on the door and waited. The television turned off and a few moments later it opened. Just a crack, enough for him to stick his head out but nothing more. He wasn’t happy to see you.

“Hi,” You said sheepishly.

“Hi,” He said, straight toned. He wasn't angry or upset but he wasn’t happy either.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” He continued to stare at you, coldness in his eyes you only ever saw him use with criminals.

“I want to talk to you, please,” you added.

“What’s there to talk about? You already made the decision,” He snarled, shutting the door. You stuck your foot in the gap and barged in, your patience wearing thin.

He paced around the living room, seething in anger. You followed him, standing above him on the step.

“For fucks sake Javi! What is the matter with you?” You exclaimed.

“What’s the matter with me? What do you think the matter is? You betrayed me!” He yelled.

“Betrayed you?” You scoffed, “It’s just a job Javi, not some personal attack,”

“It’s not just a job though is it? It’s the fucking CIA and you’re leaving and you never told me. I didn’t even know you were looking for a new job!””

“I was going to tell you when there was something definite,”

“So, you were just going to take it without discussing it with me?”

“I- I Uh,” You stuttered. He had you there. You had rationalised your decision to keep the interviews a secret as a way to protect your relationship but you didn’t think about the consequences, that if you got it you would be springing a finalised move like that on him with no warning. You had got so excited about the prospect that you’d forgotten about him. Javier realised this too and scoffed, disgusted.

“You were the one who insisted we become a couple,” He pointed at you. You shook your head bitterly glaring at him.

“You came to me!” You exclaimed, “You were the one who crossed that line first,”

“Six months together, years of friendship and you were just going to fuck off somewhere classified at the earliest convenience without thinking to consult me?” He asked, a dry laugh biting at the lunacy of your situation.

“Because you would never do the same, huh?” You snapped, “You told Lorraine you wanted to come down here and waited for her opinion, right?”

“That was different,” He snarled.

“How? Because this time it doesn’t benefit you?”

“Get out,” He said coldly.

“This is a great opportunity, Javi,” You changed your tone trying to reason with him, “You know this was never what I wanted, I did what I had to but I-,”

“So, you never wanted me either? You were just doing what you had to?”

“That was not what I meant!”

“But you’re not denying it!”

“You’re being irrational,”

“Me? Irrational?” He shouted, “You’d rather join those twisted assholes, than stay here?”

“Your personal opinion of-,”

“It’s not opinion! They parade the death and destruction down here like it’s a fucking job well done. They deal with the same people we fight because its advantageous at the time. They are disgusting hungry fascists!”

“Like the DEA is any better,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“No, you’re right, they’re fucking not. All of its a joke, but you know what? There are some good people here trying to make things work without bulldozing entire communities for it,”

“Don’t pretend like you’re a good person. Neither of us are,” you spat, “What difference does it make what three fucking letters I wear? Either way I am still the same person doing the same shit protecting innocent people from people like Escobar or fucking Cali or whoever else wants to try and take over,” You yelled at him. Javier curled his lip and turned away, no long willing to even marry your argument with a retort, “What? Did you really think I was going to stay here forever? Even if I stayed with the DEA, they would move me on eventually!”

“I know!” He shouted, his anger falling in on itself as he knew you were right. “I know,” He repeated much quieter. He was being ridiculous. He pulled his hands over his face and huffed before bringing them back to his hips, defensive but not attacking you anymore.

“I care about you, I do,” You said softer now, “And I apologise for not saying something sooner I just didn’t want to get my own hopes up, talking to you would have made it real. I didn’t want to think about what that meant for us and I should have thought about it,” You sighed, “This is a big deal for me Javi I just wanted your support. But I blew it anyway so I guess you don’t need to worry,” You sat down on the couch heavily, looking up at the ceiling.

Your admission broke his anger and he loosened up immediately.

“What?” He asked, there was no anger in his voice anymore. He spoke softly, concerned and confused, “How?”

“I was flustered going in there. You shutting down like that earlier really freaked me out,” you admitted, still not looking at him.

Javier frowned. He didn’t want you to go but he didn’t want you to fail at it, especially if he was the reason. He dropped his scowl and stepped closer to you again, a softer sympathetic look on his face.

“S ’fine. Argument over right,” you waved a hand at him in defeat, “I am stuck here until the end of my contract. But at least I’ve got you,” you forced a small smile to your lips, trying to convince yourself that missing out on the opportunity was actually okay. He sighed and sat down next to you.

“They’d only be proving me right by not hiring you. Idiots. The lot of them,” He pulled you into a hug, kissing your hair, “And I’m sorry for being a jerk,”

“I forgive you,” you whispered. You stayed in his arms for a while, the two of you calming down together. As the anger slipped away, Javi relaxed into the couch. You curled your legs up, leaning into his chest. You shut your eyes, listening to his slowing heartbeat and grounding yourself in the rhythm.

“I’ll talk to Stretchner,” Javier finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“What?” You sat up and frowned at him.

“I’ll talk to Stretchner. I’ll get you a do over,” he said again.

“Javi, I don’t want any handouts from you. If I failed, I failed,” you protested.

“It’s not a handout. I’m not getting the job for you but I’ll make it fair. I fucked up the interview for you I should fix it,” He said, brushing his fingers through your hair, “If this is what you really want, and if it's what will make you happy, then that's all I want for you,”

“But I’ll have to move,” your bottom lip wobbled, eyes filling back up with tears again.

“I know,” he said softly, running his hand down your jaw to cup your cheek.

“And we won’t be able to be together,”

“I know,” His voice barely audible as he too tried not to cry.

“Javi,” You whimpered. He stopped your protests with a kiss. Desperate and sad he clung to you, hand tight on your arm holding you in place so you couldn’t move, so you couldn’t leave him.

“All I want is for you to be happy,” He whispered, resting his forehead on yours. His eyes were closed so you couldn’t see the tears in the corners of his eyes, “You’re wasted here, but you can do good with those assholes. Maybe make them less awful,”

“I am only one person,” you chuckled quietly.

“But the best one I know,” He smiled, “the only one that I want in my bed and at my side in a gunfight,” You sighed, closing the gap between you again and kissing him softly, “There's no one like you,” He said seriously, “If anyone is going to make a difference it’s going to be you. I mean it,”

You didn’t know what to say, tears falling freely down your cheeks. Javier brushed them away with his thumb.

“Come here,” He grumbled, pulling you into his lap, “Let me make it up to you,”

His apology felt horribly like a goodbye. Every kiss he gave you felt like he was trying to make it memorable, make sure your last was as good as the first. You fell into him, giving every single inch of you to him hoping if you gave enough, he would have a piece of you permanently. He took it all, drawing your souls together in what could only be described as an act of love.

Love. That one word would be left unspoken for the rest of time but you didn’t need to say it, you both knew it and there was no use uttering it now. This was the epilogue to your relationship, there was no use starting that new chapter. That would have to be left for a new book entirely. Someone else's book.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces, but you didn’t let him see it. You didn’t cry until you got into the shower the next morning, purposefully locking the door so he couldn’t get in to join you. You cried, covering your mouth as you sobbed so he couldn’t hear you. But he knew. He felt it too, the way you clung to him was different, the way you’d looked at him. It nearly broke him but he didn’t want to upset you anymore. He sat in bed hand on the sheet where you’d lay trying desperately to commit the feeling of your warmth to memory. Then, he did his one last good deed to you and called Stretchner to set up a redo meeting. He would do anything for you, even if it meant having that weasel have a hand up on him.

He left before you got out of the shower, leaving a cup of coffee and a meeting time on a post with a promise of dinner to congratulate you on the kitchen counter.

You tried to get on with your day as normal. You did all your usual tasks, even ones you’d been putting off for weeks, as you tried to distract yourself from the meeting with Stretchner. It wasn’t until the end of the day, you had to keep yourself busy or you’d cry again.

You let out a sigh of relief as you exited the room. You’d done it. You didn’t even need the do-over. They wanted you. The confirmation should have scared you, you thought you’d be more upset but you were happy. Things were about to change dramatically but it was for the better, you hoped.

The building was empty now, Friday’s everyone left early anyway but even the usual hard workers had left. You grabbed your jacket and gun from your desk, ready to head out and work out how you were going to tell Javier the good news.

“L/n,” Javier called as you walked down the hallway. You stopped walking and turned back to him. He had his jacket in hand, standing in the doorway of his office. He'd waited for you. “So?”

“Turns out I didn’t need your do over,” you said, a proud smile pulled at your lips as you couldn’t wait to tell him.

“Seriously?” Javier could help but copy your smile. You nodded earnestly moving towards him.

“Offered me the job right then and there,” You grinned.

“I’m so proud of you,” He smiled but he didn’t move to kiss you like you expected. He stopped still, moving away from you if anything.

“What?” You searched his face for any sign of an issue.

“Well, if you’re taking the job that means-,” He said sadly, looking at his hands.

“I have to stay here for at least a month,” you were quick to interrupt him, “Get things wrapped up and liaise with the new kid taking my job,” Javi rolled his eyes at that, making you laugh. He was going to hate your replacement. “Got a lot of paperwork and a lot of meetings to go through,”

“A month?” He asked, turning his gaze back up to you.

“A whole month,” You smiled softly.

“A whole lifetime to fit into a month,” he mused. That should have broken your heart but the sly smirk picking at his lips changed your heart. You smiled, looking left and right. The corridor was quiet. Nobody was around. Everyone had gone home.

“Want to start on the desk?” You smirked, pushing him back through the office door.

“You read my mind, baby,” He grinned.

tagging: @hunters-heathen @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @all-hallows-evie

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Remember Us - part 2

Double feature this week. Here we go with part 2. Rowan takes another step on the path of recovering his life.

Also, we get to meet the kids <3

------

When Aelin got home that night after her shift at the hospital, she was tired and not just from the long hours spent in OR. She was tired in her soul. Aelin had managed to keep her thoughts at bay while operating, but as soon as she was out they came back. It had been hard to fight the urge to go and see him again. He wanted space. That was clear so she just went home instead.

Once she crossed the threshold, laughter welcomed her. Her kids sounded happy.

She shed her coat and removed her shoes and followed the happy sounds.

Walking into the kitchen she found her mother cooking and Thomas helping her setting the table and little Freyja banging her plastic cutlery on her high chair. She was a shy girl but would become alive and loud when she was hungry. Just like her mum.

“Mama!” Shouted her daughter as she spotted her.

“Mum,” Thomas echoed his sister and ran to her, hugging Aelin at her knees “hi my darling, how are you?” She kneeled at his height and ruffled his blonde hair.

“Helping grandma cook.”

“Food.” Shouted Freyja who got agitated trying to get the attention of her mother. Aelin went to her daughter and lifted the wee girl in her arms “hi my love,” and she snuggled her head against her mother’s chest.

“Hi mum,” said Aelin to Evalin. The woman stirred something in the pan and turned to her daughter “welcome back, darling.” She said and her gaze turned worried at her daughter’s tired expression.

Aelin shook her head, knowing what her mother was about to say “later,” she added. She did not want to talk about Rowan in front of the kids.

“Come on Tom, sit at the table. Dinner is ready.” On his grandma’s orders the boy climbed on his chair and started eating his meal.

Aelin joined them a moment later, all changed in house clothes and sat at her daughter’s side.

Thomas was three and had just started learning how to use a fork properly. They would cut the food for him and he would try to use the utensil. Rowan had been teaching him. A pang of sadness hit her and pushed back the tears, now it was not the time. She would feed Freyja who was only eighteen months old.

“Did you help grandma cook?”

The boy nodded while taking a bite from his fork and gave her a big smile. His green eyes lighting up with joy. Eyes just like his father’s.

“Aelin, let me feed Freyja. You have your dinner. You haven’t touched it yet.”

Aelin shook her head “I am fine. It can wait.”

Truth was… she felt nauseous and that feeling had nothing to do with being pregnant. It was fear. Terror of losing Rowan. Terror that he would never recover his memories and her kids would be left without a father and her without her soulmate. She almost lost him once. She would never forget the day she got the call from the hospital. Those horrible moments were forever etched in her memory.

Later on that night, once the kids were in bed Evalin joined her daughter on the sofa and brought her a chamomile tea.

“The kids are asleep. What’s troubling you?”

Aelin sighed and her hand went to her stomach “Rowan woke up.”

“Today?”

She nodded in confirmation and leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder “I had just left the OR when I got a page from his doctor. I went to his room and he was awake,” a loud sob broke from her lips “he does not remember me or the kids.”

Evalin pulled her daughter closer and hugged her knowing the pain she had been feeling for the past month “Yrene had told you it might happen.”

Aelin nodded slightly “I didn’t think it could hurt that much. He had no idea who I was. He doesn’t remember our kids.” Her sobs turned into proper crying “I am so scared, mum. So, so scared.”

“I know, darling.” Evalin kissed her daughter’s head “you will have to be strong a bit longer. Does the doctor think he will regain his memory?”

Aelin gave her a small nod “but it might take time and what if he realises that he doesn’t want us in his life anymore?”

“Rowan loves you and the kids madly. The road ahead might be bumpy but he will come back.” A ragged breath escaped from Aelin. She hoped her mother was right, because if she was not she doubted she would survive loosing him a second time.

Rowan woke up the next morning with an horrendous headache. He had a fitful sleep and his thoughts had been stuck all night on her. Aelin. His wife. At her side two small shadows representing their kids. In his mind he had this picture of him holding someone, the smell of lemon and verbena strong around him. But he was sure it was more a feeling than an actual memory. He had woken up all of a sudden and hadn’t been able to fall asleep properly since. His body recognised the other one.

A nurse brought breakfast and of one thing he was sure. He hated hospital food. Which led to another series of questions. What did he eat for breakfast? Was he a good cook? What was his favourite food?

Reluctantly he finished the food on his tray and decided to kill the boredom by watching tv. According to the news it was January and the meteorologist were warning all the citizens of Terrasen of a snowstorm warning.

He was so bored watching the news that he felt glad when Aelin knocked on the doorframe “Mind if I come in?”

He shook his head “is tv always this boring?”

Aelin chuckled and for a second she saw a glimpse of him. He always hated tv. The only reason they had one in the house was because she had pestered him about it “yeah. You find reading more interesting.”

He switched off the television and faced her “I am…” he sighed “yesterday… I was overwhelmed. It was… it still is too much.”

“I know,”said Aelin trying to suppress the instinct to touch him. Not until he was okay with it.

“Tell me something about me, about my life. Us… anything.” He started, eager to know more. He needed it “do I like breakfast?”

