#but in my mind i’m over 6 feet tall and i could bench press them both

[ymorii]

currently thinking about the little pokémon train men, my favorite guys, i love them

[anlian-aishang]

Resident hoe with the size kink is here to request for Thursdays

So here’s what I’m a imagining. Blind date with Erwin, and reader is all “no way I’m putting out on the first date” but after so many shitty dates with shitty people, Erwin is just ah, a breath of fresh air, just such a gentleman, and plus he’s TALL and BROAD and towers over u and HNG. So one thing leads to another and...oh, he’s not quite the same gentleman in the bedroom....

Thank u I love u thank u I worship at ur feet 🥰

For my lovely, patient, incredible friend! I tried my absolute best because you deserve nothing less. I hope you enjoy, my love! 🥰

Word count: 3200 Tags: NSFW, size kink, modern AU, fem!reader

Sure, it was a much nicer bistro, but - in your eyes -  still a bar nonetheless, the same type of venue as all your prior dates. 

You had lost count of how many shitty encounters your friends had set you up to. The tally had been forgotten, but the memories singed in your mind for what felt like an eternity. Smoke-ridden clothes, slender finger repeatedly pushing up his glasses, a demeanor that screamed he was over it all. A steel-eyed ravenhead whose attitude was as dark as his features, minimal replies and swear words made the air both stiff and heavy - suffocating. Neither of those could even compare, though, to the time that the other woman marched in, threw her scarf at your - her - date, and the two fought it out in front of the entire place. You were near tears when you simultaneously snuck and stormed out of the bar, but as soon as you got home and downed a few, laughter turned those tears happy and let them spring freely. Someday, you would forget about Zeke, Levi, the rest, but Eren and Mikasa would forever be a funny memory.

You scoffed as you crossed your legs over the other, leather bench of the waiting area left warm after the shift of your thighs. Looking down to your skirt, you gave two slow blinks at the goosebumps that formed. The dress was itchy, the weather was frigid, each time a new patron entered, they brought the cold air in with them. Skimpy outfits, heavy makeup, and the hours you sunk into them, you rolled your eyes, What’s even the point, anymore? 

With mocking timing, two vibrations in your jacket pocket. Disappointment arrived before even your date did.

> I’m running a little late. 

Lips pressed together, suppressing a sigh. Figures. After all the I’ll be late texts you had received, you had learned the hard way: there’s nothing to say to that. 

> Read 6:39 PM

> Take a seat and I’ll be there soon. 

> Tell them you have a reservation under Smith. 

A reservation? You gave your phone a double-take, a bit thrown off from your expectations, there had not been one of those yet. You could have said sounds lovely, thanks! You could have said okay. You could have even put an emoji. Instead, you remained indecisive, letting your device speak for you. 

> Read. 6:40 PM

> I’m looking forward to it.

At first, your cheek tinged upward, just a hint of a smile. It was just the kind of person you were. When someone said something nice to you, it was your instinct to respond likewise. Two thumbs danced in your innate politeness, in the wake of a reservation and his kind words, happy to reciprocate the feeling. 

Wait. 

This was that overt kindness that had been your downfall. The attempted smiles, the hollow questions, the empty laughs, the that’s so interestings and oh wow, that must be so fun for yous, had not always been for the better - in fact, maybe the opposite. It was not your fault that the dates had flopped, but your impossible hospitality had undoubtedly made the evenings longer than they should have been. Too nice for your own good. 

You were not going to get your hopes up too high, his either. 

On the other end, he watched those three dots appear and disappear. The towering grey block of his repeatedly unanswered texts stared him down. The final Read 6:41 PM marked an end to a conversation deemed stagnant. Erwin scoffed, tucking his sleek black phone into his jacket of the same look. It seemed he had his work cut out for him. She’s a difficult one. 

But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

// // //

A few more minutes, you sat waiting, seemingly in denial that he would be late even though the evidence was bright there on your screen. Meaningless taps through apps, scrolling through your conversation from start to finish and back again, you huffed and stuffed your phone into your pocket. Standing from the bench, you took one last look through the restaurant doors. With no new pair of headlights appearing, you tiptoed to the podium.

“Reservation for Smith?”

The host ducked down, a slow scan of a list you could not see, “First name?”

“Erwin.”

When his name fell past your lips, you immediately bit your tongue. Something about saying his name, speaking for him, claiming his reservation - you felt you were stepping out of place. Of course, if you let the time slip by, letting the reservation slip through, that would have been rude. However, you could not help but feel as though this right was reserved for someone very close to him - a family member, a girlfriend, a wife.

A cheery voice snapped you back from wandering thoughts, “Ah, of course!” Hand hovered above two piles of paper. “Dinner and drink menus?”

Internally, you faltered. Drinks? Dinner and drinks? You had not really discussed it yet. “J-Just drinks.” I guess?

“Right this way.”

Following to the table, you kept your head ducked down, hoping your guide would not ask about your date. Is he coming from work? What’s the occasion? The fact that this was a blind date, you would do anything to hide it. Maybe they had read your body language, maybe the night was just simply too busy, no matter - you were glad to be seated without inquiry. 

“Someone will be with you shortly, miss!” A coy smile, leaving you at the hands of another. 

Shouldering off your coat, you took a moment to take in the sights. A tealight candle beside the salt and pepper grinders, a quaint chandelier above each table, the atmosphere was painted in a dim golden light. The illumination’s radius was small, forcing your attention solely on the spot in front of you which, even though it was empty, you acknowledged was a nice scene. Surrounded by couples while you were seated solo, you tried to keep your gaze lowered. However, you soon noticed that just as your vision was limited to your own area, the other patrons’ were to their own as well. Shadows comprised shades of privacy. 

It was why - one of many reasons why - when the figure appeared at your side, you visibly and audibly startled in your seat.

A low voice and concerned gaze. “Ah, I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”

Running late? It was still five till 7:00. Just how early was he planning on getting here?

“N-No!” Yes. Brushing a stray strand behind your ear, you attempted to bring your wits about you, “You must be Erwin?”

But that attempt was futile as soon as you laid eyes on him. Blue irises of midafternoon sky, blonde hair combed slick over an undercut, skin more radiant than candlelight. Naturally, you rose to greet him, and with each inch you stood, it was that much more you understood.

He’s huge.

Giant yet gentle hand scooped under yours, stopping you in your tracks. A small kiss placed on the back of your hand. He glanced up from his hold on you, meeting your gaze, and spoke against your skin, “please.” 

In that one word, it was so clearly conveyed and understood, No need to stand, just relax, take your seat, darling.

Unwinding his scarf, removing his gloves, he hung up his jacket and garments. With just a hint of breathlessness, he lulled, “I’m sorry I’m late.” Reaching into his inner pocket, he revealed a tiny bouquet, “They were busy.”

As he gestured the flowers towards you, you bit your tongue, but the widened eyes and lifted brows spoke for you, For me? Your instinct screamed to peck his cheek with a kiss, but you were held back by the ghosts of your previous experiences. You’re not giving it up on the first date.

Bringing the roses to your nose, adoring their scent, you subdued a couple of giggles, “Don’t worry,” you could already tell, “it was worth the wait.” 

// // //

For the first time, you never felt obliged to fill the air with questions, they just came naturally. Curiosity was never forced, but genuine. In fact, you could not drink him up fast enough.

For this young man, young professional, he was shamelessly all smiles to at last be with you. You were prettier than he could have pictured, smarter than he could have imagined, more perfect than he could have ever dreamed.

The only time his lips flattened was when he examined the menu. Instead of food, there were solely drinks listed on each side. 

“Did you want dinner?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but it was not easy to admit your hunger on a first date with a handsome man. Debating with yourself, you stuttered, “I - umm…”

“I promised you dinner and drinks,” he smirked, “and I always keep my promises.”

In that instant, when your waiter returned, Erwin so politely requested the dinner menus. So willing to spend more money on you, spend more time with you, you felt chills course through you from head to toe. You thought him oblivious, but someone like him was anything but. Instead, it was you who failed to notice his confidence boost - the grin that tinted his lips.

As he ordered his entree and beverage, you trifled over your choices. You were always indecisive, but especially with so many dynamics in place. Dinner was a hard choice for you, and that was even without the gentleman across from you.

“And for you, miss?”

In the split seconds that followed, you snuck countless glances between the menu and Erwin, trying to read the signs. Leather gloves stuffed into his jacket pocket, Lexus keys reflecting a glimmer, the silver watch so large, it made even his hand look normal-sized.

He can afford it.

You averted your eye contact from Erwin, asking the server instead, “Can I have the steak, please?” 

The most expensive thing on the menu - on the first date at that. Indeed, he was a gentleman about it - not even batting an eye. Internally, though, he gleamed. For, at the very least, it seemed you felt comfortable enough around him. He could already tell, you were not the type to use someone. Only if you saw him in your future would you wine and dine like this.

A tinge of his cheek - he would be spending more time with you, certainly.

// // //

Check paid, generous tip left, it was unspoken but understood that additional time together would be had. It was you who voiced your thoughts, making it clear, just how soon that time would come, inviting him to your apartment. 

Denying your invitation would be discourteous, but even given his mannerisms, the thought did not even cross his mind. Ever since he first laid eyes on you, before then even, he was dead set on being with you, seizing the opportunity to win you over for good.

Not only were you both eager to head home together, but the weather further encouraged it. Sunset when you started the date, rain now that you were leaving, it seemed that nature itself was pushing for your togetherness.

That short skirt of yours, his glance was not of curiosity, but concern. It was not the lotion you had put on beforehand, but rather, the accelerating droplets of rain that made your legs shine. You heard a tsk of his teeth and a rustle of fabric before you felt a heavy warmth drape over your shoulders. 

“Here,” Erwin jostled his jacket, ensuring it covered you completely, “you’ll catch a cold.”

Completely, it did. The coat that went to his knees, on you, it dragged on the ground. Sleeves that stretched far past your hands, you bunched them up as best you could, trying to pick his expensive garment up off the wet concrete. You picked up your pace, in heels, hurrying as best you could towards his car. A few steps behind you, he allowed himself a laugh. Too cute.

As he was left without his jacket, left to soak, he still made haste to open your passenger door, “After you.”

Apart from the fact that he drove you there, those two words paved the way for the rest of the night. For it was you who held his hand, dragging him up the stairs to your unit. It was you who clasped his collar and pulled him inside. It was you who led him to your bedroom and slammed the door behind him. 

But even though the way had been paved, it did not mean the road would be traveled, for even though he was a gentleman then, it did not mean he would be one now. 

// // //

As soon as you slammed the door behind him, it was as if something switched within him as well. In an instant, your wrists were clasped together by a single strong hand - the same one he had used to kiss your hand just an hour ago - and pinned above your head. At the same time, his knee propped up against the door and between your thighs. His hard cap a perfect contrast to your soft and sensitive skin, his leg wide enough to act as your chair, you could not help but minutely grind your hips against. 

Any qualms about sex on the first date, any promises you had made to yourself, you forgot about them immediately and gave them up willingly. Alertly in love, he was just that intoxicating. Shins wrapped around his back, hips arched towards his front, you gave yourself completely to him.

Ripe for taking, he was quick to act. Chests pressed together as he brought his harsh lips to your ear, “Leaving me on read all afternoon? What was the reason for that, huh?”

“Wh - ?” What? You started to ask, but a drag of his thigh up and down your crevices, the word caught in your throat with a few pathetic coughs.

And just like you had earlier, he showed no mercy. Strong hand in your hair took hold of your locks, a mind-numbing pressure that demanded all your thoughts. Your lips stammered as his snarled, “You must’ve thought I was like the rest, hmm? Does that sound about right?”

Eyes, once fluttered shut in pleasure, snapped open - immediately meeting his. The sky blue gaze that you swore you could get lost in, you had a feeling you were about to now - maybe never leaving the maze. You had completely forgotten about your careless attitude and demeanor from the beginning of the night - but he had not. It stuck with him and festered, but he told you he was a problem solver. The proof was here and now. 

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest, but something told you things were far from funny. “Well, princess…” His hand at the side of your throat, once caressing, now tightened, “I’m here to change your mind about that.”

Fingertips massaged your nodes, squeezing slightly, “Shatter expectations, if you will.”

Finally, a deliberately undeniable pull of your hair - through his hand around your neck, he felt your gasp ascend from chest to mouth, drawing a few more of those unsettling laughs, “And turn your world upside-down.”

You sensed punishment was in order, but come to think of it, there was nothing you wanted from him more. Shaky hands reached over his shoulders and down his back, raising his cotton, revealing his skin. Nails made jagged scratches in his back, yearning, pleading. 

“Erwin, please!” You begged, “Please!”

“Please what?” Painfully teasing.

In the midst of your head spinning, only one thought was discernible, “Please make me feel good!”

A smile you could feel, he snickered against your skin. “Good girl…” a quick lick at your ear, “that’s my good fucking girl.”

Hands drifted from your scalp and from your neck to land beside your cheeks. A perfectly pressing caress, he brought you to his lips. Passionate nips were swiftly followed by piercing nibbles and demanding tongue. Wet muscle swirling with yours, you nearly choked on that alone. So adorable. So pathetic. He chuckled into your mouth, remnants of mint gum and premier whiskey refreshing. His taste the one you had been missing all along. 

Preoccupying kiss, he multitasked, pushing the spaghetti straps of your little black dress down your shoulders and to your elbows. Moonlight through your bedroom window, your curves were exposed just for him. Mouth left your lips, letting you catch your breath, trailed down your jawline, neck, breast, and taking you into his mouth. Your hardened and sensitive buds played perfectly by the oscillations of his tongue - flat to pointed at all the right places and times. Your stimulation and shock, all the while, making his arousal rise as well. 

Your sex pressed on his abdomen, he could feel your heat slicken against him. A poised smile fell, his own vulnerability making itself known through the invariable and increasing rocks of his hips - all of which you felt directly. Desires so apparent to each other, what was the use in waiting?

Fingers woven where his undercut met his strands. Unsteady hand was certain in pulling him to you. Trembling voice was definite in offering yourself to him, “Take me, Erwin.”

A riling smirk and deviant gaze. This is what you asked for. He aligned himself with your entrance, a few preliminary thrusts, but those few were not enough. Maybe there was no such thing as enough preparation for him. 

“Ahhh! Erwin!” Screaming, writhing, “f-fuck! Oh, fuck...!” You whined, gritting your teeth while loving every second, “You’re so big!!”

A snide, teeth-revealing grin. That modest little sweetheart from dinner was nowhere to be found.

He could have mocked. You like that, baby? I can’t hear you. However, with that acute arch in your back, the way your walls stretched thin around him, the tenderness of the patch he rubbed, the warm and wet arousal dripping down his length, he bit his lip instead. So obviously fucked-out - so soon at that - he just had to get you there before he could hear it next time.

His curve, his pace, his size, all of him - so much pleasure and pain that they acted as one. Pounding heartbeat, accelerated exhales, the throbbing between your legs both entirely new and telltale. Already?! You could not delay it or deny it. You could not even believe it yourself. “E’Erwin, I - !” Impossibly rapid pants, you could not even keep up with yourself, “I - !”

He wanted to hear your admission, just how intensely he had won you over, but the evidence was so obvious, he could practically count it down. Three... Two... It was your ritual to acknowledge your climax, to communicate it to your partner, but for the first time in your life, you failed to. Completely overwhelmed, overstimulated, overcome by him, the pleasure he provided, and the praises that fell upon your ears. Between slaps of his skin on yours, knocks of the wooden door in the frame, there were the low repetitions of his voice and compliments - That’s it. Cum for me, princess. Such a good girl. - all in the midst of his own cascading waves. 

Your expectations shattered, your world turned upside-down, and you had not even gone to bed with him yet.

// masterlist //

[dimensionwriter]

Flufftober Day 2: First Meeting

M! Orc x GN! Reader

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Apologies for this one being late. A lot of problems arose yesterday and my mother got sick (she’s fine now, just migraines) and I just couldn’t get a flow for this story.

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Blind dates. You either ended up loving them or hating them. Your friends swear on their life that this person would be great for you, but then you meet them and it doesn’t hit off. Or you two hit off for the night, but then after a few days of texting, the magic wears off. 

You were turned off on the idea of a blind date, but when a coworker happily talks about how well you will get along with her friend and how you guys will really hit it off, you couldn’t say no. 

So, there you sat at on a chipped green bench in front of a random building you never heard of while you waited for this random person to show up and within the next few hours ‘blow you off your feet’. Your outfit was quite light and breezy considering the last few days have been quite sweltering; however,  today was the day that mother nature decided to turn down the temperature and have giant gust of wind slamming against you every few minutes. Tonight was not starting off on a good note. 

“Um.. hello?” Tilting your head back, you were met with the sight of a dark red. You had to bring your eyes down to see up the person. The dark red was actually a really thick coat that had a white rim around their neck. Finally, your eyes landed on their face. “Hi?”

His murky green skin had a dark red blush to it. Maybe at a quick glance, you would have assumed that it was natural, but it was too neatly placed. Especially the shiny red around his eyes that was been accentuated by a black wing.

“Are you waiting on anyone, by chance?” he asked, walking around to the front of the bench. With him in front of you, you could see how truly tall he was. He wasn’t as tall as some orcs you met, but he was still past the 6 foot range. 

“Are you Pai by any chance?” you asked, getting ready to stand. A part of yourself was preparing yourself to just get this over with to take a nice relaxing bath. Although, you tried to repress it in order to not ruined the date.

He nodded and sat down next to you. His form took up most of the space on the bench causing his thigh to be pressed against yours. He jumped a little and scooted over to give you some more space. 

Hmmm, respects personal space. That’s some bonus points.

He glanced over at you with a scrunched look on his face. His brown eyes looked so dark, like a storm brewing in them. “I’m going to be real with you.’

Oh, that never goes well. 

“I didn’t know I was going on a date until my friend bust into my room 2 hours ago and said she had set me up. I don’t know what’s going on and I’m feeling so weird right now. I’ve never dated a human- nothing against you guys, you’re quite a handsome and beautiful human- this is just a first. So.... yeah.” 

He seem to have shrunken into his coat as he got that off his chest. His eyes flickered over to you before looking back forward. You cracked a smile and relaxed down into the chair. “Well, I’m so sorry your friend dragged you into this. Just to be honest with you, I wasn’t looking that forward to tonight; so it won’t hurt my feeling if you decided to go back home.”

His fingers inched towards each other as he twirled the fur of his jacket. You could pretty much heard the wheels in his head churning as he weighed his options. 

“I-well. I got dressed up for tonight,” he laughed out, pointing to his outfit. The main colour was red with white and black being accent. You had to admit that it made him look good. “And behind us is a new arcade that just open that I’ve been wanting to go to.”

His lips parted to reveal a beautiful smile that caused his eyes to squint up. Two tusk were peaking  past his lips. On the left one was a band around it that had a little dangly gold star on it. 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind just chilling for the night. At least now we don’t have to try so hard to make this ‘romantic’.” He let out a tiny giggle. He readjusted his jacket and smoothly raised off the bench.  

You followed his lead and got off the bench. He walked over to the dark brick building. Looking up, you could see the neon pink sign glowing out the word “Lucky Plays”. 

“I heard they had a lot of the retro games in here-” he explained to you as he pulled on the metal door. A blast of cold air hit you instantly making you take a step back. Goosebumps spread throughout your entire body from that single breeze. 

He stopped as he looked at you shivering . A glance at the door and one back at you, he walked over to you. You're had slowly tilted back as he moved forward so you can keep you eyes locked on his face.

"I know this isn't really a date anymore," he grumbled out. His thick fingers worked quickly to undo the buttons on his jacket, allowing it to slide down his shoulder. "But I can still be a decent orc."

He was ever so gentle as he let the fabric drape around your shoulder. Soft furs brushed against your skin as warmth seeped deep into your bones.

You were prepared to thank him, but was stopped as he dropped down to a knee. Grabbing the front of the coat, he pulled the buttons a little and started to put them together.

"You know. I thought I looked good in red, but sweetie you look so much better than I do," he hooked the final button and looked up at you, "especially when it's my clothes."

I-um- what? He just went from awkward adorable orc to a flirt real quick. What's is going on? And why is your cheeks heating up?

"I'm joking. Had to tease a bit," he laughed out. He stood up to his normal height making you realize just how big he was.

