#and its a lil lead in to the full fic that you already know about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captains-simp · 3 years

Text

Carol Danvers ~ Put On A Show

(This isn't what she looks like in this fic but it is the ✨I'm gonna make you see the stars vibe✨)

Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut

Word Count: 3,569

Includes: lil bit of public teasing, thigh grinding, edging, gagging on fingers, praise, strap on, overstimulation and oral

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Being an Avenger taught you to handle a lot of difficult situations.

You knew how to take down a state of the art quinjet in a minute. You could survive on an unknown planet. You had played a significant part in tracking down and rounding up the last Hydra agents.

And yet no one had ever prepared you to be stuck in a room with a hundred arrogant business men who were desperately trying to impress you with what they thought was power.

You were certain you could have better conversations with a caveman.

You weren't a superspy like Natasha. You couldn't fake interest, put on a realistic smile and pretend to enjoy yourself like she could.

You weren't Tony who genuinely enjoyed himself at those kind of parties and thrived at being the center of attention.

And you weren't Carol who didn't need either of those things. If she didn't want to talk to someone, she wouldn't. It only took one of her looks to make any of the leaches hurry away. She didn't have to worry about the repercussions of doing so because there weren't any. Non of the guests would ever be willing to admit they were intimidated by a woman.

Not that you were jealous of what Carol had. Carol wasn't the kind of person you wanted to be, but she sure as hell was the kind of person you wanted to be with. And that woman was one of a kind.

The distraction of the Captain was definetly not helping you keep your cool. She wore a tight fitting dark blue suit that you had been struggling to stop yourself staring at ever since you had first seen it. Her hair was hanging loose at her shoulders and had become messy from the amount of times she had run her slim hand through it. That alone had your mind reeling of what other ways you could get it to look like that.

You had been lucky so far, everytime you stole a glance at the Captain and her attire she happened to be in convosation with someone else. Although that meant you two hadn't exchanged a single word that night.

Thankfully, you had soon learnt that half of the guests never actually noticed if you zoned out, perfectly content to continue rambling about themselves. While others could zone out themselves as they talked...while they stared at your chest and feuling your urge to smack them.

You were in a dress that you hadn't bought and were far from comfortable in around these people. A thin glass of champagne was clutched firmly in your hand and you predicted it would shatter by the end of the night. You had lost count of how many you had downed with your back turned, stopping once you felt lightheaded.

You had regretted it at first, but you became internally grateful you had saved your heightened senses when you felt a familiar hand rest on your lower back.

Training almost everyday with the blonde Captain had familiarised you with her firm grip and reassuring touch. It was the only kind of contact you had gotten from her until that moment and you treasured it greatly, praying Carol hadn't noticed your slight faulted at the knees.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal this one." Carol stated in a very unafraid tone as her hand pressed into you more. You wanted to melt into her touch.

The man you had been not-really-listening to (because you could not for the life of you remember anyone's name) opened his mouth to speak and probably try to get Carol to stay, was ignored by the blonde who was already guiding you away with her hand.

Of course you didn't protest, throwing a party over it in your head while the butterflies in your stomach danced along to the music. You didn't even realise Carol was leading you to the bar, too focused on the fact her hand never left your back as she walked beside you without a word.

You did however, realise when you almost walked into the bar stall before gracefully (that's what you told yourself) sliding onto the stool. Carol sat down next to you and said something to the bartender you didn't hear or really care about.

When she did look back at you her gaze was piecing along with her usual confident aura. Anyone who pulled off a suit the way Carol did had every right to some arrogance, especially as it somehow made her even more attractive.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before." Carol said with a knowing smile.

"I don't think you'll be seeing me in one ever again." You respond as you glance anywhere but Carol, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"I'll have to treasure the memory even more then. You look beautiful." Carol compliments and watches you blush.

"You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Captain."

You don't fail to notice the way her jaw tightens slightly at the title, but she's quick to pass it off when the bartender places two bottles down on the counter.

You realise you're still holding your champagne so you put it on the side to swap it with small bottle of beer, already taking a sip to have something to do instead of figiting under Carol's gaze.

"I didn't need you to say it, you know? You undressing me with your eyes was telling enough." You choked slightly on your drink the moment those words left her lips, embarrassment shooting down every last butterfly in your stomach.

"I-I wasn't- it was an accident- I mean! I- um..." Carol watched you ramble with an amused grin and took a sip of her beer herself.

You could feel your cheeks heating up and your fight or flight instincts kicking in.

"I was enjoying the attention." Carol smirked as she moved closer to you so the faint smell of her expensive perfume overtook your senses.

You had been so sure the whole night that Carol hadn't noticed what you were doing. You thought you had gotten away with it all. Natasha's tips on concealing emotions and thoughts were clearly paying off on Carol more than you.

"And its not like it's the first time." Carol almost whispered as her voice dropped in a way that went straight to your core.

The Captain placed a gentle but firm hand on your bare knee as she studied you. Her brown eyes flickered across your face while your own y/e/c eyes stayed fixed on hers.

"Is this a test?" You whispered under your breath.

"Perhaps." She whispered back as her fingers stroked your bare skin slowly. "I'm sure I could test you some other ways though." Her hand was along your thigh now. You desperetly wanted to grab it and pull it up further but you had to remember you were in a room full of very important people.

Carol noticed you glance around the room and must have known what you were thinking because she smirked slightly before withdrawing her hand and standing up from the stall.

"Come." She ordered. You felt goosebumps across your whole body and hoped it wouldn't be the last time you heard her say that tonight.

You restrained yourself to waiting a few seconds before following Carol in the most subtle way you could manage when you wanted to sprint over to her side.

You weren't really aware of where Carol was leading you, but once you rounded the corner away from the party you sped up to close the distance between you both.

After rounding a few corners of the complicated hallway you realised you had lost sight of the Captain. Just as you were about to risk calling out her name a strong hand gripped your forearm and pulled you out of the corridor and into Carol's arms.

Her lips were on yours instantly. She had you backed into a wall before you could comprehend any of what was happened but her kiss was so eager you returned it without any thought.

The blonde's lips were unbelievably soft. They felt perfect against your own as you tried to match her pace.

Her hands were cupping your face with surprising gentleness so you wrapped your hands around her neck to pull her impossibly closer, accidently pulling on a few strands and earning a low groan from her.

She bit down on your lip harshly, making you moan audibly until you were muffled by her tongue invading your mouth.

You could taste the beer both of you had barely started and something else that was strikingly Carol. It was intoxicating and you didn't want it to end.

The friction Carol sparked when she pressed one of her muscular thighs between your bare legs was sinfully blissful. You moaned into Carol's mouth when you felt her very deliberately press against your heat and apply a teasing amount of pressure to your throbbing clit.

"Carol." You whispered her name like a chant. She smirked against you as she turned her attention to you jaw then neck, nipping and sucking at the skin exposed to her. You arched your neck to give her more access and felt your breathing become laboured.

This probably wasn't helped by Carol's hand on your bare thigh, gripping the skin in a much firmer way than she had at the bar and venturing further up.

Her hand disappeared beneath your dress in no time, massaging every inch of skin she came across.

You couldn't help it. Her warm lips, her strong hands and invasive thigh made you feel lightheaded and you couldn't stop your instincts of grinding yourself on Carol's thigh.

You desperatly sought more friction that your Captain's thigh could produce. What started as small rotations of your hips soon turned into full on desperate grinding. Your thin panties were soaked and clung to your skin, you were sure you were going to leave patches on Carol's expensive suit trousers but both of you were far from caring.

You could feel Carol continue to smirk into your neck with each mewl that left your lips. She grabbed your hands and pinned them against the wall above your head and that somehow made you needier.

The beautiful friction against your clit was one that had you moaning Carol's name continuously. It didn't take long for the familiar coil to tighten in your power abdomen and making your movements increasingly erratic.

You bucked against your Captain as you sought you sweet release only to have it pulled away from you.

Carol stepped away with a shit eating grin as she watched you struggle to hold yourself against the wall and give her a confused look.

"Why?" Was all you could manage, embarrassingly out of breath.

"Because I can." She smirked. "Did you want to cum, baby? Do you want to feel your release?"

"Please." You said shamelessly as you gave her a pleading look from your vulnerable position.

"Then be a good girl and bend over that desk for me."

You hadn't even noticed you were in an office, too busy trying to get yourself off on Carol's thigh than take in your surroundings. You didn't hesitate to place your hands on the far side of the desk and bend yourself over it so your ass was out for Carol. You glanced behind you to see Carol smirking as she took in your appearance in the new position.

She stalked towards you and placed a hand on the back of your thigh while the other pushed your back down further into the table. Her hand trailed up under your dress before she ran her fingers over the material covering your ass. Her movements were slow and teasing, trying to enhance your desperation to a place you wouldn't come back from that night.

Her slim fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties and gradually pulled them down, subsequently allowing her fingers to brush over your ass.

Once the thin material dropped to your feet Carol had you spread your legs for her as far as you could while she lifted your dress over your hips.

You guessed she really did like the dress.

Your pussy pulled around nothing as it was exposed to the cold air of the room and Carol's teasing fingers ghosting over your skin.

"Eyes front." She said as she stood back. It was hard to resist the urge to turn around and look when you could hear Carol undoing her belt buckle.

You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan when the blonde brushed the silicone against your folds. You were both shocked and aroused at the discovery that the Captain had been packing all night. You wanted her more at the thought that she had planned this.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt two slim fingers against your lips. You opened your mouth to allow Carol to slip her fingers in and tried not to moan around them at the heated gesture.

You sucked eagerly on Carol's fingers in an attempt to please her and hope it would give you some preparation for the girthy strap. It wouldn't.

You were caught off guard again when Carol continued to push her fingers forward, further than you were expecting at first then more than you could take. You gagged around her fingers and heard a chuckle from your sadistic Captain.

"Good girl." She whispered against your ear before biting down softly.

You were so caught up in the praise you almost forgot about the strap until Carol nudged it between your lips. You tried to grip onto the table more as she slowly pushed the head into your soaking pussy and moaned around her fingers still tickling the back of your throat.

You were extremely unprepared to take something that size, but that only spurred Carol on more and added to your arousal that had your lower lips slick for the strap to ease into you.

Once Carol was half way she paused when you started breathing heavily through your nose as you continued to suck her fingers. But the break was short and without any warning, the Captain thrust the rest of the girthy toy into your cunt.

You moaned around her fingers and pressed your head further into the desk. Carol barely gave you a chance to adjust to the filling of being so full. You're reminded of her impatient nature when she pulls the silicone toy out to the hilt before snapping her hips back against you and causing the strap to burry itself deep inside you again.

You knew Carol was strong and you had seen her doing hip thrusts in the gym before, but you had never imagined the force she would be able to muster when slamming the fake cock into you over and over.

Carol eventually took her fingers away from your mouth and wiped your saliva along the side of your neck before gripping it in her hands, threatening to cut off your breathing and blood flow.

Her pace never faulted. It brought you an intense amount of pleasure everytime that had you stumbling over your words.

'Carol...please...it's- I...so good." Was all you were able to say.

Her name fell from your lips over and over as your cunt clenched around the invading toy. It never failed to hit the hilt of your pussy and brushes against your most pleasurable spot, every movement made it brush some incredible nerve.

You moaned louder as you tried to fuck yourself back on her strap. You were so close to your orgasm and it had already been set up to be the best fuck you ever had so you were so desperate to finally reach it.

"Are you gonna cum for your Captain?" Carol asked as her thighs continued to slap against your own.

"Yes Captain! Please...I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me." She husks as she brings you over the edge and flying through your orgasm. You completely slump against the desk and Carol fucks you through your high.

White blanks appear in your vision but you're too out of it to care.

You're moaning, almost screaming, in the pleasure that's overwhelming you and you don't realise how sensitive you are until Carol continues to pound the strap into you.

"Carol..." You whine at her perfect pace. She's still going so hard, so fast, and fuck she's so deep inside you.

The vigor of her first fucking already had your pussy overworked and sensitive, and yet you can't stop yourself from incoherently begging her not to stop.

"Please Captain! Don...don't stop...so good- so good!" You cry out as another orgasm crashes over you.

You're shuddering now but still swimming in pleasure. You can't stop yourself from bucking yourself back against her.

Carol holds your hips down firmly as she thrusts the strap into your overworked cunt. They're less coordinated this time, more about establishing the control Carol has over you.

You can't form any words this time. The only sounds in the room is Carol's thighs slapping against yours, your whorish moans and the thick strap fucking your leaking pussy. You were vaguely aware of the audible sounds of your pussy before you break into your third earth shattering orgasm.

You're completly limp against the desk and trying your best to breathe normally.

Your pussy is throbbing and pulsing around the strap that Carol very slowly eases out of you and leaves you feeling extremly empty and sore. You know you're gonna be feeling it the next day.

"I don't think I can stand." You finally muttered weakly, not trusting your legs to even attempt to let go of the desk beneath you.

"You don't need to. Get on your knees." Carol ordered from behind you. You shivered at her words and tried to take a moment to compose yourself but the blonde was apparently growing impatient...again.

She held your hips with an iron grip and flipped you onto your back to see her towering over you. You used your arms to help you into a sitting position on the edge of the table before falling down onto you knees infront of your Captain.

Your knees ached from landing on the hard floor but you were much more focused on the smirk playing on Carol's soft lips.

"So obedient, such a good girl for me." Carol cooed as she ran her fingers through your hair and pulled you towards her now strapless core. You could see her pink folds glistening in arousal and you wanted nothing more than to taste her.

"Use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum, baby." Carol instructed.

You wasted no time. You licked an eager strip through the blonde's folds and moaned against her as you collected her wetness on your tongue. She was so sweet and you were instantly addicted.

You did this a few more times, pushing your tongue further between her folds everytime until you couldn't hold off anymore.

You gripped the back of Carol's thighs and sunk your tongue between her folds. The moan she gave in response made your stomach flip and swell with pride. It was like discovering a new song you wanted to listen to on repeat.

You retracted your tongue and began sucking softly on Carol's wet folds to taste as much of her wetness as your could. You then switched your attention to her throbbing clit and sucked it harshly into your mouth.

"Fuck so good! You've got such a good mouth." Carol praised continuously as you pulled out all of your tricks in hopes of pleasing her.

You kept alternating between fucking her with your tongue as deeply as you could to taking her neglected bud in your mouth. Your efforts soon paid off.

Carol grinded herself against your mouth as she cursed and praised you amongst moans. She was gripping your hair so tightly you couldn't help but moan into her, aiding her pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck!" She gasped out as you sucked as harshly as you could on her clit.

Her bundle of nerves pulsed in your mouth and you could feel her cunt clenching around nothing as she came with a cry of your name.

She sounded so good when she came. You wanted to hear it again, to see her. But once Carol had finished her high and you had lapped up every last bit of her white liquid she pushed you back gently.

She sat back on the dest as she regained her steady breathing and tapped her lap as she smiled at you.

You had just about enough strength mustered in your legs to allow you to stand up from your position and sit on Carol's lap.

She wrapped an arm around your waist and cupped your cheek with her hand to pull you in for a kiss. She smiled against you as she tasted herself on your lips and kissed you longingly.

"You were everything I dreamed you would be, baby. You did so good for me." You blushed under her praise and buried your head in the crook of her neck in exhaustion but mainly comfort.

Neither of you had any intentions to return to the party after that.

#brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel smut #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers smut #carol danvers x reader #marvel #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel imagine

896 notes · View notes

junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

aubade.

↳ it was supposed to be one night—no more, no less.

◇ seokjin x reader ◇ smut | one night stand!au ◇ 9.9k [1/1]

⇢ aubade (n; oh-bahd): a poem or song, usually sung at dawn.

⇢ full summary: it was supposed to be one night—no more, no less. but when your city is hit with what newscasters are calling a once-in-a-lifetime storm and the blizzard of the century, you realize that mother nature isn’t going to let you leave that easily. and neither is kim seokjin.

notes: a jinfic? couldn’t be me! 🤣 this fic is weird and wacky and idk how i feel about it yet but it’s been in the works for far too long and it’s already jin day in some places so... here it is! hope you enjoy!!!

warnings: smutty smut. minimally edited. (soft)dom!jin, bit of spanking oops, bit of choking ooPS, just a lil touch of implied exhibitionism, jin cums on u (oops again), oral (m receiving), a good bit of emotional constipation on reader’s part, some truly terrible puns and even worse poems, lots of wacky cracky humor courtesy of mr. kim himself 🤷🏻‍♀️

Winter has arrived.

There’s no longer any doubt about it—no more oddly warm days during the week, and no more stubborn leaves clinging to skeletal black tree branches. The brisk air stings your cheeks and dries out your eyes, and every breath you take feels like you’ve just swallowed ice—the cold burning down your throat before you release it again in a puff of white that quickly disappears into the velvety night sky.

But no matter how cold the weather, it’s nothing compared to the heat emanating off of the man standing before you. Strong arms cage you against the wall as his plush lips work along your neck, his kisses gentle but insistent. You can’t even find it in yourself to care that there’s poorly laid brick digging into the small of your back, or that you’re pinned against an apartment building on a very well-traveled street. The only thing that matters right now is—

“Jin!” you gasp when there’s a sudden nip at your earlobe.

Said man chuckles, soothing over the skin with his tongue. “We should go inside,” he breathes, and you shiver at the wash of hot air before nodding your agreement. His hand twines with yours, and you eagerly let him lead you through the front door of the building, following him through the lobby and into the elevator on the opposite end.

It’s easy to fall into your routine from there—easy to brush against him suggestively and trace the growing bulge in his pants. Jin’s head falls back with a groan and you take full advantage, pressing a deliberate line of kisses down the exposed column of his throat. The elevator dings before you even reach his collar, and Jin impatiently ushers you out and down the hall to his apartment, fumbling to fit his key in the door as you fumble with the buckle on his belt.

With a click, the door swings open. Jin is quick to grab your hips and wrest you inside, pressing you up against the entryway wall and kicking the door shut behind him. His hands find the curve of your rear, squeezing at the soft flesh before sliding down to the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. Your coat falls, forgotten, to the ground as you wrap your legs around his waist, your skirt hiking up around your hips. All the while, he mouths fervently at your clavicle, his teeth catching on the junction of your shoulder and blossoming tender purple bruises there.

“Jin—fuck,” you keen, and Jin chuckles lowly before moving down to the generous neckline of your dress, tugging it down so he can access the swell of your cleavage. Your back arches off the wall when he envelops a pebbled nipple in his mouth, and he hums appreciatively at your sharp intake of breath. Plush lips stretch into a pleased smirk against your skin, and you whimper when he reaches up to roll your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, sending a shudder through your entire body. “I wonder if that means you’re sensitive in other places, too.”

The last word is punctuated with a sharp snap of his hips, his rapidly hardening cock grinding against your clothed core. You gasp his name again, your fingers scrabbling for purchase along the broad expanse of his back, and he groans deeply when your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Guess that’s a yes,” he breathes, chuckling, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Jin is quick to discard your dress after that—hiking up the already-short hem so you can shimmy out and tossing it away carelessly as soon as you’re freed from the fabric. Your panties are the only thing left shielding you from Jin’s wandering eyes, and you exhale shakily when he slips a finger into the elastic waistband and snaps it teasingly against your skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, running a fingertip along the silky little bow that decorates the front of the lacy material. “So pretty, wrapped up all nice for me.”

You laugh breathlessly when he descends upon your neck again, sucking a fresh bruise into your collarbone. His hips rock into yours mindlessly, the bulge of his cock grazing your clit until it becomes impossible to ignore the growing dampness there. “Jin—” you begin, injecting as much purr as you can into your voice, “—where’s your bedroom?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You squeak as he hefts you up, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, and make good use of the time it takes him to carry you down the hall by fumbling open the buttons of his shirt. By the time he kicks open the door of his bedroom and lays you atop the plush mattress, his chest is bare and heaving, the flaps of his shirt swinging loose at his sides. “Jin,” you say again, pushing the remainder of the material urgently off his shoulders. “Want you. Hurry.”

Jin huffs out something that’s halfway between a chuckle and a groan. “Someone’s eager,” he breathes as he discards his shirt and starts on his pants. They fall to the ground, his belt buckle clinking dully against the hardwood floor, and you immediately wind your arms around his neck as he joins you on the bed, caging you against the mattress with his body. His lips slant roughly across yours, exploring thoroughly before he trails downward to swirl his tongue around a pebbled nipple. One hand finds its neglected twin while his free hand slides down to the junction of your thighs, and you exhale sharply when he cups your lace-covered mound, his warm palm molding the damp material to your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he rasps. “This all for me?”

You roll your hips, grinding lazily against his open palm. “Are you expecting an answer that isn’t yes?”

Jin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Mouthy little thing,” he says, amused. “Why don’t we see if I can make you change your tune, hmm?”

In one smooth motion, he’s hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and off your legs. His grin is crooked as he descends upon you again, and you sigh as he kisses his way up your body before finding your lips, his breath intermingling with yours. You reach up, sliding your hands along the breadth of his shoulders before trailing down his back, admiring each dip and ridge of the taut, muscular expanse. Between your legs, you can feel the blunt head of Jin’s cock, hard and hot and slick. You reach down to give it a light squeeze, relishing the sharp intake of breath from your companion, and slowly begin stroking up and down his shaft as you sit up.

“Where are your condoms, Jin?” you ask sweetly, brushing your thumb across the tip of his cock.

Jin’s head falls back. “Nightstand. Top drawer,” he answers, and you smile.

“Perfect.”

It’s easy—mindless, even—to tear open the foil wrapper and roll the condom down Jin’s cock. Easy, kissing his neck before getting on your hands and knees and asking him to fuck me like this. All of the pleasure and none of the intimacy. None of the saccharine kisses that Jin seems to be so fond of bestowing, and no time for you to think about how nice his pillowy lips felt against your own. Just the slick glide of his cock and the lewd squelch that accompanies each thrust, his hips slamming against the curve of your rear as you beg him to go harder in a voice that quivers and breaks when he obliges your request.

Slippery fingers find your clit, pinching the nub before rubbing harsh circles around it. Jin picks up his pace, and you keen out a garbled curse as your back arches under the onslaught of pleasure, the coil in your tummy tightening with each thrust. Jin leans forward until his chest is flush against your back, his tight grip on your hips a stark contrast to the soft words of praise he murmurs—words that sink into your skin like ink and leave you aching and pliant.

Your breath is coming in ragged pants by this point, and Jin is faring no better. The room is beginning to feel stifling, and yet you want him closer, deeper, harder. You grind against him, presenting yourself like an offering, and know he’s accepted when the flat of his palm comes down on your ass with a resounding smack. Your body jolts, a whine escaping your lips, but when you feel his rhythm slow and stutter, you reassure him by sinking backwards onto his cock.

“You don’t have to treat me like a doll,” you tell him, pushing back until he’s seated fully inside you once more. “I can handle it rough.”

Jin chuckles hoarsely, soothing over your impacted skin. “You want me to be mean to you, baby?”

You answer him with a deliberate swivel of your hips, relishing the way his cock presses against your walls in all the right places. Jin’s chest rumbles with laughter again, and the sound sends a shiver from your crown all the way down to the end of your spine. Then he’s tugging you up, one palm splaying against your stomach while the other finds its way to the base of your throat. You gasp when he squeezes, just enough to momentarily cut off your air.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he breathes against the shell of your ear. And then he rocks forward, filling you up to the brim and setting a brutal pace that has the headboard clattering against the wall and creaks the mattress springs.

You are no longer capable of coherent speech—only a mess of whimpers and shaky gasps that sound suspiciously like Jin’s name. Every push of his hips winds you up tighter and tighter, and when his fingers drop from your throat to rub at your clit, you finally fall over the edge, arching against him as you ride out your orgasm. Jin lets you grind mindlessly against his palm, thumbing across your clit lazily in slow circles, and you clench around him as the pleasure blazes through your veins.

“That’s it,” Jin encourages, his voice deep and cavernous in a way that has electricity dancing across your skin. “That’s it, baby. Fuck. Can I cum on you?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought. “Yes,” you murmur, letting his cock slip out. Jin turns you around almost tenderly, pressing you back against the mattress, and you shiver when he discards his condom and takes up residence between your legs again. He takes his leaking cock in his hand, and with practiced strokes and the occasional flick of his thumb across the tip, he finally reaches his high. Warm stickiness splatters against your stomach and paints the swell of your breasts, and when a stray drop lands on your bottom lip, you are quick to lap it up.

“Fuck,” Jin rasps, admiring his handiwork before his dark gaze zeroes in on your mouth. “You’re a work of art.”

You flash him a grin, ignoring the uncomfortable way his cum is beginning to dry on your skin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

That earns you a laugh. Jin leans down to kiss you—a short, sweet peck that has your heart skipping a beat, and leaves you breathless even as he sits back up and rakes a hand through his mussed hair. “Look,” he says, nodding at the window. “It’s snowing.”

You follow the trajectory of his gaze. Through the gap in the curtains, you can just barely make out the fat snowflakes flurrying down—white against the pale gray sky. Eager for a better look, you roll over, fishing Jin’s discarded shirt from the pile of clothing on the ground and slipping into it as you rise to your feet. You forgo the buttons, and Jin chuckles softly when you pull it closed around your body and pad over to the window. “I love snow,” you murmur, running a fingertip down the cold glass.

“Me too.” Jin rises to his feet and joins you, tugging the curtains aside so you can get a better look at the flurrying skies. “My buddies and I have a snowball tournament every winter, and my team’s never lost.”

“Oh yeah? Your teammates must be really good then.”

“They are,” he agrees easily, before the underlying insult behind your remark sinks in. “Hey!”

His indignant shout has you giggling and laying an apologetic hand on his arm. “Just kidding,” you reassure, letting your fingers drift up to the solid muscle of his bicep. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling yourself.”

Jin catches you by the wrist, stopping your hand from straying further with a playful little smirk. “You’re not wrong,” he murmurs, walking you backward until your knees hit the mattress. “But right now, I’d much rather handle you.”

///

It’s hard—near impossible, really—to leave the warmth of Jin’s bed. But dawn will be here before you know it, and you have no intentions of sleeping here. You’ve never spent the night at a guy’s place, and you aren’t about to start now. Not even for Jin, who’s currently singing a show tune in the shower, his voice pleasantly melodious even when masked by the sound of running water.

Commitment isn’t really your thing. Relationships aren’t really your thing. They weren’t during your school years, and they certainly aren’t now. You’ve spent your entire life flitting from meaningless hook-up to meaningless hook-up, never learning anything beyond their first name and never revealing anything about yourself. But here with Jin, you can already feel yourself beginning to slip, so the sooner you leave, the better.

Quietly, you slip out from beneath the comforter, tiptoeing to where your clothes have been hastily discarded. In the darkness of the bedroom, you fumble with your dress until you finally manage to put all the right limbs through the right holes, wincing when you accidentally stub your toe on the edge of the dresser midway through the process. You’re just about to grab your purse and check that your phone and wallet are still safely inside when the bathroom door opens, letting out a cloud of warm steam.

“{Name}?” Jin asks, and you curse inwardly at how good he looks with his damp hair pushed back from his forehead, a gray towel sitting low around his hips. “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing!” you say quickly, trying and failing to hide your purse behind your back. The bathroom light casts a rectangle of warm golden light onto the floor of the bedroom, illuminating you and your surroundings, and you blanch when Jin narrows his eyes at you.