Aelin laughed “you do, and you are a great cook. On Saturdays you always make us pancakes and let Thomas help you flip them.” She smiled at the image. Thomas on his knees on a chair beside his dad.

“You are a healthy eater so you tend to scoff enormous quantities of fruit and veggies while complaining about my crazy dietary habits.”

She was dying to show him pictures of the kids but decided against it. One step at a time. Let him become familiar with the idea of being married first.

“You are a lawyer. A kickass one at that.” His green eyes were trained on her “you and Lorcan opened your own practice. After graduation you two got a job in a fancy company but eventually got tired of dealing with rich bastards and opened a firm that deals mostly with family law but also offers legal support to us common human beings.” She had been so proud of him. The big job had left him miserable and with very little time to live. He had been stressed and after two years he had realised that the huge salary was not worth it. Lorcan had followed him and together they had started their new adventure. They had started small snd simple, but slowly as they took in more cases they had to start hiring more people and the firm had gotten bigger and successful.

“You love hiking, nature in general and winter. We are both in love with theatre and on our first date you took me to a play.”

Rowan looked at her and that tug in his chest came back for a visit.

“We have been married for seven years and you proposed at my best friend’s wedding. We were dancing and you asked me what if we were the next ones to do that? Then you went on one knee and asked me to marry you.”

He kept listening, adding some more pieces of info to what he had gathered so far. And the more Aelin spoke the more that connection he had felt the day before grew stronger.

“What type of doctor are you?”

“I am the chief of paediatric neurosurgery and I work two floors above this.”

Rowan took a deep breath and asked a question that had been burning in him since she has appeared “do you have any photos of us, of the kids?”

Aelin felt like crying and extracted her mobile phone and scrolled through her huge quantity of photos “This is Thomas. He is three.”

Rowan looked at the boy and saw a blond mop of hair just as golden as his mother’s and two striking green eyes just like his. In the photo the boy was laughing while he held him in his arms.

Aelin swiped and the image of a little girl appeared and he gasped. There was no doubt that she was his daughter. Her hair was silver as his and even her eyes were the exact copy.

“She is so much like you.” He noticed the smile appearing on Aelin’s face. While she talked about their life her face had lit up and in front of him he had the most stunning woman he had ever seen. Probably. He wasn’t sure but Aelin took his breath away.

“Are we happy? As a family?”

Aelin nodded without even thinking about it. They were, she had no doubts about it “Yes. We wanted a family, kids. It was our choice.”

Rowan nodded and wanted to believe her, needed to believe the passion and the love in her voice.

“I need time.” He said quietly, averting his gaze from hers for just a brief moment “This is a lot that I need to process. I will need time but I want to hear more.”

Aelin sobbed and grabbed her backpack and extracted another mobile phone “this is yours. It survived the crash because you used a military grade protecting cover. I just charged it. The password is 0305.” She gave him the mobile “it has photos, texts. Everything is still there, maybe it will help.”

Aelin looked at her watch and stood “I have to go, I have a surgery in two hours.”

Rowan nodded.

“You can text me if you want. My contact is under Fireheart.”

He looked at the phone and then at her “will you come back?”

Aelin took a step toward him and kissed his silver hair as she did the previous day and then nodded.

She waved at him and disappeared through the door.

He moved his attention to the phone and tried to figure out how to switch it on. Once he did it asked him a pin code and he entered the digits she had told him.

Once the phone was unlocked he was welcomed by a picture of him, Aelin and the kids on a beach. He had Freyja on his shoulders and was laughing as she patted his head. Aelin was holding Thomas potato sack style and the boy was grinning. With his fingers he traced her face and then went looking for the photo album. Before opening he hesitated. His life, his memories were there and he was scared.

There were picture of his wife. Plenty of them and she always had an amazing smile. Of one thing he was sure:Aelin took his breath away. Photos of their kids and he spotted one of what he suspected was a newborn Freyja. He held the little bundle in his arms while Thomas was at his side staring at his sister. He saw happiness, he saw joy, but most of all he saw love. Deep love that bound the four of them. Aelin had not lied. They seemed happy. He found photos of what he assumed were friends but he could not tell who they were, he hadn’t covered that part yet. Accepting the idea of a wife and kids was hard enough. He was not ready yet to add more people. The mere idea made him feel dizzy.

He was getting tired again even if it was only morning, but he pushed through and found the app with the text messages and went to look at the ones from Aelin and he read the last one she sent him go and win your case and then tonight I will show you how proud I am of my sexy lawyer.

He scrolled back through the thread and read random texts between them until he went back a few months and saw a text with a picture attached.

You are away for work and I miss you. I went for my first proper check-up and I am proud to share with you the picture of the new member of our family. The image was greyish and grainy but the message was clear: Aelin was pregnant again.

He placed the phone on his lap and closed his eyes calming the sense of panic overwhelm him.

And with his eyes closed he tried to remember.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #rowaelinkids #angst

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charincharge · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Want To Wait, twenty-one

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompts:

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Funny thing about that is I don’t know when the fuck I asked you.”

“Please don’t do this.”

Aelin stood on practically numb legs as the car pulled up to the frat house. The cold Terrasen winds had started up, and she was practically a block of ice when she opened the car door.

Thank gods her dad had already turned up the heat.

“Hey…” she said slowly, and Rhoe breathed out a long, steady breath before turning to his daughter.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Where’s Aedion?” he asked, looking around, and Aelin shrugged.

“With his boyfriend. I lost track of him.”

Rhoe frowned. “That boy is going to get a piece of my mind…” He sighed. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea, to let you go off to college. And if that irresponsible boy let anything happen to you, I’ll murder him myself.”

“Dad?” she asked nervously. “I’m okay. Can you just take me to my spot?”

“Aelin, it’s after midnight,” he sighed.

“Please?” she begged, “I just… please?”

She could tell her wanted to ask more, but he nodded tersely and put the car into gear. She was grateful that he let them slip into silence, but she could feel the tension with every second she remained closed-lipped.

As the car creaked to a half in front of Maeve’s, Rhoe finally broke.

“Aelin,” he said seriously. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Aelin nodded, biting her lip and looking up toward the sky out the window.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

Rhoe cleared his throat and tugged at his hair, clearly uncomfortable in the small car so wrought with tension. He’d been silent the entire ride back to town, and Aelin was grateful for it. Her heart was heavy and any alcohol that had been muddling her brain had been replaced with a low aching throb. She really just wanted to burrito herself in her thick blankets under the stars and have a good cry where no one could hear her.

She bit her lip and a tear welled at the corner of her eye, rolling onto her cheek with a thick plop.

“Aelin,” her dad repeated calmly. “Did someone… make you do something you didn’t want to?” he asked nervously, and Aelin whipped her head toward her concerned father. His eyes were narrowed carefully, devoid of any judgment, and his breath was steady, but she could see the tension roiling beneath his large firefighters’ muscles.

“No!” she assured him. “No.” She watched as he exhaled, the anger slipping from his shoulders as she continued. “The only person who tried to make me doing something I didn’t want to was me,” she admitted. “But I managed to stop her before she did something she really regretted.”

Rhoe nodded, almost imperceptibly, his chin lowering and raising back up as the usual glimmer reappeared in his bright eyes. “Impressive you shut her up,” he said with a laugh. “She’s kind of pushy,” he whispered conspiratorially.

“Dad…” At that, Aelin finally laughed herself. And it unleashed the next round of tears, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto Aedion’s sweatshirt.

Rhoe sighed as he brought his hand up to his face, trying to wipe the distress away from his eyes. She knew crying girls made him uncomfortable. “Please let’s go back home.” He stared at her. “It’s freezing cold.”

But Aelin waved him off. “There are heaters up there,” she reassured him. “I’ll be fine.” He looked at her dubiously, which, considering the neverending stream of tears running down her cheeks, he had every right to. “I’ll be fine!” she laughed thickly through her tears. “I just need a good, long cry where no one can hear me.” She paused and crinkled her nose. “And to text Rowan to delete his voicemail.”

Rhoe cringed. “That kind of night, huh?”

Aelin shook her head, laughing harder through her tears. “Oh my god. I should do that immediately…”

She pulled out her phone, which had remained in the hoodie pocket since she called her dad two hours ago. It beeped in her hand and faded to black. She shook it, as if that would somehow bring it back to life. But it was no use. The phone was dead.

“Motherfucker!” she shouted, earning a glare from Rhoe. “Sorry,” she sighed. “It died.”

“I’m sure Rowan’s asleep anyway,” her dad suggested. “You can text him in the morning and smooth everything over.”

Aelin looked conflicted. She was sure Rowan was asleep. It was after 2am. She’d just have to be sure to wake up extra early and make sure he knew that nothing had happened.

Rhoe raised a dark brow. “Or I could break into his house and steal his phone while he’s sleeping?”

Aelin’s heart warmed for her dad, the person she could count on for anything, as she shook her head.

“Thank you,” she said, tears starting to form again. “For everything.”

“I told you,” he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Any time. Anywhere. No matter what. If you need me, I’ll come.”

Aelin leaned over the console and gave her dad a quick squeeze before assuring him that she would be home first thing in the morning.

She opened the car door and waved him goodbye, shivering as the winter winds whipped through her thin sweatshirt and chilled her to the core. She rushed to the keypad and entered the code, relishing in the stale heat that hit her as the door clicked open.

She rummaged through the dark to make her way behind the counter, wondering if there was anything leftover to fill her grumbling stomach. No wonder she’d gotten so drunk so fast, Aelin thought. She couldn’t even remember the last time she ate. Luckily, there was a piece of apple pie with her name literally on it. She knew it would have been drastically improved by heating it up, but she was too hungry to wait the extra minute. She shoved the applely goodness into her mouth quickly, finishing the whole piece in four large bites.

She hummed happily and made her way to the back staircase, climbing slowly and letting the food settle as she made her way to the roof, feeling remarkably better already. Maybe she wouldn’t need that cry after all. Maybe she’d fall right to sleep under the stars, comforted by her favorite place in the world.

But as she pushed the roof door open, she froze like a block of ice. She held her breath as two silhouettes came into focus, just barely lit by the strand of twinkle lights and reddish orange heaters on the ground.

She blinked as their voices wafted across the roof, her heart pounding with each word as she struggled to figure out what was happening.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, shaking his head. He sighed, taking a step towards someone else, their silhouettes merging into one giant shadow as Rowan wrapped his arms around them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lyria’s too-sweet voice replied, cutting into Aelin like a dagger. What the hell was she doing up here?

“We’ll be fine,” Lyria replied, lifting herself onto her toes and pressing a soft kiss against Rowan’s lips, and Aelin shook her head again. Still not processing, until Rowan leaned down and struggled to straighten the blankets which were a mess on the floor. Aelin’s eyes flashed between the mess of blankets, and Rowan and Lyria, who watched him with her arms crossed, and suddenly Aelin thought she was going to be sick.

Because it seemed that her fears weren’t unfounded. That Rowan had lied to her. Had been lying to her. All in her sacred spot. The one spot he knew she wouldn’t be at tonight.

It was bad enough that he had lied to her, but to bring Lyria here…

She bit her lip so hard her tooth pierced through the skin, a small dribble of blood running into her mouth, making her nauseous.

“Let me drive you home, at least?” Rowan asked from his crouched spot, arranging the blankets how they’d been before he’d moved them. Lyria must have nodded, because he stood suddenly and smiled guiltily. “And let’s go quickly because if Aelin knew you were up here, she’d…”

“Freak the fuck out?” Lyria teased.

“Understatement, definitely,” Rowan said, ushering Lyria toward the door.

“So, what’s the deal with her ‘special spot’?” Lyria asked, and Aelin watched the exact second Rowan spotted her, because his face paled in the moonlight, and he rushed toward her.

“Aelin?” he said her name, confused and urgent, but Aelin couldn’t hear him. All she could hear was her own stupidity mocking her over and over again. Her inner-self saying, “I TOLD YOU SO.” Screaming it at the top of her lungs. Calling her names for being too much of a coward to go through with having sex with Sam. Because Rowan wasn’t a coward. He was just an asshole. “What are you…?”

“No,” Aelin interrupted with a too steady voice. “I want to hear what you have to say. What is the deal with my special spot? My special spot where you bring your girlfriend to have sex?!” Her voice rose in pitch as she shouted at him. “Please, I want to hear you tell your girlfriend what a loser I am,” she sniffled. “I guess you didn’t have time to her that I’m just an immature child who needs a special place to go because her mommy left her while you were fucking her.”

“Aelin, Gods no,” he shook his head. “You have the wrong idea, that’s not what—"

“How could you?” She took a step toward him. She expected him to move back, but he didn’t. He stood there, looking pained, his brow crinkled as he tried to come up with the words. She took another step forward and shoved his chest. He stumbled backwards at the force, but she didn’t stop. She shoved him again and again, repeating the words, “How could you?!” until her voice was hoarse. “I trusted you,” she said, her voice cracking over the last word, causing Rowan to snap as he stumbled over the pile of blankets.

“That’s not what happened!” Rowan finally shouted back, his green eyes swirling with upset. “If you would just listen to me,” he pleaded, before steadying himself. “I got your voicemail, and I freaked out, so I came up here—”

“To get revenge?” Aelin cried in earnest now, the tears that had been on the verge of pouring out of her before making a full appearance. “Well, congrats.” She threw her arms up. “I feel betrayed.”

“No!” Rowan yelled. “I wouldn’t do that,” he frowned. “Come on. You know me.”

Aelin leaned down and grabbed the closest thing to her, a book she’d discarded haphazardly the other night after work. She chucked at Rowan, and the pages hit him square in the chest.

“No, I don’t!” she screeched as she reached for another book to throw at him, anything to throw at him, hit him and hurt him like he’d hurt her. “I clearly don’t know you at all.”

“Ace…” he said, dejected, and his tone was enough to cut her straight to the bone.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, and Rowan recoiled, looking like he’d been shot. “You lost that right to call me that the second you brought someone up here.” He glanced at Lyria, who was still waiting by the door, and Aelin felt her anger explode.

“Don’t look at her!” Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it might explode. She was going to be sick. She was sure of it. “You should hear the names they’ve called me,” she shook her head, tears coming in earnest. “Talking about me behind my back.” She shuddered. “I knew they were assholes, but I didn’t think you’d be one, too.”

Rowan struggled not to look over Aelin’s shoulder as Lyria stepped closer. “Aelin,” she drawled in that sickly sweet voice that Aelin hated so much. “I would never talk badly about you. I know how much you mean to Rowan.”