"Come on, let's go in. Gotta show you how good I am at Galaxian." His hand came down to lightly ruffle your hair. Turning away, he started walking towards to door. You were a little slow this time to keep up because of you trying to ignore the blood rushing through your cheeks.

"Pai?" You called out. In you hands were two sticks of pink cotton candy that Pai had asked you to get. He said he needed to do something real quick, but he hasn't came back.

So far, tonight has been amazing. The two of you have just been running around whatever video game caught your eye. Pai wasn't kidding when he said he was good at Galaxian. He pretty much carried you most of the rounds.

This non date felt a lot more enjoyable than the actual dates you have been on. You didn't feel the pressure to talk the entire time about yourself or half heartedly ask your date about themselves.

This date was different. You guys just talked when you felt like it. There was no need to fill in the silence or worry if you were looking attractive. It was just laughter, screaming, and fun.

"Dang it." Your head tilted at the familiar phrase you've been hearing all night. You followed it past some machines into a small corner.

Pai was hunched over to reach to the controller as his eyes focused on the swinging claw infront of him. The sleeves on his white shirt was rolled up, showing you how serious he was. It was funny that it was just over a plushie machine.

"Pai, if you wanted to play some more, you could have just said so," you mumbled walking over to him. He glanced over to you with a pout on his lips. Most of the makeup on his cheeks were wiped away from constantly wiping it throughout the night.

"No, I wanted to surprise you with this little teddy bear," he said pointing to a green bear that was sitting on top of the others. "I know it's cheesy and this isn't really a date, but I wanted to get you a little something that could remind you of me after this."

Ah, your heart. He was too cute.

"Well, I mean," you walked towards the machine causing Pai to back up; you handed over the cotton candy to him before looking forward," This won't be the last time seeing you. I was hoping there would be a next time."

You dropped the crane into the center of the bear. The claw wrapped around it's torso, lifting it up and bringing it over to the hole.

"I would really like to meet you again too," he admitted, smiling brightly. You picked up the bear and turned towards him. Holding it out towards him, you gave him your own big smile.

"It's a date then."

[mintjamsblog]

I'm obsessed with Mistakes, and now with the idea that Tommy will visit Alfie's dungeon roleplaying as a client. I absolutely need a fic about that incredibly hot situation right away, because I can't get it off my mind. (Your writing is amazing, thank you so much.)

Okay, I've had enough of today, so here you go. Set a couple of years in the future. Have some escapist, procrastinating, smut. Because I love the idea that right now, Tommy and Alfie are living their best life in their castle in Ireland.

Tommy is the manager (of course) but every now and then Alfie likes to remind him that he's not always in charge. And this week Tommy's been particularly grumpy and foul tempered. Deep down  he's trying to get a rise out of Alfie, smart-talk him into a sharp spanking or a rough fuck. But Alfie seems determined not to play ball.

Instead he makes Tommy wait tables in the restaurant. "I know you think it's beneath you, darling, but Luan's off tonight and we're short-staffed and it'll teach you some humility. Tommy agrees. Reluctantly.  Determines to be as  grim faced and petulant as he can be, serving with just about enough manners to keep up appearances but not enough that Alfie'll make the mistake of asking him to do this again.

Only Alfie's clearly watching. Tommy knows this for a fact because every time he does something wrong — answers a diner's question too curtly or removes the wrong cutlery — Alfie hauls him into the walk-in freezer for a short, sharp reminder of who's in charge.

"It's my fucking hotel. I'm in charge," Tommy says.

"Not in the restaurant, Sweetie. Restaurant's my domain, innit? So bend over, there's a good boy, you got Table 6's order wrong."

By the time they're half way through service Tommy's arse is bright red and the titillation of the initial pain is tipping over into something darker. It's hard to keep the noises down when Alfie delivers a particularly vicious flurry of swats and asks him why the fuck he started playing with fire if he didn't want to get burned. He's shoved roughly out of the cold-room before he's had a chance to catch his breath.

The guy at Table 9 is watching him too closely, there's a smile hidden behind his lips as he places his order. Maybe because Tommy stumbled out of the kitchen, or his eyes look a little glazed, whatever weakness he's inadvertently shown, this bloke seems determined to exploit.

"Is he working you too hard?" the guy asks when Tommy returns to his table. "You look a little flustered."

Rude bastard, Tommy thinks. Who does he think he is? Although he has to admit he's good-looking. In that public-school boy kind of way.

"Here's your soup," Tommy snaps.

The guy looks down at it and back up at Tommy and leans back in his chair. "This is wrong," he says bluntly.

"Wrong how?" Tommy asks. It's not wrong, he's bloody sure of it. 

"I ordered the tart," the customer says.

"There isn't a tart on the—" Alfie cuts him short, appearing out of nowhere with a hand on Tommy's shoulder. 

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," he says, in a tone more gracious than Tommy's ever heard from Alfie's lips before, "We'll get that changed right away for you. Won't we, Tommy?"

Tommy's eyes dart between them, but Alfie growls, "Tommy," so darkly that he decides to let it drop, follows Alfie back to the kitchen.

He gets another six in the freezer. Alfie's brought his loop with him — a doubled length of flex that's perfect for delivering a frightful sting with barely any noise. No one can hear the thwip of it beyond the clanging and clattering in the kitchen (although if Tommy doesn't bite his tongue, they'll hear the sounds he makes).

This continues throughout the evening. Alfie's liberal with his punishments and Tommy's bratty in return, desperate for service to be over. If he keeps up just the right amount of insolence he should get the end he wants to the evening: Alfie pinning him down and fucking him. Hard. Not letting him escape.

Luckily, it's a Tuesday night so the restaurant is relatively empty. There's only one couple left, as well as the prick from Table 9. He seems to have noticed something's up, which is hardly surprising given Tommy's arse is fucking agony now, and he's tired, and livid with Alfie, and increasingly unsure whether his little plan's going to work.

Alfie seems genuinely pissed with him, and Table 9 is doing his utmost to get on Tommy's nerves.  He's criticised everything Tommy's done, tutted when plates were cleared too loudly, sent back the perfectly drinkable wine, even fabricated a hair in his chocolate mousse. (Well, maybe not fabricated, Tommy may have put it there deliberately). 

He smiles sarcastically as he hands the guy his espresso. Fucking public school wanker. 

"You know that's very off-putting. The way you're sniffing," he says in reply.

Tommy feels his face flash hot; his nose is running slightly, but Alfie thrust him out so fast after using the loop again that he didn't even get a chance to wipe his face on his sleeve. He does it now, feeling ridiculous, like an errant schoolboy.

"It's a shame you can't control your temper," the smarmy fuck goes on. "It was otherwise a very nice meal."

Tommy clenches his jaw so hard his teeth creak. He can’t actually insult a customer. Alfie'll kill him; he's worked too hard at building a reputation for this restaurant. 

"I'm a food critic, you know," he adds, fiddling with his napkin.

 Tommy's face drains of heat so fast he feels a little he's back in the cold-room, cheek pressed against frozen cardboard as Alfie flays his arse. Fuck. He's chosen the wrong night to be a brat.

"I'd like to speak to the chef," the man says.

Tommy clears his throat but doesn't move. He needs some sort of plan, which normally he could come up with, but not tonight it seems. He can feel his trousers rubbing the welts. Feel panic filling his chest, he's suddenly so fucking tired he could just lay down on this floor.  How is he going to tell Alfie?

"It's a shame, because the food was really very good. Excellent, in fact. Your chef is a talented man."

Oh fuck. Tommy digs his nails in his palms and feels the back of his eyes sting. 

It's the service that I found wanting."

"My apologies," Tommy grits out.

"I'd like to speak to him please. Your chef."

Tommy feels glued to the spot.

"Go and fetch him then," the guy says, with a condescending wave of his hand. Tommy hates him. Fucking hates him. Tommy fucking hates himself.

The last diners have left when Tommy returns with Alfie. Table 9 is still sipping his tiny coffee. He proceeds to lambast Alfie about the crude and surly service, listing every pout Tommy threw his way and every clumsy movement. He doesn't hold back, is mean and condescending and secretly, Tommy is waiting for Alfie to come to his defense, tell this prick to lay off, that's enough.  But he doesn't.

"It's a shame, it really is," Table 9 says. "I was hoping to help you along with a glowing review. Support a growing business, you know."

And that's when Alfie glares at Tommy in a way that sends shivers down his spine. Not the good kind, either, the kind that make him feel two inches tall. Alfie turns to the customer in that syrupy voice from earlier. "My most sincere apologies, sir. You have to forgive my new waiter, he's not yet fully trained. Has a lot to learn, it seems."

"Hmmm," the diner says thoughtfully, staring at his plate. "Well, I might be able to see my way to overlooking this. Provided he's appropriately dealt with."

Alfie folds his arms across his chest and widens his feet. "Appropriately dealt with?" he repeats.

"Yes. Schooled in his indiscretions and made to show some genuine contrition."

"Contrition?" Alfie repeats, raising one eyebrow at Tommy.

"I've said I'm fucking sorry," Tommy starts but then the penny drops. Finally. He's been such a fucking fool.

"Room 109. Five minutes," Table 9 says. "Let's see how sorry he can be."

Tommy's about to open his mouth to protest, but Alfie's already grabbed him by the ear and is walking him towards the staircase. His stomach plummets, his hands sweat, but there's a corresponding surge of adrenaline, a collision of desire and fear that makes his heart hammer in his chest.

"If you know what's good for you darling," Alfie whispers, "you'll do as you're fucking well told".

And Tommy does. For the next two hours, whilst the customer — James, but you can call me Sir — watches. Contrition isn't all Tommy feels as Alfie leads him to a spanking bench positioned at the end of James' bed. "You'll note it's a proper one darling," Alfie coos, "padded for your knees. Although it's your poor arse I'd be more worried about."

James makes a sympathetic clucking noise and leans down to stroke Tommy's hair.  Alfie straps Tommy's knees in place. And his ankles ... wrists ... waist. And even as Tommy fights him, snarls curses and spits at the floor, he knows he's not going to safe word out (what he's less sure of is why, why he's going to let that fucker watch Alfie go to town on his welted arse). Self-righteous, posh bloody streak of piss with his smarmy eyes and condescending lips and … fuck … they're soft those lips... brushing his own. Tommy gasps. James noses at his face, strokes fingers through his hair, eyes twinkling with a mixture of sympathy and delight as Alfie lays into Tommy with his hand. Then his belt. Then a slipper.

"You never told me he was so pretty," James says, kissing Tommy's forehead. Tommy screws his eyes shut. He hates this.

"To be fair, I absolutely did," Alfie says, taking Tommy by surprise with a bite to his thigh. 

"Well. I didn't believe you," James says. 

"S'your problem, mate."

"Bet he looks even prettier when he's crying," James says with a smile. "Bet you look fucking beautiful, Tommy, letting everything spill out."

Tommy jerks against the restraints, furious and mortified and ... turned on.

"Can I make him cry, just a little?" James asks. He's clearly talking to Alfie, but he's fondling Tommy's ear, tracing the shell with his fingertips. His hands are large but soft. And gentle.

Alfie laughs. "You can fucking try, mate," and wallops Tommy again.

"I  think he's beginning to see the error of his ways, aren't you, Tommy?" James says. "Perhaps I could overlook the fact he served the wrong starter."

Tommy glares at James, no idea why he's even bothering to argue, when it's all a fucking charade, an excuse for Alfie to humiliate him. "I didn't serve the wrong—"

The word disappears in a shriek, Alfie's brought back that damned fucking loop.

"Maybe," Alfie agrees, but he doesn't relent. He whips Tommy till he's gasping, till he can feel his cheeks tight with swelling. 

Then he drops it and starts to stroke Tommy's back, just as James keeps stroking his hair. And kissing his face. And then kissing his lips. His tongue. And then Alfie's tongue is lapping his hole and everything is too hot and too much and hurts and doesn't and the voices are saying he's beautiful, he's done so well, and he can't breathe … the air's going in but not out and everything feels wet and James is smiling at him and smiling at Alfie and saying, "see? I told you he could." 

And Tommy lets himself be stroked. Kissed. Carried onto the bed. And he lets the tears be wiped away and he says, "I'm sorry, sir." And he is. So fucking sorry. And it feels good.

[bokutokoutarou]

— i’ve noticed

pairing - lev haiba x reader | wc: 2.6k

synopsis - your best friend (and crush) lev haiba would much rather figure out who you like instead of studying for his math test next period

prompt - 8 from this list

↬  “you always bite your lip when you lie”

[a/n] - thank u to my sleep-deprived clown @sarcasti-cally​ for requesting this prompt!!

You drew in a deep breath, taking a seat across from your best friend at the picnic table you two always sat at.

“Alright,” you sighed, taking your textbook out of your bag and dropping it on the wooden table in front of you with a thud. You clasped your hands on the hard cover of your book, your fingers fiddling together nervously. “Your math test is next period, correct?”

“Correct,” Lev nodded.

“And you haven’t studied one bit, correct?” you pressed on, studying the boy warily.

“Correct,” he repeated enthusiastically, a cheeky smile appearing on his pale face.

You let out another sigh, this one being more exasperated than the last. God, this was going to be a disaster.

You started swinging your legs under the table, before digging the front of your shoes into the untamed grass under you. “I don’t understand you, y’know,” you clicked your tongue, shaking your head at the boy in disapproval. “You don’t even look nervous and your test is in, like, less than an hour.”

You didn’t know how you expected Lev to respond, but you thought that your words would at least knock the slightest bit of sense into him.

They didn’t.

Lev’s cheeky smile never left his face. He simply shrugged his shoulders, looking as confident as ever. 

“I don’t look nervous because I’m not,” he told you.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I have you to help me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words. You studied him for a moment, noticing how he was sitting crossed legged on the bench because his legs were too long to fit under the table, how his hands were playfully drumming a beat on the wooden tabletop. His emerald green eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, and he had a permanent smile on his face that never seemed to falter.

“You’re so confident about that,” you said, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “Y’know, if I really wanted to, I could just get up and go find someone else to sit with,” you teased him. “Then you’d really be screwed.”

Lev didn’t look the least bit fazed by your teasing. “But you won’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m your best friend,” Lev beamed proudly. “You wouldn’t let your best friend fail, would ya?”

‘Best friend.’ Just hearing those two words made you feel like someone stabbed you in the stomach. You’ve known Lev Haiba ever since you two were in junior high — you’ve seen him go from being only 5’4 to past 6 feet tall over the course of only one year, you’ve seen him mature from being an awkward mess to an abnormally tall awkward disaster. But you’ve also seen the way his emerald green eyes light up every time he gets excited, the way his lips curl up into a ridiculous grin every time you say something funny.

‘Best friend’ ... to you, Lev Haiba was something more — you wanted him to be something more.

Yet Lev Haiba was oblivious — he has always been oblivious. To Lev Haiba, a ‘best friend’ was all that you could ever hope to be.

“Obviously not,” you responded, forcing a small smile on your face despite the fact that you could practically feel your heart sinking in your chest. You opened your textbook up to the lessons you knew he was learning, scanning the practice questions for a relatively simple one he could try. You were about to tell him what page you were on so he could turn to the same one, yet he sat up from his spot and leaned over the table before you even had the chance to open your mouth.

His face was dangerously close to yours.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you sputtered out, adrenaline coursing through your veins as butterflies swirled around in your stomach. Your eyes were glued to his emerald ones, searching desperately for any clues as to what was going on in his mind.

Yet his eyes weren’t glued to yours — they were glued to the pages of your textbook.

“I’m trying to see what page you’re on,” Lev stated simply. He hovered forward over the table for a couple more moments, oblivious to the fact that your heart was racing wildly in your chest, before he sat back down (cross-legged, of course) on the bench and opened up his textbook to the same page that you were on.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

“You could have just asked me, y’know,” you told him, yet you could barely hear the sound of your voice over the hammering of your heart that was whooshing in your ears.

“I guess,” Lev shrugged his shoulders. “But I wanted to stretch my legs.”

Of course he did.

“Alright,” you told him, your head feeling light from what had just happened. “Well, now that you’re on the same page as me, maybe try out question 11? It’s basic trig.”

(You conveniently left out the fact that it was a simple recap question based on a concept you two learned early on in junior high — if he couldn’t do this question, then there was really no hope for him).

Lev nodded gleefully. He pulled his binder out of his bag — which was right next to him on the bench — before taking out a piece of paper and getting to work.

He gave up in less than a minute.

“This is impossible,” Lev whined, his lips pulling down into a pout. “If it only gives me two sides of the triangle, how am I supposed to know the other one?”

“You use the Pythagorean theorem ‘cause it’s a right triangle,” you explained. “You’re missing the hypotenuse, so you—”

“The what?” Lev cut you off, his expression clearly lost.

You covered your mouth to suppress a giggle. “The longest side,” you told him. “So, you’re gonna square the other two sides and add them together, and then...” you paused upon seeing Lev counting with his fingers.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

“I’m adding eight plus five,” he told you, taking another second to finish counting before you saw him silently mouth the word “thirteen.”

“But you didn’t square them yet.”

“Square? I thought this unit was about triangles?” Lev furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

This time you didn’t even bother to hide your laughter. You threw your head back, a series of giggles escaping past your lips. Lev stared at you dumbfoundedly for a second, before he started to laugh as well.

“You’re such a disaster,” you told him in between laughs.

“Your favourite disaster,” Lev grinned, putting his elbows down on the table and resting his chin in his hands.

Well, at least he was right about that.

“Look, since I’m clearly not passing trig, can we just do something else?” Lev asked you, giving you his infamous puppy eyes.

You’ve never been able to say no to those eyes. In junior high, he’d use them on you to get you to talk to him instead of working on your assigned class work. You’d always give in, pushing your textbooks aside to talk about whatever was on his mind, and within the matter of minutes, you two would both earn a detention for your shared loudness.

Of course, almost four years later and nothing has changed.

“Whaddya wanna do?” you asked him, a small smile forming on your face as you pushed your textbook to the left of you. You unconsciously copied his sitting position by putting one elbow on the table, resting the side of your cheek against the palm of your hand.

“Maybe we can talk about what Kuroo said earlier.”

Your smile disappeared as fast as it had formed, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Um, anyways, how about you try question twelve?”

“Oh come on, [Y/N],” Lev whined, giving you a small pout. “I’m your best friend...why can’t you just tell me who you like?”

‘Because it’s you,’ you thought to yourself. You so desperately wanted to let those words slip past your tongue, to finally tell him what has been on your mind for the past four years. Yet you kept the thought in your head, because those three words had the power to ruin everything if they were said aloud.

“Because you don’t needa know,” you said instead.

“But Kuroo needed to?” Lev raised one of his thin grey eyebrows at you teasingly.

You bit your tongue, cursing at yourself internally. You knew it was a mistake to tell that bed-headed rooster about your crush on your best friend. But of course, the sly older boy had convinced you to tell him so easily, and when you went to watch Lev’s next practice, he just so happened to ‘let it slip’ in front of everyone that you had a crush on someone on the team.

“Consider it a favour,” Kuroo had smirked at you after practice ended. “I’m just speeding things up for the two of you — he likes you back, y’know.”

You seriously doubted that. He was obviously just teasing you, just as he teased everyone else, so you didn’t give his words any value. You didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be let down, as it would only hurt more for you in the end if you believed that Kuroo’s words were true.

“[Y/N]?” Lev leaned over the table and waved his hand in front of your face, making you blink a couple times. You then realized that you had become so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t answered his question.

“You know how Kuroo is. He was just joking around,” you finally said, biting down on your lip apprehensively. “I don’t like anyone on the team.”

“So you like someone who’s not on the team?”

“No! I don’t like anyone,” you told him stubbornly.

Lev gave you a lopsided grin, leaning back to sit cross-legged on the bench again. “You’re lying.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yeah you are,” Lev pressed on. “You always bite your lip when you lie.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What? No I don’t.”

“Yeah you do,” Lev laughed. “Look — you’re doing it right now.”

Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized that you were, in fact, biting your lip. You had honestly never even noticed that that was something you even did.

“I...” you took a deep breath, your mind moving a million light years per minute. “Fine. I like someone.”

Lev’s green eyes practically gleamed at the last three words that left your lips.