“Are you leaving?”

You blink, debating whether or not it would be worth it to lie, and decide against it. “Yes,” you tell him, locating your phone before shouldering your purse. “I can’t stay.”

“I sincerely hope you’re kidding,” Jin says flatly. “It’s almost two in the morning. And have you looked outside lately? I’m not letting you go home in this weather.”

You frown. “I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “And yet here I am, telling you.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Jin—” you begin, but he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Do you want to freeze to death? Because if you leave right now, they won’t find your body until spring. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You roll your eyes and make to walk away, but Jin steps forward until you can feel the warmth radiating off his chest and see every stray water droplet dripping off his hair.

“Stay,” he murmurs, and you belatedly realize that he’s wrapped his fingers around the strap of your purse. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

For one brief, insane moment, you debate the viability of making a break for it. Maybe if you twist in his grasp while tripping him up with a well-timed kick in the shins—but you quickly scrap the idea. After the events of tonight, you know for a fact that Jin’s musculature isn’t just for show. You’d be lucky to make it to the bedroom door before he inevitably caught up and hauled you back to his bed—and you hurriedly cut off that train of thought before it can progress any further than that.

“Fine,” you huff at last. “Dictator.”

“I’m a real penis potato,” he says affably, and you stare at him blankly for a second before the joke dawns and you’re forced to suppress the disbelieving giggle that threatens to escape.

“Do you have a spare towel I can use?” you ask instead.

“Hall closet,” Jin replies, already heading toward the door. “I’m done in the bathroom, so go on in. I’ll bring everything to you.”

Hesitantly, you do as he says, stepping inside the bathroom and easing the door shut. It’s surprisingly tidy inside—the toilet lid is even down, much to your shock—and you scrutinize your ruffled reflection in the mirror for a few seconds before sliding open the glass-paneled shower and turning on the water.

You’re slipping out of your dress for the second time tonight when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Room service,” Jin’s voice calls from the other side. “Mind if I pop in for a sec?”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly shy. “Don’t peek.”

“I was balls deep inside you thirty minutes ago,” Jin says bluntly. Nonetheless, he cracks the door open and passes you the promised towel. He’s included a smaller washcloth in addition to a large bath towel, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see a neatly folded t-shirt and oversized flannel pants included at the bottom of the pile.

“Oh.” You swallow. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replies. The door clicks shut behind him, and you lay the clothes and towels down on the counter before stepping into the shower and letting the warm water drown out your anxieties. Jin is on the other side of the door—presumably changing and getting ready for bed—but you push that thought away as soon as it’s materialized.

It’s just one night, you tell yourself sternly, splashing some water on your face. One night won’t kill you. And you can sneak out in the morning before he even wakes up. This doesn’t mean anything. This is fine.

With a sigh, you turn off the water. Grabbing the bath towel off the counter reveals the folded pajamas underneath, and you swallow down the odd warmth in your chest as you dry off. And after several steadying breaths and a prolonged staring contest with the clothing, you finally pick up the shirt and tug it over your head, following it up with the flannel pants and pulling the drawstrings tight. Jin’s clothes smell like flowers—no doubt thanks to his laundry detergent—and something dangerously fond bubbles up in your chest at the realization.

When you exit the bathroom, Jin is lounging in bed, leaning up against the headboard with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He glances up from his phone at the sound of the door, and you smile wanly as you approach. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He gives you a quick once-over, his lips quirking when he sees the way you’ve cuffed his too-long pants at the ankles. “Sorry about the clothes. I don’t really own anything in your size.”

“It’d be weird if you did,” you tell him with a shrug.

He hums. “Very true.”

There’s a beat of silence—one that you occupy by picking at a loose thread on your oversized shirt while avoiding eye contact. Jin clears his throat after a few moments, and you glance up when he rises to his feet and grabs the pillow he’d been laying on.

“Do you want the bed?” he asks. “I can sleep on the couch, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Your jaw drops. “What? No way. I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed.”

Jin puts the pillow back down. “Well, I didn’t want to assume that you were going to sleep with me. You were trying to sneak out on me twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks warm at the accusation. “So I like sleeping in my own bed. Sue me.”

“Neither of those are really options right now, so come on.” Jin nods at the opposite side of the bed—the side he doesn’t sleep on, if the location of his phone charger is any indication. “Hop in.”

“You really are a penis potato,” you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. Nonetheless, you do as he says, lifting up the edge of the comforter and crawling underneath. Satisfied, Jin climbs in on the other side, turning to flip off the bedside lamp. “Ready for me to turn this off?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you murmur back, staring up at the ceiling and determinedly ignoring the warmth he’s radiating beneath the covers. The room falls into darkness, and you return his murmur of goodnight with one of your own. He falls asleep long before you do, his breaths evening out, but your heart continues to race long into the night, hammering away in your chest.

You’ll get up early tomorrow, you decide. You’ll leave before Jin even notices you’re gone, because you have rules and you aren’t about to break them. Not for Jin, who sings show tunes in the shower and uses floral laundry detergent. Not for Jin, who somehow manages to look positively angelic in the darkness of the bedroom, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dreams.

With that decided, you roll over and get as comfortable as you can, trying to ignore the sleeping man beside you. And after what feels like an eternity, you finally fall asleep, drifting off into a dreamless, restless slumber.

///

You aren’t sure what exactly wakes you up, but you’re suddenly being dragged into wakefulness, blinking blearily at the white stucco ceiling. Clumsily, you seek out your phone on the nightstand, your fingers fumbling across the smooth screen.

7:23am.

Fuck. Much later than you’d intended, and based on the smells wafting from the direction of the kitchen, your host has already been awake for quite some time.

“Morning,” Jin greets when you stumble out of the bedroom, fully dressed in your attire from last night. “Hope you’re hungry, because I made way too many waffles.”

You glance at the impressive stack on the counter, which is piled nearly as high as he is tall. “I think you meant to say that you made an insane amount of waffles,” you correct dryly. “How long have you been awake?”

“Too long, apparently,” he replies, turning off the stove and grabbing two plates. “How many do you want?”

“Oh.” You glance toward the entryway—ignoring the flare in your belly when you remember how he’d pressed you against the wall there last night—and wonder if you can make a break for it. Jin is clearly distracted with rifling through the silverware drawer, and you’re pretty sure you can manage a short sprint to the elevator if it means avoiding an awkward breakfast, and—

“Hey, are you cold? I turned the heat up yesterday, but the blizzard’s gotten worse since then. My toes were practically frozen this morning.”

Jin’s words startle you out of your thoughts, and your heart sinks when you turn toward the window and see nothing but white. You can just barely make out the charcoal gray rails of the fire escape hidden beneath a thick blanket of snow, and wonder, vaguely, how difficult it would be to climb down.

“I—I guess it’s a little chilly in here,” you mumble, rubbing your arms. Your dress is thankfully long-sleeved, the knit material snug enough to keep your upper half warm, but you’d foregone any sort of tights or pantyhose yesterday in a rather spectacular lack of foresight, and your companion seems to agree.

“There’s no way you’re not freezing in that,” Jin says, nodding at your getup. “Club appropriate, yes. Blizzard appropriate? Not so much. You sure you don’t want to put those pajamas I gave you back on?”

You think of the oversized t-shirt and flannel pants you’d left folded on the foot of his bed, still smelling so sweetly of his floral detergent even after a night of wear. “I think I’m just going to put my coat on,” you tell him, edging toward the entryway.

Jin hums in acknowledgement and busies himself with piling waffles onto a plate, and you dart down the hall and toward the front door. Your coat lies crumpled on the carpeted floor, and you shake it off before slipping into it, casting one last backward glance over your shoulder. Gingerly, you put a hand on the doorknob, wincing at the audible click as it twists in your grasp.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Fuck.

Guiltily, you turn, taking in the disbelief etched across Jin’s face. Now that he’s out of the kitchen, you can see the apron wrapped around his waist—pastel pink and printed with frolicking alpacas wearing red kerchiefs. He’s holding a plate of waffles in each hand, and your stomach rumbles at the sight of them dripping with syrup and loaded with strawberries and whipped cream that’s already beginning to melt down the sides.

“Look,” Jin sighs. “I’m not trying to keep you hostage. But no one’s shoveled around the front door of the building yet, and the landlord’s emailed everyone a warning to stay inside. You couldn’t leave even if you tried, so you may as well have some breakfast.”

You decide not to mention that you’d briefly dabbled with the idea of vacating his apartment via the fire escape, and instead take one of the plates off his hands. “Do you cook every one-night stand breakfast?” you ask.

Jin begins walking back toward the kitchen. “Only the ones I like, even if they do keep trying to run out into the snowstorm of the century. Have you even looked at the news lately?”

Reluctantly, you shake your head and pull out your dying phone, scrolling through today’s headlines. Even a quick glance is enough to confirm Jin’s statement, and you sigh as you take a seat at the dining table. “I guess I’m stuck here.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Jin says, sitting down in the chair opposite you and pushing a fork your way.

Silence falls for a few minutes as you dig into your food, broken only by the clatter of silverware. You stare intently down at the syrup-filled squares that make up your waffles, and it isn’t until Jin sucks in a deep breath that you look up again.

“Fuck, marry, kill,” he says, setting down his fork with a clink. “Kim Jong Un, Abraham Lincoln, and Vladimir Putin. Go.”

You gape at him, watching as he walks into the kitchen and returns with the coffee pot and two mugs. “What the fuck?”

“You heard me.” Jin fills up the mugs, setting one down in front of you before taking an enormous swig from his own. “Fuck, marry, or kill. Do you need me to repeat the people?”

“I am not playing fuck, marry, kill.”

Jin crosses his arms over his chest. “Should we sit in silence, then? You’re stuck here whether you like it or not, so we may as well talk.”

A laugh escapes you at that, one that’s equal parts derision and disbelief. “So you decided that we should play fuck, marry, kill? Jesus Christ.”

“He’s not an option,” Jin says breezily, waving a hand. “Try again.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. “Fine. Marry Babe-raham Lincoln, obviously—he’s the only one who’s not a supervillain. Plus, there was the whole ending slavery thing.”

“Don’t forget the cool hat,” Jin interjects. “More points in his favor.”

You nod. “True.” Putting a thoughtful finger to your chin, you debate your two remaining choices and fight the urge to cringe. “Between Kim Jong Un and Putin though… that’s tough. Kill Kim and fuck Putin, I guess.”

“I’m pretty sure political assassinations are frowned upon,” Jin muses. “Not that I gave you any other options. Good choice, by the way. Vlad seems like he could show you a pretty decent time, and all the ladies want him, apparently. You’ve heard his song, right?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Pulling out his phone, he taps a few keys before propping it up against his mug so you can see the screen. The song that filters through the tinny speakers is undoubtedly catchy—a techno-pop beat that you can’t help but bob your head to despite the bizarre lyrics.

“I’m… pretty sure this is propaganda,” you say after a few moments of listening. “Why do you even know about this?”

Jin shrugs and sits back down. “The internet is a weird place. What can I say?”

The song continues—filling the room with an entrancing techno beat and a feminine voice crooning about how much she wants a man like Putin. You quietly take a sip of your coffee, watching as Jin saws off another chunk of syrup-drenched waffle and shoves it into his mouth.

“Your turn,” he says once the song’s ended. “Three people.”

It only takes you a few seconds to come up with your choices, a slow smirk spreading across your face as you voice them aloud to your companion. “Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe, and the Queen of England.”

Just as you’d expected, Jin’s eyes grow wide, bulging out comically as he huffs in indignation. “Seriously? This is cruel. At least I gave you bad options!”

“No complaining,” you tell him smugly. “Choose.”

“Fine,” he sniffs. “Fuck… Marilyn, I think.” Frowning, he scratches the back of his neck, ruffling his already tousled bedhead further. “Fuck, this is brutal. Are you really going to make me kill the Queen?”

You slap the table, and Jin nearly falls out of his seat in surprise. “You just said that political assassinations are frowned upon, you hypocrite!”

“You can’t possibly expect me to kill Audrey Hepburn,” Jin retorts. “She’s talented, gorgeous, and a humanitarian. Besides, consider this: if the Queen is gone, that means I become the new king. You should be bowing to me, peasant.”

“Wouldn’t marrying the Queen also make you a king?” you point out.

“Sure. But then I’d have to share the throne, and I don’t play nice with other monarchs.”

You snort out a surprised laugh and nearly expel coffee from your nose. “Oh my god, Jin.”

His lips twitch up at the corners. “My turn,” he declares. “Fuck, marry, kill… Timothée Chalamet, Chris Evans, and my eighty-year-old neighbor, Edgar.”

You blink, disbelief etching across your face. “Who the fuck is Edgar?”

“I just told you! He’s my neighbor!”

“Well, he’s gone,” you say flatly. “Done-zo. Six feet under. The bucket? He’s kicked it.”

“Seriously?” Jin picks up his coffee mug, his shoulders quaking with barely suppressed laughter as he shields his grin behind cream-colored ceramic. “I can’t believe you killed Edgar. He had a family.”

“Everyone has a family!” you retort, before the ludicrousness of your entire conversation becomes too much and you dissolve into giggles. Jin’s own laughter joins yours, squeaky and contagious, and you can’t help but laugh even harder. “Evans,” you finally manage to answer between breaths. “Marry Chris Evans.”

Jin nods sagely. “America’s ass. Good choice.”

“Glad you approve,” you reply with a grin.

This time, the silence that descends over the two of you is almost comfortable. Jin gets up to brew a fresh pot of coffee once you’ve both finished eating, and you gratefully accept the hot mug he hands over, the warmth seeping into your palms and warming you from the inside out. “Thanks,” you murmur, rather taken aback by his continuing hospitality. “Can I help you with anything? Clean up, maybe?”

Jin gestures at a stainless steel door beneath the counter. “No need—I’ve got a dishwasher. Besides, I kind of like doing dishes. The repetition is comforting.”

“To each his own, I guess.” You hug your mug a little closer, relishing the heat. “Personally, I think I’ll stick with the dishwasher. I can’t imagine baking without one.”

Jin tilts his head curiously. “You bake?”

You shrug. “A little bit, yeah.”

“That must be nice.” Jin opens up the dishwasher and disappears beneath the counter, and you can tell from the clattering that he’s popping your plates and utensils inside. “I wish I could bake, but waffles and pancakes are the closest I’ll ever get.”

You laugh. “Well, the waffles were delicious, if that’s any consolation.”

He straightens back up to his full height and offers you a small smile. “Thanks.”

Now that the meal is finished, you aren’t sure what to do. Jin rebuffs another offer of help, humming as he washes the waffle iron plates, so you take your coffee over to the wide windows lining the living area. The snowfall hasn’t slowed one bit—a continuous flurry of fat white flakes buffeted in every direction by the wind—and you shiver when the glass creaks under the onslaught of a particularly hard gust. Backing away, you instead meander over to the wooden bookshelf beside the television, browsing past a few familiar classic titles before alighting on something odd.

“Quickbooks?” you ask, reading the spine of what appears to be a thick manual. “Like, the accounting software?”

Jin turns off the faucet and dries his hands. “One and the same.”

“Right. And is this a boring hobby, or—?”

“Option B—it’s a boring career choice,” he replies, joining you at the bookshelf. “But the pay is good, and the hours are regular, so I can’t complain. Leaves me plenty of time for my actual hobbies.”

Turning back to the books on the shelf, you glance over the next few titles. “Let me guess. You like poetry?”

He grins. “I’m a regular sonnet-lier.” At your confused expression, he quickly clarifies. “Like sommelier? Get it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Is that not punny to you?” Jin’s grin widens. “That’s fine; I’m much better at acrostic poems, anyway. Pick a color.”

The sudden request takes you aback. “Uh, blue?”

He shakes his head. “Pick another color.”

“White?”

“White? Seriously? Pick a different color.”

“Green.”

“Nope.”

You sigh and shake your head. Clearly, he already has a specific color in mind. “Fine. How about red?”

The smile that blooms across his face is nothing short of radiant. “Red? Can you spell that out for me?”

Lips twitching, you decide to indulge him. “R—”

He interrupts before you can say the next letter. “Revolution!”

“E.”

“Evolution!”

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. “D?”

“Drop in the ocean!” he finishes, following it with an exaggerated bow. “Well?”

“I think you should stick to accounting.”

Jin pretends to wince, clutching at his chest. “Ouch.”

The laughter bubbling up in your stomach finally makes itself known, escaping past your lips in an amused huff. Turning away from the bookshelf, you take a seat on the edge of the couch that occupies the majority of the living area—a cushioned gray behemoth decorated with well-worn and mismatched throw pillows. Now that you are looking, you can see that Jin clearly favors comfort over sophistication in his decorating—though you also have no doubt that the couch you’re seated on comes with a hefty price tag. There are several plants scattered around as well—including a neatly potted orchid on the end table closest to you. Gingerly, you reach out to touch the pink petals, admiring each delicate silken bloom.

“You left your coffee.” Jin sits down beside you with your mug in hand, and you belatedly realize you’d left it on the bookshelf. “It’s probably cold by now, but there’s more in the kitchen if you want it.”

Once again, you’re floored by his hospitality. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you gesture back at the orchid, blurting, “I like your flower!”

At the same time, Jin jabs a thumb back in the direction of the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner?”

You gawk at him. “Dinner?”

Jin blinks. “Thanks?” He glances at the pink orchid on the end table before shaking his head and chuckling. “And yeah, dinner. The snow isn’t going to let up until two or three in the morning, so I’m assuming you’re staying the night again.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a kidnapping attempt,” you tell him.

His answering grin shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat in your chest. “Maybe it is.”

For the second time today, you wonder if it’s too late to make a run for the fire escape. Slipping on the slick metal and falling to your potential death—certain injury, at least—would no doubt be better than staying here. Here, where Jin has already made you feel so much more welcome than you deserve. Here, where every single one of his terrible poems and cheesy puns constricts your chest with dangerous warmth.

“So… what were you saying about my flower?” Jin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his tone light and teasing. “Were you complimenting my green thumb?”

You glance back at the orchid on the end table, gratefully seizing upon the change in subject. “Yeah, it’s beautiful. I mean, I’m the kind of person who can barely keep a cactus alive, so this is beyond impressive.”

Jin shrugs and leans back, making himself comfortable on the couch. “It all comes down to water and soil, at the end of the day. Knowing what kind to use—whether or not they need moss or bark chips—that kind of thing. You pick it up after long enough.”

“Not me.” You chuckle ruefully. “I didn’t even know there were different types of potting mix until an entire pallet of the stuff got misdelivered to me instead of the shop across the street. And here I was, thinking it was flour. I actually opened a bag before I realized what was going on.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his tousled hair. “Were you expecting a massive flour delivery?”

You wince at your slip-up, but it’s too late to take it back. “Right. Well. Remember when I said I baked a bit? I actually meant to say that I bake a lot. In a bakery.”

Your companion perks up. “Really? Which one?”

“Stalker much?” You frown.

Jin laughs. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me. But I’ll have you know that you’re on the hook for dessert now. Think you can rustle something up for us?”

You nod toward the kitchen. “You have flour, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then, yes. I absolutely can.”

///

Snow continues to fall through the afternoon and into evening. Slowly, the sky begins to darken—fading from pale gray into a deep charcoal that cuts a striking contrast with the icy blanket of white covering the city.

“It’s still coming down out there,” you murmur, breaking the silence that has fallen over you in the past couple of hours. Together, you and Jin have watched three episodes of House Hunters and two episodes of the international version, before settling into your own individual activities. You’ve borrowed Jin’s phone charger, and Jin has pulled out his laptop and set up shop at the dining table. And while the past few hours haven’t been uncomfortable, they haven’t exactly been comfortable either. It almost feels like you’ve been left alone with the friend of a friend, without the buffer that your mutual friend would normally provide, and at a complete loss as to how to maintain a conversation without veering into personal territory.

Jin hums and shuts his laptop. “Does it look like packing snow?”

You stand up from where you’ve burrowed into the couch and head for the window, groaning as your joints creak in protest. You’d changed back into your borrowed pajamas earlier in the day, and a good thing too since the temperature seems to drop a digit with each passing hour. “Looks like the fluffy stuff,” you tell Jin, peering outside.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out for sure,” he replies, shuffling over to join you. With a click, he unlocks the window and shoves it open, wincing at the blast of chilly air and the flurry of flakes that rush in to greet him.

You take a step back, watching in amusement as Jin grabs a handful of snow from the fire escape landing and successfully balls it up. He makes two more snowballs in addition—both smaller than the first—and you giggle when you realize what he’s doing. “Have any carrots?” you ask.

“Actually, yes. Check the fridge drawer,” he replies, flashing you a grin.

You oblige him, meandering into the kitchen where the stainless steel refrigerator sits. Locating the bag of carrots proves easy, and you find the smallest one you can before returning to the open window. “How’s this?”

Jin takes it, sizing it up in his palm. “Perfect.”

With the carrot and a few pebbles pulled from one of the succulent planters on the sill, the little snowman is completed. You help Jin prop it up on the fire escape, packing snow around the sides so the wind won’t blow it over, and admiring your handiwork once it’s upright. The pebble smile is a little crooked and its nose skews heavily to the right, but you still can’t help but grin.

“I haven’t built a snowman in ages,” you admit, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm them.

Jin laughs and shuts the window, his nose reddened from the cold. “If that’s the case, I wish we could’ve done a better job. I don’t even have a spare hat to put on him, since I just took a bunch of stuff to the donation bin. Next time, maybe.”

The thought of building another snowman with Jin—a real one, out in a field somewhere instead of on his fire escape in the middle of a blizzard—makes your heart and lungs feel too big for your chest. Quickly, you clear your throat to dispel the feeling and glance back toward the kitchen. “I think I saw some ribbon over there,” you murmur. “We can at least give him a bow tie.”

“A bow tie it is, then,” Jin replies, and you dart off to fetch the spool of red ribbon you’d spotted on the counter next to the fridge.

Now that the snowman is actually complete, you and Jin close the window and return the ribbon to the kitchen. Jin begins pulling produce out of the refrigerator, and you watch him for a few seconds before turning toward a narrow door you presume is the pantry. “Flour’s on the top shelf,” Jin calls, and you nod, grabbing the half-full canister.

It only takes you a few minutes to take stock of what else Jin has in his pantry. You spot the pastel pink apron from earlier hanging from a hook on the inside of the door, and giggle to yourself at the absurdity of the prancing alpaca print. Taking it off its hook reveals another apron behind it—this one plain white and emblazoned with the words Chef Kim.

“Kim—is that your last name?” you wonder aloud.

“Full name’s Kim Seokjin, yeah.” Jin appears behind you, plucking the pink apron out of your hand and pulling it over his head. “What about you?”

You offer up your full name with a sheepish smile. “I guess it’s only fair. We never did get past first names last night.”

“Nope,” he agrees with a chuckle. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though. I liked what happened instead.”

Your cheeks warm, but Jin doesn’t say anything further. Instead, he reaches past you to grab the other apron, carefully looping it over your head. “Don’t want you getting flour all over yourself,” he remarks playfully, urging you to turn so he can tie the strings behind your back. “What are you thinking of making?”

You shrug. “Do you have any preferences?”

He hums thoughtfully. “I’ll eat anything once, to be honest. What’s your favorite thing to make?”

“Well, the chocolate chip cookies are always popular. Lots of kids come in to grab some after the elementary school lets out. But I’ve always liked making croissants the most.”

“Nothing better than a fresh croissant,” Jin agrees. “And pain au chocolat? Best of both worlds. Though I guess elementary schoolers probably wouldn’t have the right palate for that.”

You smile and glance back at the pantry once more. “Probably not. It looks like you don’t have any chocolate anyway, so pain au chocolat is out of the question.” Then your eyes alight on a colorful canister on the bottom shelf. “Are those rainbow sprinkles?”

Jin follows the trajectory of your gaze. “Oh, yeah. I attempted a funfetti cake for a friend’s birthday the other week. Box mix, nothing fancy. Probably nothing compared to what you could do.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a good box mix,” you reply, grabbing the sprinkles and placing them on the counter next to the flour. “Most can be improved drastically by substituting milk for the water and adding an extra egg.”

“Milk and an extra egg—got it,” Jin repeats. Turning to the cabinets, he pulls out a pot and sets it on the stovetop. “So what about dinner? Soup sound good to you?”

“Soup sounds perfect,” you tell him. “How do you feel about sugar cookies? I can whip up some frosting and we can decorate them with sprinkles.”

Jin beams. “That sounds perfect.”

///

There’s something painfully domestic about cooking dinner with someone else—a certain ebb and flow in the way you move about the kitchen. The aroma rising up from the simmering pot on the stove is already beginning to make your mouth water, and Jin inhales deeply as he passes by the oven on his way to the liquor cabinet on the other side.

“Those smell amazing,” he says, leaning down to peer at the sheet of cookies.

You nod at the soup. “That smells amazing.”

“We’re in for an amazing meal, then,” he replies, straightening up to his full height and opening the liquor cabinet. “So what do you want to drink with it? Wine okay?”

“Sure. Red, if you have it.”

Jin grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf. “Cabernet sauvignon, right? I remember.”

Cabernet sauvignon is what you’d been drinking at the bar when you first met. The fact that he remembers releases a flock of butterflies in your stomach, flurrying about like the snow outside in the wind. Accepting the glass he hands over, you offer him a grateful smile before taking a sip to quash the new residents of your belly. “You sure you’re not a stalker?” you tease once you’ve swallowed.

“Hey, this is what people do when they first meet,” Jin defends. “They get to know each other, try and see if they fit. Ever heard of such a thing?”

You take another sip of wine before bending down to check on the cookies again. “Maybe once or twice.”

Inhaling deeply, you savor the warm scent of vanilla wafting from the oven. The smell alone is enough to tell you that they’re close to being done, and when you take in the golden hue, you know it for a fact. “Not to toot my own horn,” you remark, donning an oven mitt and pulling out the tray, “but this might be the best work I’ve ever done.”

Jin peers over your shoulder, sniffing appreciatively. “I believe it,” he says. “Anything I can do to help?”

You shake your head and select a spatula from the array of implements in the decorative ceramic pitcher next to the stove. “I’m just going to lay these out on a plate to cool. Then I’ll start on the frosting.” Curiously, you glance into the simmering pot on the stove. “What about you? Do you need any help?”

“Nope.” Jin gives the pot a stir. “This is just about done, anyway, so do you want to eat now?”

You shrug. “Sure. It’ll take at least half an hour for the cookies to cool completely. I don’t want to cover your kitchen in melted frosting and rainbow sprinkles.”

“That wouldn’t be ideal,” Jin agrees with a laugh. “Go on then, take a seat. I’ll bring you a bowl.”

///

Evening fades into the velvety dark of nighttime. Dinner is done, the cookies are decorated and eaten, and you once again find yourself in Jin’s bed. He’s given you a fresh shirt to sleep in—this one bright blue with the outline of a cartoon whale—and you relax against the pillows as Jin climbs under the covers beside you and makes himself comfortable.

“Ready for me to turn off the lights?” he asks.

You nod. “Go ahead.”