Aelin glared, her temper rising faster than she knew what to do with. “The funny thing about that is I can’t remember when the fuck I asked you?” she snapped.

“At least let her defend herself!” Rowan shouted, and Aelin lost any semblance of balance, her temper swirling out of control as she screamed.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” she threw whatever she could at the couple, a blanket, a pillow, another book. Tearing apart her special spot until it looked as if a hurricane had gone through it.

Lyria had the decency to flinch and retreat. “I’m gonna…” she pointed toward the door, and Rowan nodded. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The door creaked shut as Lyria clambered down the stairs, the soft pitter patter of her steps the only sound other than Aelin’s sniffling.

“Aren’t you going to chase after her?” Aelin asked coldly, and Rowan shook his head again.

“No, I’m not leaving until you hear me out,” he began. “I need to explain to you that this wasn’t what it looked like. Nothing happened, and—”

But Aelin was finished. She looked at the boy in front of her, the boy who she had once known what every crooked smile, every blink of his blonde lashes, every soft gesture and different laugh had meant, now a complete stranger. A stranger who would willingly lie to her face and hurt her like this.

She took in a shaky breath and let out a choked sob.

“Something did happen, Ro,” she said softly. “Somewhere along the way, we just… fell apart.” She wiped at the hot silent tears that caked her cheeks. “Because the Rowan I know would never have brought anyone up here. Ever. Period. No matter what.”

“It was an accident!”

Aelin laughed sadly. “An accident? Do you think I’m stupid, Rowan?!” she sighed. “Lyria accidentally figured out Maeve’s security code and accidentally climbed up here all by herself?”

“Well, not exactly, but—”

Aelin sniffed loudly, “Or was it just an accident that I found you?” She shook her head at Rowan’s pained expression. Something inside of her broke. “And you can stand there and lie to my face, but I don’t have to listen.” She breathed in a shaky breath. “I can’t do this anymore, Rowan. I’m so tired.”

Rowan took a step forward, but Aelin stepped back, keeping the same distance between them, holding her hand up, and she watched as Rowan’s face crinkled, his frown prominent as he furrowed his brow.

“Please don’t do this,” he begged, but Aelin could only shake her head and cry more silent tears. Her anger had dissipated as quickly as it’d come on, and now all she was left with was a sinking hole of dejection. “I just broke up with Lyria.”

“You called her up here to break up with her?” Aelin laughed sadly. “Please, Rowan. You can come up with a better lie than that.”

He took another step forward, and Aelin’s shoulders slumped under the weight of her sadness. He took the opportunity to close the gap between them, his arms wrapped around her waist, causing her to shiver.

“I’m not lying to you, damnit, Aelin.”

“Let me go,” she mumbled, though internally she relished the feeling of his palms on her back. She let the heat seep through the fabric of Aedion’s sweatshirt, leaning back slightly into his touch as she lifted her chin.

“I can’t,” he said softly. “You’re my best friend,” he whispered resolutely. And it broke her all over again. All the times he’d said those words she’d heard the underlying ‘I love you.’ But it had disappeared as soon as she’d heard Lyria’s voice on her roof.

“I hate you,” she breathed, stepping out of his stunned arms. They dropped to his sides as she turned on her heel, her vision blurred by her tears as she ran back down the stairs, tearing out of Maeve’s as quickly as she could. She could never go up there again. Her safe place was ruined. Her friendship with Rowan was ruined. Everything was ruined.

It only took Aelin until the end of the block to hunch over and vomit. She braced herself against a telephone pole, as she heaved up the barely digested bites of apple pie, cloyingly sweet and disgusting in her mouth. She leaned over again, expelling the contents of her stomach, until there was nothing left. She spat and wiped at her mouth, disgusted with herself for becoming this pathetic mess of a person.

“Aelin,” Rowan called out his car window, pulling up beside her. “Please, just get in the car.”

But she shook her head and marched forward, despite the small glittering snowflakes which started to fall from the dark October sky and brush against her bare legs.

“You’re going to get sick in that outfit,” Rowan chastised. “Whoever’s sweatshirt that is isn’t warm enough,” he warned, and Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“Calling me a whore now, too, are we?” she asked as she ploughed forward, ignoring the slow roll of jeep tires beside her. “I knew it was only a matter of time…”

“What? Aelin, no, I would never call you a whore.”

“Why not?” she spat. “You’ve called me a bitch.” She chuckled with absolutely no humor. “I let that one slide, you know. Because the whole Lyria thing was so new, and I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

She felt her hot tears start up against the cold wind of the night and shuddered.

“I let so much slide for you, and you’ve made me feel like shit, Ro.” She breathed, angry again. “Like shit. I let your girlfriend and her friends call me a dyke and a slut, but I never breathed a word. I just took it. Like some idiot.”

She wiped at her tears, trudging forward on numbing legs as she continued forward, turning onto her street.

“But I’m not going to be an idiot anymore.” She laughed to herself. “I could have slept with someone tonight. But I didn’t. Because I convinced myself…” She shook her head, sniffling loudly, her tears turning to icicles on her wind-chapped skin. “And now it doesn’t even matter,” she said, resolute. “Because I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

She ignored his protests as she fumbled with the flowerpot next to the door, her frozen fingers struggling to get the spare key into the door.

She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting the tears pour down her cheeks again, now that she was in the safety of her home. But a knock at the door against her back came too quickly.

The noise started the sleeping man on the couch – he clearly hadn’t made it very far after picking her up – and she watched as Rhoe blinked against the light, taking in his shivering, sobbing daughter.

“Aelin?” he rushed to her, rubbing his arms up and down her sleeves as she leaned into his warm, sleep-laden chest.

“Daddy,” she cried softly. His arms tightened around her shoulders as Rowan’s voice filtered through the door.

“AELIN!” he cried, and she was relieved when her dad shoved her behind him and swung open the door. Rowan’s hand was raised mid-knock, and in the light of their front hall she could see that Rowan’s cheeks were wet and splotchy with tears too. “Rhoe,” he said, quieting his voice immediately. “I’m so sorry, but I really need to talk to Aelin.”

“No you don’t,” Rhoe’s voice said in a tone that Aelin hadn’t heard him use with Rowan, maybe ever.

“Rhoe, I…” He tried to peer around Rhoe’s shoulders, but Aelin cringed. “Please, I just…”

“Go home, Rowan,” Rhoe’s deep voice echoed into the night. Rowan opened his mouth to protest, and Aelin felt her dad lean forward, challenging the boy in front of him to say something. “It’s the middle of the night, son. I don’t want to wake up your Aunt, but I will.”

Rowan opened his mouth again, but he had the good sense to shut it and nod. Rhoe could be extremely terrifying if he wanted to be.

“Apologies, sir,” Rowan said with a formality that shocked Aelin. “I’ll go home now.”

“Thank you,” Rhoe replied. Aelin wished she could see if he were smiling or not.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Rowan said, she was sure for her benefit as well as her father’s, and it made her want to scream in retaliation, but she was far too cold and exhausted to begin again.

“I’m sure you will,” Rhoe said, starting to close the door. “But Rowan?” he added. “Not too early.”

“Yes, sir,” Rowan said with that same too-formal tone.

And Aelin finally released a breath when her dad shut the door behind him. They both listened to Rowan’s car door close and the jeep take off before Aelin took a step out of her dad’s grasp. She wiped at her cheeks again.

Rhoe cleared his throat as he took in her reddened face and pink legs. “I thought you were safe until morning.”

“So did I,” Aelin said sadly. Rhoe’s brow raised in question, and Aelin shook her head in return. She was hoping her dad wouldn’t press further, but the man wasa clearing awaiting some kind of explanation for the insanity of his evening. There was only so much he could take.

“Rowan and Lyria were… together. In my spot. And we got into a big, overdue fight. And then I walked home.” She paused. “Rowan followed me, obviously.”

“Okay,” Rhoe said slowly, processing the state of his daughter. But he didn’t ask any follow ups, seemingly satisfied, for now, at least.

“Dad?” He raised an eyebrow at her soft tone. “When Rowan comes back, I don’t want to talk to him. Not tomorrow, not the next day, not the next week, not the next year. We’re not friends anymore. Is that okay?” she asked, knowing that the boy Rhoe turned away was practically his son.

“Whatever you want, Fireheart,” he said, and Aelin exhaled, relieved.

“I kind of just want to take a hot shower,” Aelin said, and Rhoe’s face melted as he wrapped her in a giant hug again, his arms running up and down her back, trying to soak some warmth into her skin.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he sighed. “You’re practically an ice cube. Walking home during the first snow of the season…”

He shook his head as a flurry of flakes swirled past their window.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, but her dad shook his head as he led her upstairs and cracked open her bedroom door. He led her across her darkened room and flipped on the light to her bathroom, turning up the shower to the hottest setting.

He turned back to Aelin and frowned.

“You know I’ve always had a soft spot for Rowan,” Rhoe said, and Aelin felt her stomach clench nervously. “But, if you’re not friends with him anymore, then neither am I. Team Aelin, one hundred percent.”

Tears welled in her eyes again at her dad’s words. She didn’t know how much she needed to hear them.

“I love you,” he said as he left her to her shower. “Get some sleep, Fireheart.” He paused. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Aelin stripped quickly and made her way into the steaming shower, blinking away the rivulets of glitter and makeup that still caked her skin from a party that felt like a lifetime ago. The scalding water prickled her icy skin, thawing her quickly, and Aelin let her shaky legs collapse, unable to stand anymore. Sitting on the wet porcelain of her tub floor, she brought her knees into her chest and let her head hang. But no matter how hot the water ran or how long she sat there, she couldn’t scrub the night off her. She’d been hurt more than she could bear in a single evening. She’d thought that Sam would be the worst of it, but that was nothing compared to the pain Rowan had caused her tonight. She’d lost her best friend. Forever.

~*~

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#rowaelin #high school au #i don't want to wait au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic

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yourlocallovesickie · 3 years

Note

dk if you still take requests for the beatles so apologies in advance but could you write something about maybe george coming down with a bug or something and being all bloated and achy and the others are trying to take care of him (could be poly or platonic, don't really mind)? if you want to of course 👉👈

Sorry this took a while, I went a bit overboard haha. Love me some sick George. Anyways, enjoy!

George had always tried not to be the weakest link in the group, especially because he was already younger than the others. But occasionally he would push off his own well-being to not be seen as the baby, especially on tour. The low hours of sleep followed by exhausting concert to exhausting concert and the tedious travel between them, afterparties, normal parties, interview, etc, etc . .

Needless to say they were all drained, so of course George paid no mind when he woke up from his 3 hours of sleep feeling tired and achy, his mind clouded and pounding, and stomach swirling. He'd often get stomach aches from stress and anxiety, so he popped a tylenol of five and headed to breakfast.

The others were all gathered around the small hotel table sluggishly eating their breakfast and sipping their coffee. Even Paul looked tired, and that man could wake up every morning at 5 am sharp with a smile on his face. Ringo and the aformentioned morningbird waved at George when he entered, John face down next to a half-empty box of cornflakes, which Ringo passed over to him as he sat down. The idea of eating food made his stomach gurgle angrily, and a sense of nausea began creeping up on him. He must just be hungry. He forced down a few bites of cereal before pushing it away, the others too occupied with keeping their eyes open to notice his lack of appetite, or how he lagged even farther behind the others as they prepared for the day's events.It wasn’t until they were in the car on the way to their first soundcheck/rehearsal, the other three keeping up a quiet conversation as George leaned against the cool window, arms crossed over his stomach and eyes closed, willing the nausea away that they noticed anything.

“‘Ey George, I know you’re the quiet Beatle but you’re allowed to talk y’know,” John quipped. Responding seemed like too much work, so George sat still.

“Is he asleep?” Paul muttered, tapping the younger man lightly. With a groan and an uncomfortable burble from his stomach, George swatted Paul’s hand away, recieving cheers from the others.

“There he is! Up ‘n at ‘em Georgie boy!” There was a playful thwak at his side that only made him groan again, curling over on himself.

“We know you’re tired, but let’s all at least suffer together shall we?” John and Paul shared a laugh, and George could feel a warm hand press up against his cheek, cold metal rings making him pull away slightly as they made contact. the hand hovered by his cheek for a moment, George leaning into it before the hand retreated up to his forehead. The laughter from the other two died down, and George could see their lightly concerned stares on him even with his eyes closed. The hand retreated once more, brushing his bangs to the side.

“You feeling alright, Georgie?” Even opening his eyes to look up at the other seemed too much of a challenge. He shook his head and could immediately hear the others scoot up to get a look at him. He feels two other hands pressed against his cheeks and forehead, one playfully ruffling his hair as the other three Beatles mumble words his fevered brain couldn’t put together.

“I think we should go back to the hotel, he feels pretty warm,” Paul fretted, pressing his hand against the back of George’s neck again to be sure.

“Brain’ll kill us if we cancel this close to performance.”

“Better we cancel now than right before the show when he passes out.” With a nod of agreement the three stayed close to George throughout the remainder of the car ride, the sick man nodding off against the window until he was rudely awakened by a sudden knot in his stomach. As his muddled mind struggled to wake up more he realized how nauseous and bloated he felt; like getting seasick right after dinner. The movement of the car only made him feel worse, and soon enough he had slurred something along the lines of “pull over” before throwing open the door and learning out just in time for a round of the cornflakes he’d choked down earlier to reappear, splattering onto the side of the road. His stomach twisted in agony, and even after a few more very productive, milky burps and retches a cloud of nausea continued to hang over him. At some point someone had started rubing his back, probably Paul; he could feel his delicate fingers slowly tracing patterns down his spine.

“As rounds 2, 3, and 4 made their appearance and Paul helped keep George upright and inside the car, and Jon was turned away from them both for fear he may add his own breakfast to the concoction, Ringo turned to the driver and order they be taken back to the hotel. They were a little over halfway to the studio but they figured the less movement for George the better. After they were sure he was finished for the time being they started the journey back, every turn and bump in the road eliciting a small noise of discomfort as his stomach cramped and roiled. Every time he blinked it took more and more effort to open his eyes again until finally he opened them see to see the hotel they were staying at and a surprisingly few amount of fans crowding outside, theiri screams getting increasingly louder as the car pulled up. George doesn’t think he’d ever been so relieved to see an American hotel.