“Then tell me who it is!” Lev was practically on the edge of his seat. He was giving you his infamous puppy eyes again, but this time, you weren’t going to let him win so easily.

“I can’t,” you told him, sucking in a nervous breath of air.

“Why not?” Lev pouted at you. “You told Kuroo.”

“That’s different,” you sighed, your eyes darting away from the boy uneasily.

“How’s that different? You barely even know him, yet you told him instead of your best friend.”

There it was again. ‘Best friend.’ The two words sent a shiver down your spine, serving as a cold reminder that that was all you could ever be. Nothing more, yet certainly much less. You didn’t want to risk being anything less.

“See, this is why I can’t tell you,” you huffed under your breath so quietly that you could barely even hear your words yourself.

Yet Lev heard you clearly.

“Whaddya mean?” Lev asked you. He gripped the edge of the table, leaning forwards in anticipation. “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you said the one word plainly, averting your gaze from him.

Lev leaned in even closer to you. “Because?”

“Because,” you said the word again, gulping down the lump that had formed in your throat. You didn’t plan on finishing your thought.

“Because?” Lev repeated after you, leaning in even closer.

You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes focused on the tree beside the picnic table you two were sitting at instead of looking at him. Your heart started to race in your chest when you saw that his face wasn’t too far from your own out of the corner of your eye, yet your heart stopped completely at his next few words.

“You won’t tell me ‘cause it’s me, isn’t it?”

A cold shiver raced down your spine, and it wasn’t because of the sudden gust of wind that had just swirled past you.

“Wh-what?” you sputtered, almost falling out of your seat in surprise. You quickly straightened your back, trying to appear inconspicious. “N-no it’s not!”

“You’re lying,” Lev’s green eyes twinkled in the light of the sun, an eager grin plastered on his face as he leaned back to sit down in his usual position. “You’re biting your lip.”

Sure enough, you were biting your lip again without even realizing it. Your breath hitched in your throat — you didn’t even know what to say, which only seemed to confirm to him that he was right. Yet you didn’t have to say anything because Lev beat you to it.

“So it really is me, huh?” Lev said, but it was more to himself than it was to you. He looked entirely stunned, as if reality had suddenly hit him with a slap in the face. “He really wasn’t lying to me then...”

“Huh?” you asked him, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Well,” Lev hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly. “That day when Kuroo told everyone that you liked someone on the team...I was pretty upset,” Lev gulped, taking a deep breath as he looked away from you. “I didn’t want you to like someone else — especially any of them — but then Kuroo came up to me and told me that you liked me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the boy’s words. Now that he mentioned it, you vaguely remembered Lev looking rather dejected upon Kuroo’s announcement about you having a crush. He barely hit the ball once that practice, yet after Kuroo came up to him and whispered something in his ear, it was like he couldn’t stop hitting it. 

He had the biggest grin on his face that day during your walk home together, and you had just assumed that his cheery demeanour meant that he was unbothered by the idea of you liking someone. Yet in reality, he was smiling at the idea of you liking him.

You couldn’t help but laugh in relief, all of your anxiety from before easing away into pure ecstasy. “So you knew this whole time, huh?” you asked him.

Lev nodded his head, a bashful grin on his face.

“Then why did you keep asking me?”

“‘Cause I just wanted to make sure,” Lev told you, letting out a nervous laugh of his own.

You stared at him for a second, noticing the way his emerald green eyes shone in the light of the sun, the way the wind tousled his normally straight grey hair into a wavy mess. You wanted to take a picture in your mind and capture this moment for eternity, yet a question lingered in the back of your mind, and as much as you didn’t want to ruin the moment, you also didn’t want to let it fade away into oblivion.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” Lev tilted his head slightly to the side, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“The biting my lip thing...how did you know that?” you asked him. “I didn’t even know that.”

Lev simply smiled at you in response. “I notice a lot of things ‘bout you,” he told you. “Like the way you play with your fingers when you’re nervous, or the way you make this face when you’re really focused.” Lev proceeded to furrow his eyebrows and purse his lips, which made you let out a loud giggle at his antics. “I’ve noticed those things since junior high.”

Lev then paused. He averted his eyes from yours, his usually pale cheeks warming with a rosy blush. “I’ve also liked you ever since then, y’know.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest. You wanted to pinch yourself like people did in movies to make sure that they weren’t dreaming, yet you opted against it because if this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

“I’ve liked you since then too,” you smiled at him, your heart continuing to flutter with every beat.

Lev didn’t say anything for a moment. His emerald eyes were glued to you in a trance-like state, the most gigantic grin lighting up his entire face. He looked absolutely mesmerized.

“You okay?” you asked him after he hadn’t responded for an entire minute.

“Yeah,” Lev gave you a dazed smile. “Just thinking.”

“Of?” you asked him, your eyes twinkling in curiosity.

“Of how much I wanna kiss you,” he told you, still in a complete daze. It took him a couple of moments to realize what he had said.

“Uh,” Lev’s green eyes widened uneasily. “I mean...it’s just...I—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. You planted your feet on the ground, placing your palms down on the wooden table in front of you. Adrenaline coursing through your veins and butterflies fluttering around in your stomach, you leaned forwards so that your face was dangerously close to his.

Yet this time, you closed the gap, and the feeling of his lips against yours was enough to tell you that this wasn’t a dream.

This was your reality.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 6)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Nipple Play

<- Part 5

Summary: Backstory, Spanish lessons, and finally some sober sex! 🥳 (This chapter is very NSFW/18+)

For @thatesqcrush​​’s Kink Bingo challenge! And with this, I finally finish a row! 

5,420 words

The twenty-minute coffee date Rafael Barba had been dreading somehow turned into hours without him realizing it. The summer morning passed quickly until the sun was at its zenith above the turtle pond, and all of the work-related responsibilities he would have been grinding himself to death on had slipped his mind as he wandered through the park with your hand in his.

It turned out that you did have a few things in common. You both grew up in the Bronx. Though when you told him where, he snorted and joked, “What is an upstanding young lady from Spuyten Duyvil doing with a boy from the projects?”

Your jaw dropped when he told you what neighborhood he grew up in. It was an area you were familiar with mainly as a place to avoid, especially, god forbid, at night. The clean-cut lawyer in a sharp suit did not look anything like what you’d expect from the poverty he came from. You just assumed his family was wealthy.

“That’s incredible,” you said, a new surge of admiration for him stoking the fire of your attraction. You scooted closer on the shaded bench beneath a tall oak you’d stopped to sit on, your bare leg pressing against his slacks. You still hadn’t kissed, everything just barely skirting the romantic. The touch of his hand shot electricity through your skin, just from his fingers brushing yours. Neither of you wanted to push things too far, too fast, considering the guilt still lingering between you. “You must be a genius.”

Instead of boasting with the sly, cocky grin you had learned was among his favorite facial expressions, he grew serious, all but a trace of a smile leaving his lips. “I just worked hard,” he said.

“Really hard,” you said, knowingly, squeezing his hand. “Even people who work hard, who are smart… it’s almost impossible to escape that kind of poverty. The fact that you did it is…”

His inquisitive eyes, matching the foliage behind him, were strained as if deciding whether to share something or not. But he did, quietly. “I still work hard. Every day. It feels like if I make one false step, everything could fall apart. But, I have enough to support my mother.”

“And an impressive collection of ties,” you chimed.

He smirked, lifting your hand to casually press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. “And suspenders.”

Your pulse raced. Looking up and down this flawlessly stylish man, it all made sense. “Dressed to kill,” you muttered. “You wear it like a disguise.”

He frowned, the warmth leaving his eyes. You had touched a nerve. “Would it be a disguise if you wore it, or just because I’ll always be poor deep down?”

“I didn’t mean—OK, I get how that sounded. I just mean… you are exceptionally attractive. Like, really attractive. I mean, why am I telling you? You know that. Look at you.” You continued the obsequious flattery until a sarcastic smile appeared in the corner of his lips. “You know, actually,” you admitted, “I only grew up in a good neighborhood because my dad re-married rich. The weeks I was with my mom… she worked three jobs just to support me and a crummy apartment. I could never actually count on what the step-family would pay for, so sometimes I rode on boats with rich people, and sometimes I lived off canned pasta. It was weird.”

He looked at you appraisingly as he assimilated this new tidbit of information. “It isn’t easy, straddling two worlds.”

“Except you worked your ass off to break into one, and I ran away into the woods and got really into trees. Trees don’t judge you for not fitting in.”

“I’m sorry for judging you,” he whispered, his voice turning surprisingly tender. He lifted a hand and gently brought it to your cheek. You closed your eyes as it made contact, his palm warm against your skin, the pad of his thumb soft as it began stroking your cheek. You leaned forward, and he closed the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours, slow and sweet. It was chaste at first, and careful, but neither of you wanted to break it, and as it continued, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your shoulder, drawing you in deeper as his heady scent enveloped you, the taste of coffee on his tongue as his lips parted.

“Barba?”

Rafael practically jumped out of your arms as an inquisitive voice called his name, leaving you kissing the air. The voice belonged to a tall brunette woman pushing a toddler along in a stroller.

“Liv!” he practically shrieked in alarm, straightening himself.

You looked between them and the kid, and felt like such an idiot. “Oh my god, you are cheating!”

Liv gave you a look, and burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, nothing like that. I’m Sergeant Benson, SVU,” she extended you a firm handshake and explained, “I work with Barba on a lot of cases.” She turned back to Barba with an amused smirk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Counselor, I didn’t realize you had a personal life.”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying. How’s Noah?”

“He’s perfect,” she smiled, cooing at the curly-haired child. “He loves the turtles, so we’re going down to the pond. Beautiful day for a nature walk.”

“She knows every tree,” Barba volunteered, puffing his chest out with the same cockiness he used to talk about himself, tipping his head at you. “Go ahead, test her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Liv said, bemused. She gave a polite nod and a reminder that she still owed Barba a coffee for some legal thing he had come through on (which only gave you a slight pang of jealousy), and then waved goodbye, walking down the path toward the water.

You sat in silence, recovering. Barba was obviously scandalized to have been caught in a compromising position by a colleague, the tips of his ears turning red. You were glad she wasn’t his wife, but didn’t love having to suddenly confront the fact that he had an entire social life you knew absolutely nothing about. It sort of ruined the intimacy of the moment, tearing the cardboard moon out of your sky too soon.

Barba broke the silence first with a low, drawn-out groan. He turned to you, his eyes soft but flashing with passion, taking your hands in his again. “If we start seeing each other… there is a good chance you will get to know Liv in some capacity.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, and on the exhale beseeched, “You cannot tell her how we met.”

The earnestness with which he implored you, holding both your hands, made you burst out laughing. He did a poor job hiding his smile as he watched you double over. When you finally contained yourself, you pecked an innocent kiss to his lips. “We can say we met at a bar. We don’t have to mention all the, uh...” Karaoke. Drunken shenanigans. Dubious consent. Whatever you call we-didn’t-have-penis-in-vagina-sex-but-you-fingered-me-until-we-orgasmed. He grimaced with you as you both recalled all of the things you would not be telling anyone about your meet-cute. Then you started remembering his fingers gliding in and out of you, his hungry lips marking up your skin, and a warm shiver ran down your back. He swallowed, seeing the lustful heaviness creep into your eyes and responding with his own.

He nearly kissed you again, wrapping you in a passionate embrace that would have hastened you to a bedroom, but you pulled back. He said “seeing each other.” You thought this was a fun fling with no strings attached, and the idea that he was already thinking about more made your heart sink with guilt. “I should tell you...”

You never got to finish your thought. Liv had only gotten fifty feet when her phone rang. She was yelling into it frantically, demanding answers. Barba’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. Liv stormed back up the path, waving to him. “There’s been a… development,” she said, censoring the case details in your presence. “They need me at the precinct. You’re probably going to want to come, too.”

“I believe I am already being summoned,” he replied, checking his phone.

“Good. I need to call the sitter. Please let everyone know I’m on my way.” She hurried off, and any hint of flirtation was gone from Barba’s eyes as he stood, fully back in cold lawyer mode as he made a phone call, then another to order a Lyft.

He was already walking with quick, purposeful steps toward the nearest exit of the park when he hung up his last call and turned back to you apologetically. You had been trailing behind him, unsure if he wanted you to follow, and didn’t miss that you were an afterthought. But his regret was sincere. And the truth was, you didn’t mind this serious version of Barba at all—the sober Barba who poured his soul into getting justice and would forget a date he had been enjoying the instant duty called—because you’d seen the drunk version who fell apart, sobbing in your arms when he let down the victims. He had a hard side and a soft side, and so far, there was nothing about him that you didn’t like.

Oh god, you had a crush on him.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s an emergency,” he explained, brow furrowed heavily over yearning green eyes.

Oh god, this was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Maybe a few nights, but a stand nonetheless. How dare he look at you like that?

“It’s alright. It sounds important,” you half smiled.

“Can I call you later?” he asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he had none of the confident swagger usually in his voice. It was a small, hopeful sort of question that told you there were real emotional stakes to your answer.

Oh god, did he have a crush on you, too? Did you have a crush on each other? This was terrible!

Drawn in as if by a magnetic pull, you closed the short distance, threaded your hands between his arms and body, and clasped them together behind his back. His lips quirked as his confidence returned. His hands cupped the sides of your face, then his mouth crashed against yours, fired with all of the passion of desire realized and reciprocated, relief, and longing. It was the type of kiss that would have been drawn out and sensual if it hadn’t been condensed by necessity into a hurried goodbye. You were out of breath and overheated when he broke it, seconds later.

“I’ll be waiting,” you breathed. He gave a hungry growl and a sharp, promising stare that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core before running to catch his ride.

***

Barba hated intelligent psychopaths. Even after they’d been put away, there was always some new appeal to fight, a new witness to come forward, some clever misdirection to cast their crimes into doubt. He’d been running around since noon working out deals with witnesses, obtaining warrants, and warning Liv’s detectives that they were being played. Now the sun was hanging low in the sky, and he realized he had never heard Carmen’s futile warning for him to go home already because his secretary didn’t work on weekends when he was pulling overtime. It was just him and his headache.

The time. What time was it?

He sat bolt upright in his leather office chair and groped for his phone. There was a notification from you from an hour ago that he vaguely recalled hearing buzz.

“How’s the emergency?”

He cursed and checked the time. It was getting late. Too late to make a reservation at any of the swankier restaurants he could take you. But he called you anyway, and was delighted when you answered.

“Hey. It’s Barba,” he said.

“I know,” said your amused voice on the other end of the line. “Your contact is in my phone, Sexy Karaoke Lawyer.”

He groaned in a way that was secretly a laugh. “Alright, Lorax. Are you free tonight? I’d like to take you to dinner. Actually, I thought I could make dinner. At my place?”

You gasped with mock scandalization. “Is this a booty call, Mr. Barba?”

He choked. “No. I just—” He stopped stammering when you started cackling like a grinning idiot, and his voice dropped low. “What if it is?”

The sudden shift in confidence caught you off guard, and he heard you swallow. “Then I’ll be there.”

***

It had been ages since he’d had time to make his abuelita’s costillas de puerco recipe. Or rather, it had been ages since he’d made time, considering he hardly had the time to do it now. He rushed through the corner deli at lightning pace to pick up what he needed, and rushed through prep, knowing you’d be over in less than an hour.

He had no idea why he felt such a drive to impress you. Why he needed to see you again so soon when you’d spent hours by his side that morning. The entire short time he had known you had been strange, anxiety-inducing, and guilt-ridden, but instead of hating you, he found himself wanting more.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was, every interaction with you, no matter how awkward, had been underscored by a potent sexual chemistry, and at the moment, he was nothing but a horny teenage boy who wanted to get laid.

That was all. This was some mid-forties hormonal resurgence. Madre de dios, it was a midlife crisis.

Or maybe this was what happened when he stopped getting in his own way. He’d spent years nursing a broken heart, years that turned into decades guarding himself against anyone getting too close. He never thought he’d feel this way again for somebody new. It was too late in life to meet someone who would know him as well as his childhood friends from el barrio, and they were all married by now. But he’d opened himself up just an inch, just for a night, by mistake, and let someone see past the hard, cynical facade, and now he wanted you to know him. He wanted to know you. He wanted to see how this ended. Maybe this was a revelation.

His heart jumped in his chest at the buzz of the door intercom.

***

“Hola, Rafael,” you greeted, and he grinned at the way you pronounced his name with the correct accent. “Oh my gosh, what smells amazing?”

He stood aside and nodded you in. The apartment was tiny, as most city apartments are, but tidy and well decorated. You were immediately drawn to the sturdy dining room table made of solid burl, and admired the natural chaotic pattern of the grain.

“It needs fifteen more minutes,” he said, observing with amusement how you completely ignored the good silver he’d broken out and started stroking the wood.

“What ever shall we do to pass the time?” you pouted innocently. Barba growled low in his throat, cupping a hand around your hip to draw you close, and you responded by pressing your hips flush against his, smiling lustily. Well, you had more or less agreed that dinner was a pretense for a booty call—no reason not to get right to it.

You hadn’t changed, but he was wearing a more casual wine-colored cashmere sweater, and you ran your hand up it, relishing the velvet softness under your palm as well as the shape of his chest. His lips met yours hot and searching, but didn’t stop there. They trailed over the side of your mouth, kissing down your jaw. He pressed wet, hungry kisses along your neck, and you moaned as his tongue lapped over the soft underside of your throat, his hands gliding over your hips. He pulled back by an inch. “Are you sure… you want this?” he murmured.

“God yes,” you moaned with your lips in his perfect salt-and-pepper hair, arousal raising your temperature as your body responded to his touch. “You haven’t been drinking this time?”

“Not a drop,” he replied huskily, somehow making it sound lewd as he resumed kissing the crook of your neck, and over your shoulder. You curled your fingers through his hair, and backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the table, and rested your weight against it, enjoying the feeling of being pinned as you angled your pelvis to grind against his growing erection.

“Oh, Rafa...” you moaned. “Can I call you Rafa?” you asked, not sure if the nickname was too personal. With the emotional baggage of your first night together, you hadn’t been sure if being on a first-name basis was respectful enough.

“You can call me anything you want,” he purred, his teeth gently pinching your shoulder.

You made a deep, chesty noise, sinfully considering that. “Don’t give me such broad permission, or you might regret it… papi.”

He groaned, and you felt his cock kicking against your cunt. Bunching up your skirt over your hips, you rocked your hips against him, panting just from feeling the strength of his arousal through his clothes. “Yes,” he hissed softly, holding you firmly against him as he worked his clothed erection against your panties, growing more excited with every mewl and shudder it drew from your lips. “That night was… moronic… but I remember the way I felt… how much I wanted you.” He turned his head and sucked a light bruise into your neck. “Do you still feel that way?”

You dipped your head to coax him back to your mouth, his pink lips wet with saliva as your tongue tasted them. “I wanted you to fuck me so bad,” you groaned, jerking your hips for emphasis on the word fuck. “But your fingers are very skilled… and your mouth...” You kissed him again, and felt his hand reach between your legs to slide your panties off.

His fingers paused halfway down the elastic. “Is this moving too fast?” he panted, suddenly trying to be reasonable. The kind of thing you would worry about if you were building a long-term relationship.

“Shh,” you hushed him gently. “I don’t want to think about too fast or too slow, or how different our lives are, or what’s going to happen after tonight. We’re just two strangers having fun. Can’t it just be that?”

He kissed you so softly, then. So tenderly that he could only have been subliminally trying to convince you of something more. His heart drummed with possessive affection; he already knew he wanted more than just tonight. At least the primitive, reckless part of him that didn’t overthink and over-plan every decision did. The rational part of him and the part that would say anything to please you came to an accord as he nodded, lips moving against your skin, “It can be.”

You grabbed his wrist and helped him slip your underwear the rest of the way off, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. His fingers didn’t immediately plunge themselves into your drenched folds, and his hips didn’t immediately return to grind against your wetness. His intelligent, cocky green eyes gave you a probing stare.

“Y qué quieres hacer esta noche?” he purred, low and seductive, giving you a choice.

“Oh, papi, me encanta cuándo hablas español. I want you to do anything you want to me. Anything,” you moaned, fairly certain that, with one or two exceptions, you really meant it. This man turned you on in ways you’d never experienced. There was nothing you wouldn’t try if he wanted it, and you knew he’d stop the second you asked, which made you feel bolder.