In an instant, the bedroom is plunged into darkness. It takes a few long seconds for your eyes to adjust, but you don’t need your sight to enact your plan. Gently, you reach out, your searching fingers settling on Jin’s broad chest. You hear him whisper your name—his voice questioning—but you silence him with a soft murmur and a kiss to the hollow of his throat. Carefully, you shift the blankets aside, straddling his toned thighs.

From there, it’s easy to descend down the taut expanse of his abdomen. Greedily, you push his shirt up to explore each ridge and dip of muscle, trailing from his dusky nipples down to the sharp angles of his pelvic bone. You don’t miss the slow rise of his cock against your leg, and finally dip down to give it some attention when Jin groans, mouthing at the head through the soft material of his pajama pants.

“{Name},” Jin rasps. “Not—not that I’m not enjoying this, because I really, really am. But why are you doing this?”

You glance up, taking in his shadowed face. “I never did thank you for your hospitality,” you breathe. “So, why don’t you relax and let me give you a proper thank you?”

Jin groans again, his hands finding your shoulders, and you take that as acquiescence. Ever so slowly, you free his cock from the confines of his pants, suckling at the flared head and smirking when he hisses through his teeth. Determined to elicit a more vocal reaction, you sink farther down, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside and relishing the way his thighs clench.

It isn’t long before Jin is cumming down your throat, his chest heaving with labored breaths as he watches you lick your lips in satisfaction. “Your turn,” he rasps. “On your back for me, baby.”

You shake your head, pushing him away when his hand grazes your knee. “This was me saying thank you, remember? You don’t owe me a thing.”

Jin’s palm finds your cheek, cupping it gently as he presses a kiss to your mouth. “I want to, though.”

The sincerity lacing his voice makes your heart lurch dangerously against your ribcage. “In the morning, then,” you tell him. “In the morning.”

///

It’s exactly 6:47 when you clamber out of Jin’s bed, stripping out of his oversized pajamas and back into your own clothing. You cringe as you pull your dress over your hips, trying your best to forget that it’s two days old at this point.

Outside, the blizzard has finally died down. A glance out the window confirms that the snowplows have started making their rounds, and you send a mental thank you to your city’s public works department for their quick action.

Jin is still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling with his breath beneath the thin white cotton of his t-shirt. His dark lashes flutter against the soft swell of his cheeks, his hair like spilled ink against the cream of his pillow, and it takes every ounce of discipline you possess to turn away. Quietly, you slip out of the bedroom, easing the door shut behind you. On your way to the front door, you catch a glimpse of the snowman you’d built yesterday through the window, covered in a thick layer of snow that obscures every detail of its face except the orange carrot nose.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is short, and you’re grateful to see that the snow around the door has been shoveled away. Past that, the city is nothing short of a winter wonderland, a blanket of white stretching as far as the eye can see. The sidewalks remain untouched at this early hour, so you opt to walk in the street, grateful for the durable leather and the sensible wedge heel on your boots.

The subways are up and running—you’d ensured as much when you woke up, checking the schedule on your fully charged phone. The nearest station is a mere three blocks away, and the next train in twelve minutes. You’ll make it with time to spare.

Three blocks and you can forget about all of this.

Twelve minutes, and you can leave all memory of Kim Seokjin behind.

///

As much as you love snow, you hate the aftermath. It’s snowed almost every day in the two weeks since the blizzard, and you hate how it’s all accumulated at the side of the road, exacerbated by constant plowing and blackened by grime. You hate how it seems to have brought out the worst drivers in the city in droves, stalling in the crosswalks and honking like distressed seals. You hate the excessive salt sprinkled on the sidewalks.

But most of all, you hate this—the wet, gray-black slush that customers mindlessly trail into the bakery, slicking the polished hardwood floor and soaking the cheery mat at the door that bids them to come again soon!

“More like come again never,” you grouse under your breath as the bell jingles, signaling a customer’s departure. Peering over the counter, you eye the slushy buildup that’s been left in their wake and sigh. “Jungkookie? Could you mop up in the front again, please?”

A mop of tousled black hair pops out from the back of the shop, framing wide doe eyes and a crumb-dusted mouth. “Be right there!” he calls, and you thank him before turning back to the front door with a slight pang of guilt in your chest. This is the third time he’s had to mop up since opening an hour ago, but you like to think you pay him well enough—both in wages and free donuts whenever he gets peckish. Besides, Jungkook loves this place as much as you do. His baking talent doesn’t go far beyond eating said baking, but he has an astute eye for detail and a skill with frosting that rivals your own. He’s a whiz with the cash register, too, and you have no doubt that the increased sales whenever he’s up front has everything to do with the influx of college girls that flock to the bakery when they see him there.

The morning rush seems to have settled. A few customers remain, seated at the little round tables that litter the front of the bakery, sipping on coffee and munching on their breakfast. Through the tall glass windows, you spot a few fat white flakes of snow spiraling down from the overcast sky, and glance down at your phone to check the weather when the bell over the door tinkles gently.

“Hi, welcome to Tu—” The words freeze in your throat. “It’s you.”

“It’s me.” Kim Seokjin grins and loosens the knot of his scarf, his head and shoulders dusted with white. “So, this is where you work? At Turbinado?”

“I own Turbinado,” you retort, the response automatic. “And you, apparently, are a stalker.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.” Jin raises his hands up innocently, his fingers sheathed in red-and-white striped wool. “Well, okay, I thought you might work here. See, I still owe you something, but you left before I could pay you back and I don’t think that’s very fair.”

Your cheeks heat up at the memory of your last night at Jin’s apartment, and the events that transpired. Still, you manage to maintain a flippant facade, huffing out a sigh. “So you resorted to stalking me? How did you even figure out I worked here, anyway?”

“Well, I knew it was a bakery,” Jin replies. “You mentioned that you get a lot of elementary schoolers coming in, and that you once received a mixed up potting soil delivery. And this—” he gestures around, “—is the only bakery in the city that’s within walking distance of both a flower shop and an elementary school. It was pretty easy to find.”

“So now you’re a detective too?” You snort. “That’s more interesting than accounting, at least.”

Jin’s grin widens. “Hey, look at that. You remembered something about me.”

You roll your eyes and glance back down at your phone where the weather app is forecasting more snow in the afternoon. “Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Jin chuckles. He steps forward until he’s directly across from you, and with only the narrow counter separating the two of you, you’re reminded just how handsome he truly is. Slowly, the hibernating butterflies in your belly begin to stir.

“Are you even going to ask for my order?” Jin asks when you hesitate a moment too long.

You sigh. “Fine. What do you want?”

“One pain au chocolat,” he replies, gesturing at the display case. “And a date, if you’re willing.”

Your jaw drops, and when you find your voice again, it’s little more than a stammer. “A date? Are you serious?”

“Yep.” Jin fishes his wallet out of his pocket. “That’s what people do, you know, when they like each other.”

“But I don’t do that. Date, I mean.”

Jin grins. “But you do like me."

“You—I mean, what makes you think—” You trail off, your protests dying on your tongue. “God, you’re unbelievable.”

Another grin—this one tinged with mischief. “Unbelievable? I can make a poem with that.” And before you can sigh or roll your eyes again, he continues. “Unlikely meeting you here? Believe it, baby. Able…” He pauses. “Am I able to kiss you now?”

Irrepressible laughter bubbles up in your chest and escapes out into the open air, mingling with the scent of warm cinnamon and vanilla that suffuses the shop. “That was terrible.”

“But you didn’t say no,” Jin replies, cocking his head to the side. Slowly, he leans over the counter, his gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek and giving you plenty of time to pull away.

But you don’t want to pull away. Jin’s lips are cold, but warm up quickly as they mold against yours, just as plush and pillowy soft as you remember them.

“So, is that a yes to the date?” he murmurs, pulling away just enough to whisper the question against your lips. And you can only nod, your fingers closing around the knitted scarf around his neck to pull him into another kiss.

///

Bonus -

You’re pulling a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, your lips still swollen from the memory of Jin’s kisses, when the man himself pipes up from the seat he’s taken at the round table nearest the counter. “Hey, {Name}?”

“Hmm?”

“My pain au chocolat is free now, right?”

“… get out of my shop.”

1K notes · View notes

uglypastels · 3 years

Note

Hogwarts idea

Can you make a fic about how Tom sneakes out at night to spend the nights in the readers room (common room/bedroom) he’s a gryffindor and she’s a ravenclaw

Maybe they have a deal with the house teacher of one of the houses. Maybe he tries to hide in her bed as so not to wake the others. Maybe they fall asleep in the common room and have a minor panic when they wake up and it’s morning. Maybe they accidentally switch clothes or one of them steal the others clothes so they walk around with the wrong colors.

love love love love this!!! and I'm sorry it took me so long, I've been in a bit of a writing slump, but this is the best request to get me out of it! thank you <3 and hope you like it. (this got a bit out of hand and I might have changed the ending a lil bit but I hope its good heh)

(gender neutral!reader, I think? at least that's what I went for but if I accidentally missed something just let me know and I'll edit, I'm dumb)

_________________

Being in your seventh year at Hogwarts, with exams just around the corner, was taking up almost every waking minute of your days. Adding the fact that you had your Head Student duties, and Tom had his Quidditch house team to take care of, meaning that you barely ever had time for each other. The only solution, in your young and smitten minds, was that some rules needed to be broken- just a little bit.

It took Tom some time to convince you since you were supposed to be setting the right example for the younger students, but eventually, one gloomy Friday morning, he finally got to you.

"C'mon, love, it will be fun," he had his arm draped around you as you tried to enjoy your breakfast, the looks of your fellow housemates never going unnoticed. There had never been a rule against students eating meals at different tables, and yet, seeing the captain of the Gryffindor team spending all his mornings and evenings at the Ravenclaw table was a strange sight. He preferred your table, he had said one day when you asked, it was quieter. That you could not disagree with. The Gryffindors were always rowdy.

"I don't know Tommy, what if we get in trouble?" you bit the inside of your cheek, as you always did when you got nervous. Tom responded by pulling you in tighter and kissing your cheek, then said:

"That's half the fun of it, darling." His words rushed an array of feelings through you. A part of you started to feel flustered, while the other wanted to shove his face in the large bowl of porridge that stood on the table.

"Please," he looked at you with his usual sad puppy-eyed look. "I feel like never get to see you, y/n. So I'll come over tonight, you can let me into the Rave tower, we'll hang out a bit and then I'll leave- like nothing ever happened. What do you think?"

"I don't know, Tommy-" You tried to keep a straight face, but it was hard to say no to a gorgeous face like his. after a few short moments of silence, you finally agreed, "fine. Be there at 10. Do not be late, Holland."

"I wouldn't dare to waste a second away from you." He kissed you, grabbed a slice of toast (from your plate, of course), and got up.

"Wait, where are you going?" You asked, confused, since breakfast wouldn't end for another 20 minutes.

"I'm kind of late for early detention with McGonagall," he chuckled before running off, toast between his teeth. You just rolled your eyes and finished your meal in peace.

You never really thought that your classes were boring, but that day, every minute seemed to go by at a quarter of its speed. It was as if someone had put a time-stopping hex on you if that even was a thing. You couldn't wait to finish your studies in the library (the scheduled hours at the library was necessary since there was still so much to get through before the NEWTs), so you could make your way back to the Great Hall for dinner. Once there, you immediately were on the lookout for the head of dark brown curls. You stood in the doorway, letting people pass you, but no luck; Tom was nowhere to be seen.

Internally, you already started cursing. It would be just your luck that he'd get attention again for the rest of the night. Why did you have to fall for the troublemaker-

"Aaah!" you shrieked as suddenly your feet were lifted from the ground. Arms wrapped around your middle, and you were spinning around. You wanted to scream more, but you heard the familiar laugh, and it immediately put you at ease.

"Put me down," you laughed. Tom complied without pretence. But his hands remained at your sides as you turned to face him. And then, eagerly, his lips met yours in a chaste kiss.

It was, of course, silly to think that you could have this moment just for yourself, in a hall filled with hundreds of students. Only a few seconds into your kiss, you could hear wolf-whistles around you. Someone, who sounded very much like Tom's friend and team co-captain Harrison, called out from afar: "Get it, Holland!" Tom was quick to put up two fingers in his direction, not paying attention to anyone. But the mood was ruined, and you pulled apart.

"Missed you today," he said softly.

"Missed you, too." You replied. His fingers slipped between yours, and like that, hand in hand, you were already making your way to the Ravenclaw table, but, unfortunately, Tom was stopped when someone tugged at the back of his robes.

"Oi, you dickhead-" but he laughed it off when he saw it was Ben, another friend and member of the Gryffindor team.

"Sorry 'bout that," Ben apologised, "but we're supposed to be holding a team meeting, remember?" He pointed over at the Gryffindor table, and, indeed, the rest of the team was huddled together at the edge of the table. Harrison had gotten up when he saw you and Tom looking, returning the gesture of the two fingers held up in the V-shape.

"Shit, I forgot." Tom brushed his fingers through his hair. He looked at you, eyes already full of regret, and you could tell he was ready to apologise, but you stopped him before he even opened his mouth.

"Don't worry, we'll talk later, yeah." You kissed him on the cheek, "remember, 10."

And miraculously, Tom did remember. As the clock in the Ravenclaw common room struck 10, you heard the faint knock at the other side of the entrance. Of course, Tom knew where and how to access the Ravenclaw tower, but the riddles that the eagle doorknocker asked were at times a bit too hard, bless him.

You pushed the door open, and there he stood. His robes were exchanged for sweatpants and a hoodie. A blue one, you noticed, not that that would help him fit in with the crowd in the common room. Tom had been team captain for the past three years, and his team had not failed to win the cup once since he had even joined the team, to begin with. Everyone in school knew him and adored him. Not even the rest of your house managed to be mad at him (though the Ravenclaw team definitely held a bit of a grudge after a few bad losses over the years).

He stepped inside, and you quickly lead him around the common room up the stairs of the dormitories.

You had heard that years ago, the stairs had a spell on them that stopped the male students from even attempting to step up to the other dormitories. Now, however, this "rule" has been dropped, ever since several students expressed their concerns for the double standards between the male and female student body, as well as the discomfort it might set up for the queer students.

Personally, you thought it would be even better if every student could have their own room, since sharing a space with four other people could get a bit crowded at times and you liked your privacy, but it was understandable that in an ancient building like Hogwarts renovations were not always an option.

Luck struck once more when you opened the door to your dormitory, and it was empty. All of your friends were still out, most likely staring at their books, in the hopes of getting struck with a moment of brilliance that could help them pass their exams. You closed the door, and Tom made himself comfortable in your bed.

It felt like the entire day had already been wasted, not to mention dinner, so you hurried down to your bed, pulling down the curtains of the four-poster, just to get that little bit of privacy you longed for at the end long day. But, of course, it was nothing unusual or suspicious since you often closed your curtains when you were too tired to chat with your roommates.

It was dark with the curtains closed, but Tom was quick to pull out his wand and murmured "lumos" the tip immediately illuminated in soft blue light. The glow was just enough for you to see his face, the goofy grin taking over his features.

"What are you laughing at?" you asked, whispering in case someone would walk in.

"Nothing," he shrugged, "just happy to be here with you."

"You're daft," you laughed.

"Yeah, about you," and with that, he kissed you. The light at the end of his want went out as he dropped between you. His lips were soft and sweet, the pudding that had been served with dinner still lingering on him. He must have stolen a few cookies from the table when it had finished, you thought, to eat later. He often did that.

You stayed like that, cuddling, stealing kisses from one another, for hours, probably. You were never quite sure because eventually, you both drifted off into a slumber. You could have probably slept like that, wrapped in his arms, forever, if it wasn't the bright light peeking through your curtains that was hitting you right in the face. And the whispers. You could hear people talking.

"I swear, they're just the cutest." It was your friend talking.

"But do they really need to do it here?" A second voice said, also familiar to you. "I mean, how many rules do you think they're breaking?"

"Oh shut!" you heard pillows being thrown. Or at least assumed that was what was happening around you. You couldn't be bothered to open your eyes, instead deciding to focus on Tom and his calm breathing. Your head was close to his chest, so you felt it rise with each inhale he took, and you could hear his heartbeat.

It was Saturday, meaning no classes. You had studied every day for the past few weeks, definitely deserving a little break for the day. If you remembered correctly, Tom wouldn't have training until the late afternoon and you could always skip breakfast. If you got hungry before tea, you could always sneak into the kitchens. After all, the two of you had already broken so many rules, what would be the harm in one more.

Ignoring the further whispers of your friends, you snuggled closer to Tom, feeling his arm wrapping tighter around you. Both of you shuffled around a bit, trying to find back the comfort from the night, and quickly you fell back to sleep.

The End

148 notes · View notes

marginalmadness · 4 years

Text

Summer Nights: Chapter 1/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Teen (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Warnings/Tags: None right now, will add with additional chapters

Author’s Note: So the beautiful, wonderful, ever patient @johobi commissioned as we went into lockdown the first time, and it took me forever to write, and ended up being about 4x longer than I expected because, feelings and plot kept getting involved. Anyhow, the fic is finished, but with NaNoWriMo this month, and my already teasing this, I’m releasing this in 4 chapters, as I edit it, the next one will be next Friday, so I hope you all enjoy this, I got some wonderful comments from @johobi and she made this WONDERFUL HEADER <3, and I hope you all look forward to Chapters 2-4

Chapters: Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.3K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

Summer Nights

The weather report this morning said nothing about rain. Not a shower, not a sprinkle, and even now, as you check your phone for the thousandth time, there’s no indication of the storm that is currently darkening the sky over the entire city.

You fight your way out of the subway station, pushing past people rushing down the stairs out of the deluge. As you clamber your way up through them and onto the street, it feels like you’re pushing against a wall of water.

You curse yourself and the umbrella that sits serenely dry and unused under the side table by your front door. Because according to the highest-rated, “most accurate” weather app available, it was supposed to be nothing but dry, sunny spells through the end of the week and staying warm and dry over the weekend.

You dash across the road, taking a shortcut through the park, hoping to find some relief under the canopy of trees but somehow the drops feel heavier under the leaves. Cold rivulets of water run down your neck, under the collar of your coat, completely defeating the purpose of you clutching it closed.

You’re halfway home when, as suddenly as it started this morning, the rain stops. You look up through the branches and the sky is miraculously clear, dappled sunlight falling across your face as birdsong suddenly fills the park, nothing but dripping leaves and ground puddles to indicate the previous weather. This must be the sunny spell that was previously promised.

You wipe your hand across your face to remove some of the hair clinging to it, but since your hand is as wet as everything else, it’s a losing battle. There’s just as much water on your face after wiping it, and strands of hair are now just pulled across your forehead rather than limply clinging to your cheeks. You sigh, readjusting the strap of your bag and hoping the contents inside aren’t as soaked as you are, when for the second time in less than a minute you are stunned to another stop.

Before you is a tiny, shivering, soggy ball of fur.

You could swear it wasn’t there a second ago, but it’s possible it darted out from under one of the surrounding bushes and you startled it as much as it, you.

Crouching down, you reach a hand out towards the small creature, which lifts its head, twitches its nose and shuffles towards you. It’s hard to tell under the sopping wet fur, but it doesn’t look like what you’ve seen of regular wild rabbits. Its fur is darker, but that might just be an effect of the rain. It also seems longer, but again it’s hard to tell when wet. The biggest giveaway that it’s no regular wild rabbit are the two long, floppy ears that hang down either side of its head, dragging along the path as it moves towards you.

“Hey cutie pie,” you say in as soft a voice as possible while shivering from the wet and the cold. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The creature makes a full hop towards you and sniffs at your hand, and you’re almost 100% sure it’s a rabbit and not a hare. You slip your other hand beneath its tiny body and stand, clutching it to your chest. You wait to see if it’s going to resist or fight but it only snuggles into your coat. “Okay, let's get you home and dried off, and then see if we can find your owner,” you say, scratching its head gently.

Almost as soon as you tuck the tiny creature under your coat, the rain starts again, skies grey, water coming down in sheets as though it never stopped. You run the rest of the way through the park and across the road, not minding that you step into a puddle since your feet are already so wet. You barrel your way into your apartment building, stopping to catch your breath as you wait for the elevator.

As soon as you’re through your front door you carefully step out of your shoes, drop your bag and shuck off your drenched coat, vowing to come back and clean them up later. You’re so soaked your clothes cling to you, as though you weren’t wearing a coat at all, and you hit the thermostat on high as you run past on your way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t we get you all nice and snug in a towel? Let you warm up while I take a shower, hm, little buddy?”

Grabbing a hand towel, you carefully wrap the trembling creature in your arms, rubbing the wet fur carefully before placing the bundle in the sink and stripping down to jump in the hot shower.

The hot water stings your chilled skin the instant it makes contact, but it warms you up quicker than waiting around for your apartment to heat up or hiding under your duvet would. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a warm, fluffy towel around yourself and notice the small rabbit has its eyes closed. You pick it up in its bundle, and it seems to blink in alarm at being moved.

“Awww,” you coo aloud. “Did the warm steam lull you to sleep, lil’ bun?” The rabbit looks up at you and then closes its eyes, nuzzling back into the towel covering it. You carry it into your room and place it on your bed before changing into something warm and snuggly and drying your hair. By the time you’re all done, the bunny has fallen asleep, curled up in a little cocoon of warmth.

You head back towards the front door, picking up your coat and moving your waterlogged shoes into the bathroom. You pick up your bag and hope your phone was buried deep enough inside to escape water damage. Luckily, all of the contents inside seem untouched and you send a prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over you to pull that one off.

Grabbing your phone, you quickly search for a local vet that’s still open, hitting ‘call now’ when you find a decently-reviewed one. You kneel at the foot of the bed until you’re eye level with the fluffy, dark-furred rabbit. It watches you with curiosity, whiskers twitching as your face gets closer to it.

“Hello, Park Place Animal Hospital,” a tinny voice says pleasantly through the phone. “Eric speaking, how can I help?”

“Hi,” you say cautiously. “I found a rabbit in the park, and think someone might have lost it. It doesn’t look like a wild rabbit.” Maybe it was a wild rabbit, you argue with yourself; you’re not exactly a rabbit expert.

“Can you describe it to me?” Eric asks.

“It’s got long, dark fur; black or maybe dark brown? Seems… fluffy?” you say with uncertainty. “It was drowned-looking when I found it in the storm, and it’s wrapped in a towel drying now. But its ears are long and floppy. Really long. Really, really long,” you emphasise.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Well it certainly doesn’t sound like a wild rabbit. Possibly a member of the lop family. It could be a lost pet, but are you sure it’s not a hybrid?”

That stops you. A hybrid? Never even crossed your mind. Why would a hybrid stay in animal form in a storm and let a stranger take them home?

“I-” you stutter. “I don’t know. I’m a mundane, I don’t know how I would be able to tell.”

“Well, scent is the easiest way to tell, but you wouldn’t be able to use that as a mundane and it’s a little late to bring it into the clinic. You could talk to it, ask it some questions.”

You frown down at the bunny. Maybe you were missing something. “I don’t speak Bunny.” You could hear Eric holding back his smile over the phone.

“But hybrids understand human speech,” he says, holding back his laughter. “Assuming you speak the same languages.” You purse your lips, eyes glancing around the room, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom,” you say. “The bunny-hybrid-whatever is wrapped in a towel on my bed and I’m kneeling on the floor at the foot of it.”

“And what is the ‘bunny-hybrid-whatever’ doing?”

“It's-” You look at the rabbit and are a little taken aback to realise it’s watching you, head raised, nose twitching inquisitively. “-watching me.”

“Okay, unwrap it and leave the room. Tell it, if it’s hungry, to follow you to the kitchen. If it’s a hybrid, it will understand and follow you.”

You blink owlishly at the creature, before nodding in determination. “Okay.” You unwrap the towel and move to the doorway. The bunny watches you leave.

“I need to make dinner. If you’re hungry, follow me. I have some veggies you can eat.” The bunny stands up on its hindquarters, giving itself a shake until its fur is sticking up in funny-looking spikes. It jumps down from the bed and lops after you as you walk towards the kitchen. You turn your attention back to Eric on the phone. “I promised the bunny veggies, and now it’s following me into the kitchen.”

“Congratulations, you have a hybrid-rabbit in your home.” Eric laughs. “It’s late now, we’ll be closing soon, but if they haven’t turned by morning you can bring them by the clinic and we’ll be able to either issue a T.o.C or take them in until we can find out where they came from.”

“T-O-C?” you ask slowly.

“Treaty of Care. Hybrids who stay in their animal form for extended periods of time need special care. It’s usually infant or adolescent hybrids born in animal form who haven’t turned for the first time yet, or hybrids hurt in animal form who need to heal before they can transform back. A Treaty of Care is usually served to a close friend or family member, but it can be anyone.”

“Even a stranger?” you ask, stopping in your tracks and looking down at the small creature by your foot. It looks up at you with big, dark eyes.

“If they didn’t fight you when you first picked them up, and they haven’t shown any signs that they want to leave, then they feel comfortable with you. At least for the time being. So the decision seems to be yours. Think about it tonight, and come in tomorrow.”

“Will do. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mutter, biting your lip and shuffling from foot-to-foot.

“No problem, have a nice evening,” Eric says politely.

“Thanks, you too.” You hang up the phone, motioning with your head towards the kitchen. “There’s apples in there.” The bunny-hybrid zooms off, hopping towards the kitchen, and you let out a little giggle at its enthusiasm.

Once there, you head to the fridge and pull out what you need to make yourself dinner, plus some extra veggies for your unintended guest. You dump them and the promised apple into the sink, making sure to give them a good wash before you start chopping things into rabbit-convenient pieces. A gentle pressure against your calf stops you, and you turn to find the long-eared bunny leaning against you as it stands on its hind legs, either trying to get a better look at what you’re doing or begging for a snack.

“Are you nosey or impatient?” you ask, and the hybrid drops to all fours before hopping around your feet. You lean down to pick it up, placing it on the counter next to you and offering it a slice of apple. Its tail—no, its entire body wiggles in appreciation as it munches on the apple slice, nibbling away with its eyes contentedly closed. You finish chopping the veggies and place a selection on a plate, setting it in front of the hybrid. The bunny hops high, kicking its back legs in excitement before diving into the pile to devour it.

With a tentative finger, you reach out to scratch behind the rabbit’s ear. To your relief, it doesn’t recoil. Encouraged by this, you settle your hand on its head and gently stroke its fluff. The hybrid leans up, nuzzling its face into the palm of your hand. You smile appreciatively, tickling the rabbit’s chin before you turn to cook your own dinner.

---

The rest of your night you spend relaxing, curled up on the sofa watching TV. The hybrid decides to join you, settling at the opposite end away from you. Normally you wouldn’t allow a pet or an animal on the furniture, but it’s not really an animal and you’d feel bad forcing a guest to sit on the floor if there was space on the sofa. You’re second-guessing your decision, though, when the rabbit expresses opinions on your choice of entertainment, nudging the remote when it wants you to change the channel and thumping its feet when it sees something good. You spend a good twenty minutes having a one-sided argument with a creature that communicates through nothing but foot stomping and nose twitches before you come to a consensus: a superhero movie that you never got to see in the cinema. You drop the remote and the rabbit hops closer to you, shuffling into a loaf by your feet. Like that, the pair of you spend the night watching six unlikely heroes and their friends save the world from total destruction.