Getting into the hotel posed a slight challenge, though. The second he stood up he was bent in half as another albeit smaller wave of vomit splashed up onto the sidewalk. He would have fallen into it had Paul not grabbed him once more, the others trying to sheild from fans and swarming paparazzi without being hit. The world seemed to spin and the crowd’s screams were so loud he felt like his head might explode. He closed his eyes to try and shut out the screaming and the flashing lights and the pain that they brought, and when he opened them again they were inside, half-walking half-dragging George up to their shared suite. He could still hear the screams, but they were so muffled he wasn’t sure whether they were still coming from outside or in his own head. His stomach cramped and gurgled, and George slouched over, both arms wrapped across it protectively.

"You alright there, Georgie?" John asked, and though there was no condescending note to his tone George still found himself huffing at the pity. 'I'm being childish', he thought, and with an arm still guarding his stomach he stood straight and walked slightly ahead of the others, dragging them back to their room before delicately hanging up his coat, toeing off his shoes, and slamming the bathroom door with a quick retch.

"Should I go check on him?" Paul asked, already gripping the doorknob and letting himself in. The sight nearly broke his heart. His band mate, best friend, and basically younger brother was curled over the side of the toilet, his back sweat-soaked and heaving as he gagged and struggled. There was a small puddle of bile by his feet and a spot or two on his shirt where he hadn't made it, and Paul immediately grabbed the towel by the sink and set it over the puddle, resting a comforting hand on George's back. A few minutes passed of the younger Beatle gasping and choking up his partially digested breakfast before John and Ringo joined them, and eventually they all led George out to a spot on the couch with a bowl at his feet and blankets surrounding him. Ringo slipped a thermometer in his mouth, just barely dodging the bout of sick that bubbled up with the gag the thermometer drew out.

"Ugh.. Sorry," he groaned, one hand wrapped over his stomach which twisted and contorted inside him, desperately trying to get whatever was inside him out. The other was supporting his weight, shakily braced on the arm of the couch as John held the bowl under his dripping chin. Ringo slipped the thermometer back under his tongue.

"You're alright," he responded, and George groaned as the vile was removed. "That's a fever."

"Dammit."

"Looks like no concert tonight, then," Paul said, receiving a cheer from John.

"Thank god! Finally a break. Thank you, George." The younger man sank down in his seat, and the others shook their heads. "What? I'm grateful!" With a sigh, Paul sank down beside him.

"What John means is no one is upset with you, Georgie. This happens, and really I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did." George nodded, and still curled in his little ball leaned into Paul, the others joining in as well. His stomach hurt, his entire body ached, but maybe with the others by his side this wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

#the beatles #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #sickfic #stomach ache #emetophilia #vomiting #emeto

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

By the king’s hand 🐍 XII

Warnings: noncon/rape, violence, trauma, allusions to torture.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You return to the capital but much has changed.

Note: Another chapter?! What!!!!! It took me a little to decide on how it was all going to unfold but I’ve figured it out and personally I think it’s just getting more and more intriguing.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You spent another day at Alfre castle. Loki left you to the chamber glowing with the constant spark of the fire and you were thankful for the space. Hal brought your meals and sat with you as you opened the shutters to look out onto the snowy yards for a time. When the chamber grew brisk, you closed them again and sat beneath a fur by the hearth.

It all felt surreal; like a dream. When you slept, you woke with a start, convinced you were still in the cart rocking between the slosh of barreled ale. As consciousness struck, you reached to your stomach and another shock came. There really was a life inside of you. You still weren’t certain how to feel about it.

On the third day, Loki roused you in the lowlight of the early dawn. He dressed without Hal and rubbed his eyes as he yawned. He had been busy, at what you did not know, or dare ask after. He pulled on an ermine trimmed cloak and handed you a lined cape of your own.

“Are we leaving?” You asked quietly as he hovered by the fireplace.

“We must,” he replied as he leaned on the mantle and watched the flames flicker to embers. “It is a long journey and I’ve much to do.”

You hadn’t talked much in the past days. It wasn’t that you and the king had ever had very much to speak on but there was a shift. It made you uneasy; afraid.

“Ask me.” He said as he turned to you.

“What?”

“I see it on your face, mouse,” he smoothed a fold in his cloak. “So ask me what it is that makes you quiet.”

“I’ve always been quiet.” You argued.

“Ah, but you’ve ever been obliged to counter my every word,” he went to the table and took the sewn hide gloves. “So speak to me.”

“Th-- Your brother. If he knows I am found, how is he still confident?” You wondered. “Does he truly think I would not tell what he did?”

“You underestimate my brother’s arrogance,” Loki chuckled. “And he believes he is unscathed because I’ve assured him he is. Before I sent him off after his accomplice, whom I knew he would not return with, I assured him it was the guard alone who had plotted against me.” He pulled on the gloves. “I saw the glimmer in his eye. I heard the guilt in his voice as he asked again after you. I told him you were too addled to recall what happened to you.”

“And he doesn’t suspect your deception?”

“My brother is not so clever as that. It is the very reason he gave up the crown.” Loki neared and braced your shoulder, “Up, mouse.” You stood and he swept the cape around you and tied it at your throat. “Say what you will of my father, gods rest him, he was a smart man, a wiser king. Thor inherited his brutishness but not his wit.” Loki stood back and his eyes flicked up and down you, “It is the only thing I would thank him for. And my mother of course. She was too intelligent for any of us.”

He spun away and paced around the small table. He turned back as it stood between you. “You’re quiet again.”

You stared at him. Loki rarely spoke his mind, his intent, his tricks so plainly. You were waiting; waiting for the cruel king who’d sentenced you to a cell and then his bed. For the man who had dangled you before the beasts who’d done worse.

“When we have returned to the capital, it will be as it was…” It was a question, a statement; you weren’t entirely sure.

He lifted his chin and inhaled deeply. “You are as you were; my bedwarmer.”

You nodded and pulled the cape snug around you. You didn’t expect any different.

“But you carry a royal bastard. I must consider that, too.” He continued. “I suppose, it cannot be entirely the same.”

Silence. Long, tense, hot despite the dying hearth. He looked at you and for a moment, you saw pity in his green eyes.

“Mouse, go on.” He urged. “I am listening and I haven’t time to coax your words so tediously from you.”

“Why not… Send me away. I’ll only grow bigger and when the child has come--”

His face hardened and he gripped the back of a chair. “It is my child. And you remain, as before, mine. You will have your time to convalesce but I see no reason to have you away from me.” He lowered his face, “Unless you do prefer the cell again.”

You swallowed the threat. You knotted your fingers together and nodded. Loki hadn’t changed, only the circumstance. A different sort of cruelty than his brother, but cruel nonetheless.

“Should we go, then, your majesty?” You swayed on your legs anxiously.

He looked up and pushed himself straight. “Let’s,” he waved you across the room, “When we are returned to the palace, Birger will need to look you over and we have delayed for long enough.”

He opened the door and waited for you to near. As you came to the door, his hand settled on the small of your back. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “That child means there is a part of me in you. A piece of my life. A king’s life is sacred; to threaten even a drop of his blood is treason. You mightn’t care for yourself but you will see my child safe.”

You turned to look at him and his gaze pierced you to your core. You pursed your lips and nodded. He nudged you through the door and caught your arm before you could go far. He took your hand as he guided you down the spiral stairs.

“Be cautious,” he said, “These steps are treacherous.”

You let him see you through the descent as your blood grew cold. You watched the dark ends of his hair mingle with the pale fur of his collar. A shiver crawled over your flesh and you blinked away tears. Had you been stupid enough to think he cared for you? No, it was only what you could do for him; what you could give him.

🐍

You were ushered into a carriage, this one unlike the frigid cart with its stout kegs. There were cushioned benches and fur blankets awaiting you. You suspected, however, that if it wasn’t for your condition, your transport would not be so generous. Hal sat across from you as you broke your fast on nuts and oaty bread. The boy’s task was to make sure you ate and rested upon the journey. Well, there wasn’t much else to do or that you wanted to do.

He was quiet as he opened a book and read and you peeked out around the curtains, the hooves of horses trod through the snow noisily, and the voices of your escort rose now and again. You hugged a fur around you leaned against the wall of the carriage.

You peeked over at the boy. What was it to be a man? To be a noble? He might be Loki’s attendant but he had more freedom than you could dream of.

“What is it you read?” You asked curiously, bored of the grinding turn of wheels and powder of snow without.

“A Reflection on Knighthood and Gallantry,” he closed the book and smiled up at you. “The king bids it.”

“The king tells you what to read?” You wondered.

His smile grew brighter and his cheeks coloured. “He does now that he has named me his squire.” He declared. “This book is a guide on how to be a proper knight.”

“And you can learn all that from letters?” You squinted.

“And the king would teach me combat by sword,” he explained, “Train me to fight in his name.”

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “That is a great honour. Do I call you ‘sir’ now?”

“Not yet,” he chuckled, “My lady--”

“That will never be my title,” you frowned, “I am still just… what I was.”

His smile fell and he watched you. He bent his head and thought before he spoke again. “The king did worry. He is only stubborn about his thoughts. Mostly about his emotions.”

“He cares for me as he does his favourite horse,” you scoffed, “If he could not ride anymore, he would merely find a new steed to carry him.”

“But you carry his child,” Hal countered, “That is a blessing.”

“A curse. A child I will not be allowed to love.” You folded your hands before your stomach. “A child many would hate for its ill-breeding.”

Hal was quiet. He set the book down on the bench and shifted.

“I was with him when you disappeared. He was angry at first. That is often his first reaction. He thought you had run from him after how you’d been arguing since your illness. Then when his men did not discover you, he was concerned. And he saw the change in his brother and his guard.” The boy lowered his voice, “As I poured him wine, of which he drank much, he confessed he thought you dead.”

“And that thought troubled him?” You challenged.

“I think it did. He did not say it but he did not need to.”

You shook your head and sighed. “He would find another.” You said, “Easily. There are hundreds of peasants on the very streets I came from.”

“Well, he did change in your absence and the shadow has fallen away from him since your return,” Hal said softly, “Even as he readies for his betrothed he does linger with you.”

“Betrothed…” You’d heard the word before, from Thor. You hadn’t bothered to ask, hadn’t been so concerned or brazen. A king would need to marry eventually. You dared to hope it might distract Loki from you. “He is to marry?”

“A young princess from Ervil,” Hal said, “Syndia. She is expected in the spring.”

“So why should he want me back? He will get a proper heir on his bride.” You grumbled.

“Yes, why should he?” Hal grinned.

“Oh, hush,” you scowled, “You are young. The world seems romantic at your age. You will find it is truly tragic.”

The boy was quiet and his expression remained cheerful as he watched you. You tried to ignore him as you hunched in your seat. You pressed your palms to your stomach as it stirred. Were you hungry? Nauseous? It was hard to tell one from another.

“Stop,” you snapped at last as you looked to Hal again. “Don’t look at me thus.”

“My…” He stopped himself from the misplaced title, “I am happy to have you back, even if you will not believe it.” He said and took up his book again. “It was quiet without you.”

🐍

The capital was white with winter. You couldn’t bear to watch the streets pass as you entered the city. You would only be reminded of the life you’d never have again. You were tired and achy from days in the carriage. Sleep came in spurts but when you dozed, you returned to the grasp of your former tormentors. Awake, you never quite shook their hold on you.

You rolled through the gates of the palace and your carriage was directed around the back. You were shown into the royal abode apart from Loki; still a secret kept.

As you were ushered down the corridors by the armored guards, you found it hard to keep your feet moving. You were reminded of Magnus and you had the stabbing urge to flee. The further you got, the more the finality of your sentence returned to you. You hadn’t been rescued, only returned to your former keeper.

You were shown into a chamber apart from the king’s. The change roiled your nerves and made you uneasy as you waited alone in the rooms. Perhaps he might be done with you. Perhaps you might wait out your pregnancy. Perhaps he might be diverted by his pending marriage and new bride. It might not be all as dire as you thought.

You paced as the door opened. Loki entered. It had been hours since your arrival but you hadn’t been able to rest. Every time you sat, you were back up on your feet within minutes. The king barely noticed you as he unbuttoned his deep green jacket and pulled a chair away from the square table for himself. He sat with a long sigh.

“You should not fret so,” he rebuked, “Sit. You will drive both of us mad.”

You stopped but did not sit. You turned to him and your skirts swirled around your legs. They were thicker than those he’d given you before; plainer. Thick wool padded for the winter air. He tilted his head as he took you in.

“My chambers are currently under repair,” he said, “So we will abide these.”

You chewed your lip and picked at the cuff of the gown. He kicked out the other chair and pointed to it.

“Sit,” he ordered, “Before I tie you down.”

You flinched. Your hands trembled and you clutched your wrist as you recalled the shackles around them. You still felt the weight; the skin still raw and tender. You remembered vaguely Hal and the guards struggling to unscrew them. You looked down at your hands and took a step back. You were overcome with a swell of terror.

Your legs crumpled and you curled up on the floor, covering your head as if you would be beaten. You rocked on your side and murmured, though your words did not make any sense, even to you.

You heard the chair, footsteps, and felt a warmth on your arm. You smacked Loki away as he touched you and you felt sobs lodged in your throat as you fought to hold them back. He caught your arm and cooed as he stroked your cheek.

“Mouse, little mouse,” he said calmly, “Shhh, please, stop this.”

He snaked his arm beneath you as he sat on the floor and drew your upper half into his lap. He said your name and his thumbs gently brushed back and forth against your temples. He never used your name. You grabbed his wrist and your eyes rounded as you gaped up at him. You were helpless as your wits scattered around you.

“What’s wrong with me?” You whimpered.

“Nothing at all,” he moved to sit with you between his legs and leaned you against him. He rocked you back and forth as a hand stretched over your stomach and the other rested gently on your chest. “You’re safe.”

“No, no, I’m not. I’m not!” You shook and kicked your legs.

He hushed you again as he continued to lull you. You gripped his leg tightly and he let you. He counted your breath as his fingers tapped lightly on your chest and you calmed after some time.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered. “Mouse, can I move you to the bed?”

You nodded and he carefully stood. He lifted you to your feet and led you with an arm around your back through to the bedchamber. He sat you down on the edge of the mattress and dusted off your skirts.

“You’ve made a mess of this.” He sniffed and sat beside you to loosen the laces of the dress. You winced and he stopped. “I only want to lay you down so you can sleep, mouse.”

You went limp and let him strip away the dress before he laid you across the bed and pushed a pillow under your head. Your thin shift was taut across your swollen breasts and rounding stomach.