He chuckled. “Don’t give me such broad permission, dulce naturalista.”

The promise of mischief in his voice made you shiver, your cunt dripping. “Anything, papi. I just… want to know that you want me.”

He hummed. “This dress, this flimsy thing,” he hooked his index fingers through the narrow shoulder straps and tugged. “Did you know I’ve been staring at it all day, thinking about doing this?” He pulled the front down, just by a few inches, and freed your nipples. He dipped his head, and you gasped as he took one in his mouth.

“Oh god, it feels so good,” you whined as he began to suck, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was like he had a direct connection to your clit. He wasn’t even touching you there, but a hot pressure began to build between your legs as he devoured your sensitive nipples.

Then he suddenly released, your hard peak popping out of his mouth with a wet sound, and you whined for him not to stop. “Tu no dominas el español, verdad?” he asked.

“Qué?” you blurted, confused, but answering his question by not understanding it.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, a devilish look in his eyes. “You need practice, so I’ve decided I’ll only give you what you want if you say it in Spanish.”

“Pero… Qué pasa si… yo no sé… how to say it in Spanish?” You did want to learn more dirty talk, but this game didn’t seem fair. You wanted him to keep sucking your tits.

“You said I could do anything I wanted...” he reminded you, bringing his hand back to one of your breasts and kneading it tormentingly slowly. “Si no lo sabes, intenta. Practica, practica, practica.”

You wondered if this was some sort of dominance thing, or if he just liked watching you struggle with his native language. It was a bit exciting, though, you had to admit. Your pulse was racing with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, because you genuinely had no idea how to say what you wanted. “Mis… pechos? Tu lengua. Por favor.” you pointed from his mouth to your breasts.

“Por favor, chupa mis pezones,” he corrected. “Repite.” You repeated it, and before you’d finished the last syllable, he replied, “Con gusto,” and began stimulating your nipples to the point of torture with his nimble lawyer’s tongue.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice high and pleading, “It feels so good.” You bucked your hips into his and curled your fingers around the back of his head trying to force him to keep going, but he pulled back.

“En español,” he chided.

“En serio?!” you complained, but he simply watched you with his eyebrows quirked, waiting. “Me siento bien?” you tried. He smiled approvingly and lowered his sultry mouth to your skin again, flicking your hardened peak while pinching it between his lips. This time he pushed his hips back against yours so you could feel the heat of his erection on your pussy, and it sent new waves of electricity coursing through your body, which was already heaving just with the attention to your breasts. “Por favor, más... Oh god, yes,” you whimpered.

“Qué sabor muy rica, tu piel,” he murmured, muffled in your skin. “You taste delicious.” The vibrations from his speech tore a choked whimper from your lips, and you bucked your hips against his cock.

You bit down on your lower lip, fighting your rising climax even as you lifted one leg, wrapping it over his hip, to hasten it. “I’m gonna—oh god, you’re going to make me come just from this!”

“Voy a venir,” he coached you in a firm, teacher-like voice that nearly made you double over with arousal. “O puedes decir, ‘Me vas a poner a venir.’”

“M-me pon… ah!” he lightly nipped at your sensitive peak, turning the rest of what you were trying to say into helpless babble. “Please, please fuck me… oh god.” Before he could correct you, you remembered what he’d taught you in the bar right before begging you to leave with him so he could fuck your brains out. “Dámelo duro, papi.”

His whole body shuddered as he took in a shaking breath, but sober Barba never lost control until he decided to surrender it. As much as he wanted to fuck you, he was having too much fun teasing you. “You could also say, ‘Quiero que me coges,’” he explained academically, and you growled with frustration, writhing under him, your cunt seeking purchase against his cock. “If you’re going to speak a language, you’ve got to practice it,” he said, his voice far too calm and even for the circumstance, even with its wicked undertone.

“Dámelo! Por favor! Dáme tu pinga!” you begged frantically, rapid-firing off every way to ask for his cock that you could think of. You reached between your bodies and grasped his engorged sex through his tightened pants and stroked him hard from balls to tip. Your efforts were rewarded with an involuntary whine, Barba’s hips jerking forward.

“Me rindo,” he whimpered in surrender. His breath was ragged and he looked ready to fall apart. You purred with victory, but as you slowed the furious pace of your stroking, he recovered enough of his senses to smirk through his lust. “Pero primero, quiero saborearte.” His voice was thick, and his eyes dark as a tropical storm on a Caribbean island. He lifted the leg you’d wrapped around him up onto the table, and knelt beneath you. “Con tu permiso?”

You nodded, gasping sharply even before his tongue made contact with your soaked pussy just from the obscene expression on his face as he opened his mouth and extended the point of his tongue as he slowly leaned toward you. Your hands braced behind you on the table for support. Then you cried out loud when that tongue did hit you, slightly cold from the air, but quickly warming to match you as his mouth closed over your whole cunt. “Ah, que rica,” he sighed into your pussy, lapping at your slippery arousal with broad, languid strokes of his tongue, unhurried, as if he were aiming for no particular goal but to enjoy your flavor. “So wet for papi. Qué buena estudiante eres. Good students should be rewarded.”

He finally stood back up to his full height in front of you and removed his pants and underwear, letting them fall around his ankles, and his cock sprang free. You gaped down at it in awe. “Oh god, look at that cock,” you practically drooled. You automatically reached down and started stroking it, babbling on about what a thick, beautiful cock it was. He was too lost in the touch of your fingers wrapped around his shaft to even complain that it wasn’t Spanish.

“Ah, condoms!” he interjected before pushing himself inside you like every muscle in his body was screaming to do. “I’ve got some in the bedroom.”

You chewed your lip, not sure if this would come off the wrong way since he wanted to be responsible, but you slowly said, “We don’t need to use one if you don’t want. I’m on the pill, and I don’t have any STDs.”

His stormy eyes pierced into you, clearly tempted, but he couldn’t help remarking cynically, “If you give me a disease, I swear...”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my medical records on me, so I understand if you don’t want to take my word for it. I don’t know why I’m blindly trusting you.” That was a lie. Everything about Rafael Barba screamed precision, caution, and consent, and even after such a short time knowing him, you were absolutely certain he would never put you at risk. In fact, there was no way he’d ever have unprotected sex with a stranger.

Except his very next words were, “Fuck it,” and he hooked his arm under your elevated leg, and began rubbing his thick cock through your folds, coating it with your slick arousal. “You are absolutely sure you want this?” he looked at you with soft, understanding eyes, checking for any doubts.

You let out a needy whine, rolling your hips to rub your pussy against the tip of his fat cock. “Te quiero,” you whimpered, intending to say you wanted it, but his cheeks reddened and his heart flipped as you said something better translated as I love you.

You wouldn’t realize your mistake until much later, thinking back on it, or understand why his face was suddenly frozen between tenderness and panic, and then dawning realization, relief, and a small, barely noticeable wince of disappointment.

He entered you slowly, letting you feel every inch of stretch from his cock. Like the rest of his build, it was not the longest you had ever seen, but it was impressively girthy, and each blissful inch he worked you open brought the slightest fraying edge of pain. He knew his size could be a challenge, and was practiced at preparing, and patience. You were already so dripping wet, you didn’t need extra lube, though he had it on standby, and watched you carefully, pausing to let you rest every time he advanced. As he waited, feeling your walls relax to accept him, he ducked his head to your breasts, savoring the helpless squeals you made when he gave attention to what he learned was one of your most sensitive erogenous zones. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple or sucked its hardened peak into his mouth, your cunt twitched around him and your back arched to take more of him. It worked so well, he never stopped teasing your breasts, and your silent cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!” grew in intensity until you were screaming with pleasure, fist clenched in his hair as you held him to your chest, and his balls were pressed tight against your ass.

Panting hard and moaning into your breasts, he began to thrust, slowly at first, but you wrapped your legs around his back and used them as leverage to buck your hips into him, pushing back into each of his thrusts, deepening them and coaxing him to increase his pace. As you angled your hips, he began hitting a deep point inside that made your legs turn to jelly. “Dámelo bien duro,” you tried to say, but it mostly came out as unintelligible gasps and whimpers. His mouth never left your tits and you loved the angle it gave you, being able to watch his face, strained with concentration and clouded with lust, and his tongue working diligently to bring you to a climax that took you off guard with how suddenly it crashed over you. You couldn’t say there was no buildup to it, because you had been in throes since he first pulled down your dress, but he had barely begun to thrust when the heat coiling in your lower back suddenly tightened and snapped, shooting sparks behind your eyelids. “Ah—Rafa!” you wailed, squeezing your fingers in his hair.

He gasped, releasing the globe of your breast from his mouth at the wracking of your body in his arms. Your pussy convulsed, clenching tightly around his cock, coating it in your sweet release, almost too tight for him to thrust through. One more jerk of his hips through your rippling, fluttering muscles and he let out a string of swears, and you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your belly. He pulled back and thrust into you once more, balls swinging against your ass, and his hot seed flooded you. He panted, trembling, still trying to hold onto you, though halfway sitting on a dining table without knocking off any of the plates was not the most ideal location for post-coital recovery cuddling. He grabbed a few paper napkins from behind you to catch the drippings as he pulled out.

It was over too fast, a testament to how long it had been for him. Both of you, really. But you weren’t disappointed. He made you come almost entirely with that silver tongue of his, and you were still shaking too much to take your weight off the table and put it on your legs.

The timer on the oven rang shrilly, announcing dinner was done.

“After dinner,” he promised, pulling his pants back on. “Quiero más de tu cuerpo.”

You were satisfied, but not yet sated, and looked forward to round two.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po / @madamsnape921 / @charlottegrice / @onerestein

[baepop]

PRIVATE // 7

You have two bombs dropped on you in one day.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Jungkook x You x Jennie

Genre: Angst, Fluff

A/N: Sorry I took so long to get this out! More to come!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

You frowned at the view in front of you. Taking your index finger, you gently adjusted the frame, but it continued to mock you as it tilted back into its crooked position every time. You sighed and put your hands on your hips. You had been at this for a solid half hour without feeling satisfied, so when an incoming phone call came through, it was a very welcome distraction. Seeing the name on your screen, you smiled as you picked it up and held it to your ear.

“Congratulations…” You heard his soft chuckle on the other end which had you mimicking it with your own.

“Same to you…I didn’t see you at the ceremony, but I figured it was like you to blow it off.”

“You know me well, I guess. Did you get yours in the mail?”

“Yeah I’m actually holding it right now. It feels so surreal. I can’t believe it’s been 4 years already…’

You smiled down towards your feet as you began pacing back and forth in your small living room, reminiscing on your scholastic career by Yoongi’s side. “Yeah it’s crazy…”

There was an awkward pause that thankfully didn’t last too long, seeing as both of you wanted to hear from the other for a while now.

The boy cleared his throat before speaking again, “So I was wondering, if you might want to grab some breakfast or something. It’s the least you could do to pay homage to your college career.”

You rolled your eyes but readily agreed to meet at a diner downtown despite having work later on. Many of your other classmates had moved home right after graduation, so the shuttle ride into town was desolate. You put your headphones on and turned your lo-fi playlist all the way up as you stared out of the window. Summer was in full swing and yet you still found yourself indoors all of the time and not doing the things you liked doing when it got hot like going on a hike or riding your bike to the park. Since taking your last final, all your life consisted of was going to work at the suit shop and binging Netflix originals. You refused to think about why that was.

As you entered the semi-empty establishment, you realized you were the first to arrive, so you secured a booth for your rendezvous and ordered some orange juice. You were mid gulp when you heard the chime of the door ring. Yoongi spotted you by the windows and walked briskly towards you with a big gummy smile on his face. You couldn’t help cheesing back at him. You hadn’t realized how much you missed your friend.

“Man, I’m starving.” He began perusing the menu after sitting down as you did the same. Your stomach rumbled loudly before you got the chance to agree, making you both laugh.

Once the waitress left with your menus and your orders, you looked towards Yoongi who was giving you that look you were afraid he might give you once the pleasantries were over. You didn’t want to talk about them.

“So…”

“Let me stop you right there.”

Yoongi smiled, “So we’re just going to pretend—”

“YEP.” You took another sip of your juice, and then another as Yoongi struggled to hold back snickering. He focused on his fingernails instead but found it nearly impossible to concede to your only request.

“So, there’s a date—”

“YOONGI!” The boy laughed, looking to your eyes to see how serious you were.

“I’m sorry but, are you really sure you don’t want to know anything? Like, not a single thing? I have juicy details you know…”

It was unlike Yoongi to gossip, so his attempt at lightening the serious subject had you cracking a smile despite getting riled up at the mere mention of them. You looked up at him wiggling his eyebrows and bit back a laugh. Instead, you rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, lacing your fingers atop the table.

“What juicy details could you possibly have?”

“Well,” Yoongi took a sip of his water for dramatic effect, “Jungkook’s family may or may not have found out that he has a girlfriend.” Your eyes snapped up towards the blonde, the shock clearly readable on your face.

“And,” Yoongi took another sip of his water, “they may or may not know that his girlfriend was the weird girl at the proposal dinner.”

You gasped aloud, “Shut the fuck up!”

“Oh, I will not! You really caused a shit show Y/N.” Yoongi shook his head, clearly finding all of this hilarious but you couldn’t find the humor in it one bit. Just then, your pancakes arrived but they were the last thing on your mind. Yoongi forked his five-stack as you bombarded him with questions.

“How did they find out!?”

He spoke with cheeks full of syrupy starch, “Jungoo tol them,” he swallowed before forking another piece of pancake, “he tried to call off the wedding after that, but you can imagine how that went.”

You sliced your pancakes into tiny pieces as you took in the information. Jungkook tried to call off the wedding? You hated how happy it made you to hear that.

“I’m assuming you haven’t heard from Jennie?”

You looked up at him and put your utensils down. “Not since the dinner. Maybe this wedding isn’t weighing as heavy on her as she’s making it out to be. She probably loves him now.” You stabbed your breakfast aggressively.

Yoongi snorted, “My ass. We all hung out two weeks ago and they almost killed each other playing Monopoly.”

You began to wonder what they might be up to these days with everything going on. The morning after the engagement event, you woke up alone. You hadn’t seen or heard from either of them since then, which was truthfully what you needed in order to sort your convoluted thoughts and figure out how you really felt. After checking your watch, you cursed aloud and pulled some cash out of your wallet.

“I lost track of time! I gotta get to work but when can I see you again?”

Yoongi dumped the rest of your food onto his plate. “Well, I still have my apartment for another week, I was thinking of throwing one last rager tonight before I gotta hand the keys in. You should come.” You nodded thoughtfully, contemplating the idea of possibly running into the love birds tonight. “I doubt they’ll show up honestly, they’re super busy these days.” As always, Yoongi knew exactly what was on your mind.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”

“That’s my girl!” Yoongi spoked with a mouth full of food which had you giggling all the way out of the door.

You sped walked seven blocks before reaching the entrance of your job. You were a few minutes late which was already stressing you out since your boss was not easygoing about punctuality.

“Y/N! You’re late!” Raphael regarded you in a disapproving stare as his bifocals slipped down the bridge of his nose. You hurried to remove your bag and put on a blazer.

“I know! I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

“You have a client waiting. They’ve been here for a few minutes already, so be apologetic when you greet them, okay? They asked specifically for you, by the way.” Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t have any appointments set for today with any of your regulars. As you peered past the curtains that led to the fitting area, you recognized a tall lanky woman to be Jungkook’s mother and surely enough, her son sat perched on the bench near the mirrors. You gulped as they both made eye contact with you. His mother crossed her arms as you let yourself into the back area, your eyes unable to leave Jungkook’s starry-eyed stare.

“Well it’s about time you show up.” Your scalp prickled with embarrassment at her tone.

“Mom—” Jungkook tried to admonish his mother but you quickly cut in.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting! What can I help you with today?”

The woman eyed you before gesturing towards Jungkook. “We’re here to get him fitted for a tux. Since you did so well with his last suit, we figured you were just the person for the job. It’s for the wedding, of course.” You nodded solemnly, peering briefly at Jungkook who looked uncomfortable. You noticed he was wearing the suit in question, and he looked amazing in it.

“O-Of course, what kind of suiting were you thinking? We have morning dress fits, tailcoats and classic three-piece suits.”

“Show me your best three-piece suit in black.” You immediately got to work getting all of the components in Jungkook’s sizes together as she watched you like a hawk. You couldn’t believe this was happening, but you didn’t have time to register it all, not if you were going to get them out of the shop as quickly as possible.

As you busied yourself hanging the pieces on various hangers, you heard Jungkook speak softly to his mother who refused to take her eyes off of you.

“Mom, can you give us a minute? Please?” She sighed heavily and gave him a pointed look but let herself out of the dressing area, nonetheless. Once she was out of sight, you both let out the breaths you had been holding in.

Your fingers trembled over the hangers as a heavy silence lingered with her departure. “Jeeze, she’s kind of intense, isn’t she?” Your lighthearted remark died out in volume as Jungkook placed his hand over yours. You jumped at the contact, not having noticed him moving closer to you. You looked up at him, unsure of what his intensions were. “Jungkook…”

“I’m…sorry about her. But you don’t have to do this. It’s so fucked up. Just say the word and we’ll go.” You focused on your task at hand with a hard line pressed into your mouth.

“If you knew it was fucked up, then why did you agree to come?”

“Because I’ve been dying to see you, and this seemed the only way that could happen. They haven’t let me out of their sight since I told them you were my girlfriend.” Jungkook chuckled bitterly, leaning on the wall and looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I’m selfish that way.”

You looked at him before looking back down at the suit pieces that were all ready for him to try on. “Take your clothes off, Jeon.”

He slowly removed his jacket then began unbuttoning his shirt. When you didn’t offer anything more, he continued on, “Do you at least miss me the way I miss you? I’m in hell over here.” His voice slightly broke towards the end of his sentence.

You avoided his gaze as you passed him a crisp white dress shirt to put on. “No. I broke up with you, remember?”

“C’mon Y/N, we both know you didn’t mean that.”

You chuckled bitterly. “Wanna bet?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m willing to bet on it.” Jungkook stepped up to you but you refused to crack under his intimidation. He was now close enough for you to smell that cologne you loved so much. You gulped as your eyes traveled upwards. “You feel the same way I do, I know you do. And I know you’re going just as crazy over this whole ordeal as I am.”

You cleared your throat and backed up a few inches, taking a clearing breath as you handed him a pair of trousers. He sighed and took them, stepping onto the platform. His eyes quickly found yours in the mirror. “You can act tough like you always do in front of me, but…I know you’re hurting and I’m sorry about all of it. I really am.” You bit the inside of your cheek while he talked, trying to focus on not tearing up. “I just want you to know that I’m hurting too, even if it doesn’t seem like it, and that things don’t have to be this way forever. And I’m not going to stop pursuing you until you forgive me for not telling you first.”

You stepped onto the platform just as Jungkook held his arms up to give you better access to his waist. While cinching the waistband of his pants on each side with a pin, you couldn’t help getting caught off guard by his ending words. “What do you mean by things don’t have to be this way forever?” You helped him into his vest and then the jacket as he fell silent in thought.

When he was all dressed, Jungkook turned towards you, finally responding, “You’ve told me over and over again that you don’t care much for titles and that you prefer things be casual anyway…so why is it such a huge deal that I’m someone’s fiancé? If we can get passed the fact that I fucked up and kept something important like this from you, promising that it won’t happen again, do things between us really have to end?” You scoffed in returned, but ultimately didn’t know what to say. Did he actually have a point here? Since his marriage was clearly only for appearances, and you were absolutely sure Jennie didn’t want him in any way, could you really see past something like this? Would you be a hypocrite if you chose to draw the line here?

You both stood on the platform looking down while inches apart. When you finally looked up, you noticed he was blushing which caught you off guard seeing, how your mind was swarming with unanswerable questions. You stopped breathing the instant he placed his finger on your cheek and softly caressed it. He took a deep breath and held you by the waist with his other hand,  speaking softly while leaning his forehead onto yours, “Y/N… did you honestly think I’d give up on the woman I love because my family is telling me to?”

You opened your mouth but the right words to say escaped you. No one had ever told you they loved you before. You weren’t sure whether to cry or laugh or kiss him. Thankfully, you didn’t have to choose because Jungkook’s mother had back and cleared her throat loudly at the sight of you two embracing. Jungkook let you go so you could turn around to compose yourself.