---

Your first real, big conundrum is when you go to bed and the little ball of fluff follows you, jumping onto your comforter.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous, you are not sharing my bed,” you try to say forcefully, but the surreal nature of what's happening makes your tone just a little bit hysterical. The hybrid simply lowers its head to the comforter, making itself smaller, lopping closer to your hand until it’s nudging it. It wiggles its head beneath your fingers. “Is this you asking for permission? No! Off! Down! Off the bed!” The creature shimmies its fluffy tail and doesn’t move an inch. “I know you can understand what I’m saying, and it’s weird,” you whine. The tail-twitching stops. Big, dark eyes blink up at you as it sits up on its haunches, front paw waving at you like it’s trying to grab you.

You can’t help but feel you’re in a pouting contest with a rabbit.

“Fine,” you huff, flopping back on the bed dramatically. The hybrid lops towards you and you turn to watch. Fluff obscures your vision as it boops you gently on the nose, and you laugh at the tickle of its fur. You shuffle under the comforter with a yawn and turn off the lamp. “Okay. Tomorrow, when I get your Treaty of Care, I’m picking you up an animal bed. This is only for tonight, because you’ve obviously had a stressful day, so don’t get used to it.” The second you say it, you know it’s a lie. You’d lose a pouting contest with that bunny every time.

---

Ten weeks later, the rabbit now has a side of the bed.

The side of the bed where his animal bed sits unused on the floor.

The vet had given the hybrid a clean bill of health, identified it as a young adult male and given you a T.o.C for as long as it wanted to stay with you. Or until you returned it. But that would never happen.

Somehow you’d just fallen into a routine; breakfast for the both of you, rushing to and from work, changing the litter box, dinner for two, TV in the evenings. And now somehow, suddenly, it’s summer. Gone are the spring storms that brought the two of you together. Now you have the stifling heat and humidity of the peak of summer.

All the windows in the apartment are open and have been for at least a week. You don’t even sleep with a cover anymore, just collapse on top of it in the flimsiest two-piece that can cover your modesty. Honestly, even that feels like too must most nights, sticking to you in the humidity. It’s so hot that the hybrid - who you had simply called “Bun” for lack of a better name - no longer lay close to you, but far on the other side of the bed, stretched out on his side, ears akimbo. The city desperately needed a storm to break the humidity.

Half way through summer, you get your wish. You flinch, even in your sleep, as the room fills with blinding, white light. The crack of thunder that immediately follows is explosive in the silence of your room thanks to all the open windows. The storm startles you awake. Turning away from the window, you bury your face in your damp, sweat-drenched pillow, just as the gentle roll of heavy rain starts to beat against the heated concrete city.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask in a sleepy, raspy voice as you reach for the small creature. But where you expect to meet soft fur, you meet soft skin, solid muscle coiled tight beneath it. It takes a second for your brain to register the foreign sensation, before your head snaps up and your eyes open. You’re used to sleeping next to a small rabbit-hybrid, but in its place is a very naked young man, curled in the fetal position. His large, terror-filled eyes stare at you.

You scream, scrambling off the bed and across the floor to press your back against the wall. The naked man shrinks in on himself when you yell, curling himself into a tighter ball. You can see just enough of him over the edge of the bed to spy a long, floppy ear drape over one of his arms.

“Bun?” you ask in a breathless voice. He lifts his head, and those eyes—those large, round eyes are just as dark as they were when he was a rabbit.

They’re the same.

He moves up onto his hands and knees, crawling cautiously across the bed to peer down at you. His fingers curl over the edge of the mattress, long ears dangling either side of his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers in a soft voice. He’s still tucked in on himself like a loaf, like he would sit when he was a rabbit. You can hear his foot tapping against the mattress; he’s agitated. “I woke up like this a little while ago, before the storm was over the city. I guess it scared me into transforming back.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, finally getting a handle on your breathing. It’s not everyday you wake up with a naked man in your bed…or any day recently, if you’re being honest.

“You’ve had trouble sleeping because of the heat. I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” Your heart aches. You knew the hybrid living with you was friendly and sweet-tempered, but hearing it makes it difficult not to reach out and pet and coo at him like you regularly would. There’s just enough light coming in from outside for you to see him bite his lower lip in the darkness. Your heart pangs again when you notice that he has bunny teeth even in his human form.

You shift, getting to your knees and moving closer to the bed. The hybrid doesn’t stir, still huddled in on himself, floppy ears falling each side of his face. They blend seamlessly into his long, dark, wavy hair. His eyes are impossibly large, as dark as the night sky, and reassuringly familiar. Just over his shoulder, down the slope of his back, you spy a fluffy tail twitching at the base of his spine. Resolutely, your eyes snap back to his face.

“That was very kind of you,” you say softly, watching his face spread into a warm smile, front teeth prominent and pressing into his bottom lip.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” he practically whispers, and you smile in return, resisting the urge to pat him on the head. You don’t know if it’s appropriate now he’s no longer a rabbit.

“Do you have a name?”

“Jungkook, but you can keep calling me Bun, if you want. I like it,” he says, louder this time. Confidently. And you decide, screw it, you’re going to pet him. But then thunder crashes again, bright light simultaneously filling the room, and for a single, breathtaking moment, in the stark light of the storm, you take him in.

And he is absurdly beautiful.

Jungkook ducks his head. Curling into himself, one of his feet taps incessantly against the bed. You reach out, threading your fingers through his soft, chocolate brown locks until you’re rubbing his head, fingernails scratching lightly.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook, you’re safe. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Slowly, he raises his face; eyes searching yours. “Treaty of Care, remember.” You give him a small smile. Jungkook leans forward then, pressing the tip of his nose into your cheek.

You still.

He used to do this all the time as a rabbit. It’s normal behaviour. Your research told you hybrids behave similarly to their animal counterparts. When in animal form, that is. You never expected it in human form.

His nose skims across your cheekbone until he’s rubbing it against yours. You can’t help but sigh at how incredibly intimate the act feels, and Jungkook must take that as some sort of sign, because the next thing he does is gently caress your lips with his. If it weren’t for how focused his eyes are, gauging your reaction, you might write it off as an accident. But then he does it again.

You pull back suddenly, shaking your head as though to clear it. “Let me get you something to wear,” you say, climbing to your feet and closing the blinds on your way to your draws. “I don’t know if they’ll fit you, but these are some old sweats.” You throw them to him on the bed, turning back to find him a shirt; something loose. You dig out an old t-shirt you won in a radio contest.

“Are you covered?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You turn around, extending the shirt toward him and short-circuiting when he stands at his full height. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his sculpted abdomen. All of him could be cut from marble. You stare, open-mouthed, as he shuffles foot to foot, awkwardly rubbing his elbow.

“Is that for me?” He asks finally, motioning to the garment in your hand. You nod, holding out the t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a radio station you don’t ever recall listening to. Just as he takes it, thunder claps again and brightens the room and his arm flexes, dragging you into his personal space before you can release your hold on the fabric. His chest heaves, breaths coming heavy.

“I’m tired. Let’s sleep tonight and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” you say softly, going for the bed. Jungkook just nods and moves towards the door. “Where are you going?” you ask, laying a hand on his arm.

“The sofa.” He ducks his head, ears hiding most of his face. “I didn’t think you’d want me sharing your bed anymore since—” he motions to his human form.

You swallow. It’s loud in the quiet of the room. “Is that why you stayed a rabbit for so long? So I’d let you stay?”

Jungkook looks up at you through his lashes; you can see him biting his lip again. “Kind of,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. “You were so kind to me when you found me. I was scared you’d want me to leave if I transformed back, and I wanted to stay for a little while.”

“Why?” you ask softly. “Didn’t you want to go home?” He smiles, but it looks embarrassed, his nose scrunching.

“No, not yet,” he says meekly, dipping his head. He hides behind his chocolate brown waves and long, floppy ears. “Going home is… it’s complicated.”

You lean forward, carefully reaching up to brush one of his ears aside so you can better see his eyes. His ear twitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead looking at you with all the stars of the cosmos in his eyes. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” you encourage with a soft smile. “There’s no rush. I’m also not going to make you sleep alone when you’re scared,” you say, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the bed. But his face is hopeful, so you can tell he’s only asking out of politeness.

“There’s plenty of space. And besides, you’ve had weeks to hurt me and you haven’t. I trust you.” You let go of his hand and clamber into bed.

Jungkook perks up and slips the shirt hurriedly over his head, inside out and obscuring those perfectly sculpted abs. He scrambles over the mattress to his usual side of the bed, a buck-toothed smile all over his face. His human form is impressively built, but somehow, when his head hits the pillow and he curls into a ball, he looks almost as tiny as he did in bunny form.

You lay facing him, watching him carefully. His eyes are huge and flitting between your face and the window, like he’s waiting for another crash of thunder. You sit up, reaching down to where your thin blanket had been kicked out of the way when the heatwave started, holding it up, your meaning obvious. Jungkook immediately shuffles closer, curling into your side and burying his head under your chin. It startles you for a second, your entire body going stiff, but you take a deep breath and wrap an arm around him, willing yourself to relax. You thread your fingers through his soft, brown locks, caressing his head the way you did when he was still a rabbit.

And before either of you realise the storm has already passed, you drift off together into restful sleep.

Next Chapter

#Jungkook #Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook Fluff #hybrid!Jungkook #Jungkook Smut #Jungkook x you #Jungkook x reader #Bunny!Jungkook #Jungkook Fic #BTS Fic #MarginalMadness #commission #MM Summer Nights #Summer Nights

2K notes · View notes

kookiesjoonies · 4 years

Text

first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done.

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

Drunken sleepovers with your best friend were your favorite. You were lying on the floor of Jungkook’s living room, the world’s thinnest blanket underneath you to act as a barrier between your back and the hard surface of the floor.

He laid to your left, nursing a bottle of cheap beer while you sipped red wine from your glass. When the two of you were buzzed, the urge to play drinking games always hit hard. You were thankful he seemed to enjoy them as much as you did, because you were always able to be your genuine, goofy self around him without fear of being judged.

Tonight’s game of choice was never have I ever— a classic, one that you wish you’d played more. Hearing all of Jungkook’s embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears, big belly laughs that caused you to wheeze.

��Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing you to tilt your head to look over at him, “never have I ever told someone they were a good kisser and didn’t mean it.”

You watched as your friend brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig, insinuating that he had, in fact, done just that.

When you didn’t drink from your wine glass, his eyebrow cocked and he stared down at you in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. Sure you have!”

You shrugged, giving him a quick shake of your head.

“Nope.” Your answer was simple— too simple, which left Jungkook even more intrigued than he was to begin with.

He didn’t believe you, not by a long shot. But he should’ve. Seeing as how you’d never even kissed anyone, let alone lied about whether they were a good kisser.

Being in your twenties and having never been on a real date, or held anyone’s hand (other than your friends’, but of course, that was different), or had your first kiss wasn’t exactly the coolest thing.

You’d wanted to experience such things, but no one that had come into your life so far had been worthy enough.

Except for one person— the man that was currently staring at you with his round, beautiful doe eyes. You wanted to kick your own ass for thinking of Jungkook in such a way. He was your best friend, nothing more. And you weren’t about to ruin all of that and everything that the two of you had because of your feelings.

“So, what? Everyone that you’ve ever kissed has been exceptional?” His tone let you know that he thought you were full of shit.

“Kind of have to be kissed in order to confirm or deny that.” You mumbled, voice barely even audible.

The wine was making you brave, it seemed. You weren’t drunk enough to not realize what you’d said, but you weren’t sober enough to care.

Jungkook noticeably choked on his beer he’d been drinking, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at the liquid gathering on the corners of his mouth.

“What did you just say?”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning your back to rest against the bottom of the sofa behind you.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kook.”

“Uhm, yeah it is!” He exclaimed, and your eyes rolled in response.

“No, it isn’t.” You snapped back, wishing the conversation was done and over with already.

“Can I ask why you’ve never been kissed? I mean— has the opportunity never presented itself, or have you just been waiting for the right person or something?”

He wasn’t going to let it go, it seemed. So, you twirled around the red liquid in your cup, staring down at it to avoid eye contact with your best friend. Though, you could feel his chocolate eyes burning into you, and you were sure if you glanced over at him he’d be staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but I just… I don’t know? I don’t want just anyone to kiss me. I want it to mean something, to be from someone special.”

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, and you were internally cursing yourself.

“Plus,” you said, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, “I don’t even know how to kiss, so, I’ve always been nervous.”

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook’s voice was filling your ears again.

“I’ll teach you.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and you were sure the shock was apparent all over your features. Jungkook, however, seemed oddly calm.

“Uhm, thank you? But we’re best friends, it could make things weird—“

He cut you off with a shake of his head, “Nope, our friendship is solid. A little kiss isn’t going to ruin it.”

You worried at your lower lip, pondering the thought and weighing out the pros and cons.

You’d always dreamed about what his lips would feel like against yours, you were sure he’d be a skilled kisser. The thought of his hands being in your hair while your mouths moved together in heated passion, or better yet, his hands on your ass— yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Or maybe it was the worst idea. Either way, you were about to find out.

“Okay.” You nodded, setting your nearly empty glass to the side.

“Really?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Yeah, but I’d hurry before I change my mind.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been hoping and praying that one day this day would come, and now that it finally had, he was determined to give you the best damn kiss of your life.

And it made it even better knowing that he was going to be the first person to ever touch your lips with their own. Maybe he wanted to be the first and the only. No, he definitely wanted to be the first and the only.

“Come here.” He patted his lap, and you quickly caught on.

Maybe straddling your best friend should’ve felt awkward, but this didn’t. This felt… right.

His large hands found their way onto the sides of your face, effectively cupping your cheeks. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to hear how loudly your heart was thumping against your chest.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, referring to the way your arms were resting atop his shoulders.

He nodded, flashing you that gorgeous bunny-like smile of his. Suddenly, you felt a sense of calm. All of your nerves were now replaced with adrenaline and excitement. It was amazing how quickly he was able to calm you down just with one toothy grin.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” he assured you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, “just follow my lead, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” You teased, and he chuckled.

His eyes fell shut, and so did yours. Before you knew it, and before your brain could completely process what was happening, you were kissing Jeon Jungkook.

Fireworks went off all around you, and you could no longer hear the whirring of the AC, or the sound of the television. All you could hear were his lips smacking against yours, and the way his breath hitched as your fingers pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips moved slowly, allowing you to get used to the whole process. He was gentle, and you were thankful for that.

You could savor his taste for the rest of your life, you were sure of it. He tasted heavily of beer mixed with the fried rice you’d shared for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination, but it was Jungkook, so none of it mattered. You didn’t want to taste anything, or anyone else, for as long as you lived.

His tongue ran along your lower lip, and you didn’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him. His tongue slid easily inside, twisting and curling around yours as he explored every last crevice— memorizing what seemed to get a reaction out of you.

One particular move of his wet muscle against yours had you keening and moaning into his mouth, and you quickly broke the kiss, bringing your hands up and over your mouth.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, Kook, I—“

“Sorry for what?” He was out of breath, and his pupils were blown out.

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the way you’d been tugging at it mindlessly, and his mouth was covered in your red lipstick. He’d never looked hotter, and you were suddenly very aware of the arousal pooling in between your thighs.

“For— for making that noise, I’m—“

His fingers pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and his voice was soothing as he spoke.

“Why are you sorry? That was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

His words shocked you, “But we’re best friends! I shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be—“

For the third time in a matter of minutes, he was cutting off your rambling.

“Friends don’t kiss like that, Y/n.”

“So, are you saying you don’t… want to be friends anymore?”

You feared his answer, ready to run away in a fit of tears if he confirmed your scariest thoughts. You couldn’t lose him, not like this.

“No, I don’t want to be friends,” your eyes began to well up, but he was quick to stop your tears from flowing with his next words, “I want to be more than that. I want to kiss you all the time, take you out on dates, among other things… whenever you’re ready for that. There’s no pressure here, because even if you don’t want this, I’m not going anywhere.”

There he goes with that damn calming smile again, the one that caused your heart to stop, yet was its very reason for beating all the same.

“I’d like that.” You grinned, shuffling your weight above him slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable.

When he groaned and tossed his head back, you were sure you’d hurt him. But before you could offer him your string of apologies, his hands were falling to your hips to hold you in place.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “do that again. Please.”

You arched a perfectly filled in brow, “What, this?”

Your hips rolled in a similar way that they’d done before, this time with more aim and purpose. And the man below you was making the most sinful, most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard.

His length was hardening underneath you, and your eyes enlarged at the recollection. This definitely wasn’t doing your already seeping pussy any favors.

“I understand if you don’t want to jump into anything sexual right now,” he breathed, heavy and uneven, “but if you don’t, you’re going to have to get off of me because all I want to do right now is grind into you until you’re cumming in your clothes.”

“How did we go from being best friends an hour ago, to doing this?” You couldn’t stop the giggle that made its way through your lips, your hips pushing down and rolling into his once more— letting him know that you had no intentions of stopping.

“I don’t know— Jesus!,” he bit down on his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on your hips and guided their movements, “but I’m so goddamn glad you’re on top of me right now.”

“Me too.” You were quick to agree, hands bracing on his shoulders to hold yourself up.

Both of you were gasping now, reveling in the feeling of your sexes grinding against one another. Every graze of his cock against your clothed clit sent fire through your veins, and your vision was beginning to black out.

You had no idea dry humping could feel this damn good. But you were sure that it had a lot to do with the way Jungkook looked underneath you.

He was completely wrecked and fucked out already, offering you slews of curses and praises every time you came down on his dick just right.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad,” you were bouncing against his length with fervor, no intentions of slowing down or stopping until you both reached your highs, “can’t wait to see that pretty little pussy, fill you up with my cum and mark you as mine.”

You moaned at the thought, his filthy words moving you further and further to your desired state of euphoria.

One of his hands gripped tightly on your ass, while the other rested over your clothed core. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission. He knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone before, and he wasn’t about to try and make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

“Go ahead,” you gasped, barely having time to register what he was doing until his fingers were circling over your clit.

You were very thankful that you’d decided to wear cloth pajama shorts, and thin ones at that. He could feel everything— and so could you. Your hips bucked up and into his hand as you rode his cock, begging for him to make you cum.

“You’re so fucking soaked, babe. It’s leaking through your shorts.” He smirked at the sight, gathering up a bit of the dampness on the tips of his fingers.

The way he inserted the two digits into his mouth had you crying out, nearly on the verge of tears from the sight alone.

“Wanna taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded.

He collected more of your wetness onto his fingertips, and you made a show of sucking on them lewdly once they entered into your mouth.

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?”

As if to prove his point, you used your own fingers to reach into your panties, gathering your arousal straight from the source.

His was practically salivating, eyes begging for you to let him clean your fingers off with his tongue.

As if reading his mind, you nodded. And he wasted no time before suckling your fingertips into his mouth. He moaned around them, savoring your sweet taste. He wished like hell he could pin you down and clean you up with his tongue, but he knew you weren’t ready for that, and he was respectful.

Still, he was determined to make you cum. He wanted desperately to see what you looked like when you came undone.

“No more games.” He growled, his hands returning to your hips to hold you steady above him.

He fucked up against you, the outline of his cock hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves each time.

Soon, you were crying out and squirming— a poor attempt at trying to get away.

“F-fuck! Oh, my god!” you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled, or the way your thighs began to shake, “Kook! Holy shit, I’m gonna—“

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm washed over you and you came harder than you ever had before in your life. Your body felt hot, and every single one of your limbs were shaking. The only thing you were able to say or remember was Jungkook’s name, chanting it like a prayer as you slowly came back down to earth.

“That was fucking beautiful,” He was quick to compliment you, staring down at the apparent dark spot on your light pink shorts, “just wanna clean that all up, then do it all over again.”

Your face was flushed, and you weren’t sure whether it was from the mind blowing orgasm you’d just had or his words. You couldn’t be bothered to care, your body falling limp against his as he held your delicate frame close to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You huffed, and you felt the rumble of Jungkook’s chest as he chuckled.

“So, you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” His hand caressed your back, and your eyes fell shut at the soothing feeling.

“Mhm.” You were dozing off, barely aware of what he’d said at all.

He just simply smiled at you, pressing his lips to kiss the top of your head.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to sleep.”

You nodded as he stood up from the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“Good idea.” You mumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his chest.

He carried you down the short hallway to his master bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. You were already nearly asleep as he laid you down on the right side of his bed.

Jungkook kissed at your temple before making his way over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers for you to change into. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, carrying a damp cloth in his hand when he returned.

You smiled at him, eyes half open.

“This feels like a dream.”

The weight of the mattress shifted as he sat down beside you, holding out the fresh change of undergarments and the towel for you.

“Tell me about it.” He grinned, turning his head away from you to give you some privacy as you changed out of your soiled shorts.

You were thankful for that— for how respectful he was.

As you pulled your shorts down along with your panties, a realization hit you and your eyes widened.

“Kook!” you shrieked, startling the man, “you didn’t cum!”

He barked out a laugh at your outburst. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you were quick to prove him wrong.

“I know, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” You insisted, quickly wiping your thighs clean and pulling on the plaid boxers he’d given you.

“Babe, I promise, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

Your lower lip pushed out and into a pout, your hands reaching forward to grab his face so that you could make him look at you.

“But, I wanted to make you cum.”

He hissed at your words, willing his cock not to rise. He knew you were tired, and there’d be plenty of time for you to get him off later.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We can fool around tomorrow if you want to.”

You sighed, a tiny frown present on your face now.

“Can I just… give you a hand job, or something?”

You didn’t miss the way he groaned at your words, or the way his eyes quickly screwed shut.

“If you want to, you can. But don’t feel like you have to, I promise, it’s okay.”

“I want to,” you didn’t hesitate in replying, “but I’ve never done it before, so…”

Before you knew it, he was moving to lie down beside you on the other side of the bed. He was already sporting a tent in his athletic shorts, which had you nearly drooling. Based on the outline, he was sure to be huge. You prayed that you were right.

Jungkook looked relaxed, large eyes staring up at you and waiting for you to make a move. He flashed you an encouraging smile, his hands resting behind his head.

“Go ahead, do whatever you want. No need for you to be shy, it’s just me.”

Just him.

If anything, those words did little to calm your nerves. You’d only ever dreamed about being in similar predicaments with your best friend. And now that it was real and happening, you were petrified that you’d do something wrong and send him running in the opposite direction.

Taking a mental deep breath, you sat up in the bed and crossed your legs as you turned your body to sit right beside his lower half.

You reached a shaky hand forward, brushing your fingertips over the outline of his rock hard length. As your fingertips danced and teased over his covered cock, Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat.

Carefully studying his face to watch his reactions, you pulled his shorts down and he lifted his hips to help you out.

The tight, grey briefs he was wearing left little to the imagination. You could see every ridge and curve of his thick length, and drool was collecting on the corners of your mouth as you admired it.

“Like what you see?” His voice was teasing, and he wiggled his hips.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his actions.

Yeah, it was just Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person you trusted and loved most in this world. It was okay. This was okay.

With your newfound confidence, you tugged his underwear down, his impressive dick springing free in the process.

You moaned quietly at the sight.

Sure, you were a virgin and didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were positive he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen— and would ever see in your life. The head was perfectly pink and already dripping with precum, long veins running from base to tip. You couldn’t wait for the day it would be buried inside of you, and your cunt clenched around nothing at the thought alone.

Your hand instinctively found itself wrapped around his length as best it could, fingers unable to connect to your palm due to his size. Jungkook let out a breathy sigh at the sudden contact, his eyes glued to the way your hand began to do a few test pumps.

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back, “just like that. A little faster.”

With his guidance, you did as he suggested and picked up the speed of your hand. You watched the way his face contorted, the way his eyes screwed shut and pulled together as you ran your thumb over his slit, collecting the moisture leaking from it to use as makeshift lube.

Deciding to take a risk, you collect a bit of saliva in your mouth before allowing it to drip down and onto his cock.

“Hoooooly fuck, that’s hot.” You smirked at Jungkook’s praise and approval, working your hand up and down his shaft at a quicker and easier pace now thanks to the slick your spit had created.

The faster your hand pumped, the harder it became for Jungkook to properly breathe. He was panting, curses and praises of your name leaving his lips every so often.

You brought your free hand up to work at his balls, rolling and caressing them in a way that seemed to drive the man halfway to insanity.

“Fuck, you sure this is your first time doing this?” He breathed out the words, his arm falling to rest over his eyes as he attempted to keep himself composed.

“Swear.” You responded, eyes glued to the way his bottom lip was now rested between his teeth.

One final twist of your palm had him reeling, gripping at the sheets underneath him with one hand— his other coming to wrap around your wrist as you continued to work him toward his end.

He was moaning shamelessly, not the least bit shy in letting you know how amazing you were making him feel. Maybe it was the way you were fondling him, or maybe it was the fact that it was you giving him the best hand job he was sure he’d ever had.

He decided it was probably a combination of both as his hips thrust up wildly, effectively fucking his dick into your grasp. The way his cock seemed to twitch let you know he was close, and you brought your hand up and then back down as fast as you could.

He came with a loud moan of your name, his sperm coating his lower stomach and your hand all at the same time. You watched in awe as he lost himself, pride settling in as you realized that you were the one responsible for his orgasm.

As Jungkook’s body slowly stopped writhing, you removed your hand from his member. You waited for him to make eye contact with you again before you dipped your fingertips into the cum on the back of your other hand and brought them up and into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He groaned, marveling at your erotic behavior.

You effectively cleaned his seed from your fingers, swallowing it and showing him your tongue along with your empty mouth.

“That was amazing.” His compliments sent butterflies straight to your stomach, and he was pulling your mouth down to crash on his before you could respond.

“I love you.” You were mumbling the words against his lips before you even realized what you were saying.

You were panicking instantly, kicking your own ass for blurting it out. Sure, you’d said you loved each other before, but not like this.

The feeling of Jungkook grinning against your mouth is what calmed you, and you matched his smile with one of your own.

His forehead rested against yours as he pulled away, and the two of you let out a sigh of content.

“I love you too, you know.” His hand caressed your lower back as he spoke, your thumb running over his cheek.

“I was hoping.” You giggled, and he simply shook his head at you.

This was it, you thought.

You never wanted to kiss anyone else, or do anything remotely sexual with anyone else. He was going to be your first everything, you were sure of it. And you hoped that he’d be your last.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

5K notes · View notes

honestlyfrance · 3 years

Text

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more!

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. ��What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

#onlysambucky #sambucky #fysbfriday #fysambuckyweek #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #france: fic rec #fic rec #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes

164 notes · View notes

savnofilter · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 9

Natsuo ➷ Midoriya ➷ Kirishima ➷ Fatgum ➷ Shinso ➷ Tamaki ➷ Todoroki ➷ Bakugo ➷ Shindo ➷ Giran ➷ Dabi ➷ Shigaraki ➷ All For One

☠️ warning(s): ⚠️ everything between both parties is consensual. ⚠️ 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒, con/dubcon.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 260+ [about one minute each].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary)

☠️ summary: instead of the original fic idea, i swapped it out with somnophilia hcs,,, enjoy.