“I will call for Birger,” he said as his fingers danced over your middle. He stared down at your stomach and a wrinkle formed between his brows. “Rest.”

He drew the blankets over you and strode away. You heard him curse as he approached the door. You stared up at the bed curtains and curled your fingers into the bedclothes. You closed your eyes as you listened to your errant heartbeat. You felt trapped in your own body, as if it wasn’t your own.

🐍

You recalled the physician beside you. He felt your neck then your stomach. He said some words you couldn’t decipher as the king’s shadow loomed at the foot of the bed. A fire flickered and you fell asleep to the smell of the burning wood and the taste of something pungent.

When you woke, voices drifted in through the open bedchamber door. The king’s, another. You sat up dizzily and strained to hear their words. As they came clearer, you sat back against the headboard and closed your eyes again.

“The lady is here and her child. We did have to take a slow pace due to the babe.” The man said. “We’ve word the prince has barricaded himself at Starseed.”

“Ah,” Loki snickered, “Well, you’ve my maps. You know the tunnels, the passes. You’ve covered them all?”

“Four men to each,” the other confirmed. “The lady does seek an audience.”

“She will have it when I am ready.” Loki countered, “For now, you will keep her and my nephew comfortable.

“Your majesty,” you heard the clink of armor.

“And the baker’s girl?” The king prodded.

“She is in the dungeons, as you ordered,” The man replied.

“Excellent,” Loki slithered. “And she is fit to talk?”

“We await your orders.”

You opened your eyes and slowly turned your legs over the edge of the bed. You stood with the aid of the bedpost and crossed to the open door. You peered through and leaned on the frame.

“Gilla?” You asked.

Loki glanced at you and waved away the armored guard with two fingers. “As you were.” He dismissed him and stood. The man left without ado and the king stood to approach you. “Mouse, you should cover yourself.”

“What did you do to Gilla?” You caught his hands before they could meet your shoulders. “She is in the dungeon?”

“There are many baker’s daughters in this city,” Loki said evenly.

“Then tell me it is not her,” you demanded.

His mouth curved and he dropped his head. “Alright, come. Sit.” He twisted so that he gripped your wrist. “We will talk.”

He pulled you to the chaise and sat. You lowered yourself beside him as he let you go. He leaned back with the heels of his hands on the edge of the cushion and slung one leg over the other.

“It is her. She was… favoured by my brother who is now, by royal mandate, a traitor,” Loki said coolly, “And by association, it is necessary that we hold her until her innocence can be proven.”

You gasped and your lip quivered. “She… your brother…”

“Oh, she went to him all too willingly,” Loki preened, “As she did, upon my first unpleasant meeting with the girl, try to throw herself upon me.” His lip curled. “By his word, she is easily bought with pearls.”

You frowned and bit down. You were sickened by his words but could not disbelieve them. You loved Gilla but she had never been very smart. It was her foolishness which had led you to that point.

“You think she conspired with him to… to do what he did to me?”

“Oh, I cannot declare my brother, a prince, a traitor upon his perversions but I can and I have named him such upon his plot to steal back the crown he proffered.” Loki stated. “A conspiracy which I have evidence of enough to convict him twelve times over.”

“Convict? Traitor?” You tried to clear your mind of the fatigue that lingered. “Gilla wouldn’t… she’s not that--that--”

“She is dull.” Loki snickered, “Even my brother could see that.”

“So why--”

“I need witnesses for the trial.”

“Trial?”

“I cannot simply assert that my brother is a traitor. That could mean civil war. I must prove it, without a doubt, to the people. So I need witnesses against him.” Loki explained.

“And you would coerce Gilla to go along with your evidence?”

“Me? No,” he smirked, “But I think you could convince her to tell the truth to the kingdom. On the gods themselves, to confess the prince’s treachery.”

“I…” you breathed, “But what would happen to her?”

“She would not have acted in my brother’s plot, but you know men do talk carelessly after their pleasure has been taken.” He sat up and looked you in the eye.

“You wouldn’t hurt her?”

“She will be sent away.” Loki resigned. “Far so that none know of her fate.”

“And if I refuse to betray her?”

“Why, she’s already done the same to you,” Loki sneered, “But if you choose to stand on your obstinacy, I will draw the truth from her myself and she will not leave those dungeons whole.”

“You said you have evidence.”

“I do.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you not want vengeance? This is the way.”

“She is my friend.”

“She abandoned you. She left you that night of my coronation and when you did see her again, what did she do but preen in hopes of a jewel or coin?” Loki scowled, “She could not hide from me her envy of you. She coveted all I had given you. She did not care for your suffering.”

“And you?” You scoffed. “You don’t--”

“I never pretended to be your friend. I’ve always been straightforward in our… arrangement.” He shrugged. “You are kept well; you have clothes, food, and place in my bed. And despite your protests, you mewl in pleasure when you are at your duty.”

You stared at him; repulsed, stunned. You crossed your arms over your middle and lowered your head. One moment, he was holding you in his arms and cooing over you, the next he was speaking lecherously of how he delighted in abusing you. Threatening you into manipulating your oldest friend.

But what else could you do?

“Promise, she will be unharmed.”

“On my orders, my men will not so much as look at her.” The king affirmed.

You nodded and raised your head again. “Alright… I’ll talk to her.”

#loki #dark!loki #dark loki #loki x reader #series #fic #by the king's hand #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #thor #dark!thor #au #medieval au #king!loki

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wooyunhwa · 4 years

Text

kingdom of welcome addiction | seven

view pinned post for masterlist / links to the rest of the parts! note: this is part 7! I recommend reading all the parts before this one (on my masterlist!)

Genre: smut (with plot), angst, some fluff in this part

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader / angel!yunho x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: oral (female receiving), edging, very light dumbification if you squint

Synopsis: Torn between two opposing forces competing for your attention, who will you choose?

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always! Sorry this took so long to get out and it’s a bit shorter than usual parts, but I’ve been having trouble writing recently! (lots of stuff in my personal life) Anyway I hope I can update more frequently from now on! I hope you enjoy anyway~

You made your way out of the lecture hall through the same door Yunho had left out of. A part of you had expected him to be there, waiting. He was nowhere in sight.

But San was.

“I take it your angel boy didn’t take kindly to my marks?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What we did back there, it was a mistake,” you said in a hushed voice as you approached him, poised against the wall in the bustling hallway.

“Oh, darling. We both know that’s not how you feel,” he quipped with a wink. How could he still be so charming to you even when you were angry at him?

He reached out a hand to touch you, but you shied away from it. “Not here,” you hissed. “Let’s talk at my apartment today.”

He rolled his deep coffee-colored eyes. “Does that mean I have to walk? This human body isn’t good for much, I’m learning.”

“Take the bus, actually,” you responded dryly.

“How do you humans do this every day? This whole walking everywhere thing. It’s exhausting,” he grumbled through his teeth as he gathered his things up to follow you out of the building.

It felt particularly strange, being in public with him. Something about it felt wrong, illegal even, like you were transporting some sort of wanted criminal through the streets. He looked like one, too, even now. Even in his human form, he looked like pure trouble. He was, after all.

Despite your extensive history with him, small talk felt awkward. You stared awkwardly forward during your bus trip, resisting the urge to push your hips against his and feel his warmth. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his touch until he was all over you in the chemical closet, and you couldn’t help but want more now.

The tension only grew thicker as you let him into your apartment. You realized this was the first time he’d ever gone through the front door—usually he just popped up like magic. Demon magic, you supposed.

“We should talk—”

Sans lips curled into a cheeky grin, cutting you off before you could finish. “I thought that was what we were doing here, darling.” He took a step close to you, cutting off any space left between you. His eyes glazed with unmistakable lust. “Unless you’d rather do something else.”

“I—I would…” You broke your gaze away, heat pooling in your cheeks. “But… we need to talk about this. You can’t keep messing around outside my classroom.”

“And why’s that, lamb? Jealous?”

You gritted your teeth. It was useless playing his game. Honesty was the only way you would get anywhere. “Yes, San. Yes, I was jealous. I am jealous. Your lips on another girl makes me feel sick.”

You drew your gaze back up to his to take in the smug look on his face, but you were met with a serious gaze. He bit his lip slowly before clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. “To be honest, it makes me a bit nauseous too. None of them have the same... delicious taste. Kissing lowly humans is more of a chore than anything.”

“Are you admitting you only did that to make me jealous, then?”

“I have my reasons. Nothing you need to worry about, darling.” He stepped forward, pinning you against the wall of the hallway like he’d done earlier in the chemical closet.

Despite the looming guilt for what you’d done to Yunho, his sad eyes and disappointed gaze haunting in the back of your mind, you craved more of San. It crept up on you slowly, washing over you until it was unmistakable. You needed more.

You didn’t give him a chance for him to play around with you any more. You knew what you wanted now, and you were going to take it. Your lips came crashing into his, nibbling lightly at the soft skin of his lower lip as you kissed. He growled low in his throat, reciprocating against you with hungry bites, tugging and nipping at your lips with his distinctly fang-less teeth. His lip ring felt comfortingly familiar to taste, cold against you as you slipped your tongue in his mouth.

His hands found their way under your shirt, pushing up under them to feel every inch of your skin. You squirmed under his touch, cold from walking in the outside air, moaning against his mouth as his fingers cupped around your breasts and yanked your bra up, letting your breasts loose beneath it. His index finger circled your sensitive nipples, and you whimpered into him, pulling away to bury your head in his neck.

He had you worked up so easily again—it was barely an hour ago that he’d fucked you until your legs shook in the chemical closet, and yet you craved it all again somehow.

San’s deep, honeyed voice purred in your ear. “I just realized something, lamb. I was so busy fucking you senseless earlier I forgot to make you feel good, too.”

Your knees buckled under you at his works, sending pleasured waves and vibrations down your spine, contracting the muscles in your thighs until you felt hopelessly weak. His hands found their way down to the skirt he’d fucked you in earlier, this time tugging it down until it pooled at your ankles.

He slowly sank down, peppering kisses along your sensitive skin as he travelled lower down your body, dropping your shirt back into place as his knees found their home against the cold hardwood floor.

He kissed the soft skin of your thighs gently, carefully and teasingly avoiding your neediest areas. "San, please," you begged, squirming from his merciless teasing. You craved his tongue against you—if you didn’t know any better, your body would have had you thinking you needed it as badly as you needed oxygen now.

"Beg for it, baby," he growled against your thighs, swiping his tongue slowly and deliberately just shy of your folds.

"San please—please I need it..."

"Need what?"

"Your tongue—I need—please," you pleaded. You knew you were playing his game, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were desperate.

"You're so cute when you're begging. Pathetic little thing, can't even get words out," he cooed mockingly. You laced your fingers in his hair, hopelessly grinding your hips to his face, hopefully to find his tongue. He wouldn’t budge. “Uh-uh, lamb. I’ll get there. Patience.”

You groaned impatiently, wiggling your body again to find some—any—relief from the teasing, but he refused. He gently ran his finger tips over your legs, tickling the soft skin of your thighs with his torturously light touch. He licked a long stripe up the sweat-slick skin of your inner thigh, grasping your thighs harshly to keep you still as you squirmed under him.

“San—San I can’t take it,” you whined.

He looked up at you with hungry, playful eyes. You could tell he was basking in every second of you conceding to his control. “Okay, darling. But only because you’re too delicious to resist.”

You could swear you ascended to heaven for a moment when his tongue met between your legs. You melted against the wall, gripping your fingers tighter in his hair. He licked skillfully, deliberately, as if he had been planning and perfecting every move beforehand. Maybe he was that good, or maybe you were just that horny.

He brought his fingers up, pushing them inside slowly as he worked carefully at your clit. It was like he slowed down every time you were close to your edge, as you started to grip tighter and grind against his face harder, he pulled back, slowing the thrusts of his fingers inside and swiping his tongue painfully slowly. It was easy to tell when you were almost there—a string of fucks fell from your lips like it was the only word you knew. You were beginning to think it actually was.

“Has my lamb had enough?” he asked smugly, smirking against your thighs as he kissed at the soft inner flesh, giving you a break from the torturous edging.

“Yes, yesyesyes, please San—”

“Be good and cum for me now, okay?”

You nodded vigorously, but he was buried back between your legs again before he even had a chance to glance at your affirmation. It barely took anything for your orgasm to wash over you, his tongue dancing over your clit and two fingers buried deep inside you, thrusting steadily as you shook. It rocked through your whole body, waves of pleasure riding from your toes all the way up through every limb, a rush overwhelming your brain. Complete bliss. It was more intense than you could ever remember experiencing—San’s merciless teasing had paid off, as much as you hated to admit it.

He smirked as he stood up, sliding his fingers out of your slick entrance, looking particularly satisfied at his accomplishment.

He opened his mouth to speak—probably to praise himself—but his efforts were interrupted by a series of loud knocks at the door right next to you. You jolted back at the sudden noise, knocking the back of your head against the wall.

"Ah—ow—fuck." You cursed, panicking slightly as you stood there, embarrassingly exposed but suddenly wide alert after your moment of bliss.

San swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, moving backwards out of view of the door. You scrambled to pull up your skirt and panties, smoothing out your hair, which was tousled messily from writhing against the drywall.

You didn't have to move very far to get to the door—you and San had barely made it out of the entryway. You fumbled with the lock and the doorknob. The door swung open, and you were greeted with Yunho, his uncharacteristically serious gaze meeting yours coldly.

“Yunho—”

“Smells like a demon in here,” Yunho sneered, glancing through the doorway at San peeking his head into view. “Of course he's here."

“Yunho, I’m so sorry, I—”

“We should talk.” He was frighteningly serious now, and you felt uncomfortable in his dark presence, his gaze making you feel particularly small. His aura still shone brightly, but there was nothing sunshiney about the way he spoke. “Without the demon.”

“I can’t exactly pop out of the room now, Yunyun,” San jeered, tapping his feet against the ground. “I’m cursed with these earthbound legs.”

“Then walk out,” Yunho said dryly, pushing his way into the apartment. You stumbled out of the way, not daring to be in his path right now.

“Yunho—” you started, your voice suddenly small and meek. “What- what if I just… put him in the bedroom? We can talk on the couch.”

“Put me in the bedroom?” San chuckled behind you. “What am I, your unruly dog?”

Yunho narrowed his eyes in San’s direction. “That’s exactly what you are.” Then, back to you. “That’s fine. We can talk out here. I don’t need much of your time.”