She looked less than pleased, but nonetheless agreed to take the suit, though you suspected it was only to get him away from you as soon as possible. You hurried to mark down the adjustments that needed to be made to the clothing as Jungkook begrudgingly got redressed. When you were positioned back behind the counter, you barely got to wave goodbye as she stomped out of the door with him hurrying to catch up. He stopped to cast a worried stare past his shoulder at you before disappearing past the windows

Yoongi’s party was in full swing, and you didn’t have to be inside of his house to know that. The second you began walking on his block, the raging music and shouts from drunken party stragglers constantly broke the silence in the empty neighborhood. As you approached his place, you could see a group of people laying on his front lawn having deep conversations about nothing at all.

It was only 10 at night yet there were already enough plastered idiots to potentially have the party shut down early. You smiled and shook your head, wondering how wasted Yoongi must already be to have let his party get this out of hand. After weaving through the crowd of alumni near the door, you let yourself into the house only to be greeted by a ton of drunk people shouting at your arrival. You winced and cheered along with them in confusion before making eye contact with Yoongi who was already beckoning you over to join him and his group of friends.

You noticed how badly he was slurring his words once you got to him. “They’re cheering for every new person that arrives.” He smiled sleepily at you. His cheeks were flushed, and his smile was even gummier than usual. You giggled and nodded in understanding, “Okay, I’m going to need whatever you’re all drinking, stat.”

“It’s the jungle juice! I don’t know what they put in it, but one cup is alllllll you need.” Yoongi hiccupped before continuing. “I’m ssho glad you made it, Y/N. We graduated! We did it!” He shook your shoulders and you couldn’t help but laugh as you tried to remember the last time you witnessed this loose version of your friend.

“Okay, I’m going to go play catchup and then I’ll be back to reminisce on the good ol’ times with you.” You patted his shoulder then set for the kitchen. There were so many people crammed into his living room that the trip to the kitchen took longer than expected. After dancing your way through, you reached the purple tub of liquid everyone was drinking from unscathed and decided to celebrate by helping yourself.

As you sipped from your red solo cup and watched the crowd of people having a good time, you felt a little jealous. You wanted to come out and let loose and feel as stress free as they felt but you were so tightly wound with all the stresses in your life. You didn’t want to think about all of that though, at least for tonight. You wanted to stop worrying and pitying yourself, even for just a moment.

You took a steadying breath, readying yourself to join Yoongi’s friends and put on your best social persona. However, as soon as you made it out of the kitchen entryway, a hand closed around your wrist and pulled you to the side. You hadn’t gotten a chance to see who it was until you made it into the tiny clearing at the corner of the living room safe from the packed crowd. When you looked forward, Jungkook was biting his lip in a smile. Your eyes lit up involuntarily.

“Hey you.”

“Hey.” You smiled into your cup, blushing as you took a tiny sip. You weren’t exactly surprised to see him here, but you were surprised at how happy it made you.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”

“Yoongi’s my friend too, you know.”

“I know, but you’ve been holed up in your apartment lately. Does this mean you’re, maybe, ready to forgive me?” Jungkook adorably poked your cheek and although your expression had been guarded, a smile tugging at your lips gave your true feelings away.

You rolled your eyes, “I wouldn’t hold your breath on that.”

Jungkook didn’t bother feigning sadness, not while your fingers lingered on his hand unwilling to break away from the contact he initiated. Your hands lasted intertwined for a while, both of you swinging your arms back and forth as you surveyed the party that was quickly getting out of hand. When some loud frat boys threatened to knock you over while thrashing around to a song, Jungkook pulled you toward his chest and wrapped his arms around you, shielding you as one of the guys’ drink spilled all over his denim jacket.

Jungkook remained calm, though you could tell by now that the furrow in his eyebrow said otherwise.

“What the hell, asshole?!” You shoved the drunk guy who was none the wiser about what was going on behind him. When he turned around and saw a giant purple stain on the side of Jungkook’s jacket, he immediately apologized and looked at his now empty cup.

“You gonna pay for that!?” You wanted to keep yelling at him but Jungkook stood in between you effectively blocking your view for the time being. He chuckled, watching you get so worked up over him. He found it endearing to say the least.

“Chill, it’s okay. Mistakes happen.”

You sighed and inspected the stain on his arm. “Come on, we gotta wash that out before it stains.” You grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen where you grabbed the dish detergent then shoved him into the tiny half bathroom tucked away in the back of the house.

Once you closed the door behind you, Jungkook took his jacket off and handed it to you. He sat on the toilet and propped a foot up so he could rest his chin on his knee and watch you scrub the living hell out of his jacket. He smiled when you tsked, the stain proving to be quite stubborn. What the was in that jungle juice!? You ran the sleeve under warm water then rung it out and held it up to inspect it further.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Jungkook watched you steadily, gauging your reaction. He was pleased to witness the blush growing across your face despite you trying hard to keep your cool.

“And so did I when I said I couldn’t do this with you anymore.” This time it was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes.

“So you’re telling me that you were okay with not making things official between us, but now that I’m going to be signing some silly license, all of a sudden you’re my scorned ex-girlfriend?”

You scoffed at the purplish liquid draining in the sink. “You know, for someone who finds titles so important, you’re making marriage seem like it’s inconsequential. That’s the real silly thing here.

“This marriage is inconsequential. That’s the whole point, and especially so when it comes to you and me.”

You sighed and turned to him with a frown on your face. “So why are you doing it then, if it doesn’t matter?”

“I told you, because my parents—”

“No, Jungkook, your parents aren’t the ones getting married in a month’s time. YOU are. So why are YOU doing this?” The boy fell silent, unwilling to meet your eyes. You took that as your queue to go, but when you reached for the door, he held it shut.

“Jungkook…” The brunette stood up and leaned against the door.

“Don’t go…please.” His voice was barely above a whisper and his eyes held a sadness in them that you’d never seen from him before. You fought the urge to close the distance in between you and hug him, but when he approached you himself, you didn’t stop yourself from putting your arms around him.

You held each other for a while. His arms tightened around your waist as he buried his nose in your hair. Your heart beat quickened as you closed your eyes to experience every bit of this moment. You hadn’t been able to hold him in what felt like forever, and you never wanted to let go.

Jungkook nuzzled against the side of your face. The warmth you felt in his embrace was comforting, and the allure of his lips only a few centimeters away was ever so tantalizing. All it would take for you to kiss him was to shift your head just a bit, yet you felt paralyzed where you stood. It would be all too easy to disregard everything you knew up until this point and pretend you were both still a couple of students fooling around on campus.

But hadn’t you wanted to let go tonight and let loose? To not worry and think too much as you had been doing for months?

Your breath grew shallow as his lips crept closer to yours. You licked yours absentmindedly as they awaited to feel him. It felt as if an eternity had passed, waiting for him to kiss you, and when he finally had, your cold and lonely world was set ablaze again. He pressed a soft kiss into your mouth, testing the waters. The answering reciprocation took both of your breaths away as you kissed him back ravenously. Your fingers tangled themselves in his locks as they had done dozens of times before.

Jungkook held onto the sink for support as you crashed your body into his. He mirrored the neediness you expressed with each movement, moaning into the kiss when you bit his bottom lip. In one swift motion, Jungkook bent down and picked you up by the thighs, placing you on the bathroom sink then reattaching his lips to yours. He gripped the edge of the surface as your body writhed against his. No matter how much you kissed, you didn’t feel satisfied. His lips were sweet and addictive, but you knew you’d have to kick your craving for him eventually. A tear rolled down your check as you stuck your tongue into his mouth. You carefully wiped it away without bringing attention to it. You were doing what you set out to do tonight in hopes that it was a good thing, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were betraying yourself.

Jungkook began trailing kisses across your cheek and down your neck. You sighed in content, leaning back to give him more access. Just as you began removing your jacket to expose your bare shoulder, loud banging on the door interrupted your moment of passion. Both of your heads turned towards the door where the doorknob began jiggling. Jungkook turned back to you and smiled. “Just like old times, huh?” You giggled breathlessly then hopped down from the sink with his help. Grabbing his damp jacket, you both exited the bathroom hand in hand, not caring about what that might look like to anyone else.

Once you reached the living room again, you spoke into Jungkook’s ear due to the loud music blaring making it difficult to speak out loud. “Let’s find Yoongi, I promised I’d hang out with him.”

Jungkook nodded and hung his jacket to dry in his friend’s room before meeting back up with you. He found you and Yoongi by the beer pong table. The blonde boy had gotten rowdy during his winning streak and challenged you to a game which you quickly agreed to. The next few hours went by in a flash as the three of you hung out casually for the first time ever. You found their banter absolutely hilarious, though you suspected the jungle juice and the beer might have something to do with that. Though you knew you couldn’t pretend like the things that were hurting you never existed, it was a relief to not harp on them even if just for a little while.

Once 1:00 came, you bid farewell to the boys. They protested your departure, but when you insisted on leaving since you had work in the morning, Jungkook refused to stay in favor of walking you home. The crowd of partygoers had now spread up and down the block, but once you cleared a few blocks, the cool silent night had made its return. You both walked hand in hand the entire way, taking your time with slow steps and even stopping a few times while mid conversation.

You had completely forgotten about Jungkook’s summer internship which had already began. He could go on and on about the people he worked with and you enjoyed listening to every bit of it, humming along and giggling every time he did a voice impression.

It was impossibly soon when you both had reached your apartment, despite taking the long way there. It was hard for you both to unlink your fingers and part ways. As you drank in the sight of Jungkook in front of your place, you noticed the way his expression was expectant.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye.” You slipped your hand out of his grasp much to his disappointment.

“Does it have to be?” Jungkook’s doe eyes damn near broke your heart, but even so, you couldn’t break your own heart by allowing him inside. Who knows all the complications that would arise from doing that.

“’Fraid so…”

“But neither of us want it to be.” Jungkook frowned.

“Even so, it’s better this way.” Jungkook sighed in frustration and shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking his foot into the concrete.

“Even if you think so, I’m not giving up,” Jungkook looked up at you one last time, “I meant what I said. I love you, Y/N.” Your breath hitched hearing those words for the second time today. You swallowed and looked away before you could get emotional, unlocking the door to your apartment and disappearing behind it.

As you leaned against the door, you willed your heart to stop pounding in your ears. You peaked out of the window and watched Jungkook walk back up the block with his hands still in his pockets. The high you felt all night was wearing off, and all that was left was sadness and exhaustion.

With a deep sigh, you started stripping on the way to your room. You had left the lights off before leaving, so you stubbed your toe on the corner of your dresser in the darkness. You cussed and hobbled over to the light switch to inspect your throbbing pinky. Upon turning around, you saw a figure rising from your bed and it took everything in you not to scream.

Jennie was groggily rubbing her eyes as she squinted at you through the piercing light flooding her eyes. You stood on the other end of the room, frozen with your foot in your hand.

“Turn the lights off, it’s late.”

“Umm, what the hell are you doing here?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t sleep her anymore.”

“Yeah but I never said you could either.” You limped over to the bed and crossed your arms. The girl sighed and looked up at you once her eyes adjusted to the light.

“I broke off the engagement.” You gaped at her, dropping your arms to your sides in disbelief.

“You what?! When?!”

“A couple hours ago. I just, I couldn’t do it anymore. My parents threatened to cut me off but…I don’t care. I choose you.” With that, Jennie laid back down and rolled over while pulling the covers over her. “Now, please turn the lights off. I have to get a fucking job in the morning unless you want me squatting here.”

In a daze, you turned off the lights then crawled into bed beside her. You laid on your side with your back facing her, trying to discern why you felt even sadder than before. You thought she fell back asleep soon after, so you began crying and letting the stress of everything wash over you. While blubbering into your pillow, you felt Jennie’s arm drape over your shaking frame as she scooted closer to you to be big spoon. Your sobs soon died down, finding comfort in her embrace. But the most overwhelming emotion of all was relief.

[srhlsx]

master | chapter 5 | CHAPTER 6 | chapter 7

A/N: just to clear up any confusion - reader and her “guy friend” have never dated!

Still heated from your exchange at the gym, you let out a huff as you messed with the hem of the simple dress you had put on. Your mind was still a whirl of confusion while your heart sat heavy in your chest. Glancing down at your phone, you looked at the message you had typed to Oikawa but had yet to send. With a sigh, you deleted it, stuffed your phone into your bag, and locked up your apartment.

You’d gotten the hotel information earlier in the day, it was a short bus ride into the heart of the city and the entire time your nerves were getting the best of you. You had convinced yourself that the gut-wrenching feeling that was brewing in your stomach was just nervous excitement, but something deep in your mind knew it was more than that.

This was not right. 

The hotel itself was nice, one of the newer ones to have been built over the last few years to attract more tourists. It’s modern design was brightly lit, the walls and tiles a blinding white that screamed sophistication. The restaurant in the lobby was easy to find and you made your way to the host with a nervous smile on your face. Before the man could even ask if he could help you, a familiar voice called out from the bar area to catch your attention.

He sat perched on one of the stools looking as handsome as the day you met him. Hair styled in his signature look and wearing a nicer pair of pants with a short-sleeved button up shirt to acclimate to the weather. His bright smile beamed at you as you walked up to him. He took a step off the stool he was sitting at and wrapped an arm around your waist in an intimate and welcoming hug.

You leaned into the warmth he provided, finding a familiar feeling in his smell and touch. He complimented you and pulled out a stool next to him for you to sit down in. Pushing one of the two drinks in front of him in your direction, you noticed it was the same drink you always had in college when the two of you would frequent bars together. “Remembered your favorite,” He flashed you a closed-eye smile. 

It wasn’t your favorite drink. Actually, you didn’t like it at all. But you always had them because he bought them for you and you would have done anything to make him smile. You thanked him and nervously played with the straw poking out of the drink, twirling it around in the glass and watching the ice swirl and clink together. “So…” You began.

“Man, it is good to see you.” He sighed, a look of relief washing over his features. “I mean seriously (Y/n), you disappeared.”

“Yeah,” You looked away from his intense gaze, glancing at the television above the bottles behind the bar, anything to not look at him. “I just kind of had to go.”

“I know,” He said quietly. You glanced down when you felt his hand reach out and grip yours tightly. You felt the familiar jolt, that spark that started where he touched you and spread up your arm in a tingling sensation until it made your heart clench tightly in your chest. “I really missed you, bug.”

He moved his hand, shifting so his fingers easily twisted and tangled with yours, and lifted them up to press his lips against the back of your hand. You watched him with your eyes, not pulling away although you felt like you should, the image of the card that still laid on your countertop flashing across your mind. You tugged on your hand to pull it away, resting it back in your lap. He didn’t seem deterred by the action, instead resting his arm across the back of the seat you were in and angling himself closer to you.

“Why did you come here?” You asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

Your eyes studied him as he let out a sigh, his gaze diverting away briefly before coming back to land on you. His expression shifted, the once tense muscles relaxing into his signature lopsided smile. “I had to see you, (Y/n).” He said, voice low and soft as he spoke. He reached a hand up to tuck a piece of hair back behind your ear, finger lingering on your cheekbone just a moment too long to be casual. “I missed my best girl.”

You chewed at your lower lip, thoughts whirling as you nodded your head. He was speaking the words you always wanted to hear, the very thought making your previous self giddy like a schoolgirl. “Guess I really have been distant. I uh… didn’t know you proposed.”

He reached a hand up and rubbed the back of his head, a slightly nervous expression on his face. “Yeah, it was about time. She’s great, you know.”

You nodded, “Of course. She should’ve come with you.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t have wanted that.”

You narrowed your eyes at that comment, tilting your head to the side as you watched him avoid your gaze. You got along with his girlfriend, now fiancé      , very well. Your personalities were similar and the only thing keeping you from being closer was your unrequited love for the man in front of you. 

“What do you mean?” He avoided answering you, electing to take a very long sip of his drink instead. You pushed a little more, “Does… she even know you’re here?”

Silence. 

He turned his body so he was no longer facing you fully, instead focusing on the way the condensation of his glass had leaked into the napkin under it, picking it apart and rolling the paper into tiny, soggy pieces. You felt a flush begin to form on your face as your eyes widened, your chest tightening uncomfortably. 

“You must be fucking joking.”

“(Y/n),” He started again, turning back to grab at you. “You have to understand, I had to see you before everything. When I hadn’t heard from you for so long and then we sent the announcement, I knew I couldn’t- can’t lose you.”

“You don’t get to make that decision,” You snapped, snatching your arm away from his grasp. “What do you want me to say to that?”

“Anything,” He said as he leaned in slightly. “(Y/n), I love you so much.”

You closed your eyes tightly and took in a deep breath, feeling him press his forehead against yours. “You know that I’ve waited years for you to say that… But-”

“But what?” He said as you opened your eyes. “I’m here now and-”

“And you picked her.” You watched as he leaned back a little in his seat, blinking slowly as he ran a hand down his face. “You are marrying a girl that looks exactly like me, acts exactly like me, how do you think that makes me feel?”

“(Y/n), come on.” He sighed. “You’re not being fair-”

“Fair?” You repeated, a good amount of disbelief in your rising tone. “You knew how I felt about you, you knew what coming here would do to me.”

“Felt?” He asked, moving his hand to rest on your thigh with a squeeze. “Do you not anymore?”

You paused, not having realized what you had exactly said. Did you still feel the same? At what point did your feelings move on- was it when you got the card announcing his marriage? Was it when you moved to San Juan? Or was it someone else?

Across the bar, a boisterous laugh boomed from a group of younger guys that caught your attention. Your eyes immediately snapped in the direction of the group, the laughter was almost familiar and you felt a hopeful swell grow in your chest at the mere thought that a certain person could be there. When you didn’t find anyone matching the description of tall, dark hair, and charming smile you focused your attention back on the man before you. 

“N-no,” You said, pushing your drink towards the bartender and moving to stand from your seat, letting his hand fall limp from your leg. “I’m going to go. I’m really happy for you but…” You reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, the action feeling almost distant as you did it. His expression grew sad and confused. “This is done.”

Walking out of the hotel, you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You breathed in the slightly muggy air of the night, the combination of smoke and street vendor food wafting through your senses. You held yourself together until you rounded the corner, but as soon as you knew the hotel was out of sight you bent over with heaving breaths. Holding your weight up with your hands on your knees, you sucked in as much air as you could to clear out the toxic feeling that had formed in your chest. 

After a few moments and a few more odd stares sent in your directions, you started to make your way to the bus stop. You intended to go home for the night but your feet took you past the bench and continued down the busy street.

You picked up your pace a little bit as you thought back to what had just happened in the hotel bar. You thought about the moment when your attention was pulled away, when you thought you had heard a very specific laugh ring out. The feeling you had was so hopeful, you had wished so badly he was there. But why? You were so close to getting what you thought you had wanted for so many years, only to be completely caught off guard by what you had right in front of you.

You thought back to how horrible you had been earlier that afternoon. What you had said to Oikawa before brushing him off. “We’re just lonely people having fun, remember?”

Turning a few street corners you ended up at a familiar apartment complex, one that wasn’t yours. You climbed the steps two at a time until you reached the fourth floor, chest heaving with the physical effort and emotional strain. In all honesty, you didn’t know exactly what you were doing coming here. It was like your body had moved on its own, as cliche as that might have sounded. 

You paused a moment in front of the door, apartment 43G was familiar to you, so why were you so nervous being here now? You knocked and waited. Would he send you away? When the door opened, your breathing stopped and your heart swelled to at least twice its size. 

Before you, Oikawa stood in an old t-shirt and a pair of joggers - one leg messily pulled up like he had been too lazy to bother fixing it. He looked down at you with knowing eyes through the pair of glasses that rested on his nose. His hair was a tousled mess as he ran one hand through it. Leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, he rested a hand on his hip and smirked at you.

“Well, look at this.” You knew his words were teasing, the fact that he held no anger towards you allowed you to release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. He glanced at an imaginary watch in his wrist, “It’s pretty early still-“

“I’m sorry,” You started, sighing and looking up at him. “I don’t want to just be a couple of lonely people.”