Natsuo (x)

giving:

wellllll since i dont know much about him i dont feel like he’s really into it. Up to your choices tbh.

feel like once on a blue moon he’ll wake up and decide he wants his dick in you like a thermometer or just finger you until you wake up.

isnt really something you guys discussed, he kinda just admired how beautiful you are.

if hes ever feeling freaky-deaky mayhaps he’ll eat you out,,,

he fucking loves it when you reciprocate his touches, it urges him to continue and tease you more.

honestly just being able to pleasure you himself is what gets him rock hard, he doesnt even want anything in return he just wants to hear your sighs and moans.

natsuo's first just cause ion feel like it's something he does every day, more like once in a while just to tease you~

receiving:

to dooont talk about receiving --, hes a sucker for waking up with his pp in your mouth. 🤭

he likes to flex it when it's in, pushing you just a little lower just to hear you gag a bit.

"Sorry babe, couldn't help myself~"

…. well thats aight with me-

isnt big on full-on making you choke on him but if you wake him with the glawk glawk 3000 he’ll have a brighter day.

hes a Todoroki so just know he has the gene being a sadistic teaser.

if you wake him up with cock warming he will literally marry you while he destroys your guts.

he likes somnophilia 11/10.

Midoriya (x, x)

giving:

Midoriya is mostly timid, already having the consent talk between you two but hes still nervous.

oftentimes he just grinds up against you and keeps you close, but sometimes his hands do wander in other places.

when he first starts to experiment, he likes to soft kiss your neck and rubs his hips against you softly.

he might squeeze your breasts here and there to tease you, hands snaking under your shirt to feel your warm skin against his calloused and strong hands.

like headcanon before, Midoriya doesnt like to do penetration until he knows he has your full-on consent.

hes sweet but dont expect him to go full on soft with you lol.

forbiddddddd Midoriya chooses oral because this boi will go for how long it takes his tongue to get tired.

and thats not very easy.

he loves to admire your body so most often he does it out of the,,, love he has. 🥴

and hes a closet perv too.

receiving:

if you give it to him -- instant NUT. no cap.

he'll be like "H-Honey" and then tense up and just nut.

but ofc being the good s/o you are, you still continue because youre a good s/o like that.

bonus points if you treat him like hes a dirty perv for liking it, also gets on his subside if you really wanna degrade him too.

some times when hes awake enough he can have the dom energy but most times her cant help but be a pillow prince for you~~

and he doesnt mind either. he enjoys it. there's something down inside him that just helps him sleep at night that you use him for your pleasure and his.

there's just a whole lot to unwrap here. ;)

Kirishima (x)

giving:

hm.

to place Kirishima in third being hes the type to stay up like an hour after youve fallen asleep and stick his cock in you so he can feel you grind up against every few times throughout the night.

gives you a few encouraging thrusts before he does fall asleep just to give your body a bit of a head start.

wraps his arms around your waist to ensure you cant escape him. 😳

of course since he is like this, somnophilia has been discussed between you two so he's not on full on creep mode.

sometimes he'll wake you up by just pounding into you at full send.

likes to tease sensitive parts of your body just to get you to wake up,,, bites marks littered on your skin as well.

hes careless and the only thing he is really focused on is? hes not sure. he just know he fucking loves doing it with you too.

best part is when he records and then faps to the footage later-

but what can he do, he likes to cherish every moment you two share ~

receiving:

oh please wake him up like that.

he has no qualms if its him in your mouth or you taking him inside you he just wants it.

when you wake up him like that he honestly feels like maybe there is someone up there.

is such a moaner.

he likes it when youre a little rough too, cant help but be a masochist when he wakes up smh.

if you ride him please let him choke on your fingers -- better yet have your ass face his direction so he can do whatever he wants with your lower parts as well.

even when you are giving he still wants to reciprocate as well, he loves to have your pleasured whenever you two get busy.

most times when you engage in somnophilia it has to be days when he has off. why? he might just go all day.

pleasure him, but do it wisely. 🤧

Fat gum (x)

giving:

taishiro is the type of guy to like put his dick in your mouth lol.

not even like get you slicked up or anything, just cock in mouth.

probably gets you semi undressed before he gropes you like a creep, getting his cock hard before opening your sleeping mouth and slipping his dick into your mouth.

makes you choke on his cock to wake you up, enjoying it when you dont have time to hide your gag reflex and watch as you try and get use to his tip pressing at the back of your throat.

half of the time, taishiro doesnt even wake you up. he plays with you just to get you wet and stinky.

sometimes he diddles himself and cums on you just to have you confused when you wake up.

honestly beats Midoriya at being a closet pervert, but does he really try to hide it?

receiving:

hmmmmmm

he doesnt really care to receive it.

sure it's a very nice surprise to wake up to but he prefers it when hes the one playing with you.

likes it better if youre taking him with one of your lower holes just because he already has enough experience with your mouth wrapped around his cock.

if riding him manages to wake him up, teasing him wont go on for any longer. he has no choice but to take over and just ran your brains out.

when hes done flipping the script and you both are satisfied you more out of shape than him, he'll be like,

"Welp, crepe for breakfast?"

Shinso (x)

giving:

oral central

i cant think of shinso having his ding-ding be the first thing to tease you when you wake up with fingers and oral. no and's, no but's.

he doesnt like to rush you up on waking up, more with the smooth process and it isnt really doing it for a reaction.

he just wants to toy with you.

honestly, like fat gum he does it so youre usually in a confused state when you wake up. horny but not knowing why and knowing full-well you didnt have a wet dream either.

its not until a few more times of him doing it is when you realize it's his doing and that in itself has you in a blushing mess.

not expecting that from him at all but not complaining. 😳

sometimes you dress just a little provocatively just to inspire him~

receiving:

if you dont wake him up with his cock in your mouth hes gonna have a bad day. >:(

jk, he respecs wamen.

deadass do it once and he might just marry you.

if youre doing a little under par from what you usually do, he'll just have to nudge yah a lil, push you on, use his quirk.

"Fuck -- just like that kitten~"

WELL DAMN IF YOU DIDNT WANT TO SUCK THE SOUL OUT OF HIM ALREADY-

he doesnt really care if you wake him up like that, much appreciated but he doesnt really care.

i mean if you do, just get ready for an early morning of face fucking… just saying.

Tamaki (x)

giving:

yall aint ready for this one.

some people may say, 'aw tamaki would wake up s/o and just cuddle her to death uwu<3", while yes he will, dont underestimate him.

to think of him in somnophilia is where we break the closet pervert ends.

hes more of like, i really like my dick and i really like you so i’ll just go on and fuck you awake.

theres on lead up or anything, he’ll full on give you brain or just fuck you as if you are awake, apologising profusely once you do wake up.

“I-I’m s-sorry to wake you like this… I couldn’t help myself…”

he’ll never fully use quirk on you while you sleep though. thats a big nope from him.

when he sexs you up he wants it to be fully him… and only him.

(i mean its his quirk from him -- but you get the point!)

CEO of going till ya numb.

his favorite his sticking his dick into you and rutting into you like a dog in a rut.

definitely is a groper. cannot and will not convince me otherwise.

he just really loves it when you moan out for him and make cute noises~ its all he needs to start off for a good day.

receiving:

well, it definitely is a pleasant surprise.

doesnt affect him like he does when he wakes you up but he appreciates your efforts.

most times when hes conscience enough he’ll just take over as if you werent trying to surprise him before.

honestly if youre looking for an early pounding thats the best time and way to get him into action.

since he sees it as teasing he cant help but have to pay you back.

he’ll be straight up clapping dem cheeks and he’ll just be like “you feel so fucking good” with the nicest sounding moan anyone can mumble into your ear.

yeah…. I encourage doing it to him.

gets him nice and possessive giving you both a good time while he can live out his lil dom fantasies for the day.

//win win.

Todoroki (x, x)

receiving:

hes like a blushing mess.

if you couldnt see him as a sub before, well get ready for this.

catch him off guard and guarantee youll get a completely different Shouto.

he turns into a full on pillow prince, with no shame. As long as you focus on getting him off he’ll let you do what he wants.

if you especially focus on his soft spots that dont have to do with his nipples or the third leg between his legs that when youll get him puddy under your hands.

“Y-Y/N..~”

well shit, say your name like that and he might make you revert submissive behaviour too.

you treat him like a perfect lil’ prince whenever he does, wanting to pamper him anyways.

on a rare chance could you spark him into flipping the tables but thats more on a random occurrence more than anything.

note to self: sub Sho? surprise him.. ✍️

Bakugo (x, x)

giving:

this one is kindaaaa tricky.

now, Katsuki wont do it often. but when he does it, he does it with uhh,,,, passion. if you would like to call it that.

he mimics all the spots you loved to be touched when youre awake just to see how long it takes for your body to wake up and realize that hes playing with you.

calculated in his actions, obviously. hes not some idiot who rushes, everything he does is precise whether or not you know it.

because of this, being able to please you is easy so his clear motive? not very sure….

maybe it's to see you squirm and wake up? mayhaps to see what pure pleasure looks like written over your face. who knows, all you knew is that he always had a smug look on his face when he was able to make you cum by the end of it.

thats if…. he let you that is.

receiving:

sort of like Todoroki, you may just get him to be the whole bottom in the term, "power bottom".

tries to hold in moans and groans but usually fails which makes him sooooo frustrated.

if he gets too flustered he'll make you stop and give whatever you have him by tenfold.

brace yourself for a long and bumpy ride, you may have to do it on days he isnt going to work that day because he'll sure rock you out of this world.

best if done on holidays as well, itll leave you walking a lil awkward for a few days.

and of course, that isnt okay for being on the job is it?

Shindo (x)

giving:

ddjhvbjhvb

hes this high on the list for a reason.

ongggggggg he’ll tease the ever living shit out of you until he gets bored or decides youve earned it.

damn snarky wont even prep your body or anything, just straight out the cut uses his quirk just to get your senses all riled up.

does everything on the scale of full on senses to just barely touching you.

his teasing always wakes you up into a confused state that is wanting to more, shamelessly begging for him to continue.

he carries great pride in taking responsibility in getting you like this. but dont be mistakened! he will not go easier on you just because you woke up.

you had only just felt the pre-course to the real action~

buckle up, kitten.

receiving:

nope. if youre going to take advantage of him, he wants to fully aware.

… for sadistic reasons more than consensual.

Giran (x)

giving:

this old fucking man.

likes to sneak in and just feel you up good.

of course he doesnt want through his back out so yknow- im just kidding.

giran will go to town if he has to.

but most times, the old fart just loves to, "make love" to his darling.

calls you sweet petnames in your ear as you sleep, just so you can dream about you too.

he knows how to tease and play with you. he can finish the job without even so much as stirring you awake.

hes studied you long enough and has played with you enough to make you finish as well.

it's magic honestly, and his best part is leaving you with the mess between your legs and nothing but confusion written all over your face.

how could he know that's your reaction although he leaves before you can wake up?

simple. hes always has his ways~

receiving:

the few rare times he let's you into his humble abode is when you decide to treat him.

really adament of sucking him off to wake him up just to see his early morning smile.

him rewarding you with giving you the same treatment or dirty praise is all you need before you leave and act as if you werent sleeping around with a villain recruiter and his #1 sugar baby for that matter.

when you surprise him in his study is the real kicker.

youve been under his desk many times to be familiar with the spot and assume the position.

you usually bring up breakfast or dinner (whichever time you arrive) and wake him up in the good way that motivates him to continue on with his stressful job.

surely, he can never thank you enough. if it wasnt for your efforts, he wouldnt know how to deal with himself~

Dabi (x, x)

giving:

✨ rise n shine, dabi's fat cock is here to wake you up. ✨

this asshole -- this asshole.

has no shame at all. he knows full well what hes doing.

likes to feel you up and just feel at you sometimes. hes so touch starved that he cant even help it.

he ranges from teasing you till you wake up to full-on fucking your brains out.

of course he enjoys it when youre confused but wanting more, your body more than ready to receive his hands.

at some point, you just like to tease him for it too. usually he catches onto your game and plays accordingly.

he cant help but feel blessed that someone he loves so very much could enjoy the same interests he does as well.

just let him know you like it when he feels you up and he'll give it to you anytime you ask~

receiving:

would not recommend unless you want early-morning-face fucking.

like you wouldnt catch someone wake up from something like that faster than Dabi.

you may wonder why, it's just his touch starved nature. im telling you, it responds to anything.

no matter what position, how you do it you will get a positive reaction from him.

tell me you cant imagine him moaning, "that's it, doll~ swallow my cock like the slut you are~"

IN A SLEEPY RASPY VOICE??? HELLO 🤧

this man is just a walking breathing example of what the word simp feels like.

youre supposed to turn away because hes not the type of guy to fall in love with but most times like this is when you cant help it..

Shigaraki (x, x)

giving:

master diddler, yes he is.

hes the type to not even stick his cock in, just like hump at you like a needy animal and just mark up your neck as if he hasnt had sex in years.

is the type to use other parts of your body to get off just to avoid pleasuring you as he gets off.

youll wake up to his cum in various spots. between your legs, on your chest and even your armpits. if it has a place where his cock can fit its going there.

he doesnt give a shit if you fuss about it later, “why didn’t you cum inside” headass.

youll have to earn him using you like cocksleeve the proper way.

youre either a heavy sleeper or light because you can wake up as soon as he starts or wake up after hes done.

Either way, as long as he can see the pureness on your expression is all he needs to help his perverse needs.

Shigaraki isnt the person to use you during your sleep without having at least talked it with you.

yeah hes a creep but hes not that weird.

likes to whisper degrading stuff into your ear when you sleep just so you can dream about what hes doing to you, his hands not stopping a moment as he gets off to feeling you up.

just dont expect anything less then degenerate from him

receiving:

you have to be a special type of breed to even think about touching him without him being in control.

the thought of you possibly being able to one-up him is a no-no.

he wont allow it.

if he even senses you thinking about it he’ll stir awake and glare at you as if there is no tomorrow.

but say you do manage to catch him off guard, this may be the only times you can really edge a moan out of him of.

so use your time wisely.

All for one (x)

giving:

ive said it once, i'll say it again.

you just have no rights bro. im sorry.

he wakes him sometimes and just goes, "this bitch deserves a rude awakening today".

like okay mr fuckface.

is the one that is always on x games mode, no softness for him at all.

probably has you wear those kitten/mitten collar things like*cough cough* kakegurui *cough cough* even when youre carrying out errands for him.

the point is honestly to keep you in place, and you cant help but like it anyways.

some may dislike being viewed as a pet or anything less but you love it hence why you stay.

plus, if you could runaway, would you be able to?

nevermind that, you didnt want someone else to replace you so youll stay his obedient bitch for now.. 😌

receiving:

you wouldnt. you just wouldnt.

1K notes · View notes

manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

64 notes · View notes

dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys

Hello Lovelies! I circled back to my element and wrote a more traditional Mikaelson Boys fic. Did I reuse the theme of a ball? Yes, I am a weak and lazy woman. Did I make the fic completely implausible and touchy? You know I did, they’re vampires and I will let them touch whoever they want (with consent of course). Anyway, it’s honestly just a cute, kinda steamy romance. I altered some of the points from the universe but you have to squint to see where. You know, my entire gambit. You could use this as a prologue for my other fic, Big Decisions, but this is more than fine as a standalone. Anyways, I hope you are all doing well and that this story brings you joy! Until next time <3

Description: Y/n is part of a founding family and gets invited to a Mikaelson ball. Somehow she manages to enamour three of the brothers. They soon discover she has a few secrets that they’re more than willing to indulge.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: Kudos to me I think there are none

Word count: 10k (oops)

Tags: Fluff, smut if you squint (more like nudity)

“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You smile softly at her, swiveling in your chair, “what event? My parents haven’t said anything to me.”

Your family is a founding family, just like Lily’s is. That’s how the two of you became best friends, it was practically destined. You were babies at the same time and your parents brought you to every meeting together. You were inseparable long before you can remember.

Lilly yawns, curling her legs to her chest, “I think it’s some sort of ball. I’m not too sure, I think we got invitations,” Lily rolls her eyes as if the concept of a hand written letter offends her very being, “and they probably just forgot or assumed I would tell you. Isn’t your mom, like, the head of the committee now?”

You nod at her, closing your own eyes for a second, “yeah she’s always got something going on. I swear she forgets she even has a daughter half the time.” You let your mind drift to the other half of the conversation, “Invitations? That’s exciting.”

You don’t have to look at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes again. You crack an eye open anyway just in time to glimpse her do that very thing. You giggle lightly, shaking your head.

Always one for theatrics, “careful, Lil, your tomboy is showing. What would your mother think if she could see you up in arms over a silly, little note, hmm?”

She scowls at you before letting the grin crack through, flipping her middle finger up at you and mouthing bite me.

You lean your head back against your chair, “I’m not even sure if mama wants me to come. She hasn’t said anything about this to me. She called me yesterday and it didn’t come up once. Maybe I should just stay here.”

“Not true,” Lily curls her fingers at you, beckoning you to join her on the bed, “she’s just busy these days. Remember how she was when we were little?”

You move to the bed, curling next to your best friend, “you mean how she was always around? She went from helicopter parent to too busy to text me back.”

You yawn, closing your eyes and letting the lullaby of sleep on your limbs sing a little louder. Lily cuddles closer to you, almost gone herself. You wish you could hold onto these moments. These fleeting minutes of comfort in your best friend’s arms. It’ll be gone all too soon. You almost don’t want to fall asleep. Laying next to her feels like the calm before the storm and you want to soak up as much of it as you can. Your heavy eyelids, however, have other plans.

“You’re coming. If I have to go then so do you. I’m sure this weekend will be different,” her voice is the last thing you hear before you drift off, “I can feel it.”

* * * * * * * * *

Sure enough, when you pull into your parent’s driveway after dropping Lily off at her own house, your mother bursts through the door, a wide smile on her face. You let your own smile drown the nerves you’ve been fighting for the last three hours, practically falling out of the car to get to her. She wraps you in a hug, her familiar honeysuckle and lilac scent trickling around you.

“I missed you, mama,” you whisper against her shoulder and she squeezes you tighter for a second before letting go.

“Oh honey,” she crinkles her nose at you, her face the picture of serene joy, “what’s to miss? I’m always right here. I, however, missed you so much.” She leads you into the house, her arm around your shoulders tight, “Tell me all about everything!”

You suck in a breath as you enter your house, letting your shoulders sag as you pass over the door frame. You’re home, finally. You glance around quickly at everything you’ve missed for the last few months. You glance at family photos, most of which include Lily, and the random trinkets your parents have collected over the years. There are a few new ones and you make a mental note to look at them later.

You settle on a stool at the kitchen counter, leaning your head in your hand, “you first, mama. What’s this about a ball? And an invitation, hmm? You’ve been holding out on me.”

Her eyes widen, telling you everything you need to know. She forgot. You really aren’t that surprised. It makes you feel better, at least the reason she didn’t tell you wasn’t because she didn’t want you to attend. Lily was right, you’ll have to let her say I told you so when you see her next.

“Oh shoot,” she snaps her fingers, rushing to the foyer, her voice floating to you as she turns the corner, “I’m so sorry honey, it completely slipped my mind. I barely had a chance to glance at my own invitation,” she comes back into view, now with two envelopes in her hand, “here you go!”

She hands you the envelope and you almost gasp at how luxurious the paper feels in your fingers. The cardstock is definitely of the more expensive selection and you blanche. Who on earth could be sending this? You read your name on the card drawn in an elegant script. Handwritten. You had been joking with Lily when you thought that but now, looking at it first hand, it almost offends you as well. You could never write like that.

You open it carefully, making sure to not taint the red seal. You’re pretty sure your heart would collapse if that happened. This has to be one of the most beautiful things you have ever touched. You pull the equally luxurious note from the envelope, your eyes dancing over the paper.

Please join the Mikaelson Family this coming Saturday at seven o’clock for dancing, cocktails, and celebration.

Your heart stops. This coming Saturday. Saturday. As in today Saturday. You whip your head up to stare at your mother, your mouth falling open.

“Mama,” this time your eyes widen, “this is tonight!” you hiss, your brows shooting up, “I can’t attend this! There’s no time, it’s two in the afternoon already!”

She rolls her eyes and for a moment you picture Lily and how she would call you dramatic. You can practically hear her voice. Just wear jeans you princess. You scoff at imaginary Lily. You can’t attend a ball in jeans, not that that would stop her at all.

“You can and you should attend,” she places a finger under your chin, drawing your eyes to meet hers, “the Mikaelson’s are new to town and have invited us. It’s only polite that we attend. Besides,” she winks at you and your cheeks flood with heat, “they are quite the handsome bunch. Perhaps you can end this dry spell? Give me some grandbabies?”

You choke at her words, pulling your face from her fingers with burning skin, “oh my god, mama! I’m almost certain you should not be condoning grandbabies! Besides, I have nothing to wear so I highly doubt I’ll be the one pulled from the crowd. Reproduction rates are looking slim, I am sorry to say!”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling, and you can’t stop yourself from joining her, “alright, alright. No grandbabies. Yet. However, I’m not so sure how you can be so certain when you haven’t even looked at what I picked up for you. I quite think you’re going to change your mind, honey bunch.”

Your laughter stops abruptly as she leaves the room for the second time. You hear her jog up the stairs and your interest is officially peaked. She never jogs. What on earth has she done? You rack your brain, trying to picture what she’s going to show you now. You don’t have much time to sit on your thoughts, however, because soon you can hear her feet on the stairs again, still jogging, now humming a tune you can’t place.

When she comes back into view, your mouth falls open. In her hands is a gown. No, not just a gown. In her hands is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. It’s a black, sequined number with a full skirt and a slit that looks like it will rest a touch lower than your hip. The straps keeping it on the hanger are thin, almost nonexistent, and the bodice has a deep but modest dip. When she moves it sparkles like a diamond, catching the sun rays pouring in through the kitchen window. She holds it up, letting it flow to its full effect in front of you, and you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth.

You can feel the tears prickling at the edge of your vision and you silently scold yourself for being so emotional, “mama, where did you get this? It’s too much!”

Her smile falters, minutely, but you still see it and curse silently, “you don’t like it?”

You stand quickly, your eyes wide, “no! That’s not it,” you take the dress from her, afraid it’ll disappear if you don’t touch it, “this must have cost a fortune is all! How can we afford this?”

It’s true, the dress looks like a million bucks and probably costs as much. You’re a founding family, sure, but that doesn’t instantly equate to old money. It doesn’t even mean new money. Your family has never struggled to get by but you also know that something this extravagant would have definitely set your father back a pretty penny. You don’t want your family to waste their hard earned money on something this frivolous, even if it is the most stunning thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Your mother’s smile returns to its full brilliance and she shakes her head, “it didn’t cost me a thing, honey, don’t worry. Mrs. Jackson down the street owed me a favor and I asked if she had anything particularly pretty laying around. She pulled this from her closet. She also told me to let you know that it’s yours if you would like.”

You hug the dress tiger to your chest, your mouth gaping further, “I can keep this?”

Your mother giggles, bobbing her head up and down quickly. She looks like she’s ready to start jumping. You don’t blame her, you’re half a second away from doing the same thing. You could scream from how ecstatic you are.

“Come, honey,” your mom grabs your hand, dragging you up the stairs with her, “I think it’s high time we start getting ready for tonight, don’t you think? You have some Mikaelson’s to wow!”

* * * * * * * * *

When seven o’clock rolls around you’re standing outside the biggest mansion you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Its white pillars taunt you, each one large enough to hide your body. Twice. You’re alone, spare the people around you milling in and out of the large doors. Your mother had dropped you in front while her and your father went to park the car. Never before in your life has a house made you feel this small. This alone. You pull your shawl, a sheer black number, around your shoulders and shrink slightly.

A hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, spinning around quickly only to be greeted with Lily, whose face is twisted from the laughter pouring out of her. She clutches her stomach from the force, wrinkling the red satin dress she’s wearing. You take a moment to admire how much it suits her. It’s a little bold for your tastes but she wears it like no one else could. Her hair is twisted on the top of her head, a few curls falling to frame her face. She looks amazing, not that you had any doubts.

You lightly smack her shoulder, finally letting a few giggles loose, “you scared me you idiot!” You turn your eyes back to the mansion, swallowing the lump of nerves growing in your throat, “take a look at this place, will you. It’s huge! Have you ever seen a house this big? What could someone possibly need a house this big for?”

“Yeah it’s something alright,” her eyes drag down the hulking facade before meeting yours once more, a naughty smirk now on her red lips, “and I’m sure the inside is even nicer! Let’s go!”

She grabs your hand, all but dragging you over the threshold. Light pours over you, catching the sequins on your dress and making it sparkle delicately, something that would usually make you squeal however your attention is currently elsewhere. That elsewhere is the dual grand staircase in the center of the room. It’s encased in pillars, the feature leaking in from the exterior of the mansion. It’s bronze railings are strung up with thousands of twinkling lights. The staircase is easily the focal point of the foyer.

But not because of the lights.

Lily digs her nails into your hand, pulling you to a screeching halt, “are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

Her eyes are glued to the same place that yours are, dragging up and down the staircase with little care to whoever might be watching her little show. You choose a less outright form of gawking, opting to look all around the room while still making little glances at your main focus.

“Yeah, Lil, I think I am,” you gulp, your eyes training on three sinfully gorgeous men, “mama said they were handsome but this,” you let the end of your sentence drop, not having nearly the vocabulary to explain the Mikaelsons.

In total, there are five people on the staircase. Four men and a woman. Each one is gorgeous in their own right. You mull over the woman first. If you thought that you looked nice before you left, that’s pretty much gone now. She’s absolutely stunning. Her blonde hair lays in a sheet over her shoulders, winding almost to her base of her spine. She wears an emerald gown, one fitted to every dip and curve of her body like it was spun by Aphrodite herself. You have to look away, she’s the kind of pretty that makes you feel like you’re not worthy of seeing it.

Your eyes travel to the man next to her and your mouth goes dry. He’s tall. That’s the first thing you notice. If you were next to him he would easily tower over you. Not just because of his height, though. You shift your focus to his arms and the way the sleeves of his tux hug them tightly. You have no doubts this man could rip you in two if he wanted to. He stands at ease, his eyes wandering the faces of those closest to him as he lifts a hand to smooth over his brown hair. At least he doesn’t look to be in the killing mood.

Behind him is a man with blonde hair. Even from across the room it looks softer than silk and your palms itch to run through it. He leans against the railing, a glass of champagne loose in his fingers. His eyes are on the others but he has the appearance of a man who is a thousand miles away. Your heart hurts at the thought but you brush past it. You don’t know him and you’re most likely wrong. Still you give him another brush over, wishing slightly that he would crack even a hint of a smile.

You shake your head, moving to the man at the top of the stairs. He’s alive with something fiery, speaking to the others with animated hands and laughing hard. You can’t hear him over the crowd around you but, gods, you wish you could. It’s probably nothing important but, by the looks of him, he could make anything sound special. He throws his head back laughing, his brown hair flopping wildly. You can’t look at him for long either but not for the same reason you couldn’t look at the woman. No, you can’t look at him because you’re afraid if you look any longer than you’ll be sucked in forever.

When you look at the last man you shiver. It’s not the kind of shiver that makes you feel exhilarated though, it’s the opposite. Your blood runs cold when you look at him and, when his eyes meet yours, you look away instantly. You can feel his eyes burning into your back for a few moments after and you hate it. Unlike the rest of them, this man makes you feel ice cold.