You swallowed hard, before motioning to San to wait for you in the bedroom. He rolled his eyes, sulking as he shuffled his feet to the room and closed the door behind him. You hesitantly pulled your gaze back to Yunho, who only seemed to be growing taller and more intimidating by the second. You hardly recognized him like this, hardly any angel left in him.

You made your way to the couch, sinking down into it nervously. It was hard to even look at him—the guilt was already eating away at you, only compounded by the fact that you just let San tongue fuck you in the hallway minutes before.

He sat down next to you, maintaining a significant distance.

“Yunho, I—” you started, but he wouldn’t let you finish.

“It was a mistake. Letting my emotions get clouded like that, it was a mistake. It was unprofessional of me to walk away from you like that. My job is, was, and always will be to protect you. It can’t be any more,” he said with a sigh, dropping his eyes to the upholstery. His mouth was slightly agape, as if it was itching to say more, so you didn’t dare speak. “We can’t do this anymore. You and I. Kissing. Cuddling. Or... anything else. Our relationship needs to be strictly business from now on.”

You gulped, taking in his words. They stung harshly in your chest, like a knife digging in. But you knew he wouldn’t budge. It was no use fighting it. He was deadly serious. “I—I understand. It won’t happen again.” The room fell silent for a moment. “But… but what about school? Can we still—”

“I’ll play that role at school. Acting. That’s all it can be. I don’t want any rumors circulating if we were to ‘break up’.” He lifted his gaze back to meet yours, softer now. He glowed once more, and it felt like a weight was lifted off your chest as he softened his demeanor. “Y/N, I care about you. But I can’t care any more than I’m assigned to care. It’s unprofessional, and I won’t let it happen again.”

You nodded silently, tears welling in your eyes, but you shoved them down. You weren’t dating him, not in real life at least, but it still felt like he was breaking up with you. Your body ached as you pushed the tears as far down as you could, willing them not to spill over with everything you had. You refused to break down in front of him.

“That was all I needed to say. I’ll let you get back to… whatever you were doing with San,” he signed, pushing himself off the couch with his large palms. “I guess he’s harmless in this form, anyway. A bit pathetic, really. Still, call if you need me. I’m your guardian after all.” He gave an empathetic smile, more closely resembling the Yunho you knew.

You nodded in agreement, unable to choke out words for fear of your voice cracking and letting go of the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment.

He left just as quickly as you came, and the minute you clicked the lock behind him, you couldn't stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

You didn't want San to see you like this—crying pathetically over Yunho. You knew he wouldn't understand, he hated the guy, and his jealousy over him was palpable every time they were in the same room. You choked the tears in as you opened the door to the bedroom. San was splayed out on the bed, leaning charmingly against the pillows.

"How's the angel boy?" he sneered.

His words alone were enough to immediately bring the sting to your swollen eyes again, unable to keep the tears back. You let out a single choked sob before collecting yourself. A lump collected in your throat as you spoke. "I-I don't want to talk about it."

You watched with slightly blurred vision as San's expression seemed to soften. "Come here, lamb."

You stumbled over to him, collapsing next to him. He opened his arms up invitingly. Was he asking you to… cuddle? That was certainly new.

"I—I didn't want to cry in front of you. Especially over… Yunho. I thought you'd just be an asshole about it."

"You're only pretty when you're crying over me, darling. Not when you're actually sad." He wiggled his fingers, arms still outstretched, offering his warm embrace. "I'm soulless, not heartless. Remember?"

You couldn’t believe he was actually offering you his comfort like this, but you weren’t going to reject him. After everything, you just craved human touch. Well… mostly human.

You let out a few gasped sobs as you learned in and nuzzled against his chest, his warm arms pulling around you to keep you still as your body shook from crying. He stroked your back comfortingly, staying surprisingly quiet as he did so, with none of his usual quips or snarky offhanded comments.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but at a certain point you couldn't even be sure why you were crying anymore. All you knew was his warmth, his arms, his scent, and the way he ran his hands from your hair all the way down your back so softly.

Your vision drifted away into black, the last thing you remember was his fingers laced in your hair and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under you.

You woke up to a soft filtering of moonlight through the windows of your bedroom. Your phone alerted you to the fact that it was 3am. You weren't exactly sure when you went to bed, only that you fell asleep in San’s arms after quite a while.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted by a light snore and San twitching gently under you in his sleep.

His sleep.

You'd never seen him sleep before. His demon form didn't do this.

He was shockingly adorable in this state, mouth slightly agape, a small amount drool pooling at the corners of his lips. His hand twitched by his side, like a sleeping cat dreaming about chasing mice.

He looked vulnerable in a way you never imagined he could be. Despite your heavy eyelids threatening to lull you back to sleep, you wanted to watch him like this for as long as you could. You climbed carefully out of the bed, draping an extra blanket you had over him carefully. He was still fully clothed, but you couldn't risk waking him like this. He looked so peaceful.

You imagined it must have felt amazing for him to experience sleep in his human form—you were actually still exhausted yourself, immediately collapsing back into bed after stripping your street clothes from the day and changing into a more comfortable set of panties and a tee.

You slept for the rest of the night next to him. You woke up at one point with his heavy arm draped over you, unconsciously cuddling you in your sleep.

It was everything you wanted, everything you needed, and yet something about it was painful—the part of you that remembered it couldn’t always be like this. He wasn’t going to stay in his human form forever, he’d soon go back to being a sleepless demon, bound by his work. He couldn’t stay and sleep with you every night. He couldn’t hold you while you cried, not without a contract. He wasn’t yours.

And yet you slept peacefully, temporarily comforted by his warmth, his presence, his adorable sleepiness.

But you knew, deep down you knew—everything comes to an end.

#ateez smut #san smut #yunho smut #choi san smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez x reader #san x reader #yunho x reader #hongjoong smut #mingi smut #yeosang smut

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captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years

Text

Broken Ribs- Prompt Fill

What if the Hunters broke Jon's ribs in America? In other words, Jon does not have fun on an airplane.

cws: nausea, injury, disassociation, hospital mention, fainting

I am still accepting bingo prompts, send me a prompt, a character, and let me know if you want a fic or a drawing (crossed out prompts are filled, starred ones are ones I have asks for)! Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! Enjoy!

The air of the airport is oppressive. Close and loud with the pain lancing through Jon’s chest. Bustling people, ridiculously wide expanses of space all somehow abandoned and bustling at the same time.

It’s hot. He’s too hot.

Shoulder straps of his bag digging into his back, bracing against the weight, crushing ribs that crunch sickeningly as he jogs on hole ridden legs, shoes with worn down soles skidding, only grasping purchase with the help of his cane.

He can’t miss his next plane. He can’t. He needs to get back home… or rather the Institute. He doesn’t really have a home anymore, does he? Not his flat, certainly, and not with Georgie.

Just one more flight. A long one, but at least there will be no more running to catch planes, inconveniently at opposite ends of massive American airports.

Airports are already weird, empty spaces where everything is big and loud and expensive and sleepy all at once. Places where time has no meaning at all, and everyone is in both business dress and pajamas, sometimes at the same time. But adding the whole American thing to it… is odd. It’s not that it makes that much of a difference, every airport is actually very similar, but there is still something about the tang of ‘Rugged American Individualism’ that makes his skin crawl.

Or maybe that’s the lack of sleep, and the lack of a proper shower in… too long. He hates this. He hates this. He can’t stand the feeling of grit on his skin…. not since Prentiss, not since the circus. Between traveling and being followed and kidnaped again and now traveling some more… he’s sweaty and grimy and he wants to tear his skin off, or at the very least scrub it raw. Cut his nails to the quick, wash his hair a dozen times, scrub himself again for an hour under as hot water as he can stand for as long as his useless legs will hold him up.

He gets to his gate as the plane is boarding. Barely in time.

They take his cane at the front and he wants to cry. Limping to his seat in the very back, vision getting spotty with pain. He Really should have someone look at his ribs, they haven’t been right since the kidnapping. Just the universe’s punching bag, isn’t he? Kicked in the ribs by hunters. He hadn't even Done anything. (Well... he has now, but he hadn't at that point!

He just about collapses in his seat.

Middle seat. Shit.

Christ he's dizzy. Wouldn't be surprised if he's running a fever from the pain. His body sending all sorts of signals of distress: thirsty, nauseous, tired, shaky, panicked that he needs something or he'll pass out or cry, or.... or... or.... he doesn't know.

There is a tap on his shoulder. Window seat passenger wants to get through. Jon carefully eases himself to his feet. Trying very hard not to wince, or puke, or pass out. He limps his way up just far enough that Window Seat can get through. Just.

His ribs crunch as he sits again. He tries to covertly wipe the thin sheet of sweat from his forehead. A poor effort to detract from the attention his pallor and limp are surely getting him.

He sits absolutely still. His nose itches, but no... moving to scratch it would hurt too much. He just... won't move. The whole flight, ideally. But surely his bladder and bad leg will have other ideas about that. Jon sighs as shallowly as possible. Breathing hurts.

He drifts out of consciousness for a while. Isle Seat arrives at some point. The plane starts taxiing. Jon doesn't remember the pieces, but they occur.

He does notice the plane taking off. The acceleration of the plane. The stomach dropping climb. And all Jon can think of is falling. Aching chest tighter with panic.

The smell of tea made too dark and with too much lemon. What would have been a pleasant and soothing voice if he hadn't been plummeting with the acceleration of -9.81 meters per second per second without even the comfort of air resistance. Oxygen moving by too fast to snag a breath. He could have been falling for seconds, minutes, days, weeks, years, and it would have made no difference. Hitting the ground would have even been a comfort at that point.

He's gasping. Chest crunching under the strain of his breathing through the vice grip of terror.

He orders himself to take a very shallow, very measured breath. The plane is leveling out, and he doesn't want to attract any more attention.

Luckily he has always been good about deflecting attention. Had a panic attack in the middle of a maths class in secondary school, and not a soul noticed. Window Seat is staring out the window in fascination as the houses get ever smaller and are eaten up by the cloud cover. Isle Seat is napping.

Jon is very very very glad that he hasn't run out of dramamine yet or ...he would be a lot more not okay than he already is. He is out of pain meds. Unfortunately.

Should have bought some in America. You can get big bottles there. Big bottles. And God knows he needs them.

He clasps his hands tightly and try to pull his breathing into a careful and shallow rhythm.

He is drifting again when Window Seat lowers their armrest. It strikes him on the way down. Brushes him, really. He bites down a yelp. He curls protectively around his ribs, which causes them to crunch again. That Really isn't healthy sounding. Spots dance across his vision again.

He isn't sure how much time passes before Window Seat makes to get up. He almost doesn't have the energy to stand.

He's seeing spots again, and he doesn't know how he will manage to let Window Seat back in.

The seat in front of him has lowered their seat. Jon, in the back row can't tilt his back. Christ it hurts. It all hurts. The turbulence, the standing and sitting for Window Seat, the drinks cart making far too many rounds. He doesn't get anything. Can't stomach the snacks or the provided dinner, barely manages a couple sips from his own water bottle. He knows his leg would thank him if he got up and moved around, but the thought of standing is too much. The movie that he tried to watch was too grating and it just added to how Loud the plane is. Almost as loud as his hammering heart and the aching of his chest. He can't do it. He can't do it. He can't do it.

He bites back a scream when Window Seat orders another drink. The flight attendant jostling his ribs again, passing over the beverage. This has to be the third or forth time. How many drinks can one passenger need? How many more before Window Seat will need the loo again, dragging Jon to his aching feet again?

Jon bites back tears. He was awoken by Window Seat again. He'd apparently fallen asleep on Isle Seat. ...Or maybe passed out. Jon doesn't know. He's too dizzy. He doesn't look at Isle Seat. He wants to apologize, but the thought of speaking sounds too painful. He clings to control of his breathing. Shallow breaths. Slow, shallow breaths. Don't make the ribs worse, don't make the pain worse.

Jon doesn't remember letting Window Seat back in. He possibly remembers standing? Possibly remembers black spots eating through his vision? And then he's face down on his grimy tray table. A face full of the novel he picked up in the airport on his trip Before getting his ribs busted. He's pretty sure he passed out and hand't fallen asleep, but he can't be certain.

The flight attendant is shaking him awake, and Jon tries to hide the tears of pain that causes. Yes, yes, he knows. Tray tables needs to be folded away before they land.

Getting off the plane is hard. Window Seat is anxiously out of their seat and getting their luggage, meaning that Jon has to decide if he would rather sit back down, only to have to stand again when the way was finally clear, or he'd have to stand without his cane , bent at an awkward angle. All after digging under his seat for his bag. He thinks keeping it under his seat is easier on his ribs than getting it into and out of the overhead compartment... but he doesn't know. He is fighting unconsciousness again.

The plane is too hot. Too loud. His head hurts. His ribs hurt. Sick with pain, and shaky with hungry and dehydration. He isn't sure that food wouldn't make him feel worse, however. He skipped provided breakfast as well.

At least he can't remember much of the flight. Probably a blessing.

He finally limps to the front of the plane. He almost cries with relief when he is handed back his cane. He's so tired. So tired.

At least he doesn't need to get any luggage. All he has is is backpack and cane. And a text from Elias saying Daisy is already there to pick him up.

Right.

Best not to keep her waiting.

He doesn't think he can survive any more aggression. Not for a while.

He's too tired to even panic about being alone with her.

She shakes him roughly when she spots him. Demands to know why it took him so long, why he didn't text. All but shoves him into the car. That's more than he can take. He passes out. Cane clattering to the pavement, head striking the wheel with the force of his momentum.

When he comes to, he is being carried. He hurts too badly to move, feels too sick to think. He moans into the chest of whoever is carrying him. Doesn't even have it in him to start in fear when he realizes the only one with biceps that big and fair is Daisy.

They are going down a flight of stairs. He wonders vaguely if she's going to kill him... but then realizes he might take that as a mercy right about now.

Except she doesn't kill him. She's taken him to the Archives. He can hear Martin.

"Daisy! Jon! Daisy, what did you do! What did you do to him?"

Him... Jon? He tries to ask what the fuss is about, but only manages another moan.

"I didn't break him. Your problem now." She grunts that out, and plops Jon into Martin's lap. At least he thinks... after he possibly blacks out again.

Martin is patting his face. Martin is patting his face. "Hey, Jon? Can you open your eyes for me?" Jon tries. And fails. Eyelids too heavy. "Jon, what's wrong?"

"Hurts," he whispers.

"Hurts where?" Martin is cupping his face. Jon starts crying.

He can't respond.

"Jon can I take you to hospital? Please?”