Oikawa’s smirk turned into a soft smile as he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Stepping towards you, he wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you into his chest, the other hand wrapping around to tangle in your hair and drag your face up to meet his. His lips pressing against yours felt different than they had so many times before. His touch sucked the air out of your lungs, leaving you to fall into his embrace right in the doorway to his apartment. 

It was hot and needy, a pouring of emotions that the two of you must’ve been holding back for who knows how long. All wrapped into one moment that seemed to last forever, but was still not long enough. Oikawa pulled away only barely, your lips still touching slightly as he bent down to grab your thighs and lift. You wrapped your legs around his waist, threading your hands through his hair and pulling his lips to meet yours again as he backed away from the door and further into his apartment, shutting the door to the rest of the world and everything that wasn’t just you and him in that moment.

TAGS: @akasuns @edensxgarden @carefreeloner @mush-boom​ @angrylittlezizi​

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 11 (Mafia AU)

Summary:   Ah, brotherly love! Or LOVE, depending on how this goes.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

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Read on AO3

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Read it here!

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“Where have you been?”

As he was shutting the door, Rus caught a glimpse of their current Dog guard. He cringed, his tail drooping to tuck between his legs and Rus had no doubt that if he had a tail of his own, he’d be doing the same thing. Blue wasn’t very tall, but he packed a lot of punch per square inch and from the bright, erratic glow of his eye lights, he was very tempted to send all that punching right in Rus’s direction.

Rus turned to him, clutching his backpack to his chest, pins jangling and digging in. There wasn’t time to come up with a real plan and he didn’t exactly want to go with ‘hung out with strippers then ended with sitting on Edge’s lap’, so deflect, deflect, deflect it was.

“what i was told to do,” Rus tried, “staying out of trouble. i…i was reading a book.” Hey, it was true and only left out a few key details.

Instead of soothing his brother, Blue only seemed angrier, a hectic flush of near sapphire staining his cheekbones as he snapped out, “Reading a book?!” The last word soared up to a level of shrill that threatened to shatter the glasses on the little minibar in the corner. “Are you mad? Look at you!”

Rus glanced down at himself, shit, how could he have forgotten the state of his shirt? He looked like he’d taken on a part-time job as a chimney sweep. In a burst of inspiration, he said, “i…lit the fireplace, the room was cold.” Rus laughed, a touch raggedly. “i guess i need practice, it was harder than i thought.”

“You would have been warm enough back here!” Blue retorted. “It’s been hours! I’ve been sitting here, waiting and wondering, near out of my mind worrying! I asked the Dogs to bring me to you or to bring you back here and none of them would do a thing!”

“maybe they didn’t want to bother me. what were you doing, then?” Rus flung back, his own shamed guilt curdling into anger. He turned away from his brother’s accusing face and went to the closet, stashing his backpack roughly inside and ignoring the clothing hanging within. “red seemed to think you had something awfully important to talk about that both of you assumed i didn’t need to hear!”

Stupid of him, Rus cursed inwardly, as if he wasn’t keeping his own secrets about last night, secrets that he himself revealed existed with his foolish breakfast table apology. Rus hunched into himself as he waited for Blue to throw that one at him, wildly trying to come up with an explanation his brother would believe. Only Blue said nothing and when Rus risked a look at him, his round face was crumpled in upset.

“We do…we did! It’s not like that, Papy.” His brother took a hurt, hitched breath and his sudden misery only made Rus’s sinking guilt worse. He hated fighting with his brother, Blue always worked so hard, did so much for him, and here he was doing…what…with Edge? He wasn’t even sure, but what he did know was his brother who’d cared for him, bandaged his hurts, made sure he was properly clothed and fed since Rus was old enough to remember was near tears because of him. “Little brother, these people are—” Blue broke off, biting back whatever he’d planned to say. He scrubbed a hand over his face and Rus suddenly noticed Blue had changed his clothes into something simpler, his own clothes from the day before. Blue sighed heavily into his hands and when he dropped them from his face, he was calmer, “I was worried, that was all. I’m sorry I snapped.”

Rus swallowed hard, trying and failing to swallow away the swell of his guilt. His brother probably wasn’t wrong to be worried, but all he said was, “it’s okay, bro.”

Seriously, of course Blue was fucking worried, two days ago someone shot up their shop, yesterday he’d been kidnapped, had it only been yesterday? It seemed so much longer, days, weeks, since he’d been tied to that chair, bruised and terrified, wondering if he was going to die. He sank down to one knee and hugged Blue, took comfort from like he couldn’t yesterday.

His brother hugged him back, short, strong arms circling his neck, holding him tightly. Rus only vaguely remembering ever having to look up to him, he’d been taller than his big brother for ages now. Blue’s wordless murmurs of comfort became a barely audible whisper, “We mustn’t assume they can’t hear us.”

Oh.

Rus gave him a tiny nod, felt his brother sigh as he murmured, low, “We need to stay together as much as we can, to stay safe, do you understand?”

“yeah.” That must be why Blue wasn’t questioning him about what Edge let slip this morning, he was afraid of who might overhear. Rus couldn’t help being relieved at the reprieve even as his guilt threatened to strangle him. He wasn’t used to keeping secrets from his brother, not about anything. He’d explain soon, Rus told himself, he would. First, he’d use whatever time he had to figure things out for himself.

Blue finally pulled away, his eye lights suspiciously shimmery. “Now! Change your shirt and come along with me. Dogamy showed me something earlier that you might enjoy.”

“dogamy?” Rus asked, confused. Some of the clothes in the closet were in his size, he realized, and he hastily changed, this time a soft lavender pullover, before following Blue to the door. He tried not to think about what the sheer quantity of clothes might mean.

Blue nodded “He’s the leader of the Dogs around here, or so they tell me.”

“So… you got to meet the top dog, huh,” Rus said teasingly.

Worth it for the way Blue grumbled out with familiar, exasperated fondness, “Don’t start. Come along, now.”

This time Blue led the way down the hallway. Neither of them looked back at the shadow they picked up, the sound of paws on carpet as their latest sentry followed along. Blue gave no sign of his discomfort past a certain stiffness in his shoulders. The trip seemed a lot shorter than any other, to a door with a strange symbol on it. Blue pushed through it and they went up an echoing concrete staircase, easily the least elegant part of the building Rus had seen so far. Probably meant for maintenance people or even in case of fire…and he stopped that thought right there, he didn’t want to be thinking of fire in any capacity for some time.

At the top of the stairs was a heavy door with a push bar and it took both of them to push it open, but once they stepped through, out into sudden fresh air—

Well. No wonder Blue was so eager to show him.

It was a rooftop garden, arbors of cooling greenery overhead and a winding stone path leading through overflowing planters and pillars covered in winding ivory. Rus followed the path to a bench and sat, breathing in the smell of plants and soil that he’d been missing.

“this is nice, isn’t it,” Rus murmured. Hardly up to his brother’s standards when it came to gardens, but without the need for the high fences surrounding it. To his professional eye, it was all a bit of a hodgepodge; whoever set this up didn’t have much of a sense for design, or perhaps they simply didn’t care, and already he was itching to move things around a bit, arrange them into a more aesthetically pleasing form.

It was no surprise that his brother seemed in agreement of that. “Nice,” Blue sniffed, “It’s so overgrown and chaotic it’s a wonder it hasn’t wandered off down the side of the building on its own! The hanging baskets need clipped back and the drainage for the roses is so poor I expect all the bushes have root rot.” His distaste brightened into determination, “but I think we can improve it.”

“spruce it up, you mean.”

“Papy,” Blue groaned, but there was laughter beneath it. Underneath the bench was small tool caddy and Blue dragged it out, snagging a pair of gloves. It seemed he meant they should work on it now and suddenly, no idea appealed more. For all that opening the shop was his brother’s idea, Rus genuinely enjoyed the work and he’d honestly been missing it. There wasn’t much he could do about the way their shop and garden were being neglected, but there was no reason to let these atrocities continue. He grabbed a pair of his own gloves, rolling up his sleeves and got to work.

By the time Rus looked up again, sweating through his shirt and aching a bit from effort, most of the containers close to the door were trimmed and weeded, and several transplants moved to where they could be both aesthetically pleasing and benefit from the sunshine. Honestly, the rainbow was all good and well, but tossing a bunch of different flowers into one pot did not an arrangement make.

Rus peeled off his gloves as he climbed to his feet. He pressed both hands to his spine as he stretched, groaning in relief as the joints popped. A quick glance showed Blue was still hard at work, unclipping the hanging baskets to shape the unwieldy stems. Rus left him to it, wandered to the side of the building where the breeze was stronger. He braced his hands on the waist-high ledge, peering down. Past the neon glow of the sign, the street level was busy, Monsters on the sidewalk going about their business.

The Dust Bowl was too small to allow for any empty spaces and despite the overwhelming presence of the strip club, there were plenty of shops lining the street and their products became less salacious the further away they got. No Humans were in sight, but that was no surprise. Any Humans who drove through here were seeking an extremely specific product that was sold on street corners, often invited into their cars and back to a hotel room, or at least a quick park in a deserted back alley. His brother certainly tried but he couldn’t keep all the gossip from Rus’s hearing, and he knew some Monsters were unable to get paying jobs on the surface, reduced to prostitution themselves to the Humans that so often despised them.

That made Rus think of Mona, her generous kindness and her gentle smile. He really hoped that wasn’t something she had to do, that Edge meant it when he said he took care of his people.

Across the street something caught his eye, disrupting that line of thought. Rus frowned a little as he studied the car that was a tad too luxurious to fit in this neighborhood. It was parked across the street from the club and there was someone sitting in the driver’s seat, though he couldn’t make out anything about them from the distance. Not one of Edge’s people, he was sure, they’d have gone into the parking garage, so who—

*We know it’s there.*

Startled, Rus whirled around with a choked gasp. The Dog that followed them up here was behind him. None of the Dogs had ever spoken to him before but there was no mistaking that woofy accent.

“you know?” Rus asked uncertainly.

The Dog nodded, impatiently brushing back a floppy ear that fell over one eye. *Stay in the club, pup. Safe here.*

“i…yes, i will,” Rus stammered out. He turned away from that ominous car and looked back out at the rooftop, at the plants they were working so hard on. “but. is it really safe up here? couldn’t they hurt—” Us “…the garden? i mean…all right, this sounds ridiculous, but i’m not sure, a bomb? like a molotov cocktail, i’ve seen movies.”

Dogs couldn’t properly laugh, but this one’s tongue lolled out in a doggish grin. *Not Blaze, too blunt, no finesse. Couldn’t anyway.*

He stepped up to the ledge and held out a paw, gestured patiently for Rus to do the same. He did, confused, pressing out as though pushing an invisible wall and when his hand reached the edge of the building, he stopped with a startled cry. There was nothing to see, but he could feel the buzz of protective magic and the fierce intent behind it.

“spells,” Rus murmured. Edge did mention they’d been weaving plenty of protective spells over the club.

*Yes, many,* the Dog agreed. *Keep you safe, pup.*

Pup, honestly, now there was yet another nickname that he did not need.

“i do have a name,” Rus said, exasperated,

*Yes.* Another doggish laugh. *Flower shop.*

“oh, for—” Rus laughed himself, helplessly, “rus, you can call me rus.”

*Rus,* the Dog said agreeably. He didn’t offer a name of his own and Rus didn’t press. Obviously, he hadn’t reached Blue’s level of rank with the dogma around here. Something to strive for.

Rus went back into the garden proper, casting a last uncomfortable look back at that car and the watcher inside. They really were trapped in here, Rus thought unhappily. Little wildflowers plucked from their freedom and tucked into a pretty vase and the very idea of once again being imprisoned after a lifetime underground chafed, this time to a much smaller area even if they could still see the sunshine.

Trapped, and there wasn’t a thing Rus could do about it.

Instead, he snatched up his gloves again and got back to work. Rus didn’t have his brother’s skills with growing, but he liked to think he brought his own talents to the party. Time passed and Rus was finishing up trimming a bed of lovely but overgrown miniature roses when a voice spoke up behind him.

“You two have been busy.”

Rus tried to whirl around and stand in the same motion and instead toppled off his perch on the side of the planter to the ground with a painful thump.

“honestly, what is with you people always creeping up on me!” Rus grumbled, casting a glare in the direction of his frightener. Edge, who was standing by one of the arbors and likely had been for some time, stalker that he was proving himself to be.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Edge said, not quite contrite.

“you…you didn’t.” As if his soul wasn’t hammering in his rib cage. Then it throbbed wildly for another reason entirely. Edge must have showered, and he’d changed out of the sooty wreck of his suit into tight slacks and another crimson button up shirt. Only this one was undone halfway down his sternum, showing off a wealth of scarred collarbone and ribs that seemed to point in the direction of his sleek belt buckle and lower. He looked casually posh and temptingly handsome.

And here Rus was, sweaty, unwashed, and probably filthy from face to foot.

Angel have mercy.

Rus scrambled to his feet, rubbing at his poor, abused tailbone in awkward flusterment. Welp, if you couldn’t go for pizzazz, may as well go for bluster. “your garden isn’t in very good shape, you should find a new gardener. maybe try one who’s seen a plant once or twice before you hire them on.”

Edge glanced around them as though the garden just sprung up in that moment and he was only now noticing, “To be honest, I hardly remembered this was up here.”

“don’t let blue hear you say that,” Rus warned, “he nearly wept when he saw the state of your roses.” The poor things were in awful shape and Rus was very sure he’d heard his brother muttering words he hadn’t even thought Blue knew under his breath. Rus looked down at the ones he’d been tending to; the sweet-smelling blossoms with curled velvety petals were hardly larger than a knucklebone, “you seem to like your roses.”

“I do like certain flowers.” The words were much closer than expected and Rus looked up, newly startled to find standing Edge right next to him, the sneak, so close Rus could see the faint sparks crackling in his eye lights as he slowly ducked his head. Rus knew it was coming and somehow still couldn’t brace himself for the feel of Edge’s mouth against his own, coaxingly soft.

Oh. Oh, this was—he couldn’t think, not with Edge so close to him, the smell of him, the heat of his body, his mouth. Rus swallowed down a whimper, tipping his head up and let his teeth part. There was a flicker of a tongue over his own, coyly enticing, and Rus followed the invitation, shyly exploring Edge’s mouth with his own, tasting the heady spice of magic and desire.

That mouth began to draw away far too soon and Rus would have chased it, frantically rising up on his toes as it slipped out of reach, desperate for more. Would have, if strong hands hadn’t caught his shoulders and a low chuckle dragged him back to embarrassing reality.

“Eager, are we?” Edge husked out. It took far too long for his meaning to register, long enough for him to cup Rus’s face in a large hand, his gloved thumb brushing away what was probably a smudge of dirt from his cheekbone.

“you--!” Rus sputtered, but all his indignance faltered, fading, when he caught sight of his brother.

Blue was looking at them, white-faced and grim, and his sockets were empty caves of blackness.

Fuck.

Edge followed his look, catching sight of Blue before he turned away and stormed off the furthest corner of the garden, and frowned. “You haven’t told him anything about us, have you.”

There was an understatement. “i wasn’t sure what there was to tell,” Rus admitted, too soft.

“That’s a discussion all its own. Don’t keep secrets from your brother,” Edge said, “You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

Something about the confidence in that roused Rus’s indignance again. Honestly, Edge hardly knew him and certainly didn’t know a thing about Blue, and here he was, making blanket statements like that. As if he knew a thing about shame. Tartly, Rus asked, “you’re so sure about that?”

“Yes,” Edge said, a low, amused rumble. “There’s no shame in giving in to the inevitable.”

“inevita—" Rus gasped. Of all the arrogant, conceited…! “you don’t even know my name!”

“No? Talk to your brother, tell him the truth.” Edge’s humor went suddenly grim. “Once you get into the habit of keeping secrets, it’s difficult to break it.”

That was enough to cool some of Rus’s roused temper. He suspected Edge was speaking from experience. But then, his brother was Red. Who wouldn’t want to keep secrets from him? Blue was another story; how could he even begin to make his brother understand that in a way this did feel inevitable. He hardly knew Edge, he certainly didn’t approve of his business, and yet, Rus was helplessly drawn to him for reasons he wasn’t sure he could articulate, much less in a way Blue would believe. “that’s easy for you to say.”

“All you have to do is say the words, flower shop,” Edge said. Then, briskly, “Now, I came up here to see if you were hungry. Breakfast was some time ago.”

As if waiting for the perfect moment to embarrass him, his magic chose that moment to give a ravenous sort of growl.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Edge chuckled. “Would you rather eat dinner in your room or with my brother and I?”

Talked about choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea. “with you,” Rus sighed. At least if dinner was with the devil, it gave him a little time to figure out how to flounder in the deep water.

Edge nodded, unsurprised, “Come on, then, we’ll get your brother together.”

A large hand settled at the base of his spine, warmth bleeding through his thin shirt as Edge guided him along. Rus gulped, but didn’t protest.

His brother loved him, Rus told himself, he did, Blue always took care of him. They’d figure this out.

tbc

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Written for @k-itsmaywriting as her prize for winning the Trope Madness kitty last March! I’d make the usual groaning noises about how late I am, but honestly...this is about as good as I could do this year XD

“So let me get this straight.” Obi’s long fingers steeple over his character sheet. “Not only is homeslice the lord of this particular castle and its whole dealie--”

“Demense,” Kiki offers.

“--Right, demense. That sounds fancy enough. So he’s not only the big wig of this demense place, but also--” her stomach curls to match the trajectory of his smirk-- “my lady’s boyfriend.”

“Ah! It’s not like that!” Shirayuki waves her hands, attempting to scuttle this whole avenue of inquiry. “He’s not-- we’re not-- together.” She dares a glance at Izana. “I...think?”

His mouth twitches; no comment. This may be presumptuous of me, one of his first texts reads, burning a hole in her pocket, but would you be open to a potential failed betrothal in your backstory?

There was no way for her to know, not when her only image of Zen’s older brother was a blond man behind a backseat window, waiting in the school parking lot, but still, still--

I’m open to whatever you think would go best, should not have been her answer. Every poster on r/tabletop would have called her...well, nothing polite, that’s for one.

“I mean, maybe...technically?” She’s not entirely sure how fourth century betrothals work, especially fantasy ones. “Lynet is under the impression that this was all dissolved for, ah...” Izana offers her a beatific smile, like an angel before it sets fire to a city. “...reasons.”

“But officially,” Obi presses, “he has dibs.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I guess if you’re the sort of person who thinks you can call dibs on a sentient being with free will, yes.”

“Right,” Obi bulldozes on, oblivious to the pothole he’s hurtling toward, “and now he’s throwing you this banquet--”

“The banquet’s for all of us,” Zen snaps, arms cross and cheeks flushed. “As a reward for saving Laxdo.”

“Oh, is that right? As I remember it--” Obi taps his chin, so thoughtful-- “Lynet was the one who figured out the whole compulsion thing. And who was it that broke the curse? Oh, right: Lynet.”

“No!” Shirayuki claps her hands to her cheeks. It would be nice if she could take even a fictional compliment without blushing. “You all helped!”

“See?” Zen cuts a hand toward her, smug. “It’s for all of us.“

“Oh yes,” Kiki deadpans, teeth peeking out from her smirk. “Moral support is just as important as actually solving the puzzle. I’m sure his lordship agrees.”

Mitsuhide rubs at his chin, stubble scraping over his palm. Four hours ago, he arrived clean shaven; now he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. Shirayuki can only stare in wonder.

“I think...they might have a point.” He winces under Zen’s scowl. “Not that I think we weren’t important! But Lord Shuuka...”

He shrugs. It’s like watching mountains heave, but in a gentle, lovable way.

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “I have the distinct impression we were afterthoughts on that banquet invitation.”

“I’m the Prince of all the Britons and the Angles!” Zen shrills, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m not an afterthought.”

The room goes suddenly,awkwardly silent; the only noise the rattle of heating through the ducts. The exactly moment his words echo back to him is made painfully clear by the way he blushes, blotchy and red all up and down his neck, like he’s the one with a curse.

Kiki’s eyebrow nearly collides with her hairline. “You mean Arturius?”

“That’s what I said,” Zen grumbles, hunching down in his seat. “Or at least what I meant.”

“In any case,” Obi presses on, “what’s a king to a cute girl you’re gonna marry--?”

“We’re not engaged.” It’s pointless; Obi’s clearly concerned less about Lynet’s marital status and more about riling Zen up about it, but still. “I mean, not now.”