You tug on your best friend’s hand, desperate to get away from the man, “come on, Lil, let’s go find the champagne.”

Lily’s eyes light up at the thought, instantly taking the lead on this new expedition, “girl you read my mind!”

You take one last glance towards the staircase as she pulls you into another room, momentarily catching three pairs of brown eyes before scampering around the corner. Your cheeks are hot when you’re finally out of their vicinity. You hadn’t realized how heavy the air around them had been. Now that you can’t see them your bones feel marginally lighter. Something nags at you though, a loss of sorts. You rub a hand over your chest, massaging the ache away.

Lily pushes a cool glass into your hand, lifting her own to her lips. You follow suit, breathing in the sugary scent before letting the sweet bubbles flow down your throat. They pop, soothing your flaming chest.

“Shit,” Lily breathes, “everything about this screams money. The invitations, the house, this damn champagne. What’s next? A pool of synchronised swimmers?” Her eyes wander the room, her fingers tight around the glass, “I’m not used to this Great Gatsby level of wealth. It’s making my head spin a little. This is my parent’s scene, not mine.”

You nod lightly, her words everything you’ve been dying to say. It’s magnificent but you’ve never felt more out of place. Not even the founders day balls are like this. At least Mrs. Lockwood has the good sense to cater to the modesty of the town. Before you can answer, however, a voice joins your conversation.

“My apologies, my brothers like to go overboard when throwing parties. It’s not quite my taste either, a little too stuffy if you ask me.”

You spin around to the sight of the woman from the stairs and your heart pounds hard in your chest. She’s even more beautiful up close, like a Van Gogh masterpiece. Her voice is accented and smooth, impossibly so. You feel like a peasant in her presence but her smile is light and it helps to soothe your nerves a touch. When you look at Lily, though, her cheeks are beet red and her eyes are wide.

“Oh my, I am so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would hear me besides,” she nudges you lightly, the smile she’s plastered on her face sheepish, “this one here. It really is gorgeous. Perhaps university has lowered my standards.”

You watch Lily fumble her words and you don’t blame her. This girl seems like she was made to insite insecurity and you mean that in the very best of ways. Despite her slight enthusiasm, though, Lily’s eyes flow over the woman slowly. You can tell she’s interested. By the way her stares are being reciprocated, you would say she isn’t the only one. You smile at that.

The woman laughs, her eyes filled with mirth, “your standards aren’t low, this party is just a nightmare. I’m Rebekah, one of the many Mikaelsons you will surely encounter tonight,” she looks over her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, “and it looks as though you’re going to get the immersive experience.”

You, too, look over her shoulder and your heart stops. The three men from the staircase, the ones who didn’t make your blood run cold, walk towards you slowly, stopping here and there to welcome guests. The tall one catches your eye and you freeze, a deer caught in the headlights. He says something to the other men and they join in looking at you. You swallow hard, your insides doing somersaults at the sight of them. A deer caught in three headlights, it would seem.

You look back at Rebekah, your eyes blown wide from the panic rising in your chest. She isn’t looking at you, her eyes still locked on your best friend. They’re in the middle of a conversation that you haven't been paying attention to. You tune back in just in time to hear Lily ask about the gardens behind the house. You scrunch your nose. What gardens?

“Yes, they’re marvelous,” Rebekah leans towards Lily, a glint in her eyes, “and much less crowded. I could show you around them if you’d like?”

Oh no. No no no. You can see the gears turning in your best friend’s head and the smile that blossoms on her face. You know what’s about to happen and for a moment time stands still. She’s really going to do it, isn’t she?

She looks over at you, tossing you and apologetic squint before meeting Rebekah’s wondering eyes, “I would love that! Lead the way.”

You watch in slow motion as your best friend wanders away, once more looking over her shoulder to mouth a quick I’m sorry. You roll your eyes at her, murmuring a silent you owe me. You close your eyes briefly, tipping the remainder of your champagne into your mouth. You set your glass down as the alcohol swirls in your stomach, adding a kind of weightlessness to your movements. You embrace it, your eyes scanning the ornate walls. What the hell are you going to do now?

A breeze swirls around you, a myriad of spices hitting your nose just as a honeyed voice breaks your daze, “this house was built in the seventeenth century. As a matter of fact, those are the same walls. I do apologize, we’re a little slow when it comes to modernization. I know it can be a lot to take in, if you need another moment to confront them I do understand.”

You turn quickly, your cheeks hot to the touch, and you find yourself inches away from one of the men from the staircase. You bite your cheek, you really need to figure out their names. Up close you see that you were right about him, he does indeed tower over you. You have to bend your neck significantly to make comfortable eye contact. You almost wish you hadn't, though, his dark eyes flooding your chest with butterflies.

“I think I’ve had my fill of the walls but thank you for your consideration,” you pull your wrap tighter around you, clutching it like it's the source of magic that is helping you keep your composure, “and for the history lesson. This house is beautiful.”

He smiles widely, an action so doused in beauty that your head spins, “thank you, it was my father’s. I am Elijah, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” his eyes flit across your face and you can feel the blush begin to creep down your chest, “something which I’m beginning to understand is a terrible misfortune on my part.”

Your heart pounds painfully, your throat dry. This man clearly has a deep grasp on words and knows exactly how to use them. You wonder for a moment to what extent. What would he sound like in a more intimate setting? What words would he use when no one else could hear him?

Your eyes widen, your chest burning at the thought, “I’m y/n. Perhaps you’ve met my mother, Mary-Anne?” you glance around, trying and failing to locate your mother, “She’s around here somewhere, she has a hand in most of the happenings around town so it wouldn’t surprise me if you do know her.”

Elijah’s carmel eyes fill with recognition, “ah, yes, I believe I’ve seen her in town. Never you, though.”

Though he doesn’t ask, the question is clear in his tone.

“I attend university out of town,” you clutch your chest lightly, your fingers curling around the top of your dress, “I’m actually only home for the weekend. My mother was adamant I attend this evening.”

Elijah tilts his head, his eyes flitting quickly to where your fingers slip down your dress. When he looks back at you his eyes are a touch darker than before. Your heart pounds harder as well and you bite your lip slightly, thankful your mother didn’t make you wear lipstick.

“I see. I suppose that means we must give you a night to remember,” his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and the heat that was swirling in your chest sinks lower.

“Indeed we shall, brother,” a voice from your left pulls your attention.

You’re greeted with the blonde from earlier, the one who looked like he was on another planet. Standing in front of you now he looks much more aware. His eyes, a touch lighter than Elijah’s, skim down your dress, lingering on the high slit on your hip before meeting yours again. You suck in a breath but there is no oxygen to be found.

“I do hope my brother is giving you a proper welcome,” his eyes flash, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips, “I wouldn’t want you leaving here tonight without a proper taste of the Mikaelson charm.”

The way he says the word taste, the way it rolls of his tongue, is positively sinful. It hits you straight in the stomach, spreading like poison through your already airy body. It anchors you to the ground, to him. You glance at Elijah who’s already watching you like a hawk. You feel naked under his gaze but, for some reason, it isn’t a wholly unwelcome feeling. You actually kind of like it.

You smile lightly at him before turning back to his brother, “I think he’s doing a marvelous job. His introduction skills, however, need a little bit of a touch up.” You giggle at the glimpse of his furrowed eyebrows from the corner of your eye, “Too much talking about walls for my liking.”

“Ah, there you two are,” a third voice joins your arsenal of men, standing on your right and piercing you with a voice accented enough to make the gods fall to their knees, “hogging all the pretty girls tonight, are we Klaus?”

You meet the eyes of the third man, the one who made laughter look like a gift, and your heart sings. He grins at you, his eyes, much like his brothers’, a warm brown. Having all three of them this close to you is more intense than you could have imagined. They make the room feel smaller. Intimate. You’re not sure if you want to run away screaming or move closer to them. They’re magnetic, you’re just not sure if being pulled in or pushed away.

He takes your hand, an action that sends your heart into overdrive. His eyes light up, as if he can hear every rapid beat of your pulse. You scold yourself inwardly. Don’t be stupid, y/n, that would be impossible.

“I’m Kol,” he brings your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that renders your knees weak against your knuckles, “it’s a pleasure.”

Your heart thunders at the feeling of his lips against your skin. You feel like a schoolgirl, dizzy from the slightest touch from your playground crush. His lips are warm and soft. Is this how princesses feel? God, you need another drink.

“So,” Klaus steps towards you, his eyes swirling with something barely contained, “what’s this I heard about us giving you a night to remember?”

Your heart stops on the spot and you almost choke, not missing any of the implications behind his tone, “I have to head back to school tomorrow is all,” you breathe, trying to play off some of the heat swirling under the surface of your skin, “please, don’t let me keep you from the rest of your guests. I’m sure there are quite a few more important people than me here tonight.”

Elijah chuckles, the sound piling on top of the many other ones you’re already holding tight to, “the guest list is merely a formality, it would really be my pleasure to show you around.”

He holds his hand out to you, his eyes warm but challenging. You swallow thickly, a string of indecipherable emotions rushing through your chest, circling your lungs. You know it’s just a gesture so why does it feel like something more? Why does the thought of taking his hand feel like stepping into the rest of your life? You take a breath, squaring your shoulders and slipping your hand into his. Bring it on, destiny.

“Wait just a moment brother,” Kol’s fingers slip around your wrist, dragging down your palm until your fingers are locked together, “stealing her away from me so soon? I’m not sure I can let you do that.”

Elijah and Kol stare at each other, something wild brewing in their increasingly dark eyes. You tense, feeling like the rope in a game of tug of war. This doesn’t feel like a game, though, this feels real. You’re not a rope to be fought over, you get to decide what and who you want. Even if that’s all of them.

You squeeze both of their hands, drawing their attention back to you, “I’m sure this house is big enough for us to all comfortably go for a tour.”

Elijah’s eyes widen, dragging over you once more as if seeing you properly for the first time all night. He, like his brothers, lingers on the most delicate parts of you for just a few moments longer than he should. It’s a hole in his armor, a hint past the gentleman front. You want to leap at it and pull until all that’s left is the darkness swirling beneath his surface.

You glance at Kol who meets your eyes head on, a toothy grin already on his face, “marvelous, darling. What a great idea.”

He begins pulling you, and by default Elijah, out of the room but you halt, feeling a tad off. You look behind you at Klaus and sigh, your heart heavy. He stands tall but you catch his eyes and the way they glance at your hands, both of which are still being occupied. He squeezes his hands into fists, shoving them in his pockets. You tilt your head, pouting slightly at him.

“Mr. Mikaelson, are you coming? Time is of the essence,” you nod your head toward the foyer, a coy smile on your lips, “we can’t can’t afford to waste any now.”

His face lights up instantly, walking towards you with flames dancing behind his eyes, “time isn’t real, love. Tonight we have as much of it as we want. As much of it as you want.”

You swallow hard. You want it all.

Kol pulls you towards him, twirling you slowly, making your dress spin around your legs like a ribbon, “where to first, darling? What do you want to see?”

Your hands land on his chest, your cheeks flushed and legs wobbly from the spinning. His other hand goes around your waist, his fingers squeezing gently, his thumb pressing into your side in a way that makes you want to draw his body closer to your own. Your thoughts from before ring through your head. He makes everything sound special. More than that; he makes everything feel special.

“Everything,” you can’t tear your eyes away from his, you don’t want to, “show me everything please.”

He leans down, his forehead inches from your own. You can feel the heat rolling off his body even through his tux. It’s luxurious and mingles with the last dregs of the champagne. When combined with his scent, a nutty blend of cloves and cinnamon, you feel lightheaded.

“Very well, darling,” his eyes flit to your lips, “everything it is.”

An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you away from whatever mischief is brewing beneath Kol’s honey eyes. He tilts his head at the person who grabbed you, his aura turning from playful to down right frosty.

You turn away, breaking the hold of one Tyler Lockwood. Your ex. You squint your eyes. If you were a cat, your hackles would be raised. You wouldn’t claw his eyes out but you would be damn close. Memories from your senior year pour through your mind, twisting your gut painfully. You blink them away. Contrary to Klaus, you don’t have time for this.

“Tyler,” your voice courteous but cold, “what is it?”

He doesn’t catch your tone or, if he does, he doesn’t act like it. He reaches towards you again, no doubt to pull you into a hug, but you back away. Unlike with Kol, you don’t want to touch him. You definitely don't want him touching you. That part of your life is over.

“Y/n,” his voice is light, happy, “I didn’t know you were back! Mom didn’t say anything. How have you been?”

The atmosphere around you thickens. You don’t have to look at the Mikaelsons to see that their shoulders are tense. You feel them take a step closer to you, surrounding you with some much needed warmth.

You clench your jaw, forcing a smile on your face, “yes, well, I didn’t know if I was going to be home this weekend or not. University and all, I’m sure you understand. I’m fine, thank you.”

He nods enthusiastically and you grind your teeth slightly, wishing the floor would just swallow you whole. You dart your eyes to the side, briefly skimming Klaus as he rolls his eyes. Lily would be proud. Kol and Elijah don’t look amused either. You’re not sure how you know but you have to get them away from Tyler as fast as possible. The air drops another few degrees and you shiver.

“Oh well, no harm done!” Tyler steps closer to you, “say, how long are you in town? We should grab a bite at the grill.”

You drop your fake smile, your heart stinging slightly, “sorry, Lily and I are heading back tomorrow morning.”

You feel the boys once again tense, as if they don’t like the information you just shared. You don’t have time to think too hard about it though before Tyler closes even more space between you, grabbing your hand. You flinch back, hitting something hard and warm. The smell of pine trees, a whole forest of them, swirls around you as a hand circles your waist.

Tyler scrunches his brows, his smile slightly faltering, “tonight, then? I would really love a chance to talk. Catch up a little.”

You almost laugh. He just isn’t giving up. He can never make it easy for you, can he? The hand on your waist squeezes and you look over your shoulder, your heart stuttering. Elijah is staring at Tyler, something swirling under his irises. Whatever it is looks untamed. Not in the good way, like how he was looking at you earlier. No, whatever he’s feeling right now is dangerous. Time to go.

“I really can’t, my night has been spoken for. Maybe next time, Tyler,” you turn to Elijah, “Elijah, did you say that you saw my mother looking for me? Would you mind showing me to her?”

Elijah’s eyes sparkle, clearly taking your hint, “indeed, she was right this way.”

He pushes you gently, blocking you from Tyler as he leads you out of the room. You can hear Tyler call out to you but you keep walking. Two other sets of footsteps join you, Kol grabbing your hand and twining your fingers together once more. When you break into the foyer you let the anxiety that had been building drain. That was more exhausting than you would like to admit.

Elijah leads the four of you silently to a room off to the side of the foyer. He pushes the large mahogany door open, ushering you in before shutting it again. The smell of ink and old pages hits your nose and your mouth drops open at the sight. You’re in the biggest library you’ve ever seen. It’s like something out of The Beauty and The Beast, the ceilings high and the walls lined from top to bottom with shelves upon shelves of books. You break away from the boys, your fingers itching to touch what is no doubt an impressive collection of history.

You hear a chuckle behind you but you don’t turn, your fingers skimming an older looking manuscript. Upon closer inspection the handwritten inscription on the cover reads Vonya i mir. Your heart stops and you quickly pull it from the shelf throwing all common courtesy out the window. This can’t be what you think it is. You flip it over in your hands, taking care not to crack the spine too much. Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy.

You whip your head up, meeting three curious glances with wide eyes, “this is War and Peace! Like, the original manuscript. This is,” your heart pounds, your eyes glued to the yellowed pages in your hands, “this is history. I can’t believe I’m holding this.” Your heart stops, “Oh my, I should not be holding this! This belongs in a museum! What am I even doing, holding it like it’s nothing.”

You set it carefully on a desk behind you, looking apologetically back at them. Your cheeks heat rapidly. It’s very much not like you to go into a stranger’s home and start groping their collectables. You pull your lip between your teeth, lowering your head.

A hand gently grabs your chin, “you didn’t mention you’re a classic literature major, love.”

A small smile toys on Klaus’ lips, his thumb skimming over your jaw. Your heart stutters when he says love, warmth spreading through your chest. You reluctantly move your head from his hand, turning to motion at the manuscript.

“That’s because I’m not. I am a history major, with a focus on Russian culture. I’ve read War and Peace more times than I care to admit,” you smile lightly at the book, thinking about the hours you’ve spent pouring over it, “never in Russian, though.”

You glance back at Klaus, your hand flying once more to your bodice. He studies you carefully, his head tilted to the side.

“And what do you think of it? Do you prefer the war or the peace?” He steps towards you, his words filling the almost nonexistent gap between your body and his.

Your breath catches. He’s close enough to touch and, gods, do you ever want to just reach out and pull him against you. First Elijah, then Kol, now him. You’re really gunning to end that dry spell in one night and three ways aren’t you? Heat creeps up your neck, your ears flaming at the thought.

“You can’t have one without the other,” you glance over his shoulder at Elijah and Kol, both of whom are hanging on to your every word, “war is inevitable but peace,” you look back at Klaus, “peace is fundamental.”

Klaus brushes a strand of hair from your cheekbone, sending shivers racing up your spine, “fundamental to what, love?”

His voice is low, his accent wearing down any reservations that you had at the beginning of the night. Your mother’s voice rings through your ears. Give me some grandbabies. She had clearly been joking but your body clearly has no concept of satire, heat pooling between your legs at the thought of making those babies. You close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. It does nothing to quench the heat. You’re in the thick of it now and there is no escaping the white hot fire growing inside of you.

You sink your head into his hand, “happiness.”

An arm hooks around your waist, spinning you into a pair of spiced arms. Kol. You crack your eyes open and, sure enough, you’re correct. You shouldn’t have been able to guess that already. You’ve known them for no longer than an hour. This is insane. He lowers his face towards yours and your heart slams against your ribcage, his lips inches from yours. You swallow hard, your hands finding the lapels of his jacket. Instead of kissing you, however, he rubs his nose against yours. Oh. That feels nice.

“What makes you happy, darling?”

You laugh softly, his question catching you off guard, “I’m not sure, to be honest. I haven’t had many opportunities to find out.”

“Well then, If you could do one thing that you think would make you happy what would you do?” Kol lifts a hand to your face, his thumb, like his brother’s, skimming your jaw.

You don’t have to think about it, the answer is on your tongue as soon as he asks the question, “I would leave this town,” you glance down, the truth of your statement making you feel all too guilty, “and I’m not sure that I would ever come back.”

His thumb stills and you hold your breath. Perhaps you should have answered with something a little less full on. You haven’t even told Lily that you want to leave and never look back so you honestly have no idea why you just divulged one of your greatest kept secrets to three men you just met. Maybe because it doesn’t matter. Who are they going to tell, right? But no, that doesn’t feel right. You didn’t just tell them because. You had a reason, you just can’t put a name to it.

“I see,” he draws his thumb over your lips, an action that both surprises you and steals the air from your lungs, “and where would you go?”

Again, your answer is effortless, “everywhere, Kol. I would go everywhere.”

Kol smiles, his eyes lighting up with his grin. Your heart skyrockets, fireworks shooting through your chest from the slightest tilt of his perfectly red lips. They look soft; perfectly kissable. If only you had half of his self-assurance. What you wouldn’t give to run the tips of your fingers over his lips.

His hands draw back down your sides, “what was going on back there? You didn’t seem pleased to be speaking to that,” Kol clicks his tongue distastefully, his accent thickening, “boy. Is he the reason you want to leave?”

You pull back slightly, your hands tightening on his coat. How are you even supposed to answer that? The story is a long one and there are very few enjoyable moments to lighten it. Tyler is not the reason you want to leave but you surely wouldn’t be doing yourself any favors by staying for him either. He’s part of a long past, one you’re not going to tell them about. Not today, anyway.

“It’s a long story,” you gently remove yourself from his hold, “one that I assure you none of you would care to hear. But to answer your question, no. Tyler has nothing to do with me wanting to leave. That’s entirely my own, for better or worse.”

He nods, the understanding clear in his honeyed eyes, “in that case, darling, tell me something else.” He pulls you back to his chest, “Do you like the stars?”

* * * * * * * * *

They left the party. Their party. They just up and left the party that they were hosting. You’re shocked. You were shocked when they dragged you out of the mansion and you’re still shocked now, laying on a blanket a few miles away with your mouth hanging open. You hadn’t thought anything of it when Kol asked you about the stars. You thought he was continuing with his little game of twenty one questions. You didn’t think he was serious! Who the hell just leaves the party they’re hosting?

Elijah shuffles his hands through your hair, pulling pins from it left and right and letting the hardwork your mother put into it fall. Yes, indeed you’re laying across the lap of one of the most eligible bachelors you have ever come in contact with, your face pressed against his warm thigh. Your fingers are wrapped around a bottle of the sweet champagne from earlier.

“You know,” you murmur quietly, your eyes locked on the spray of stars above your head, “when you host a party, it’s usually expected that you attend. Running away is frowned upon.”

He laughs and you can feel it through your entire body. It awakens the butterflies sleeping in your chest, sending them fluttering to your guts where the beating of their tiny wings create an inferno so large it sets you on fire from the inside out. You always wondered what it would feel like to be burned alive. You would have never guessed that it would make your toes curl.

“I thought that was what you wanted,” he drags his fingers through your scalp, the final blow to your once styled hair, “to run away. Here’s a start.”

You rub your cheek against his thigh, your face heating when he tenses at your action, “we’re pretty terrible at this running away thing then,” you hum, pulling yourself to your knees, “we only made it five miles. If I focus I think I can still hear the music. We’re lousy escape artists.”

A breeze blows over your shoulders and you shiver, your thin shawl doing nothing to veil you from the night. You’re just thankful it’s still warm enough to be outside at this time of night. Soon the nights will be getting colder and you won’t be able to do this. It’s one of the many reasons you long to move away. A pair of hands draws over your shoulders and you shiver again, this time from something entirely unrelated to the elements. You smile lightly. Maybe not. The Mikealson’s have more than proven that they are a force of nature.

Klaus’ voice is like ocean waves in your ear, cresting your skin with every low syllable, “well this is just the beginning, love. How far we go is up to you.”

He’s joking, of course. He has to be joking, right? You turn to look at him, seeking out his eyes in the darkness. They burn into yours, no hint of humor anywhere on his face. His gaze pierces through the night and your breath catches, your heart pounding at all the possibilities of what he meant. You bring the bottle to your lips, using the cool liquid to stall while you gather your feelings.

Kol takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth, “So, darling,” he kisses one of your knuckles, his lips like heavenly fire, “how far are we going?” Another knuckle, another kiss, “what is it you want?” He nips lightly at your fingertips and you gasp, the feeling akin to tiny zaps of lightning against your skin, “where do you want to go?”

Your head is spinning, the champagne settling once more over your bones, “I wouldn’t know where to start. There are too many places,” you swallow hard, “too many things.”

Klaus’ fingers toy at the straps of your dress, skimming down your arms with them in tow, “the first place that comes to mind, love. What is it?”

Elijah pulls you towards him, his hand sliding up the slit on your thigh and curling around your hip. His fingers whisper over your bare skin and you tighten your hand on the bottle. Not out of fear, though. No, you use the bottle to keep your hands busy. If your hands were empty you can’t be sure where exactly they would be. On who they would be.

Elijah squeezes your hip and you gasp again, this time louder, “New Orleans,” it’s the first place that comes to your mind, “I want to go to New Orleans.”

Time stills when you finally answer the question. You can hear the wind rustle through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. Three smells, each of their own element, wrap around you. Klaus’, like water, pouring over your back. Kol’s, like fire, burning up your arm. Elijah’s, like earth, sliding down your hips. You, the air, curl around each of them, pulling them close with your very essence.

And then, with a far off howl, time unfreezes and Klaus rips the straps down your arms, “New Orleans, hmm,” He sweeps your hair back, his nose skimming down the side of your neck, “a woman after my own heart. When shall we go?”

You laugh, the sound breaking through the almost reverent atmosphere, “we can’t just leave, Klaus. You have to plan things. I can’t just drop everything and run to New Orleans.”

Kol pulls your arm through the strap, furthering the tantalizingly slow process of peeling the dress from your body, “but you want to, darling. Am I right?”

His lips find the crook of your elbow and you almost moan, “of course you are but it’s not practical.”

Elijah tugs at your hips again, pulling you onto his lap. Kol and Klaus move with you, clinging to you like shadows. Kol’s hair tickles your arm, the soft strands brushing against you as his blazes a trail of open mouthed kisses up your arm. Klaus nips the back of your neck, his fingers wrapped in your hair and pulling lightly. It should feel wrong, you know it should, but by god how could something this ethereal possibly be wrong. Your body feels like it’s made out air and for the first time you’re free to breeze wherever you choose.

“Neither are we. It’s simple,” Elijah leans down, grabbing your jaw and steering you to meet his eyes, “would you like to go, y/n?”

Your heart stops when it hits you that they’re dead serious, “to New Orleans?”

It’s dark but you can still make out the smile on his face. It says it all, his words only reaffirming what your brain has been screaming at you.

“Not just New Orleans, darling, everywhere,” Elijah murmurs, his lips just in front of yours, his peppermint breath fanning your face delicately, “do you want to go everywhere?”

Just like that, your heart restarts, a rush of adrenaline spreading over your bones. Very rarely in life are you presented with the opportunity to go everywhere. You can’t even fathom what everywhere means. Surely there isn’t time to go everywhere, right? You suck in a breath, one that makes it feel like before this moment you were never truly breathing at all. Who cares if there isn’t enough time, you think to yourself.

You slide your arms around Elijah’s neck fast, nodding your head furiously in lieu of all the words that refuse to form a coherent sentence. You tangle your fingers in his hair, the strands like silk against your skin. You don’t take your time to admire it, though, you just yank his mouth to yours, smashing your lips against his and hoping it says everything that you can’t.

His hands squeeze your hips again and this time you don’t hold back, moaning into his mouth with the force of the tropical storm building under your skin. Your dress feels much too tight all of a sudden, the sequined material biting into your flesh. You shuffle, pulling your other arm from the strap before wrapping it back around Elijah’s shoulder, your fingers digging into his back through his tux jacket. That needs to go too. Now.

“Darling,” Kol’s husky voice whispers against your skin, his face buried in the other side of your neck, “as beautiful as you look right now I’m about half a second away from ripping this dress off your body.”

His words barely register but you catch the important parts, peeling your lips from Elijah’s just far enough to utter, “please don’t rip it, it’s the prettiest thing I own.”

His hands, which are curled around the back of your bodice, stall momentarily, “well that won’t do, now will it?” He muses, his mouth skimming your shoulder with each word, “New Orleans is fine, you won’t need many clothes at all I’m sure. But Paris will demand more of us, darling. We’ll have to fix this.”

Your heart shudders, along with your body. Paris. Surely now he’s joking.

He opts instead to use the zipper rather than tearing it apart, his knuckles softly skimming your bare back as it becomes exposed to him. Inch by inch, cool air wraps around your skin. When he gets to halfway, his mouth begins following his hands. He nips at the bumps of your spine, biting down harder when he gets to the base. Your hands, which are still on Elijah’s shoulder, tighten as flames roll through your body.