“Ribs..."

"Jon, please?"

Jon doesn't want to go to the hospital, he just wants to sleep. Possibly just sleep right there and never move again. Martin is warm and soft and smells nice and is quiet. But he doesn't have energy to argue. He makes a noncommittal sound. "Stay?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll call us a cab, yeah? Get you checked out, then... you could come to mine, if you like?"

Jon really doesn't have the energy to respond, so he just... gives it up and closes his eyes. Letting himself drift and not worry about getting carried. Maybe if he's lucky he'll either sleep or disassociate long enough that he doesn't have to actually think about the hospital. Maybe he'll come back to himself on Martin's couch. He even lets himself hope that maybe someone will take the initiative and clean him up first. The idea of other hands on him would ordinarily be horrifying, but he's just too tired to care. For now... he'll just sleep.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #fanficiton #cw nausea #cw fainting #cw hospital #cw injury #cw broken ribs #cane user jon #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #my writing #my words #fic #my art #whump

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voiceswithoutlips · 4 years

Text

Sugar - Chapter One

— pairing: Jimin x Reader — genre: College AU, Smut, Fluff, Minor Angst — word count: 2.7K — warnings: none yet

Click for Tag List

— chapter summary:

Its a normal day for Y/N, homework, lectures, club meetings and smack in the middle of it lands a hot boy, can Y/N resist him?

— A/N: This is my first time writing smut so I’d really love some feedback <3

“...what you need is some hardcore de-stressing,” Donna whispered in the middle of the lecture. “The kind where you are on your knees and …”

I elbowed her in the ribs before she could continue. Sure I was a little stressed, maybe more than a little but I wasn’t going to have some ‘hardcore destressing’. I stayed as far away from any kind of relationships as possible, even casual ones that came with certain ‘benefits’. Why? Because I didn’t want to fall into a pit of despair again. My last relationship blew up like a balloon with too much helium. It took a really long time for me to pull myself out of depression. So no more relationships, no more men or women. I was going to prioritize my sanity and focus on my studies. At least that’s what I told myself.

“Seriously Donna, I don’t need any kind of de-stressing, I’m fine,” I whispered back. Professor Cameron was talking about Paradise Lost today. He had the unique ability to turn every exciting story into a boring ramble. Something I learned on my first day when he taught Shakespeare as if he was reciting his grocery list. I bet even his grocery list was more exciting.

“Just come with me to the cafe, there's this new barista ...mmm the muscles on that guy. I wouldn’t mind having him with some cream,” she said, licking her lips.

“Eww Donna, keep your dirty mind to yourself,” I shook my head. Donna was the kind of person who enjoyed life to the fullest. She ate when she was hungry, drank when she was stressed and fucked when she was horny. I always envied her simplicity. I grew up learning control, you plan, you strategize and then you make a move. That’s what my parents taught me. I never did anything spontaneous, caution was my base nature.

“...Ms. Y/N do you have something to share with the rest of us?” Professor Cameron was staring daggers at me.

“Uh ..no Professor,” I said sheepishly as everyone in class stared at me. The rest of the class was uneventful, Professor Cameron went on and on with a few sarcastic remarks here and there about ‘undisciplined students’. I swear to god the man was a dinosaur, if it were up to him we’d be using slate and chalk to take notes.

“Thanks for that,” I said as Donna and I collected our bags and left the building.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee to show you how very sorry I am,” her tone was solemn but her eyes held mischief.

“Pfft, you only want to go there to ogle at the hot barista,”

“He is sooo hot. He is a second year dance major, he just transferred here. Man, the way he moves …” Donna was almost drooling.

“Not my type,” I said dismissively. There was something about muscular guys that put me off. Donna loved guys with big muscles, she loved Jocks. Personally I never saw the appeal, I liked my men on the softer side.

“Oh honey, he’s totally your type,” Donna scoffed as we entered the cafe. It wasn’t far from the main building so it was always full of students drinking their sixth coffee of the day so they could stay awake in their next lecture. We were no different, after Cameron’s class I desperately needed a ‘pick me up’ or I’d be too sleepy to assist Professor Min in the next lecture.

The first thing I saw as I entered the cafe was a bunch of girls making heart eyes at the new barista. He wasn’t much taller than I was and man was he hot. Donna was right, he was totally my type. He was muscular but not in a jock kind of way, he reminded me of a panther. He was lithe, his every movement was graceful as if choreographed. His mouth was feminine, plump lips that made me wonder what it’d be like to bite into them. His eyes slightly unfocused as if he was daydreaming about something intense. I wondered what it’d be like to put his tiny wait in a corset.

“Fuck,” the word left my mouth. I knew I was done for. Just looking at him made me hot.

I made my way to one of the corner tables, leaving Donna to get our coffee. Dumping a bunch of books on the table I started working on my assignments. I was determined not to get anywhere near that barista. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to resist him. He was totally my type. Destiny was determined to torture me.

“This is my friend Y/N! She’s our resident assistant,” I heard Donna and I lifted my head. My heart stopped. He was standing there, beside Donna, looking at me like I was the sweetest candy in the world.

“Y/N this is Park Jimin, he is moving to our dorm today, can you believe it?!!” I could not. Dear universe, stop torturing me.

“Nice to meet you,” he said offering his hand. His voice was just like the rest of him, a mixture of delicate and sexy.

“Let me know if you need any help,” I said, taking his hand like the good RA that I was. Instead of shaking it, he lifted my hands to lips, sending electricity right down to my core.

“I’m sure I’ll need a lot of help,” I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until he smirked at me.

I quickly took back my hand. That man was doing things to me. I hadn’t gotten laid since I broke up with Dan months ago, my body was screaming at me. There was just something about Park Jimin that made you want to ride him till he begged for mercy. The thought made me incredibly horny.

Donna was practically bouncing in her seat. She had informed me multiple times that Jimin was staring at me from behind the counter. I just couldn’t make myself turn my head to confirm it, I didn’t want to confirm it. That’d be a terrible idea. He was bringing down my walls like a stick of dynamite and I’d only met him an hour ago. I had to stick to my resolve.

I sipped on coffee as dark as my soul. Donna always made a face whenever we went out. She had a sweet tooth, I hated sugar. Anything sweet was bound to make me nauseous. The only sweet food that I could tolerate was ice cream. Even on my birthday I only ate two bites of the cake before I tapped out, sugar just wasn’t my thing.

“So, what do you do for fun around here,” Jimin said, slipping in the chair beside me. He had taken off his apron. He was wearing a pink turtleneck that hugged his body and tight black jeans that left nothing to the imagination. I was surprised to see him in boots with two inch heels. Dan would’ve scoffed at him for wearing them.

I was hot as a furnace and wet. I was practically leaking, I thanked all the higher powers out there for giving me the brains to wear jeans instead of a skirt. I was two hundred percent sure that he could smell my arousal. The only saving grace that I had was that none of it showed on my face.

“Depends on your definition of fun,” I said as I watched him pour 4 packets of sugar in his coffee, eww.

“Do you like movies? You can join our movie club!” Donna said with puppy eyes.

“Are you in the movie club Y/N?” Jimin asked. I almost didn’t hear him, I was too busy staring at hands as he stirred his coffee. He had the cutest pinkie in the world.

“Pfft, she’s the club president and the RA and she’s also Professor Min’s teaching assistant. Y/N is like super smart,” Donna bragged. I could see the excitement on Donna’s face. This wasn’t the first time she’d tried to set me up with a guy. I knew all her tactics. It started with bragging and then swiftly escalated to Donna setting up dates. I never went to those dates. I wondered if I would go if it was Jimin.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I mumbled. I was never good with compliments.

“You must be so busy, doesn’t your boyfriend mind?” Jimin asked with a curious look.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I knew what he was getting at.

“Good to know,” he smiled. He was cute when he smiled. I mentally kicked myself for staring, in my defense he was gorgeous.

“I should go, I can’t be late for Professor Min’s lecture. He’s really strict,” I apologized as I gathered my stuff. It was true, Professor Min was known for his no-nonsense attitude but that wasn’t the only reason. I desperately needed some release. “It was really nice meeting you Jimin, see you at the dorm I guess,” I gave him a smile and before he could reply practically ran out of the cafe.

I woke up this morning thinking about my thesis, not even in my wildest dreams did I expect a Park Jimin to land right in the middle of it. He was the embodiment of my desires. Just looking at him made me horny, which was very uncharacteristic for me. I was a romantic, I wanted to fall in love and go on silly dates. The first time I had sex with Dan was two months after we started dating. I was the kind of person to take it slow. I’ve never even had a one night stand.

“This is so uncalled for,” I mumbled to no one in particular. I quickly made my way to the women’s locker, thankfully it was empty. I locked myself in one of the stalls, put one foot on the toilet and unceremoniously stuffed my hand in my pants. I sighed as my fingers touched my nub, finally! I rubbed myself in rough circles, pressing down hard. I was biting my lips to stop the moans that threatened to burst out.

I imagined what it’d be like to have Jimin’s fingers inside me, what it’d be like to have him lick the slick off of my dripping pussy. I wondered how his dick would feel stuffed in my folds, it definitely belonged there. Would he slowly make love to me or would he fuck me like some animal in heat?

My pussy was clenching on nothing, I desperately needed something inside me. But the downside of wearing skinny jeans is that there’s not much room to maneuver down there and I didn’t want to take off my pants on the dirty bathroom floor. I had to settle with rubbing my clit as if my life depended on it.

I imagined Jimin's beautiful mouth wet with my juices as he looked up at me from the floor, my hands in his hair, holding him there, on his knees. I was so close...

“Y/N you there?” I almost jumped out of my skin. It was Donna, how the fuck did she find me?

“Yeah,” I said, my voice was breathy. I reluctantly took my hand out of my pants and adjusted my clothes.

“Come on, we’re going to be late for Professor Min’s lecture!” I followed her out. My face was flushed with embarrassment. I was annoyed at Donna, I was so close... I screamed internally, this day just kept getting worse.

After the lectures were over Donna had dragged me around the campus in search of Professor Cameron because she forgot to log her attendance. And then there was the student council meeting that ended with us having a mini party to celebrate the start of the semester. To conclude, I didn’t get a chance to do anything about the wetness in my panties. I was still hot, horny and absolutely frustrated.

“Come on in Y/N,” our dorm supervisor said as I knocked on his door. “We have a new student who needs a buddy, I hope you won’t mind,” he said as soon as I entered.

I internally sighed. There he was, Park Jimin, in all his delicious glory, standing in front of the desk. He gave me a smile as our eyes met. I quickly looked away, I felt guilty, just hours ago I had imagined him doing things to me as I played with myself. If he ever found out what I did, he’d think of me as some creep.

“Of course not, welcome to Drake Hall Jimin!” I tried to sound welcoming but I was still horny and my state was only getting worse the more I looked at him.

“Excellent, it's settled then! Y/N why don’t you show him the dorm,” yep, sure, why not. It’s not like I wanted to jump him then and there, rip his clothes off and ride him like a friggin pogo stick.

It was well past midnight and I was all alone in the study room. I had given Jimin the standard dorm tour and then left him at his room, telling him to call me if he needed anything. I was his buddy after all. I groaned internally. It was like a meteor had hit my safe little planet and now it burned my body like never before.

I slowly slid my hand down to the crotch of my cotton shorts and cupped myself, slightly humping into my hand. The feeling made me gasp but it wasn’t enough. I tugged the fabric to a side, revealing my pussy to the room. Nope, I wasn’t wearing any panties. “Fuck you Park Jimin,” I gasped as I slid two fingers in easily, I was ready for a dick but my fingers would have to suffice. I slowly fucked myself, moving my hips to meet my fingers, trying my best not to make a sound.

“Need some help?” a voice whispered in my ear. I squeaked and tried to get up but he pushed me down on the chair. “So you want to fuck me?” I could hear the smirk in Jimin’s voice.

“Dream on loverboy,” I whispered back. His hand trailed down my arm and he cupped me over my hand. He buried his face in my neck, licking and biting until he heard my moan. He chuckled.

“Tell me, were you imagining what my dick would feel like in this pussy?” he said as he slipped a finger into me. “What it’d be like to be fucked senseless?” another finger. “To be fucked so hard that it’d be impossible for you to walk the next day,” third finger. His voice was breathy, sending vibrations through my body. He refused to move his fingers.

“Stop teasing,” I said through gritted teeth as I forced myself not to hump on his fingers like a bitch in heat.

“So eager, so wet for me,” he bit down on my neck as he finally started moving his fingers at a maddeningly slow pace. He licked and bit, leaving a trail of purple bruises. I desperately wanted to touch my breasts but he trapped my hands in his other hand. Not allowing me to touch myself.

“Faster,” I commanded.

“No,” he chuckled. Why was he so frustrating?

“Please ..” I whined.

“Please what?”

“Please make me cum on your goddamn fingers,” I begged.

“As you wish,” he earnestly started fucking me with his fingers. The room was filled with unholy squelching sounds. I couldn’t move my hands, he was holding them too tight. I couldn’t kiss him because he refused to leave me neck, the only thing I could do was gasp and moan.

I could feel the pressure building in my abdomen as he fucked my mercilessly. He curled his fingers and I came undone. My orgasm exploded through me, literally, I squirted all over his fingers. He kept going, helping me ride out the pleasure. Finally he withdrew his fingers and patted my crotch as I went limp in the chair, all blissed out.

“Good night princess,” he lightly kissed me on the cheek and left.

#bts smut #bts fluff #jimin smut #college au #jimin x reader #jimin x you #pink jimin #bts jimin #jimin fluff #bcc #btscreatorscorner #sugar

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lovingrosewho · 4 years

Text

The Executioner’s Song (rewrite, sort of)

NOW, ONTO THE GOOD STUFF, and that means, the new stuff :-) I’ve been rewatching all Supernatural seasons and just had to write this. Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language, feel free to give any feedback/suggestions! <3 Ily all, thanks for reading <3

ONE SHOT

Pairing: Crowley x Reader, sort of Castiel x Reader but in a friendly way

Rating: T. Angst, fluff

Word count: 3.1k+

Summary: the title pretty much explains it buuut, basically, Reader gets upset about Dean betraying Crowley

Warnings: SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED SEASON 10, signs of depression, dialogues taken from the series at the beginning, a few curse words I guess?

When Dean handles the First Blade over to Castiel instead of Crowley, your eyes open wide in shock.

“You lied to me” Crowley says, you can sense the hurt from the betrayal in his voice.