“Betrothed,” Izana interjects casually, tapping the end of his pen on his notebook. “It is different. Legally.”

Shirayuki nibbles on her lip, stomach wriggling in a concerned squirm. Nothing good comes of Izana getting pedantic.

“Sure, maybe you’re not now,” Obi allows with a shrug of his shoulder. “But come on, what better place is there to woo a medieval maiden than a banquet?”

“A ball,” Kiki offers, flat, at the same time Mitsuhide thoughtfully posits, “A stroll through the garden.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zen snips, lifting his chin. “Shirayuki already said Lynet wasn’t interested.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, boss.” Obi pitches toward Izana with a smile that can only be described as looking for trouble. “How tall is this guy?”

For once, Izana seems flustered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks down at his notes. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“This Shuuka dude. The lord here? The baron or whatever he is.” He rests his chin on his hand, smile sharpening into a feral grin. “How tall is he?”

“Ah...average, I suppose.” His brows knit, fingers shuffling through his papers. “There aren’t any good estimates of height for this era, but I suppose if you wanted a modern equivalent...five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Really? You don’t say.” Obi cuts his smile toward Zen. “And just how tall are you, Your Highness?”

Shirayuki winces at the flush climbing Zen’s neck; if they’d been outside, she’d have suggested some aloe vera before the burn blistered. As it is...

Zen’s fingers crumple the edge of his sheet. “Arturius is six-one.”

Obi hums. “How interesting.”

It is a fine day at Laxdo; this autumn may still have a bite, but it’s crisp, refreshing after so many days in the confines of the great hall. A great hall that is now transformed, tables and benches populating it instead of the sick. Most of the afflicted now hobble about the grounds, slow and unsteady, but healing; the few still confined to their sickbeds are only the elderly and previously infirm, and your attentions are a boon to them still.

The manifest is in your hand now, the last few names in your care curling across the page. It is those men on your mind now as you sweep through Laxdo’s bright corridors, striding through the tiger stripes the sun leaves across the rushes. Your burden is light now that the castle’s healer is back on his feet, able to help with potions and poultices and whatever else you are able to fashion to ease the weakness in your patients, but logistics are ever the enemy. Supplies were depleted before you arrived and have only been brought lower. Winter is just around the corner, and--

Steel rings through the stone. Metal on metal-- blades meeting. Out in the courtyard.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and your pace hurries to match it. Surely, surely it cannot be an attack; not now, when Laxdo is but a shade of its former glory.

The certainty of pragmatism grips you, your stomach roiling in its clutches. But of course it must be. What lord could suffer the sweet temptation of a neighbor brought low? It would be nothing to sweep in here and take the manor for a second son, something to placate him, to keep him complacent for another dozen years.

You steel yourself, wishing you had more than the bare pouch of herbs and water skein you carry on you, and step into the blinding light of the arcade--

Only to see a crowd of men gathered in the yard, conspicuously not fighting. Oh no, they are cheering instead.

Your mouth pulls thin, and ah, fortune favors you, for the crowd parts just so, and there are two of your recently healed patients, bare steel in hand, fighting each other in the yard.

Violence is not in your nature, but oh, you are contemplating a change of philosophy.

“Lady Lynet.”

You should startle; time and experience have taught you to shy when approached from behind, but strangely...you do not. Shuuka comes to stand beside you, a respectful distance as is due to your station, but closer than you have been used to these last few months, and it is-- easy. Familiar.

The lord of Laxdo has certainly seen better days; his shoulders stoop as if he expects to be smaller, and the circles beneath his eyes are quite deep still, but-- he smiles, and it is easy to see that time will heal his ills, even these.

“Shuuka,” you murmur in greeting, leaning against one of the arcade’s columns. “It is good to see you on your feet.”

“It is good to be on them,” he assures you with a laugh that brightens the day around you. “I see you are taking in this fine weather.”

“I am. And so are you men, it seems,” you add, wry. “Whether or not I told them to.”

“I know you told them to rest,” he says, lips struggling to rein in his smile, “but it has been a long season for my men. To be outside after such a long sickness, to be moving as one ought--” the longing on his face is plain to see and painful to witness-- “perhaps you might allow them this. Just this once.”

You watch the men dance around each other in the ring, laughing and shouting, breathless from both, and let your jaw ease. “Just this once.”

Shuuka smiles, a bright, earnest thing, and it is so hard to reconcile him to the boy you knew all those years ago. The small lord’s son who viewed the whole world through a veil of tears. He’s grown up better than you could have ever hoped.

He leans on the pillar across from yours, eyeing you with an eager sort of wariness. “I have set the night of the banquet.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His skitters away, back toward his men. “Tonight. If-- if you allow it.”

“Oh!” You had not-- this was not-- you are not even prepared--

“Hey, you!”

You both jump, heads swinging to where Arturius storms across the yard, looking as unrelenting as winter itself. “You and I must have words, Lord Shuuka!” He glances at you, mouth pulled thin. “Privately.”

Shirayuki considers herself well read.

An understatement, actually; a well-crafted cover for the amount of hours she’d spent curled up in the B&B’s window, devouring books Jaja bought by the box at a yard sale, or the amount she could carry in her arms from the library.

(The maximum was supposed to be five at any one time, but during on particularly slow summer in middle school, the librarian had made a special “all you can carry” policy, applied solely to Shirayuki. It had turned her daily trips into weekly ones, and saved her from slowing her pace to a crawl Saturday nights, so that she could have something to read on Sunday)

She doesn’t have a favorite book-- just thinking about culling the list to top ten makes her break out into a cold sweat, let alone one-- but she has formative ones. Ones that became annual re-reads or just stuck with her, claiming a stake in the back of her mind, ready to whisper the words she needs when she wants a laugh, or the rest of the world gets too hard to handle.

So it’s no surprise when she looks at Obi, his grin stretching impossibly, gleefully wide, and thinks Cheshire Cat. It only makes sense, since she’s fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Well now,” he drawls, far too pleased. “I think we all saw this coming.”

Kiki arches a brow. “What? Because you goaded him into it?”

“Princess,” he gasps, hand pressed against his chest. “Would I purposefully rile up the Prince of all the Briton and the Angles?”

“Absolutely.”

His retort is lost, cut off by the heavy tread of Zen clomping down the stairs. If Shirayuki thought some hallway time might help him cool off, well-- that notion is instantly disabused when he turns the corner on the landing. If anything, he’s more agitated, neck flushed and mouth flat, slouching over to his seat like he’s asking for someone to start a fight.

Izana is not much better, even if his annoyance is more subtle. He settles into his chair with lips pressed thin, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that does not suggest good humor.

“Now if no one else has any more business,” he says, voice a trembling thread of his patience, “I think we can skip right to the feast.”

Shirayuki shifts, biting her cheek. It’s not important, it really isn’t but still-- “Um...”

Izana peers up from his notes, brows raised with a shocking lack of sarcasm. “Did you want to do something, Shirayuki?”

“Oh, no, I just, um...” She rolls a corner of Lynet’s sheet, tight and neat under her stubby fingernail. “I just wanted a...clarification?”

He blinks, flipping a hand out in encouragement. “Go on...?”

“It’s only, ah....” It’s silly, she knows that, but she’s already started asking. “Is this an...informal feast?”

Izana’s mouth parts, just slightly. “I’m...sorry?”

“I thought I would ask since Lynet didn’t exactly pack her, um, fanciest gowns.” Her cheeks flare with heat, and ugh, she really just should have let the chips fall as they may on this one. At least if the stares she’s getting from the rest of the table are any indication. “She was traveling light.”

“I...” His mouth opens once, then shuts. Opens again, brows furrowed. “Lord Shuuka has seen fit to outfit you all accordingly if you did not have appropriate clothing for the evening.”

She means to thank him, maybe even ask what might qualify as proper dress for a celebration such as this, but--

“So what you’re saying,” Obi interjects, grin slanted and sly, “is that Beaumain’s got some sick new threads.”

Regret etches itself on every plane of Izana’s face. “...Yes. I suppose.”

“Ha.” Obi leans back, eyes tracing a searing trail up her from heels to hairline. “Then yeah, I got something I want to do before this shindig.”

Had the Lord Himself but asked you if there were women in Laxdo, you would have sworn upon the grave of your mother that you and Morgaine were the only two. Surely you had treated none when the castle was under its curse. But when you attempt to beg off the feast, explaining that you are not properly clad for such a celebration--

Well, Shuuka finds you a gown easily enough. Your fingers linger over the remarkable wool, woven thin and tight, dyed a rich indigo. Woad, you think, though your own forays with it never yielded a color so impressive. The linen kirtle is the same, so light it might as well be air, and oh, you may be born a lady, but never did the Castle Perilous have such luxury.

A knock lands lightly upon your door, a quick little ditty sketched on oak. You’ve heard it before, though you can’t remember the words, or even the tune, just the beat. Ba-ba-bum. Bum-bum. A song from a better time.

You shake yourself. Song it may be, but a summons it is still. And you are the one who must answer it.

The door is heavy beneath your hands, but you coax it open with little effort. Behind it is the evening’s shadows, thick in the growing dim, and the gold that shines from them.

“Ah Beaumains,” you murmur as his outline resolves into a man, one dressed as fine as you. His colors are more subdued, the black of the shadows and the deep blues of his skin, humbler than any words that have passed his lips. “I was not expecting that you would, um...?”

“I am your escort, my lady.” He bows over his arm, a gallant. His pose gives the distinct impression of mocking Bedwyr, though the man himself is not in evidence. “What sort of shield would I be if I let you walk into the fray alone?”

“Ah...” You stare at his sleeve as he holds it out to you, hesitant. “I suppose that would be...unseemly, yes.”

“And I, the height of propriety.” His teeth flash like a knife’s edge as you slip your hand around his elbow. “Lucky, too.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?”

“Of course.” He shrugs; every inch a siege. “I get to see how nice you look before everyone else.”

“Hey!” Zen directs the brunt of his scowl toward Izana, though the angle of his glare is easily wide enough to include Obi. “Why is Beaumains getting this scene?”

“This scene?” Izana drawls, utterly mild. “Do you mean the conversation he just had with Lynet in her chambers?”

“Yes!” Zen’s jaw sets into an ill-tempered jut. “If anyone, Arturius--”

“You mean the scene wherein Beaumains takes the opportunity afforded by his current occupation to further their flirtation,” Izana continues, “the flirtation in which both players have built upon from their character introductions?”

A flush licks flames up her jaw, threatening to blaze across her cheeks. It’s one thing for it to happen, it’s another thing for everyone to just talk about it.

“...Yes.”

Izana raises a brow. “Because he asked.”

And it’s a whole other thing to do it like she wasn’t even here.

“Well, I want one too!” Zen pushes, hands gripping at the table. “Arturius--”

“Is missing the point that the DM is making,” Kiki supplies, deadpan. “Which is that Lynet is also choosing to have this scene too.”

Zen sputters, red-faced. “I know that! Shirayuki wouldn’t have any problem if Arturius wanted to--”

“Arturius is having a very long, very pointed heart-to-heart with the lord of Laxdo,” Izana reminds him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, it’s not like that took all day!” he protests. “I have time to do both.”

Izana pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a long, noise breath out. “The next half hour is not going to be all and sundry complimenting Lynet on her sartorial choices.”

“It’s not everyone, just Artur--”

“Why not?” Kiki tilts back her chair, wedging her knees against the table. “Morgaine wants to tell her she’s beautiful too. How about Bedwyr?”

Mitsuhide stares at her, slack-jawed, before darting a worried look toward Iana. “W-well,” he says finally, with a hard swallow, “he certainly wouldn’t be able to disagree.”

Izana stares at Kiki, nonplussed. “Well then,” he drawls, mouth settling into a disconcerting smile. “What do you think, Shirayuki?”

She’s already pink, but with everyone’s eyes on her, her skin burns to a painful red. “M-me?”

“Shall we allow Arturius--” he darts a quelling glance at Kiki-- “et al to have their moment with Lynet, or shall we press on to the feast?”

Zen smiles at her, so kind and warm, just like he did that first day at school, and she-- she wishes that this wasn’t up to her. It’s not as if she minds the compliments-- fictional as they are-- but Beamains’ had been spontaneous, inspired by the moment, and this--

--Zen settles back, his smile curling smugly at the corners. His gaze is no longer on her, oh no, it’s on Obi, the challenge written clear in his eyes--

--has nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the people playing it.

“I think,” she begins without a tremor in her voice, “I’m fine with moving on.”

Zen’s jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard the lady.” Izana lips twitch behind his paper screen. “She is content with only Beaumains’ love making.”

Shirayuki jolts. “That’s not what I sa--”

“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring his brother’s glare and Obi’s grins in response, “it’s the feast now.”

This is no longer the great hall you remember.

Or perhaps it is if you search your earliest memories; if you allow yourself to remember being seated upon the dais, a cushion placed beneath you so that you might reach the table and impress the court with your grace. You did not-- you sister would have, were she allowed, but it was you who would be sent to marry at Laxdo, not her, practically an infant still. It was no disaster; it was not your beauty that had brought the lord of Laxdo to break bread with your father.

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka rises on the dais, holding up a hand. “Please, come here!”

It is perhaps a different tale now.

Still, this no longer resembles the hall in which you have been toiling in these long weeks. That was a dark, stifling place, the miasma of curse and compulsion lingering for days after you had dispelled them. But this--

This is a new country entirely. Candles twinkle in their holder overhead, the ceilings so high they seem as distant as the stars themselves. Bodies no longer line the hall but instead pack benches, the men dressed bright and boisterous, ale already flowing from their cups.

“Surveying your domain?”

You blink, eyes blurring as they settle on the shadow beside you. His teeth flash white against the indigo of his lips, too amused. “N-no! I was only thinking of how changed this place is. Only days ago man laid head to toe, and now...”

He tilts his heads, horns glimmering in the candlelight. “Now they are all hidden away, and we play at heroes.”

It is only the rough wool beneath your fingers, wrapped around the hard curve of his shoulder, that tells you once again you have acted without thinking. You cheeks burn as you pull away-- to think, you raised a hand to him as if he were one of the tenants’ children chasing you around the courtyard, as if you had known him all your life.

“Oh, my lady,” he clucks. “How rough you are with your servant--”

“You were unkind,” you murmur heatedly. “There are few enough that are still ailing, and they would be better served in their rooms. There is no harm in Laxdo’s lord wanting to celebrate their good fortune.”

“Mayhaps.” His nose wrinkles. “A little ridiculous, you must admit.”

You snorts, unladylike. “Says the one who polished his horns.”

Ah, now the shoe is on the other foot. His gaze is quick to drop from yours, expression rumpled with annoyance. Beaumains may be eager to ridicule the pageantry of the nobles, but he enjoys it as well.

“Come on then.” His arm tugs at yours, not gentle. “Let’s see what your skill has won you, my lady.”

You sputter, feet stumbling as you attempt to keep pace. “As I said, I am not--”

“Ah.” Beaumains mouth curves slyly, eyeing the tables he leads you past. “You may not be taking their measure, but it seems tonight they will take yours.”

It is only his words that make you notice; conversations quiet as you pass, the men’s eyes following you not with hunger, but with curiosity. For the first time, you prefer the former more than the latter.

“I cannot see why.” You take pains to place your feet more carefully, to strive for that ladylike bearing your sister achieves so easily. “They know me already.”

“But tonight is different.” He nods to the empty place beside Shuuka. You stomach drops when you see it is to his right. “Tonight they find out if you fit into the lady’s seat.”

You gut clenches. You did not come so far for this to dog your heels once again. “That-- that cannot be. I have been clear--”

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka waves again, though more subtly. No need for grand gestures when you are already so close. “Come, take your place by me.”

Beaumains’ brows raise. “Are you sure?”

You thought you were, but the smile the lord gives you as you approach gives you doubts. Beaumains pulls out your chair, chin tucked respectfully, but you do not miss his amused smirk or his knowing look. Fine. He may think what he likes but this is not-- not that. Your betrothal is long in the past for both you and Laxdo’s lord.

“My women did well,” Shuuka tells you, friendly and bright, no hint of romance. “You look radiant, my lady.”

Well...not much of one, at least. “They have my thanks,” you reply, “I truly had nothing for a feast such as this.”

His smile widens, and it does him credit that he keeps it as he turns to Beaumains. “Thank you as well, for escorting my lady.”

To his other side, Arturius scowls, glaring as your shadow performs a polite bow, no respect spared. The same he categorically refused to show the prince. “My pleasure, your lordship.”

“You honor us with your actions, Sir Beaumains.” Shuuka gestured past her, hand open in generosity. “Please, take the seat next to the Lady Lynet, I--”

A chair scrapes across the dais, and Arturius stands, as thunderous as any storm. “That man is no sir.”

The room is so quiet it practically has its own crickets. Or at least it would, if the atmosphere hadn’t suffocated them all. Shirayuki has admit, she’s feeling a little stifled herself

Mitsuhide shifts, chair creaking, mouth grim. “Zen...”

“No,” he snaps, still on his feet, red-faced and tense as he squares off with his brother. “It’s ridiculous! He’s a commoner.”

Izana peers up from his notes, raising a mild brow. “Is this really something you think is appropriate to pursue right now?”

Speaking fluent teacher like she does, Shirayuki hears the warning loud and clear: back down. But of course, Zen doesn’t.

“Beaumains doesn’t belong on the dais,” he reasons angrily. “He should be down at the tables with the vassals and retainers.”

Izana’s expression doesn’t betray a single thought, smooth as still water. “I must concede the point, technically, but as he is a member of your party, it would make sense if--”

Zen barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re such a stickler for accuracy, but now you’re going to break a simple rule of hospitality--”

“It’s for ease of play--”

“It’s meta gaming.”

If she’d thought the room was quiet before, she’s disabused of the notion now. All motion has ceased; even Kiki holds her breath, eyes fixed on Izana who-- who--

Stands. Or rather, unfurls; every inch is a journey as his long limbs draw straight. It’s hard to remember when Mitsuhide can hardly fit both his thighs on a dining chair, but Izana is tall, a good ten inches above her perfectly respectable 5′4. He uses every bit of that to his advantage as he looms over his brother, eyes cool and steady. “I think--”

“It’s fine.”

Obi lounges in his chair, ankle cross over knee without a care in the word. Big Dick Energy, Kihal would tell her, and wow, she really does not need to be thinking about that right now, in the middle of all this.

His lips slowly spread into a grin that does not help her brain stay on the straight and narrow, not one little bit. “Beaumains can sit among the masses.”

“Obi...” His head swivels to her, and oh, she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but-- it’s too late to turn back now. “You don’t need to--”

“Nah, nah, it’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving her off. “Let’s be real, given a choice between being in the box seats or getting trashed with the smallfolk, we all know which one he’d pick.”

Izana frowns, brow knitting. “As much as I appreciate your rationality in the face of the irrational, Obi, it isn’t necessary. It makes more narrative sense for Beaumains to be treated the same as the rest of the party--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, boss man. I can tank a hit for historical accuracy.” His gaze cuts to Zen. “In our fantasy roleplaying game where I play a demon and half the party does magic.”

Zen has the grace to look abashed, at least.

Izana lowers himself back into his chair, mouth set in faint disapproval. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no prob.” Obi grins, sending her stomach into a tailspin. “Don’t worry, my lady, Beaumains knows how to keep himself entertained.”

You may sit at the lord of Laxdo’s right hand, but it is Morgaine who sits at yours, as radiant as any song. By all rights, she should be in your place; base-born she may be, but king’s daughter outranks a count’s, even born on the wrong side of the sheets. Still, she makes no protest when she takes her seat, only curling her lips in one of her mysterious smiles.

Shuuka is an attentive host, selecting the choicest cuts from the trays and laying them upon your plate. He chooses well for you, each morsel a delightful burst of flavor upon your tongue, but still--

Beaumains’ teasing spoils your every bite. It does not escape you that your host is not paying Arturius the same diligent attention but-- one does not feed a king. Or, rather, a prince. And you, well-- you would be the first to say that the curse was ended by the efforts of your whole party, but you know the men of Laxdo hold a different opinion.