Klaus’ hands slip around you, tugging this time at the front of your bodice and pulling it down to reveal your bare chest. He pushes the fabric down your stomach, trailing his fingertips over your ribs as you arch into his chest, a string of incoherent praises falling from your lips. You’re pretty sure you murmur his name somewhere in there though, because his chest rumbles against your back and, before you know it, he pulls you up to your feet.

“Klaus, what are you-” your words are cut short from the night, swallowed instead by lips which taste too much like oranges and rum for you to even consider trying to repeat yourself .

His tongue slips into your mouth, his hands flying into your hair, pushing it away from your face and using it to tilt your head to an angle that makes you see stars. The cold air sweeps over your breasts and you shiver again. It doesn’t last long before a pair of hands are sliding up your exposed sternum and over your chest, cupping your breasts. Kol’s cinnamon musk furls in your lungs as he pulls you into his now bare chest. His skin is hot against yours but you wouldn’t expect anything less from the flame made man.

Klaus detaches from your lips, pressing them once more against your swollen mouth before moving down your neck. He pulls your skin into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the dip in your throat. He courses a river down your front with his mouth, stopping to leave little love bites all over your collarbones and shoulders before heading south. He falls to his knees, shrugging his jacket off before pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts.

You moan, loudly, and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging him harder against you, “god, you’re too good at that,” you roll your head against Kol’s shoulder as Klaus lips flow over your skin, finding your nipple between Kol’s fingers, “we should not be doing this.”

Another pair of hands, the last pair, pulls your face to a pair of lips, the last pair of lips, “Is that what you think, darling? Do you want us to stop?”

Elijah’s lips skim over yours as he speaks, sparks igniting with each touch. You don’t have to think about his question.

“No,” you press your mouth against his assertively, “please don’t stop. Never stop.”

With that Klaus pushes the rest of your dress off your body and, well, the rest of the details of that night remain between you, Kol, Klaus, Elijah, and the stars.

* * * * * * * * *

You lean your head against the cool leather of the seat, your eyes closed as the wind whips your hair behind you. You’ve never ridden in a convertible before but, much to the trend of Mikaelson fashion, it’s luxurious. Elijah slings his arm around your shoulders and you smile, cracking your eye open to glance at him. His hand is on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. He looks peaceful. Happy. He looks over at you, tossing you a wink before turning back to the road. Butterflies flutter through your chest and you welcome them with open arms.

You glance in the rearview mirror, your grin growing when you see two sleeping men. Kol is leaning back, his mouth half open as soft snores fall from his mouth. You giggle quietly. Last night must have exhausted him. He wears his slacks still but now, instead of his jacket, he wears a wine colored hoodie. His hair is mussed and you swallow thickly, thinking back to how it felt between your hands.

You move to Klaus, shaking your head slightly to defuse your slowly heating skin. He, too, no longer wears his jacket but, unlike Kol, he only has a t-shirt on. His arms are folded under his head as he leans against the seat. His body is relaxed, his legs spread in front of him. You yawn looking at him, fighting the urge to crawl over your own seat and into his lap.

“Are you tired, love?” Elijah’s voice mixes with the wind, floating over you like music.

You meet his glance for a moment, smiling sheepishly, “yes but it’s nothing.”

“You should try to sleep,” his voice is slightly concerned, his eyes slipping over your bruised skin before turning back to the highway, “we still have about seven hours before we’re even in Louisiana.”

You stifle another yawn, pulling the sunglasses on your head over your eyes as the sun breaks over the trees blurring past you, “not yet, Eli. I don’t want to miss anything. I’ll sleep when we get there.”

You hear your phone beep from the bag at your feet but you ignore it. That’s another thing that you’ll wait until the Louisiana state line for. Instead you lift the book on your lap, your fingers skimming delicately over the words on the cover. Vonya i mir. Your heart warms as you open it to the first page, settling into the leather seat. Elijah looks over at you and chuckles, the sound even more musical than last night. This is going to be the easiest seven hours of your life.

636 notes · View notes

apollos-son · 3 years

Text

✎ . . . ❝[10:51]❞

Pairing ; poly ot8 ateez

Genre ; fluff

Tags ; poly ateez, Christmas fic, ultimately soft, non-idolverse

Summery ; it's December 25th once more and the boys are waking up to another soft holiday where they look forward to cuddling and kissing and overall just having a lovely time~

I know this is unlikely but I do ask that you do not copy my work under any circumstances. Do not repost, translate or use my work without permission. Thanks :)

This lil timestamp is a Christmas gift to my lovely firefly @leelovesatz ,, Merry Christmas Ollie! ^^

(Gif Not Created By Myself,, I found it on the internet so the full credit goes to the owner)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Snow had settled overnight. A blanket of it had coated Seoul in its winter magic. It was so early in the morning and...

crunch, crunch, crunch...

Jung Wooyoung was already enjoying the outdoors on the fresh Christmas morning. It filled him with some amount of glee that he could jump around in the crunchy snow with his pajamas on and some cute winter boots. He was sure he was the only one awake,, yet he was proven wrong when a warm entity wrapped around him and he heard a soft tut. "Woo, it's freezing and you aren't even wearing a jacket,, you'll catch a cold," Yunho gently hums into his ear. It sends a small shiver down Wooyoung's spine and he hums. "It's pretty though.."

Yunho chuckles softly at that statement "I know, but Hwa-hyung is making a big breakfast and then we're opening presents.." he counters Wooyoung's desire to stay outside with Seonghwa's cooking whilst kissing the shell of his ear. Damn. As if it were on cue, Woo's tummy rumbles. "Gah, you got me... alright fine~~" he huffs, giving into the other easily. After being dragged back inside, the attention was on them. "Merry Christmas, Woo," San giggles. "I wanted to tell you as soon as you woke up but Yunho saw you walkin' around in the snow out there~"

Wooyoung gazes at them all. They looked impossibly beautiful in the morning. All seven of them were, honestly. But only five of his lovely boyfriends were present in the room. Yunho had peeled off the jacket and shoes he had put on to retrieve Wooyoung and had taken a place on the sofa next to Yeosang and Mingi. San sat on the arm of the sofa and Hongjoong sat in his armchair. "Where's jjongie?" he asks and watches as San doesn't miss a beat "Helping Seonghwa hyung with breakfast,"

Wooyoung nods his head lightly and he climbs on top of Hongjoong who gently hums in acknowledgment of his boyfriend. He wraps his arms around his smaller hyung and whispers "Morning, hyungie... merry Christmas.." he mumbles and Hongjoong huffs out a small laugh. "Yes, my dear, merry Christmas~" he replies and he connects their lips for a sweet little kiss.

"Boys, breakfast is ready~" a soothing motherly voice coos from the kitchen and Jongho pops his head through the door "First person there gets chocolate chip pancakes~" he sings. His words conjured a stampede to the kitchen. All of them grab for food except Hongjoong and Seonghwa who stand aside and they chuckle. "Ah~ they're very excited..." Seonghwa muses as he watches the boys grab their share of food.

Soon enough everyone is at the table, all chatting with one another animatedly. It was a nice sight, since the lead up to Christmas had been so eventful. It was nice to take a break from all of the chaos and the hectic days of getting enough money for Christmas presents. Yunho even goes into a bit of detail about how he did street dancing for some extra cash. Wooyoung smiles softly as he watches his lovers chat and laugh. He hums as a piece of pancake is held to his lips. He turns to look at Mingi who smiles warmly, his glasses gently nudging down the bridge of his nose as his wonkey smile lights up the room. Wooyoung swoons right then and there and he opens his mouth to allow the male to feed him the very fluffy pastry. "Mm~ hyung outdid himself this morning..." he moans happily as he chews the pancake, making Mingi giggle cutely.

"You're right, Woo,, hyung really wanted the breakfast to be yummy~~" the tall redhead hums. Soon enough their plates were empty and their tummies were full and Yunho sighs happily. "Mm,,, that was very nice, thank you hyung!~" he hums lowly and pats his stomach. San claps his hands in utter excitement "Presents! Presents!! I worked super hard this year,, I even worked overtime!" he squeals.

They lived rather comfortably thanks to Hongjoong's producing career and Seonghwa's modeling career but this year they were tight on cash since they moved into a bigger place. San was working overtime in the diner and both Wooyoung and Yeosang were streaming more frequently in the hopes of getting some bigger donos.

And luckily, they got what they hoped for.

After that, Christmas was saved; at least in their eyes. Seonghwa hums "Can you boys clean up first?~" he asks gently with a smile and they all nod eagerly, rising from their seats to clear away dishes and wipe the table down.

Their lounge was all decorated, courtesy of Yeosang mainly and Jongho,, who lifted the boy so he could hang lights. Their Christmas tree stands in the corner, proud and glittering covered with some handmade decorations and some store bought ones. The star on top was a rich golden colour and their fireplace had already been lit with a crackling fire that illuminated the room and held warmth. They all take seats,, some on the sofas, some on the floor and a couple in the laps of the other boys. Seonghwa hums as he holds Yeosang's waist and kisses the top of his head. "Alright... why don't you all open your gifts from me?~" he suggests lightly and small hums of agreement follow.

"How did you know that I wanted this...?" Yeosang asks timidly as he holds up a particularly revealing set of clothing to the other boys and Seonghwa chuckles "I suppose it's magic~" he coos as he kisses his cheek multiple time. Hongjoong sits on the floor beside Jongho, holding the youngest's hand as he had requested him to, admiring the headset he was given by Seonghwa. San and Yunho excitedly fawn over the video game they requested and Mingi whines as he realizes he'll have to be a player 3 "Guyyyys I suck at video games!~" he huffs and San giggles. "Nooo~ you'll get lots of kisses, I promise!!" he squeaks.

The morning was filled with kisses and cuddles,, cheers and gifts that were desired. It was a cosy and love filled morning, to be sure.

#ateez #kim hongjoong #kang yeosang #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #choi san #jeong yunho #song mingi #ot8 #Christmas timestamp #for Ollie ❤️❤️#merry christmas 🥺

23 notes · View notes

morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

turn to dust all that i adore

whoops it’s a 2b spec fic based on two seconds in a promo love that

title from things we lost in the fire by bastille

ao3 | 2.3k | 2b spoilers

The fire continues raging whenever TK closes his eyes, and he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse than the sight that greets him when his eyes are open. He wishes he could wipe that awful night from his memory completely and go back to where they were just a few days ago, happy and safe and in their home. They don’t even have that anymore, the house little more than ash, and TK would be okay with that - they could rebuild from that - if Carlos weren’t so silent and still in front of him.

The fire was three days ago; TK hasn’t seen Carlos awake in four. He’d been in the middle of a 24-hour shift when the call came through, bickering with Nancy about the merits of various sitcoms, Captain Vega probably rolling her eyes in the back as they returned to the station.

Nancy had quietly offered to drive when they found out the address, but TK had shaken his head. His hands were tight on the steering wheel, and he’d pressed down a little harder than necessary on the accelerator, praying he’d be able to get there fast enough. The house was a lost cause, if what dispatch said was true, but if he could save Carlos, then that would be enough.

He’d failed - of course he had. An explosion had ripped through the building just as they’d pulled up, the glass shattering as flames leapt from their bedroom window. TK had felt a cold dread settle inside him, and his worst fears had been confirmed when the team emerged with Carlos limp in their arms.

He’s alive, but the damage had been done. Too much smoke inhalation and multiple horrific burns left him hanging by a thread; it’s a miracle, really, that the heart monitor is still beeping out a steady rhythm. TK can’t be thankful, though, not when he knows everything could turn on its head in an instant. Not when they’ve already lost so much.

A soft knock on the door grabs TK’s attention. He looks up to see his dad standing there, a sad smile on his face and a plastic-wrapped sandwich in hand. TK twists his face into a grimace and returns to watching the bed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Son -”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve been saying that for days,” his dad points out, walking over and pointedly laying the sandwich in TK’s lap. “Starving yourself isn’t going to make him wake up any faster.”

TK barely spares the sandwich a cursory glance. “Nor is forcing myself to eat.”

His dad sighs, crossing the room and grabbing the extra chair. He sets it down next to TK’s and, though he doesn’t look, TK knows he’s being subjected to one of his ‘dad looks’.

“TK, you’ve barely left the hospital since it happened,” he says. “I know it’s hard right now, but you can always come back and stay with me. You still have a home.”

“Not without him, I don’t.”

He hears his dad’s sharp intake of breath, feels his hand running through his hair, but TK’s detached from it all. He studies Carlos’s face, every part familiar to him, but so strange and foreign now. Carlos has never been a restless sleeper - that’s all TK - but there’s usually some movement. A crease appearing between his brows as his face scrunches up, his muscles shifting as he pulls TK closer, his nose gently nuzzling the back of TK’s neck. This still version of him isn’t Carlos. This isn’t the man TK loves.

But it’s close as he’s going to get until Carlos comes back to him, and TK can’t stand the thought of leaving him. In all the months they’ve been dating, they’ve rarely spent a night apart, and most of those were either on shift or still in their bed, with a pillow that smelt like the other and the promise of seeing each other again soon. Going back to his dad’s house would only be bearable if Carlos were with him, but that’s not possible, so neither is leaving.

“TK, I -”

“If you’re just here to give me this,” he interrupts, waving the sandwich in his dad’s direction, “then, thanks, but you should probably go now. His parents are coming in a bit and the hospital barely lets three of us be in here as it is.”

His dad recoils, wounded, but doesn’t budge, much to TK’s irritation. He’s really not in the mood for any more meaningless talk or thinly veiled attempts to get him to eat or sleep.

“Dad, please.”

“I was contacted by the PD this morning,” his dad says instead. TK’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “They found out what caused the fire.”

TK waits, but his dad suddenly becomes very reticent, his eyes flicking between TK and the bed. Clearly, this wasn’t something as simple as the electrics blowing or the washing machine malfunctioning; it’s worse, and TK’s breath seems to stick in his lungs.

“Dad?” he croaks.

Their eyes finally meet, his dad’s face arranged into a sympathetic grimace. “It was arson.”

Time stops.

“What?” TK breathes, shaking his head. Arson. Someone burned their home down and almost killed Carlos, on purpose. And for what? To kill them? The only reason TK wasn’t caught up in it too, after all, is because he was fortunate enough to be on shift that night. “Do they know who?”

“I’m sorry,” his dad says, voice full of regret. “It’s been happening all over the city, no leads so far.”

TK sits back in his chair, a white-hot spark of anger flashing through him as he once more takes in the many bandages on Carlos’s body. He wonders if this was how Judd felt those weeks ago when he found out the guy who’d run them off the bridge was also in the hospital, because TK would very much like to go out and find the people who did this. He wants them to pay for what they’ve done to the love of his life.

As is sensing where his mind has gone, his dad starts rubbing gentle circles on his back, though it doesn’t calm TK like it usually does.

“I think I’ll stay here until his parents show up,” he says. “If that’s alright?”

It’s a non-question; his tone makes it clear that he’s not going anywhere no matter what, but TK doesn’t have it in him to put up even a token argument. He simply nods wearily, and settles in for another day of waiting - another day without his boyfriend’s comforting presence at his side.

A week after the fire, he’s told he can go back to the house, if he wants. He doesn’t, really, but he goes anyway, knowing that Carlos will have questions when he wakes up, and maybe he’ll be able to salvage something.

Probably not, but it’s never been the stuff that’s mattered to him. It’s been what the loss of it all represents, the memories that now exist only in his head and in the ashes.

TK stares up at the blackened husk of their home, something keeping him rooted in the middle of the street. Police tape is still up and there’s an officer waiting to escort him in when he’s ready, but TK just… He doesn’t know if he can do this.

“TK?”

He jumps at the unexpected voice, turning to see Carlos’s neighbour from two doors down, Molly, her daughter trailing behind her. TK doesn’t know many of the people around here, but Molly and her husband are often to be found playing with Lilia on the porch, and they always make a point of greeting them. Carlos has even babysat for them a few times, though TK’s rarely there for that.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, smiling apologetically. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m okay,” he replies, and Molly seems to understand what that really means. “Carlos is still in hospital, but we’re, um. We’re hoping he’ll wake up soon.”

She nods, glancing at the house. “It’s terrible, what happened. You’ve got somewhere to stay, right?”

“I’ve only just moved out of my dad’s place, so I’ll just go back there while we figure something out. Guess he’ll be glad we don’t have to transport all my stuff this time.”

The joke is hollow, and Molly’s face twists in sympathy. “Well, if you need anything, we’re happy to help out however we can. Carlos has always been good to us - to everyone here - and we hate that you’re going through this now. Send him our love, okay?”

TK gives her a small smile, nodding. He’s about to excuse himself to finally go inside, when Lilia tugs at her mother’s hand, whispering something in her ear when Molly leans down.

“We were baking when we saw you pull up,” Molly explains, straightening. “Lilia insisted on bringing these out to you, didn’t you, Lils?”

Lilia beams up at him when TK looks over to her, thrusting a small tupperware in his general direction. “Cookies!” she exclaims, by way of explanation.

TK chuckles and squats so he’s at her height, taking the box from her. She’s watching him expectantly, so he takes a cookie - clumsily decorated with mountains of sprinkles - and pops it in his mouth, making a show of enjoying it.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, licking his lips playfully. Lilia giggles, then, without warning, throws her arms around him, the force of it almost sending him on his ass. Molly gasps and reaches to pull her daughter away, but TK shakes his head at her, mouthing an, It’s okay.

Steadying himself, he gently wraps his arms around Lilia’s back, allowing her to bury her face in the crook of his neck as she attempts to squeeze him within an inch of his life. It’s enough to pull a real smile out of him, though tears also spring to his eyes, a sudden emotion overwhelming him. He brushes them away hastily when Lilia unwraps herself from him, but it’s clear that Molly noticed, judging by the sad smile on her face.

“I hope Mr Carlos gets better soon,” Lilia says, her voice earnest in a way only a five-year old’s can be.

TK nods. “Me too.”

“He gave me sweets.”

A laugh bursts out of him at the sudden comment. TK leans close to her, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Shall I tell you a secret? He gave me sweets as well.”

Lilia gasps as though she’s heard something incredibly scandalous. TK laughs again, before standing back up and turning to Molly, who’s been watching the two of them with clear amusement.

“Thank you,” he tells her. “For coming out and talking, and for the cookies.”

“It’s the least we could do,” she says, waving him off. “Like I said, let us know if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk. We’ll be there.”

TK thanks her again, waving at them both as they head back inside. He turns to his and Carlos’s place, then takes a deep, shaky breath.

He can do this.

Inside is much as he expects. The worst of the rubble has been cleared, but there’s still some detritus lying around, including a few of their things. TK stoops and carefully retrieves a framed photo from the floor, wiping the dust off the cracked glass. The picture inside is barely recognisable, the colours warped, but he knows the image like the back of his hand - a candid of him and Carlos taken by Marjan during one of their hangs. She’d caught Carlos mid-laugh, a grin plastered on TK’s own face as they’d stared into each others’ eyes.

Marjan had grumbled about how frustratingly lovesick they both were, but the photo quickly became one of TK’s favourites, and it had made its way into a frame less than a week later. TK’s heart aches at the sight of it ruined; he can always print another as it’s still saved on his phone, but it still hurts. Everything does, right now.

As he gazes around the space, eyes catching on mementos and remembering how it all used to look, TK is struck by how much this place had felt like home. He’s only been officially living here for a month, but it’s been theirs for far longer than that, TK’s stuff worming its way in among Carlos’s until it became natural to see two pairs of shoes by the door, two sets of keys in the bowl.

This was theirs, and now it’s nothing.

He drops the photo frame on his way out the door, not sparing a look back as he walks away.

He gets the call halfway back to the hospital and TK forgets all about speed limits as he races the rest of the way. He sprints through the corridors, the path to Carlos’s room learned by heart, and skids to a stop in the doorway, his eyes filling with tears at the sight before him.

Carlos, awake and smiling and alive.

TK lets out a sob, his hand flying to his mouth. Carlos turns, his smile widening when he catches sight of him, and he wordlessly lifts his palm up in invitation.

And who is TK to refuse it?

“Hi, baby,” he gasps, before kissing his boyfriend, palms framing Carlos’s face. Carlos’s hands come up to clutch at his wrists, and TK presses their foreheads together, silently revelling in this moment.

There’s a long road still ahead of them - Carlos needs to heal, and they’ll have to do so much to get back on their feet - but he can’t care about that right now. Being here, right now, with Carlos’s warm touch stroking over his skin, is all TK needs.

Carlos came back to him, and that’s the only thing that matters.

101 notes · View notes

cianmars · 3 years

Text

They were roommates... (A Lokius Fic)

So I made this a lil while ago, it gets updated every few days

Loki has to stay somewhere in the TVA and if he was working for them then its a little mean to leave him in a cell... or at least that was Mobius' argument, so he took one for the team and has Loki move in with him... A purely selfless act....

AKA Loki learns to be a good person, an okay roomie, and a not so good at being a menace to society (unless society bugs him)

AO3

Loki hadn’t recovered from seeing the projection of his mother being murdered in front of his eyes, because of him, for very obvious reasons…. But he had started to come to terms with it, with everything.

That of course didn’t mean that he wasn’t looking for a way, any way, out; but it did mean that he had agreed to work with the TVA, well not with them, but with Mobius, even if the man (was he a man? Man was just short for human, was he human?) was infuriating, in every Gods damned way.

A whistle and a tilt of the agent’s head was what woke Loki from where he was dozing at the same table he had been sitting at since he had brought in, some unspecified time ago, Loki had opened his mouth to tell him that Gods did not appreciated being whistled at like a dog but Mobius was already off, walking out of the room.

Gods did not chase after anyone, let alone men who were holding him prisoner, Gods did not chase…

“Gods don’t chase,” he told the man, practically bouncing as he caught up to the fast walking man (seriously how did he walk so fast?), his head following everyone who passed them as they walked by, and trying to see what propaganda they had tacked to their modern walls.

“And yet, here you are,” Mobius replied in that calm yet amused tone he always used for Loki.

Loki glared, but Mobius wasn’t looking at him so he rushed past him, turning back to face the man walking backwards without breaking pace, trying to focus on him not on everything they were passing, he hadn’t been this way before, had they? A hundred questions bounced around his mind, most of them were ‘why the fuck is a talking duck being led by four armed guards?’ and ‘can I go talk to the duck?’.

A hand on his upper arm stopped all the thoughts in his head and he had to stop himself from coming to a full stop, or tripping, that would be embarrassing.

“Careful, Loki, you’re gonna bump into someone,” Mobius slowed his pace as he pulled Loki to walk at his side, “You can keep bouncing around like Tigger from beside me.”

Loki was not blushing; not at how flustered the touch made him, not at the mixed soft and amused tone which Loki swore was just for him (he wasn’t possessive he was just right), not from the chastisement, no he was not blushing, the TVA clearly just had a heating issue which seemed to be largely affecting just his cheeks, they couldn’t even heat a building correctly. Typical.

Loki cleared his throat, unrelated to his blushing, “Casey doesn’t know what a fish is but you know what that hyperactive big cat is?”

“Like I said Loki, you’re a pussycat.”

“Remind me to introduce you to a real hungry tiger one time,” Loki muttered, cheeks still pink, he kept an eye onto the admittedly comfortable slip on canvas shoes as they slapped against the floor.

“What was that, darling?”

This bastard was doing this on purpose, he had to be… unless he wasn’t, then he’d have to explain why in general people who were practically strangers didn’t call each other ‘darling’, but that did come with the increased risk of him either never calling him it again… or calling him it again, and they’d both know it was on purpose. He’s a bastard. Loki plastered a cheery smile onto his face, looking up at Mobius with a look of innocence they both knew was fake, “Nothing!” his smile turned genuine hearing Mobius laugh.

They were in a golden doored elevator when Loki found his voice again, “Where are we going?”

“I seem to remember some God of comedy telling me that he didn’t talk much…”

“It’s the god of mischief, or tricks, not comedy,” Loki cut in, narrowing his eyes when he saw a barely concealed smirk on his face, “But of course, you knew that as you know ‘everything’ about me. Where are we going?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“How can I tell you if I don't know?”

“You’re pretty,” Mobius leant forward past Loki and pressed his hand to the black screen on the elevator pad, pausing his speech for a second too long as he did so, “smart, why don’t you try to figure it out?”

Loki was frozen as Mobius’s arm brushed against his own as he leant back and stood beside Loki, he could smell the sandalwood from his aftershave as he moved. “You’ve found The Variant, the less amazing, less talented version of me?”

“The Variant is pretty talented too, Loki.”

“Not as talented as me,” Loki pouted, not pouted, Gods did not pout (as his father so often talk him), but his lips were pressed together and slightly stuck out. This was just ridiculous, he wasn’t pouting and he wasn’t jealous, because what would he even be jealous of? Some less awesome version of himself gaining Mobius’ praises?

“Agreed.”

Loki’s head snapped to the man who was studying his watch intently, a little too intently, if Loki wasn’t imagining it.

Mobius cleared his throat, looking back up at Loki, a mild smile on his face, “We haven’t found The Variant, yet. Any more guesses?”

Loki let out a frustrated noise, “This isn’t fair, you have more information where we’re going, I haven’t been given any clues!”

“Take a breath.” Mobius told him with an amused smile and a glint in his eyes, “Why’s it so hard for you to say I don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nice, very funny,”

Coming from anyone else it would have annoyed Loki, but it sounded both fond and amused from Mobius, he needed to get out of the TVA it was making him… he didn’t know, but it wasn’t what he was used to, and that made him nervous, which typically made him feel stabby. “So you’re not going to tell me? It’s taking forever, for a place which dictates how everyone else should spend their time you’d think that you would actually develop a elevator which doesn’t waste all of your time.”

“Time works differently here in the TVA, Loki, I’ve already told you; anyway no need to whine, we’re here now.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened and Mobius strode out and headed left.

“I wasn’t whining,” Loki whined to the empty elevator, before bounding after him.

“What’s this?” Loki bounced on the balls of his feet as Mobius stood in front of a door, as it scanned him.

“Do you ever stand still?”

Loki thought for a second, he shook his head, then ran his hand through his hair to place it back into its original place, “Most people ask me if I ever shut up.”

Mobius looked away from the door to Loki with that ever present smile, “I already know the answer to that one,” he winked then pushed the door open and walked inside.

Loki took a few more seconds to follow him than he perhaps would have had Mobius not winked at him.

When he finally did walk in he was met with… an apartment, fairly lifeless, the style of the rest of the TVA continued inside of the place, a small kitchen, a living area with a screen which looked like a television but he dare not ask in case that bloody cartoon clock began to play, there were a couple of doors leading off to one side and a couple more leading off on the other side.

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Don’t use that patronising tone on me, I'm not a child.”

Mobius sighed, “I wasn’t using a patronising tone on you, Loki, I was asking you what you don’t understand, which is okay.”

Loki gritted his teeth and began to move around the room, strolling to the kitchen, he wasn’t sure if it was to stop himself from snapping again, or, gods forbid, from apologising. “So?” He turned back to see Mobius watching him with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“So…? Use your words, Loki.”

Loki could see the glint in his eyes across the room, that time he had meant to “What’s the test? Has the variant been here? Or is there some sort of set of clues? Or…, I swear if there’s a training video or propaganda video I shall launch myself out of the windows.”

“Nah, we’ll start on the training and propaganda in a day or two, not right this second, and those aren’t windows.”