“It’s not the first time today” Dean makes a pause with the demon’s expectant eyes “Cain’s list? You weren’t on it” Dean says and with this, Crowley vanishes.

You begin to feel dizzy, nauseous even, a void made of uncertainty taunts your heart and your stomach, you try to hide it behind being worried about Dean, which is partly true and you let that show as you hug him, relieved he’s alive, in one piece and, mostly, or so it seems, sane. Castiel looks over at you and you just know, he knows.

The four of you get to the bunker. Not a word from anyone. At the very arrival, you excuse yourself pretending a headache along the tiredness of the whole trip, so you practically run to your room.

The minute you close the door you dial Crowley’s cellphone, your hands shaking as you do so.

Straight to voice mail. You dial again.

“Damn it Crowley, pick up the fucking phone” you pray lowly.

Voice mail again. You’ve got to be kidding. You dial a third time.

“What is it that you want?” he finally answers, voice tone a bit raised, taking into account it’s you and he never raises his voice with you, either way, you can’t but let a breath out of relief at hearing him.

“Can you come over here? Please, I’m in my room” you’re not finished telling him and he hangs up.

“Damn it Crowley!” you exclaim again while you dial his number a fourth time, the second ring hasn’t sound when he appears standing in front of you.

“What?!” he almost screams, locking the door of your room with his demon powers. He’s not afraid about Sam and Dean coming in, all guns waving and pointing at him, no, he fears for you, aware that if the Winchesters hear you, not only will they scold you, but could also stop trusting you, hell, they could even lock you up thinking it was his doing the fact that you were friends with him.

“I didn’t know!” you confess instantly, body trembling and feeling like you’re going to puke any minute. You know how Crowley feels about treason, you know damn well and you just can’t let him think you had anything to do with it. He takes a few steps back and looks at you up and down.

“Why should I believe you, (Y/N)? And how? How am I supposed to believe you? Tell me” he raises his voice once again, he doesn’t like doing that with you but this time he just can’t help himself “If you four had only told me the truth I would have gladly agreed and helped you!”

“I know, I know!” you whimper, knowing that is a big-ass declaration from Crowley, and that he wouldn’t normally admit to it, he’s just doing it because it’s you, and he’s hurt. You try to maintain your posture and not let your voice crack weeping “I swear, I had nothing to do with it, if I had known I’d have tried to convince Dean to tell you the truth! I swear!”

Crowley is about to vanish, tired of listening to you, tired of the lies, of the doubts; first his minions being influenced by Abaddon, then his mother, next the Winchesters and now... he never thought he would doubt of his most beloved hunter. A single tear escapes your eyes and Crowley stops dry from disappearing, the temptation to remove that single tear being more powerful than him, the King of Hell.

You’ve known Crowley since he was a blood junkie, locked up in the Winchester’s dungeon. Your friendship started as a naïve excuse to pass the time, at first with just a couple of hostile phrases a day when you found him, and obviously discovered he was a demon, not just any demon but the King of Hell himself, and soon after it turned into something else. When you broke your arm in a fight and had to spend a couple of months skipping on hunts, the boredom increased your time in the dungeon with Crowley while the boys were gone, and you began to admit you liked the guy, perhaps a little too much. Months kept passing and the habit of sneaking into Crowley’s room while the boys were out, stayed, sometimes you would even take the cuffs and chains off of him and let him walk and stretch inside the devils trap, he would always behave and let you put the chains back on. When he managed to free himself from the brothers, he would visit you in your room when no one else in the bunker could hear you; you would talk about anything, his life, your life, Hell, current or past hunts, funny anecdotes... you were not ready to lose that. Not now, not ever.

Crowley stares deep into your eyes as he holds your face in both his hands and wipes the tear off your cheek.

“Look at me... and tell me if I’m lying” you say slowly. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, Pet. I can’t” and with this final sentence, he leaves the room, disappearing and leaving you alone.

You swallow hard, your steps conducting you backwards until you hit the end of the bed and are able to sit. At last, you break down in tears, sobs and whines flooding you from the inside out when you hear a knock at the door.

“(Y/N)?” it’s Castiel “(Y/N) are you okay?”

You don’t respond, and Cas is forced to unlock the door and come in. He stares in shock at you but immediately locks the door back so Sam and Dean won’t come up asking questions. He sits next to you and doubtfully touches your shoulder for you to look at him, which you don’t do.

“He won’t talk to me ever again Castiel” you say in between sobs.

“Who won’t?” he asks confused, but having a mild idea of who you might be referring to.

“Crowley! He thinks I knew about Dean handing over the blade to you and not him...” you keep whimpering “He won’t believe me, whatever we had it’s over”.

Cas nods understandingly and reaches out to hug you, your face covering his chest with tears.

“(Y/N) maybe it’s for the best... Crowley is...” he begins but you interrupt him, separating from his grip.

“No you don’t understand. He’s changed. I know it seems impossible but he has. And he truly believed he could be friends with us, I know it, I know him. Castiel I...” your voice breaks.

“(Y/N)” he intertwines his hand with yours “I know”.

He holds you again, and you cry and cry for hours in that same position with him until you fall asleep. Castiel lifts you up and leaves you laying across your bed, he takes your shoes off and puts a few blankets on top of you.

When he comes down everything is quiet, the Winchesters have surely gone to sleep, or at least get some rest after the day they’ve had.

The following morning you don’t come out of your room, not for breakfast, dinner, research, anything.

“What’s up with (Y/N)?” Deans asks, looking towards your room.

“She...” Castiel tries to explain “Wasn’t feeling very well. I’ll go check on her”.

The brothers look at each other and nod at Castiel’s offer.

“Hey, could you please bring her something to eat?” Sam asks politely.

“Yes. Of course” Cas answers.

When he enters your room, he notices you haven’t changed your clothes, and you’re in the same position he left you last night.

“(Y/N)?” he says, leaving a tray of food on your desk “How are you feeling?”

“Not hungry” you say without facing him, smelling the hot breakfast he just left a couple of feet away from you.

“Well... you need to eat. You’re human” he reminds you.

“So? Not hungry” you repeat. He sits beside you and slightly caresses your hair.

“Okay then, we’ll be downstairs if you need us... or just, you know, pray for me” he tells you before getting up and prepare to leave your room until you jump all of a sudden.

“Wait! Castiel!” you say, startling him.

“What? Whats is it?”

“Please... don’t tell Dean what this is about... he’ll just... he wouldn’t understand” you beg him. Cas nods his head in agreement.

“Of course”.

When Cas comes down, both Winchesters are looking at him, raising his hands as asking what is going on.

“It’s... like I said, she’s not feeling very well” he tells them when he’s at the table with both.

“Well what does she have?” Deans asks demandingly.

“I... she wouldn’t say” Cas lies, which gains him a weird look from Dean.

“Ok that’s it, I’m going up” declares Dean and Cas gets up sharply.

“Dean! No! She said she didn’t wanna be bothered” Castiel exclaims worried.

The weird look on Dean remains until he rolls his eyes, says “fine” and heads for the kitchen instead.

Sam has stayed silent the whole time until Dean leaves.

“Cas” Sams calls him in a low voice “Is this about Crowley?”

Castiel sighs and nods.

“Guess she’ll just have to pull through with this one” Sam follows Castiel’s sigh.

You don’t go out of your room for two days in a row, sadness consuming you. The third day you decide you’ve had enough and come downstairs to help the boys with research, no one says a word but Dean.

“Hiya there kiddo, had us worried sick but Cas said you didn’t wanna be bothered, everything okay?” Dean tells you, making you smile softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you know, some headaches, it felt like I was hungover the whole day, guess that tension from the last adventure really took a hit on me” you lie marvelously.

“Yeah. But you’re back, we are back, and that’s what matters” Dean tells you and you smile nodding, containing your tears again, you know you are not fully back.

It’s been a couple of weeks and Crowley won’t answer any of your calls, hence you stop calling him.

You miss him, you miss his voice and spending time with him. The boys notice even if you’re back up enlisting on hunts and helping them, something’s definitely off with you. You don’t eat enough, you practically don’t sleep, you barely smile or laugh anymore, and you seem distracted half of the time. It hurts Castiel more than anyone seeing you like this, so he decides to break his vow and talk to Dean.

“You have to call Crowley” he tells Dean when he and Sam are alone in the bunker whilst you are in your room “You have to tell him it was your idea to give the blade to me, you can even mention Sam but not (Y/N)”.

“And why would I do that?” Dean asks confused and a bit angry.

“Look around you Dean” Sam tells him “Something’s off with (Y/N) since that day, it’s not even 9pm and she’s already locked in her room, she didn’t even eat when we got back”.

Dean looks at both of them and grunts.

“How are you so sure this is about Crowley?”

“Because she told me” Castiel confesses “Now, call him”.

Dean looks impassive at Cas and Sam but takes his phone out and dials Crowley’s number.

First call goes to voice mail.

“Well that’s it, I’m not calling that dickbag again” he declares and Cas catches his arm, grabbing and stopping him from putting away his cellphone.

“Try again” Castiel threatens. Dean rolls his eyes but agrees.

“Squirrel, long time no see” Crowley finally answers “How are you?”

“Listen you son of a bitch” Dean begins “I don’t know what you did or told (Y/N) but...”

“Oh I didn’t tell, much less do, anything to her”.

It hasn’t been easier for Crowley. He’s got the advantage he doesn’t eat nor sleep, but distraction has definitely been present. Every time his mother or his minions call him he’s just thinking of you, about answering your calls, about calling back. He misses you, your voice, your laugh.

“Well she hasn’t been okay and the only thing I know is it has to do with you” Dean tells him “She hasn’t anything to do with the fact that I didn’t handle you the blade, that’s on me, Sam and perhaps Cas, but not her. She knew nothing, you hear me? Nothing. ‘Cause see here’s the thing, we didn’t tell her ‘cause I knew you two got along and if I had told her she would have put up a fight and claim it was unfair. Now she won’t sleep, nor eat enough, she’s distracted on hunts and that almost got her killed a couple of times already, so you either fix it or I’ll come down there looking to kill you Crowley I swear”.

With this last phrase he hangs up and throws his phone away, without expecting Crowley to answer, this is non-negotiable.

The King of Hell’s stomach suddenly fills with hope and excitement, it’s not the fact that Dean called him about what happened, no, it’s just that he did not know you cared that much for him, he’d figured after a while you would stop calling and move on.

You wake up in the middle of the night and... what time is it exactly? Phone says 3am. Great. You sit slowly, yawning, still sleepy, and turn on your bedside lamp.

Suddenly you see Crowley standing in front of you and you almost scream whilst reaching for your gun.

“Crowley! For the love of... what the actual hell are you doing in my room?!” you hiss at him, exasperated, tossing the gun aside.

“Well hello to you too, love” he exclaims sarcastically.

“Answer the question, what are you doing here?” you ask again, tired and afraid this is just some sick joke.

“I was bored. Thought I’d pay you a visit” he says walking, or more like snooping, around your room.

“And you needed to do that at 3 in the morning? When I’m sleeping? And when you haven’t returned my calls in weeks?” you reclaim but he stays silent, still going through some of the stuff placed at your desk.

You exhale sharply.

“Whatever, I need to pee, do not touch anything, you understand me?”

“Yes, yes. Understood, Pet. I’ll be right here”.

You get up from your bed and walk barefoot towards the restroom. When you’re sit in the toilet, your mind begins wondering what truly brings the King of Hell to your room. Perhaps he’s aware that you miss him. Perhaps he misses you too. Or maybe it’s a dream. Maybe he is telling the truth and was just bored of all the meetings.

You get back to your room to find Crowley laying across your bed.

“Everything alright, Pet? Was beginning to wonder what took you so long” he tells you. Deep, dark stare into your eyes.

“Yeah” you say, approaching the edge of the bed, staring back at him “I do everything slower at this time. Now, scoot over”.

He slides a few inches to the side of the bed, letting you lay down next to him. You turn a few degrees facing him, while Crowley keeps looking at the ceiling, but paying attention to every and each one of your moves, that is until you place your arm across his chest and your hand begins mindlessly caressing the thin fabric from his suite shirt, while you breathe in his scent, the sulphur, the ash, the expensive scotch and fresh cologne.

“(Y/N)?” he begins carefully, voice low “What are you doing?“

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Yes, beg your pardon, why are you doing it?” Crowley asks but cautiously places an arm around you and starts stroking your hair.

“I... I’ve missed you” you confess as you bury your face in his shoulder “Does... does this bother you?”

Your question puts a soft smile in his mouth while he turns to look at your half-hidden face.

“Not in the slightest, kitten” his declaration is greeted with a relieved and dreamy sigh from you “I’ve missed you too, you know?”

“You have?” you ask incredulously “I thought you didn’t care...”

“Of course I care. But here I thought you were the one who didn’t care...” that’s when your engines start rotating and it hits you.

“Did you speak to Castiel?” you interrogate him, fully facing him now.

“Castiel? No. I spoke to Dean though” he says guessing what happened. Knowing you, you wouldn’t have let Dean figure out what you were so upset about, Cas must’ve told him “He wanted some intel on someone, don’t know, don’t care, and it slipped the fact that you weren’t feeling so well”.

“What else did he say?” you ask him, going back to your task of running your fingers across his chest. In this moment, you couldn’t care less how he found out, he’s here, with you.

He inhales deeply.

“That you had nothing to do with the idea of lying to me...” he feels your body tense underneath him “Which, by the way, I figured a couple of hours after our little discussion”.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” anger beginning to creep on you, body still stiff.

“Because I thought you didn’t care that much” he admits “I thought it was for the best. To be honest, I was unsure about what to even tell you after the tantrum I threw that day”.

He places a hand under your chin for you to look him in the eyes.

“I am sorry, (Y/N)” the King of Hell apologizes and you relax, hugging him a bit tighter.

“I love you” he’s taken aback by your declaration but after a few seconds he smiles gently.

“I love you too, Pet” with this sentence he brings your chin up and lowers his lips sweetly onto yours. He tastes like honey, citrus and scotch, and all you ever thought he’d taste like.

The kiss is so tender and so slow that you’re able to wander your hand towards his hair and then his cheek.

When the two of you break the kiss, you spend an exaggerated amount of time looking at each other, assimilating the reciprocated love. After a while you start talking about everything and nothing, just like old times, cuddling until you fall asleep, and Crowley, the King of Hell, has the honor to be the one to hold you in his arms.

MASTERLIST

#supernatural #crowley x reader #crowley #crowley supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #castiel x reader

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