Loki turned to look at the windows, “What are you talking about, of course it’s… oh simulated glass panes… I must have sustained a concussion from The Hulk, I’m never usually this slow.”

“Of course…” he said in a way which made it clear that he did not believe it, “We can get you checked out at the medbay tomorrow, if you like, being here might be affecting your healing capacity. This isn’t some form of test, it’s an apartment, my apartment.”

“It’s…” Loki looked around again with fresh eyes, it was still fairly lifeless, but there was a bright yellow mug on the draining board with that bloody clock on it, and a Coca Cola red pen on the table closest to him, a few certificates with ‘Mobius M. Mobius’ on all of them, along with some books which didn’t seem to be propaganda for the TVA… interesting… “It’s very…,” he tried to think of a compliment but gave up quickly, so instead gave a shrug, “it’s smaller than my childhood nursery was.”

Mobius gave a laugh, “I’m sure it is.”

“Well it’s very… it’s certainly an apartment… Why precisely are we here?”

“It was agreed by Judge Renslayer that if you would be working with us you deserved to be housed somewhere which isn’t a cell, of course you can’t go anywhere without me, and this apartment is fully secure.”

“You’re not worried that I’ll slit your sleep in your sleep?”

“It would mean I don’t have to get around to all of the paperwork on my desk.”

Loki frowned, why did this man never take his threats seriously? “If I’m staying here where will you be staying?”

“There’s two bedroom’s Loki, you’ll be staying in the guest bedroom.”

“A guest bedroom? Why do you have a guest bedroom? Are you allowed guests at the TVA headquarters? Do you have guests? Like your mother? Do you have a mother? Do all of the apartments have guest bedrooms? Are you agents allowed to get married and have kids? I don’t see why else you’d need two-.”

“Loki, can we stay on topic, please?”

“Sorry,” Loki swallowed, looking around once more, then back at Mobius, “I… I suppose it’s better than a cell.” The best thing about the cell had been Mobius’s visits, because Loki enjoyed annoying him, and nothing more.

“Marginally,” Mobius chuckled. “Is that a yes? Cause if not I should get you down to a proper cell before dinner time.”

“I… I suppose.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic, the cells really aren’t that bad, if you’d be more comfortable in your own space then I can take you there.”

Loki rolled his eyes, dropping into a rather uncomfortable armchair, he almost regretted his dramatics, almost . “I’m staying… But if you try to indoctrinate me into your cult with more of those videos I’ll skin you alive.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Loki was certain that he was going to kill either himself or Mobius by the end of the week.

#lokius #lokius fic #wowki #wowki fic #agent mobius #mobius m mobius #loki #loki laufeyson #loki disney+#loki show #they were roommates fic #twr fic #twr

74 notes · View notes

livexdolan · 4 years

Text

The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ‘PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza @vintagedolan @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan @dicedols @plantbasedgray

174 notes · View notes

stardustsides · 4 years

Text

You’re Such a Heavenly View

Ship: Logince (Logan x Roman)

Word Count: ~1440

Trigger Warnings: None that I can think of!

Synopsis: Logan loves the night sky, and Roman loves to see his fiancé happy. A stargazing date ensues.

Author’s Note: Woo, my first fic! This is just a quick lil oneshot, but I have a ton of other wips too! I hope you enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated if possible! :)

***

“There are no stars in the city.”

Roman glanced up from his laptop. Logan was standing by the open window, elbows resting on the windowsill. A cacophony of sounds drifted in from the streets below, taxi drivers laying on their horns and trains screeching to a halt, faint saxophone music from a street musician somewhere far below and the drip-drip-drip of rainwater on their fire escape.

Logan wasn’t looking at him—his gaze was focused on the sky, a wistful expression on his face.

“What?” Roman asked, setting his laptop aside on the couch.

“Hm?” Logan looked over at him, perplexed—before realizing that he must have said the first bit out loud. “Oh,” he said, cheeks pinking, before belatedly angling his face towards the night sky again. “Just. There are no stars in the city. Well—there are, of course, they just aren’t visible due to the amount of light pollution.”

Roman considered this for a moment, then came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. In the back of his mind, he marveled at the ease of it all—that he could hold Logan, and instead of pulling away, he would instinctively lean into him, as naturally as though Roman’s arms were a warm bed at the end of a long day. It didn’t matter that they had been together for six years, and had been engaged for eight months—Roman doubted that the novelty would ever wear off.

But that wasn’t the matter at hand—and, for a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, staring out at the streets of San Francisco below them. The evening was warm, and the gentle breeze that lifted Roman’s hair smelled of spring rain and dumplings, as there was a Chinese restaurant right next to their apartment building. Roman felt as though he could stay like that forever—holding his fiancé, watching the ever-changing cityscape, and listening to the sounds of all of the lives taking place around them. But Roman could see the longing in Logan’s face, as subtle as it was; Logan had always loved the night sky, had studied and charted it with a sparkling passion. He adored their life in the city, of course—they were both akin to people-watching, and he found comfort in being just another face in a crowd, but Roman knew that a small part of Logan yearned for the sky and its wonders.

So Roman quickly kissed his jawline, let go of Logan, and said, “Then let’s go see some stars.”

Logan looked at him quizzically. “We live in the middle of a city, Roman. It’s highly improbable that there are any good places for stargazing nearby.”

Roman shrugged, already by the door, pulling on a knit cardigan. “Are you coming or not?”

Logan hovered by the window, mouth slightly ajar and brows knit together. Roman knew that his fiancé wasn’t one for spontaneity, but Roman himself was, and Logan never seemed to mind. Especially not when the spontaneous plan in question involved a stargazing date.

And so, after a moment, Logan joined him by the door, shrugging on his own light jacket—after all, April nights are fickle, weather-wise—and muttering something about how there were still dishes waiting to be washed, piled high in the sink.

He stopped his fussing when Roman looped their fingers together, though, lapsing into silence and staring down at their joined hands. If somebody didn’t know Logan, they would likely misinterpret his expression as apathy, indifference—but Roman did know Logan, and was intimately familiar with his facial patterns. He recognized the way that the seemingly ever-present crease between his brows faded, the way it does when he finds something particularly captivating, and he noticed the way his lips parted ever so slightly—as if the thing that has captured his attention has bewitched him so thoroughly he forgot to close his mouth.

No, Roman knew that face, and recognized it for what it was—wonder. Familiarity. Fondness.

It was enough to make Roman surge up and press a brief kiss to his lips, pulling back before Logan even had time to register it, then squeezing his hand and leading him out the door.

Admittedly, it had taken longer than Roman had anticipated to find a place suitable for stargazing. Despite Logan’s warning, he had assumed that there would be someplace close by that would do the trick, but every place he found he deemed completely unacceptable for a date.

Curse Roman and his romantic sensibilities.

They had been driving for over an hour now—the stars were certainly visible at this point, but Roman had insisted on not stopping until he had found the perfect location.

Logan had dozed off in the passenger's seat, snoring lightly. The only sounds in the car for a while were the soft crooning of Frank Sinatra singing “Fly Me to the Moon” on the radio (since Logan was asleep, Roman had no qualms about putting it on), and Logan’s snores.

He heard Logan shift a bit when the car finally slowed to a stop.

“Lo,” he said, gently nudging him. His fiancé stirred again, opening his eyes and looking at Roman blearily, as if his brain was slowly turning back on. Roman smiled softly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Hey there, Lo,” he continued, softly rubbing his shoulder. “We’re here.”

Logan blinked at him, once, twice, his sleepy brain clearly trying to remember where it was that they were headed. And all of a sudden, it was as though somebody had flicked the lights on inside Logan’s head, and he leaned forward to peer up through the windshield.

“Where are we?” He asked without looking at Roman, too focused on the sky above. Roman laced their fingers together and kissed the back of Logan’s hand.

“Let’s go and see.” And with that, he released Logan’s hand and opened the car door.

Roman had parked the car on the side of a mountain; the world looked wide open from all the way up here, as if somebody had taken the lid off. The air smelled fresh from spring rain, all the world recently washed clean. Lush mountains rose up all around them, brilliant greens and blues even in the dark.

And there were stars, so many stars.

Logan gaped, head tipped back to marvel at it all. Roman beamed, spreading his arms wide, gesturing to all of it. “Well?”

And Logan looked at him, mouth ajar, eyes wide, and for a moment, the only sounds around them were the faint chittering of insects, distant birdsong, and the rustling of trees.

And then Logan surged forward and kissed him, cupping either side of his face. Roman startled for just a moment, but then he melted into it, one hand gently resting at the nape of Logan’s neck, the other on his cheek. Roman adored it when Logan was like this; usually a stoic pillar, cold and aloof to the rest of the world, but for Roman, just for Roman, he opened up, all light and warmth and love.

And Roman didn’t think he’d ever be able to get over that.

Logan pulled away, wide grey eyes staring at him in wonder. “It’s...wonderful,” he said, eyes drifting to the tree-covered mountaintops, up to the wide open sky filled with stars, and back to Roman. Logan’s face was filled with pure adoration, and Roman’s heart did a flip in his chest because that look was directed at him. “Thank you, Roman.”

Roman laced their fingers together, rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. “Of course, Starlight.”

And Logan smiled, and Roman’s heart soared, because he did that, he made Logan Winters smile, and oh god, he was so gone for this man.

A moment later, Roman retreated to the car, opening the back door and pulling out a blanket and some pillows.

And minutes later, they were on the roof of the car, curled up against each other, a blanket below them and a sky full of stars above them, and Logan softly pointed out every constellation in the sky.

Logan marveled at the stars, and Roman marveled at Logan.

And they ate the pizza that Roman had picked up on the way, half olives for Logan, half pepperoni for Roman, and Logan laughed at a joke that Roman had made, and Roman asked him questions about space, and the stars twinkled down at them from high, high above.

And at the end, they put their blankets and pillows back into the backseat and piled back into the car, and Logan leaned over the stick shift and kissed Roman again, and Roman smiled, and they began their drive back home.

#my writing #sanders sides #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #ts sides #thomas sanders

128 notes · View notes

bubbleyumss · 3 years

Text

The Scorch - LOKI- BUCKY mini-fic.

Hi there! I haven��t posted any written works on here for years, so forgive me that my first one back may be a little rusty! I just want to share a small fic I wrote with some of you, hopefully you enjoy.

So its after Endgame, lets forget that Loki dies thanku v much, and Steve doesn’t have his ending either. It’s a lil messy as I’m not great with crossing storylines, I usually just insert the reader into already written ones.. This may eventually lead to a split off between Loki and Bucky, the reader will have to choose who they want! But for now, it’s very Loki based. Lmk if u like, and any suggestions on continuing. Thx:)

Warnings - Violence/use of blades/knives and fire/scalding/burning.

Word count - 4K

It was unimaginable that we would all make it back from Thanos's army, but we knew it was nothing short of a miracle and we were all insanely grateful for this. Tony wasn't the same, his body was withering faster than it would have done before, but he knew that this was nothing that he couldn't seek to fix, seeing as his mind was as quick witted as ever. Barton took off back to his family, bringing Natasha with him for some much-needed time off, though Nat was never one to back down if there was a mission that was needed to be handled. This was the stage that I was at these days.

I hadn't joined the team too soon before the snap, but when I did, I had already lost those dearest to me, finding my home within the Avengers compound thanks to Tony. Though I hadn't seen much of him through the years after the snap, as I was tasked with tailing Rogers, he had always told me that I was welcome at his cabin table with his wife and daughter, making his family such dear friends of mine.

The Avengers compound was my home now, even though Tony had permanently retired from the team, there were a few of us that still worked under Fury, choosing to live there so that we were safe. The Vision and Wanda lived here for now, until such a time that their new home was built, the Captain, Bucky and Sam dropped by from time to time, acting like they didn't want to be a part of any team but always finding themselves socialising happily when they did. Same went for Nat, as she found comfort in Bruce's room sometimes, much to the pretended ignorance of us all. Thor stopped by often, claiming that Norway may be good for comfort, but sometimes he needed the discipline to get him back in his head.

It was on one of these trips that he decided to bring the newest member of the team, his brother, Loki.

"You've got to be kidding me." Steve said, standing with his arms crossed in the lounge. Steve, James, Nat, and I sat within, prepping me for my next assignment in Argentina. "No way is he joining the team."

"Last time I checked you're not even on the team yourself, Captain." He raven-haired man smirked, glancing to me, then back to Steve. I had heard of Loki, mainly from Thor, but it was clear that everyone had some sort of opinion of him, and the majority of it was bad. I had always been intrigued, as before I joined the team, I was hardly the golden child, which was how I came onto Fury's radar in the first place, so I knew what effect the evil expectations had on a person.

"Not officially." He responded, looking down to Nat, "But there are people on the team that will have an issue." Loki then looked to Nat, eyebrows raised, expecting her to agree and wish for him not to join.

"Oh, come on, comrades, Loki is different now, trust me!" Thor smiled, clapping his brother on the back, much to his annoyance, "He's still miserable as ever, but he will fight with us, not against us."

"Fury clearly trusts me enough to allow me to join your little club." He smiled, raising his hands, "I just wish for the place to stay, since my home was blown up and the new home smells of cod." He sneered, looking at Thor's disapproving face. I looked to the faces on those who sat before me, knowing that they all were only here part time either way, realising that perhaps I should speak. I stood, making them all turn to me, Loki's eyes set on mine full of intent.

"Well, I think we should give him a shot." I shrugged, "I was allowed even though I burnt down a city or two, so, I don't see why not." I smiled at Steve, then down to Nat, all showing equally unamused faces, Bucky's especially. It was always odd looking at his face and remembering our past, though in times like this I could see his anger as a simple ruse, knowing that he agreed with me wholeheartedly. "He can come with me to Argentina, as a test run." I suggested, making Bucky scoff.

"No way." He muttered.

"Yeah, I agree, that's a terrible idea." Steve shook his head. I could feel a sense of anger boiling inside me, which wasn't unfounded; they often looked at me like a younger sister, just as they did with Nat, but I supposed as they knew her for longer, they knew that she could handle herself. I could too, they just hadn't seen that yet.

"Tough. He's coming with me." I replied, defying their looks of shock. "God of Mischief, you're with me. Argentina, small hydra starts up, do you think you can handle it?" I had made my way to him at this point, only within a couple of steps of him. He smirked, and suddenly I lost all confidence I had started out with; his eyes looked me up and down, drinking me in in such an intimidating way. He was a god, far more powerful than me, and for whatever reason I really wanted to know him better.

"Of course."

As much as I started out wanting to side with the God, one jet ride with him and I already regretted it. I decided to try and get to know him, to ask him some questions about himself, only receiving sarcastic remarks as his responses. I had asked him of his time in New York, though supposing that it was a sore subject I opted to talk about his powers and what he could actually do, as I had only heard, though when he told me that it was nothing that would interest a human, I grew inpatient. He wished to play around, not to let me know him at all, and so I decided to just stop talking.

"Your eyes, do they relate to your talents?" He then asked after nearly half an hour of silence. I nearly completely ignored him, feeling that similar rage that I had attempted to defend this guy, and all he repaid me in was rudeness.

"Kind of." I replied, not wishing to talk any more.

"Well, they are beautiful." He commented, taking me by surprise. This of course wasn't the only compliment I have ever had on my eyes, the gold sheen often took people by surprise, but why on earth did he think that it was appropriate to say now?

"Why won't you answer any of my questions about you?" I then asked, taking the attention off his own question. He was silent for a minute, "I took a chance taking you along, I could have said no."

"Don't act like you have done me a favour, I could find somewhere else to live if I needed to." He scoffed, angering me further. My knuckles tightened around the jets steering, trying to keep it together.

"I have done you a favour, you clearly want in this group or you wouldn't have shown up." I retorted, "Is it so bad that I want to know you a little more? We're both the odd ones out-"

"You do not know what it is like being me." He interrupted, gaining his own anger now, "Do not pretend you do, you are just a human with some magic tricks." I watched from the corner of my eye as he rolled his eyes, slouching back in his seat, "Tricks that I have not even seen, by the way, so please try not to need saving too much while we complete this mission."

I closed my mouth, not wishing for my anger to get the better of me just yet. I knew that I had to contain it and utilise it for the mission, so that I didn't have to rely on Loki at all. I felt a sudden rush of wanting to prove the god wrong.

"I really wanted to like you; you know." I said through gritted teeth, thankfully seeing our landing destination only a few miles ahead.

"And I knew that I wouldn't like you." He replied, his smirk heard through his words.

We stood either side of a large brick gateway, glancing behind it and trying to determine the best course of play. It was just a small branch of Hydra still floating around, those that had disappeared in the snap and had returned in a way to start up their resources again. There was a group of maybe fifteen men surrounding the compound, this compound that really was in the middle of nowhere and took us all of thirty minutes to sneak up to the gate, I looked over to Loki.

"You shapeshift, right?" I whisper-shouted, remembering Thor's stories of his brother turning to a snake. He nodded, face screwed, "Get one of those uniforms, take me in as prisoner." I suggested, watching as the cogs then whirred in his mind. "It's the easiest way." I tried to prompt him further.

"I don't like easy." He responded, then beginning to smirk, "I want to see your tricks." He motioned his hand to the gate, wishing for me to go in first. I furrowed my brows, allowing his arrogance to make my anger grow.

"Oh man, I really don't like you." I growled, coming to smirk after however, "But, if you insist."

I reached my hands over my shoulders to take a hold of my swords, watching Loki's eyes watch me as I pulled them in front of me, allowing my eyes to glint and set both blades alight. It was true that I had turned cities to ash before, and now it was clear to him that I had seriously and literally burnt them down. I turned, running as fast as I could into the sandy compound, managing to get near to the centre before any of them managed to turn their guns to me; before two of them could I allowed for my leg to spin out, spouting flames from the pad of my foot, catching the three that stood closest to me. They fell to the floor, rolling to get the burning away from them as their comrades began to shoot; I spun my swords in a way to deflect those bullets that came for me. Knowing that I couldn't stay on the ground any longer I pushed my legs, flinging me up about ten metres, coming down behind two of them and slicing their backs with my blades.

I could hear the fast footsteps of one of them attempting to come from behind, though he was stopped as I pointed my blade towards him, watching as the flames that encased the metal emerged from its tip to then surround the man. I smirked; it had felt good to get back in the action. I turned, quickly throwing one blade into the chest of another, running towards him and retrieving it from him before I spun the other, throwing those bullets back towards two others. I turned to look as two had retreated within, presumably to warn the others that worked inside; at this point I wondered if Loki had disappeared, or if he was simply lying-in wait for me to be done, either way, I heard the steps of more men barrelling towards me at pace. I threw my blades at two of them to my sides, one going through a chest, the other a stomach, leaving the last man coming for me head on.

He threw the first punch, easily missed by a duck to the right, and with only a knee to the stomach and an elbow to the back, the man was on the floor. I knew that these new hydra agents weren't going to be up to scratch, but I found it almost insulting that they were so terrible at fighting. I wrapped my hand around the man’s neck, picking him up to that his toes only touched the floor; I smirked, feeling the palm of my hand grow hotter and hotter as the man began to shout. Suddenly, the feeling of cold metal against the back of my head alerted me to the fact that I had missed a man, something to do with the distraction of fun that this had given me. I dropped the man to the ground, noting the boiled skin in the shape of my hand.

As I turned, the metal of the gun was dropped, as was the body of the man holding it. As his body fell, I saw the gold knife that was planted within his back slowly disappear, looking up to see Loki's smirking face as he walked towards me.

"See, if I was not here, you would have been dead." He raised his eyebrows, stopping short of laughing in my face. I growled, turning to retrieve my blades from the bodies nearby, dousing them before attaching them back to me. I looked around, seeing the scattered bodies, some still on fire and some not, but none remaining alive. "Nice tricks." He then said, trying to act as though he meant it. I rolled my eyes.

"Come on. We need to get whatever information we can."

It was one thing hearing of the powers that Loki possessed, and another to actually see them in action. The duplication, meaning one moment I thought I was talking and looking at the real him, only for it to vanish before my eyes and reveal he is several feet away from me. He had finally used his shapeshifting ability to change into one of the guards like I had suggested, letting himself into a room with ease before shooting down those inside. He seemed to like watching me watch him, I would stand back, impressed, after he would use his powers, and he would smirk at me once his show was over.

The control room was last, requiring us to actually fight together rather than one by one. I hadn't thought it would go as well as it did as he seemed to be someone who preferred to work alone, but as we fought it seemed we worked around each other well, him throwing his punches, grabbing a hold of an officer, and holding him up for me to burn.

"We seem to work well together, you and I." He said, panting once the last body had dropped. He smirked, having a look of surprise on his face.

"Or more I work well and you're a good sidekick." I shrugged, moving to the control computers where the officers from before had attempted to erase their hard drive. "They didn't manage to wipe it." I sighed a breath of relief, knowing that our fight hadn't been for nothing.

"Sidekick?" He questioned, coming to my side as I inserted the flash drive given to me before the mission.

"They have more start-ups." I then said, taking his attention away from me and to the screen. There was correspondence between them, showing at least five different locations to which, their information was coming or going. He leaned over, getting a better look, though as he did, I could suddenly feel his presence beside me. The smell of leather and whatever cologne God's now wore entered my nostrils, taking my brain away from what was before me. I thought Loki attractive, of course, but there is no way I could think of him in any other way than an annoying tagalong. not right now at least. "Brazil, Tunisia, the Ukraine." I sighed.

"Does that mean that we will have more missions together?" He then asked, attempting to sound disgusted. I rolled my eyes, trying not to smirk.

"No, it means that I will have more missions. I'm definitely not bringing you along." I scoffed, snatching the flash drive from the computer once it had finished downloading. I stood straight, only then realising how close he was to me. His eyes bore down at me, amusement shining within.

"That's good to hear. I don't think I could take any more of your little bonfire powers." He contested, trying not to break from his egotistical character. The hints of a smirk teased at his lips, and if the smell of burning flesh wasn't surrounding us both, and the urge to punch the smugness from his face wasn't growing in favour, I would have said we were having a moment.

"Let's get going then. Got to get you home so you can brush up on your magic act." I smiled a wry smile, pushing past him in attempts to leave. Though, the moment I came to the threshold of the door, I felt the searing burn of a blade being pushed through my chest. A soldier had stood by the door, waiting for his opportunity to strike, and finding it when I never bothered to check before stepping out. I dropped to my knees immediately, watching as a series of knives were then thrown into the chest of that very officer, forcing him to drop dead before me.

Loki suddenly came behind me, on his knees also, holding me up against his chest in a panic. He thought I was truly dying, and so I couldn't let this moment go by without playing him at his own game. I allowed myself to lean back, pulling the knife from my chest and throwing it to the floor before I looked up to him, taking in his look of worry.

"You can heal, right? You can heal..." He began to stutter, becoming even more shaky when I slowly shook my head. "No, you can't die, I-I will be blamed, this will be my fault." I scoffed, coughing as I did.

"You'll be blamed? Wow... you really do only care about yourself." I muttered, voice getting weaker as I spoke. "You can't even admit that you'd be sad if I died." I tried to muster a laugh, allowing it to make me cough further and forcing his grip on me to become tighter. His scent was intoxicating, so much so that I thought he must have done some magic to make it so; though what struck me most was the small flickers of green in his blue eyes, they were beautiful.

"You can't die." He then smiled, "I would have no one to vouch for me anymore." He whispered. This took me by surprise. My vouching for him must have actually meant something to him for it to affect him in such a way, though when thinking about it, I may have been the first one to do so in a very long time.

"You deserved the chance, Loki." I shrugged, wincing as the pain was still within my chest, his eyes held the torment that I was now putting him through, probably bringing up bad memories, I needed to bring this to an end, "I'd vouch for you again, you know... even if you don't like me." He chuckled.

"Of course, I like you," He smiled, "I wouldn't save the life of just anyone." The moment the words left his lips I sat myself up, wiping my chest of the dried blood from the knife. I heard no sound from him as I stood myself up, only turning to look at him when I had reconnected my swords to my back. He remained on his knees on the floor, looking up at me incredulously, noting the smirk on my face and trying to stop one coming to his own. "You weren't really dying?"

"Oh no, it takes a lot to kill me." I waved my hand dismissively, letting a smile grow on my face. It was only a second before he had gotten to his feet, placing his hand firmly around my neck and pushing me back against a wall.

"Not anyone can trick me." He growled, his voice hinting a slight tease. I smiled in his grasp, slowly raising my core temperature, and simply watching his eyes to see when he would notice. His hand gripped a little tighter and his eyes squinted, waiting as long as he possibly could before removing his hand in pain, blowing on it when he did.

"And not anyone can threaten me, your majesty." I smiled, "Time to go." I then suggested, turning away from him, and exiting down the corridor. His footsteps were quick to follow, coming to my tail as he sighed.

"So, what's the protocol for leaving? Do we just let the bodies be found?" He then asked, finally asking something about how we did things around here. He really did want to be a part of the team, and in reality, I was certain that he would fit in quite well. I smiled again, turning to him once we were facing the exit.

"Really Loki? Why do you think Fury sends me on these missions?" I asked, placing my fingertips to the wall. I started walking towards the exit, allowing my fingertips to dance along the wall, setting it alight in their wake. He followed close behind, the both of us only stopping when we were a few metres outside of the building, I looked to him as we relished in the spiralling flames, "Bonfire powers is pretty accurate, honestly." I shrugged, watching his smirk emerge.

"I am what some people call a 'mutant'. Nothing gave me my powers; I suppose I've always just hand them." I shrugged, "I burnt down my family home. Killing my family when I was five. I didn't know what I was doing." I didn't know why I suddenly felt the urge to tell Loki my whole life story on the jet ride home, but I think it had something to do with the fact that he had fought for me and with me, and that while he thought I was dying he really did try and make me feel better. "Then there were three foster homes after that that went down in smoke... a similar start up like that one was the only ones who took me in."

"Hydra..." I heard him whisper.

"Yes." I sighed, "But... I didn't need the brainwashing like the Winter Soldier... I did everything I did voluntarily." I coughed, shifting awkwardly. I knew that my story wasn't palatable to normal people, but as Loki wasn't normal and had enough blood on his hands for the both of us, I felt he could be trusted with the truth. "Fury said it was either work for him or be locked up somewhere. So." I shrugged. There was a long moment of silence, one, I assumed, because he wasn't sure as how to respond.

"I was forced into the New York invasion." He then said, breaking through the silence in one swing. "My brother doesn't even know the whole truth." He sighed. I glanced to him, his eyes remained forward, face stoic, "Thanos held me for months, training me to lead the Chitauri, though the training was simply torture and mind games."

"You were being controlled by the mind stone too..." I whispered, more to myself, but he had heard it. He looked to me, eyes soft, nodding. "Wow."

"If I didn't, he would have killed me, destroyed the Earth, and Asgard. I couldn't allow for that." He then sighed, sitting back in his chair, "There, I answered one of your questions. But you only get one." I scoffed.

"I tell you how I killed my family, and you think that answering one question makes up for that?" I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stop my smile as he nodded. "What will it take for you to open up a bit? If we're to go on all of those missions together you're going to have to at some point." I raised my eyebrows, watching as he tapped his chin.

"I'll tell you what, I'll answer one question each time I save your life." He smirked, "I'm sure I'll have answered all of your questions before the summers end."

41 notes · View notes