(And for that matter, so does Beaumains, which he shares loudly and without prompting whenever possible, much to Arturius’ ire. It is flattering, but oh, you would much rather not be a needle used to provoke, no matter who holds it)

It is kind of Shuuka to pay you such an honor, but still, it leaves you feeling awkward, as if you were born with two left hands. You cast helpless looks to your right, but Morgaine only replies with sly smiles, ones that make your skin itch with expectation.

With no safe place to look on the dais, your gaze fans out over the press below. Lady you may be, but it’s the benches you are used to; your father had never stood much on ceremony, preferring to eat and be merry among his men, rather than make himself a proper lord. Even now you long to be among them; the talk may be bawdy and the drink more sour, but you would not suffer so many eyes upon you, measuring the curve of you breast and speculating on the red of your hair.

You do not look long before your eye catches on midnight blue and glistening horns; even dressed as a shadow, Beaumains is hard to miss among the lord’s men. He laughs, tossing his head back, hand pressed to his belly-- a truer one on him than any you have seen. To think, you had pitied him when Shuuka did not tender an invitation to the dais, but now--

Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself more than you are.

A sharp prod to your ribs sets you upright, your mind snapping back to the present, reminding you sharply that you are being watched and weighed by the same men you long to join. Morgaine pulls back her elbow, sending a pointed look over your shoulder. To Shuuka.

Shuuka, who is staring at you expectantly. Shuuka, who has almost certainly asked you a question that you did not hear.

Morgaine reaches for the wine pitcher, bumping your shoulder. “He’s asking if all this is to you liking.”

“Oh!” You stitch a smile to you face. “Yes. The fest is, ah...lovely. You do me a great honor. Ah, us a great honor.”

His own smile widens, sore pleased. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Lynet. It was my greatest hope that you would find Laxdo pleasing.”

You nod, awkward, before turning back to your meal. It is hardly touched, only a single bite from each dish, and you suffer a pang of chagrin to think you have so obviously ignored his generosity-- save that you notice everyone else’s plate remains untouched as well.

Shuuka’s chair scrapes across the dais as he stands, holding his arms wide. “Before we partake of this feast--”

Oh, Lord in Heaven, the blessing. You had forgotten it entirely. Your gaze darts guiltily across the table, trying to see whether the lord’s chaplain has caught your petty sin, but the only man of the cloth at the table is Bedwyr.

“--We must all give thanks to Our Lord in heaven, from whom all our bounty flows.”

A murmur of agreement shuffles out from the men at the tables, heads bowed with lips mouthing an impassioned amen--

Ah, right. Bowed heads. What she should be doing now, in this place of honor.

“I would be remiss if I also did not offer our gratitude to the Lady Lynet.” Your head snaps up, gaze tangling helplessly with his. “If it was not for her cleverness and diligence, not a single man would be standing here today.”

This is-- this is not the toast you thought he would make, not when he spoke of the feast this morning. Not when he had told you it would be in honor of those who saved Laxdo.

“We are blessed that the angels guided her back to us after so many years away,” he continues, every word adding to the pit of dread growing in your belly. “It can only be the provenance of Our Heavenly Father that she has returned, and in returning, removed the blight from our land. I would be turning my back upon God Himself and all His angels if I did not receive what blessing he has given us.”

You heart pounds loudly in your chest, rattling the drums of war. You had been so clear. You had said--

Not enough. Nothing short of an explicit refusal ever stuck in a man’s ear. you know this all too well.

It galls you that Beaumains knew it better.

“My father has passed, but his will has always been my guide.” Shuuka showers praises down on you, oblivious to how you wither beneath it. “It had been his wish to seen our houses joined, along with your father’s, my lady. I am eager to tread the path they left for us.”

You want to protest, you mean to protest. But all of the eyes of Laxdo are upon you, and-- and your hands clench helplessly in your skirt. For a man to be refused after such a speech, after such feeling, in front of all his men--

It would be kinder to leave a blade in him. At least that he might recover from.

Your gaze swivels to your left, to your right, but Arturius sits, stunned, and his sister is much the same. The moment for an objection has passed for them, for all those who sit on this dais, but on the floor--

You cast your gaze out, searching, hoping, but--

Beaumains is not among the tables, not anymore.

The chair squeals across the floorboards as Izana stands, smoothing down his pants.

“Wha-- where are you going?” Zen stares at him, jaw slack. “We’re in the middle of a feast. This jerk just proposed!”

Izana flips his phone, screen out, and there is Obi’s name, right at the top of his messages. hey boss can b get himself some quality hallway time

It buzzes, followed up by a long string of hot lips emojis, double hearts, and what looks like an eggplant..

“Well,” Kiki drawls, “now I know too much.”

Izana glances at his screen before swinging to glare at Obi. “Really?”

He shrugs, gleefully pocketing his cellphone. “Hey, you set it up. I just took the shot.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue that.” Izana sighs, gathering up his dice. “Give us a moment.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Kiki hums, mouth twitching at a corner.

Izana groans, shaking his head. “At least pretend you’re going to behave.”

[amazingdriverfics]

Crowned by the Devil - ch.10

Summary: you finally meet the rest of the Knights of Ren, but the encounter brings more doubts to your mind.

Warnings: smut, mention to childhood abuse

A/N: sorry that it took me this long to post it, as I said before College started again and I’m having classes 6 days a week and I have a lot of reading to do. However I love writing and I’m not giving up on it, just be patient with me please. 

I love you all, hope you like this.

My masterlist

Previous Chapter  Following Chapter

As you came back to your senses, body sore from the previous night effort, the smell of eggs and sweet fruits filled your nostrils immediately causing your stomach to come to life, the awkward noise filling your ears only to be replaced with a hoarse laughter.

“Hungry?” you heard his voice mocking you, his tone the softest you ever heard from him.

“My stomach growling wasn’t explicit enough?” you replied, e/c eyes opening as you got accustomed to the bright lights. A contrast to the dark color pattern of his quarters.

“You weren’t this moody with my dick inside of you” his voice filled with amusement echoed through the room, his pretty face not turning towards your direction as you watched his muscular back.

“That’s because I finally found something you’re good at” you take your head and back off the bed, hands pressing against your eyes swollen from sleep as you stretch your muscles.

“Glad to be your object” his reply now lacked the previous light tone.

“White man is sad because he feels like an object, nice” you started not feeling sorry since you knew there was more to your relationship with him “Let’s quit playing, I’m hungry” you finished, feet finally touching the soft carpet covering the pristine floor.

Your first instinct as you noticed the cold air touching your skin was to find something to cover your naked body with. Not that you were embarrassed of it, however, having breakfast naked didn’t really seem appropriate, so you explored the surroundings with your eyes, finding your underwear and the shirt Kylo had used in the Gala. Before he turned around, you quickly put them on, buttoning the shirt up at a speed which amazed yourself. 

When he finally turned around, you felt like your insides were melting. You were not sure it was from how turned on by the sight of his chest completely marked with your scratches or by how casual he seemed holding two plates filled with food. Whatever it was, it had woken up something which had been asleep inside of you, the problem was you couldn’t decide if you liked it or not, so you brushed it aside and focused on the material things like the food.

As Kylo placed the food on the countertop in the kitchen part of his enormous room, you made your way towards it, not believing you were about to have breakfast with the Supreme Leader, who was also the man who had taken you off the only place you knew: Tatooine. What surprised you the most, was the fact that the situation might have confused you, but you didn’t hate it at all. 

“Stop obsessing over it. It won’t solve anything” Ren’s voice brought you back to reality, eyes refocusing on his figure as you nodded, feet touching the ground with more confidence as you placed one more thought in a hidden part of your brain, one which you would explore latter, when there wasn’t no one prying.

Your attitude must have pleased him enough, since he didn’t bring the subject up as you sat on the high bench ready to devour your food like a beast.

——————————————————————————

Impressed with yourself, you walked to the training facility all alone for the first time. It was a free cycle for you since the First Order’s officers present at the Gala would meet to talk about the ‘candidate's’ performance. You already knew they weren’t going to like you and you honestly couldn’t care less about what a bunch of men with sticks up their asses thought about you. 

As soon as you left Kylo’s quarters after the breakfast filled with comfortable silence, you decided to train a little. You hadn’t trained ever since the day you were sent to the arena and getting your fists to work would definitely clear your mind, after all, that was the only way you knew how to solve your inner problems. So you went back to your quarters to shower and get into appropriate clothing before making your way to the gym. 

The closer you got to your destination, the louder the sound of metal against metal and male groans got. When your body finally met the see-through door, your eyes were filled with images of strong, big and wide men training, or fighting you couldn’t decide, as if they were really looking to kill each other.

Things finally started to make sense as you recognized your best friend - not that you have many others - using some kind of weapon against a man built just like him, however his skin was much darker and dreads were arranged in a not on top of his head. He was just as beautiful as Cardo. In fact, all of the men, whom you presumed to be the Knights of Ren, were beautiful, perhaps to be a part of Kylo’s boyband you must be tall, shredded, beautiful and a killer.

As you started to walk away, not wanting to botter the killing machines inside the room, a familiar voice caused you to stop, body turning towards his direction once more.

“Troublemaker!” his sweaty head was turned to you now, in fact all six heads were. “Here to train with us?” he asked, coming closer and leaving his training partner behind.

“Don’t think so.” you answered directly, ready to leave them all behind and train on your quarters when once again a male voice captured your attention. 

“She couldn’t keep up with us anyway” a brown haired boy with lighter skin and with a golden undertone complemented by his dark eyes said. 

Immediately, you looked directly into his eyes, jaw locking as anger started to flow in your system thanks to his insinuation. Who that man though he was to insinuate you were weak? 

“Challenge accepted, dick” you gritted through your teeth as your eyes captured a smile forming on his face, showing that he was clearly happy with your reaction. 

“Hey, Trudgen” Cardo started punching the man who made you angry in the arm “it’s my job to piss her off”.

Before Trudgen could give Cardo any type of reaction, the dark skinned man your best friend had been fighting shut them all up as he harshly stated: “Get back to training”, his eyes barely acknowledging your presence before he went back to what he had been doing before you showed up. 

“Don’t mind Vicrul, troublemaker, he’s too serious for his own sake” Cardo said, getting even closer, calloused hand touching your bare shoulder and blue eyes fixing on yours. “Come on, let’s kick Trudgen’s ass”.

——————————————————————————

“Shit, this pretty thing can throw a knife” Trudgen said laid down on the floor, his dark eyes covered by his lids as his breathing slowed to the normal pattern. 

“I told you I could” you said, also on the floor, the whole session vigor making your muscles complain as you felt weak. 

“I told you so” Cardo completed, his state not better than yours or his brother’s. 

“Pretty and deadly, shit, I think I’m in love” the brown haired man declared, making you and Cardo laugh, the sound of the other Knights training muffled by it. 

“Master Ren is going to cut your junk out” another warrior said, causing you to open your eyes instantly. 

You recognized him as one of the men in the back as Cardo and Trudgen spoke to you when you got to the training facility. He had a small black hair and beard, his facial features, as astonishing as the other knights, were pretty serious, a big contrast from the atmosphere between you and his brothers. 

“Fuck off, Ushar. Find someone else to bother” Cardo replied first as your face lost all the light in it, your annoyance at the inconvenience becoming transparent on it. 

“You know that it’s true.” Ushar replied while shrugging as he walked away. 

——————————————————————————

As you got back to your quarters, what Ushar said kept bothering you, the thought that Kylo could and would be so possessive with you making you uncomfortable. After all you had gone through to escape being owned by somebody, you couldn’t run into the arms of someone who expected you to be his.

Maybe going to practise had just added more questions to the pile you already had going into it. Now you not only had to figure out how you felt about Kylo, but you also had to figure out what he expected from you. 

Your legs were around his waist, your hot skin touching his even hotter one, his dark hair falling on your face and repeatedly caressing it as his almost black eyes filled with hunger bored into yours, the sweat falling from his forehead to your face. The salty liquid going down your cheeks and meeting your neck. 

As he pounded his massive cock inside and out, his hips repeatedly met your ass, the red color painting its cheeks red. His movements made your tits shake up and down as well as your whole body as his large hands kept you caged underneath him.

The friction of his skin against your stiff and swollen clit increased your pleasure as Kylo kept stretching and filling you up impossibly, your g spot being massaged by its head again and again as he hit your cervix and making your walls clench unintentionally. The unvolunteer action caused him to release sinful noises each time as you groaned, nails scratching his back as you tried your best not to scream.

“Can you feel it?” he asked, voice hoarse from the pleasure and physical effort. “The way I’m filling you up like no one else ever will?” he finished. 

And you moaned out a ‘yes’, muffled by the sound of his skin aggressively hitting yours and the sound of his cock entering and leaving your drenched hole, your cunt greedy for everything he could and would give you.

“Who do you belong to?” he questioned once again, eyes staring at your face intently waiting for your answer, and to your own surprise, you didn’t think twice before screaming at the top of your lungs ‘yours’. 

As the word left your lips and echoed through the room, the sheer power of the confession made you cum, body trembling as you squeezed his dick hard with your walls and his waist with your legs, all the strength left in you being used to not let go of his body. 

In that moment, you stopped being one of the parts involved and started to be a watcher. You were standing not too far from the bed where Kylo was still fucking your body, able to see the muscles from his legs, back and thighs working as he kept pouding into your body, fucking you through your orgasm. You could also see your body holding onto his like your life depended on it, like he was your savior, like there was no other way, your nails breaking his skin and drawing blood as you refused to let him go. 

You watched as his pace became sloppier indicating that he was close to finish as well, as the sweat started to pour out of his body with more intensity, as his hands grabbed the sheets next to your body, holding onto it just like you held onto him, the pleasure becoming too much for him to hold much longer. 

However, before he found his relief, Kylo’s face turned away from your body on the bed to face your new presence standing near the bed, his eyes once again searching yours as he said: “You’re mine”, his body trembling and collapsing onto yours in the bed as his the lighting of his orgasm coursing through his cells.  

——————————————————————————  

You woke up after watching the heavenly scene of Kylo cumming, body sweaty and pussy wet, your body betraying your mind and rationality as you tried to understand why belonging to him might have seemed as something desirable by the parts of brain you had no control as the parts you did told there was nothing to hope for. 

What the hell was happening to you? 

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Cap it Off (Christen Press x Reader)

“What the fuck Chris?” Kelley asked, glancing over towards you. You were nervous. It was your first cap with the USWNT and you’d never played with them before. It made sense for you to be nervous, even if nobody you’d ever played with had seen you nervous before. You hadn’t gotten nervous in high school, you hadn’t gotten nervous at Stanford, and you hadn’t gotten nervous during your professional career after college. Except, now, you were super nervous, nervous enough for it to show. “What is she doing?”

“I have no idea. I think she’s nervous, she’s been like this since we got to camp. I’ve never really seen her like this before,” Christen said, glancing up at you. The two of you had been together since your freshman year of college, 2010. Kelley had known you for even longer than that, the two of you both having grown up in Peachtree City. “Damn, it’s weird.”

“It’s gotta be insulting that she wasn’t like this when she asked you out,” Kelley said and Christen bit her lip. Technically, she asked you out, but Kelley didn’t know that, nor would she ever.

“Ladies, let’s get out there!” Carli yelled and everybody got ready to go out. You let Christen give you a kiss before you got in line. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could barely hear anything until the roar of the crowd hit you. Then, it was that deafening you. Still, throughout the game, you could hear Aubrey barking orders at you. That, and your natural instincts as a defender kept your head in the game instead of where your nerves were. The game wasn’t super close, your team holding a pretty decent lead the entire time.

“You’re doing amazing sweetie.” Kelley hugged you, getting up from the bench. You believed that she could still play, but she had told Vlatko to play you in her position for the night. Normally, you were a CB, but tonight you weren’t and that was okay. “Man, I doubt I’m gonna have a job after this.”

“Nah, you will. I’m no Kelley O’Hara,” you said with a smile. Kelley glanced over at Christen, who was staring at the two of you during your entire exchange. You jogged over to her and physically lifted her off of the ground in your kiss. Christen was on the taller side of things, but you were just tall, only half an inch shorter than Sam Mewis. “Nice goal out there.”

“Nice assist,” Christen said, kissing your lips. “And yes, it’s gonna count as an assist because that’s what it is you dork.”

“I didn’t even say anything about that.”

“You were going to.” Christen kissed you one more time and then went to the huddle to talk over strategy for the next half. Vlatko said he thought the other team would play more aggressive, and boy was he right. They seemed to really want to test out your skills, so they seemed to always go towards you. It was overwhelming a little bit and you were getting tired, but there was so much happening on the pitch that you didn’t mind what you were doing. Besides, the first half had been a little slow for you.

“Y/n, watch out!” Becky yelled at you, but it was too late. You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself for the tackle as you were about to pass the ball up to JJ in the midfield. The ball had left your feet by the time the tackle came in, but you didn’t have any time to try and prepare yourself. You ate it hard and was very dizzy for a minute afterwards.

“Alright, come on, let’s sub you off,” Christen said, pulling you towards the sidelines.

“Do you need to come off?” Vlatko asked and you shook your head. “Are you sure? Did you hit your head?”

“No, if I did, it was on my arms. I’m fine, can we resume play now?” You walked off without an answer and got back into position. Christen seemed angry as she argued with Vlatko and Kelley on something. “Hey JJ.”

“Hey, are you sure you don’t need to go off?” Julie asked and you nodded.

“I just wanna get this game over with and then go back to celebrate my first cap with my girlfriend,” you said and JJ went back to where she needed to be. There was a penalty and Christen went up to take it, still emotionally shaken up over your situation. You knew there would be an argument about it later, but you didn’t really give a shit. You’d deal with that later, you felt fine, so you were going to keep playing, even if she didn’t think you should. Christen made the penalty and immediately ran to you, jumping into your arms. “That was amazing, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Christen said happily. The rest of the game was pretty uneventful. Your team was secure in their lead and the other team didn’t want to draw any more penalties. After the game, Kelley insisted on taking the team out on the town and showing them some places to get some drinks.

“You’re welcome,” Kelley whispered in your ear as you sat next to her in the van. “She was ready to knock the heads off of some people, including you. Tell me the truth, did you hit your head on the ground or your arm like you said?”

“I think a bit of both,” you said and Kelley nodded. “I was a little dizzy, but it was only for a second. Besides, I couldn’t let my first international cap end on that note.”

“There’s no shame in admitting that you have an injury,” Kelley said and you knew that she was gonna tell Christen at some point. You had a tendency of doing things like that, getting hurt in games and not subbing off. It had caused you to miss a whole season in high school and then your junior year of college. You hadn’t missed that much since then, but you didn’t always go out when your body screamed for you to.

Halfway through the night, you knew when Kelley told Christen. She hadn’t spoken to you in 20 minutes, but had looked over at you playing pool at least 6 times. Finally, she broke and came over to you. Alyssa left you alone with Christen, knowing that this wasn’t something she should really be a part of.

“So, you lied earlier,” Christen said and you shook your head. “That’s not what Kelley told me.”

“A part of my head did hit the ground, but it also hit my arm,” you said and Christen looked up at you with her arms crossed. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the whole truth, but you didn’t ask the right questions.”

“I can’t deal with you sometimes,” Christen muttered. “I swear.”

“Then don’t, but you’ve been saying that since we met,” you said and Christen sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Christen said, hugging you tightly. You kissed her and the two of you just stood there embracing each other for a moment. “But we’re getting a check tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll try to keep myself safe for you.”

“For our future,” Christen said and you nodded.

[t-lostinworlds]

You Did It (Shawn Mendes)

A/N: Wrote this on a whim again and it’s sorta different? I think lol. Suppose to be a blurb but is 1k words even considered as a blurb? haha. Anyhow, I think I shed a tear or two writing this but it’s not sad I promise asdfghjkl. It’s just a little something for Shawn’s first ever stadium show. And gosh, I’m so proud of that boy. Anyways! Hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Shawn’s had this weird and unexplainable experience when he was just a child, but years down the line, he was very grateful for said experience and to have met this mysterious man.

Warnings: Emotional stuff maybe and Typos

Word Count: 1.8k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

Shawn was lodging his guitar case down the busy street of Toronto with a wide smile on his face, his eyes scanning the beautiful but busy city underneath the summer sun. People were going out and about with their day, no one sparing the 12-year-old boy a glance as they hurry from one destination to another.

"Shawn, buddy, you wait here and don't wander okay? I'll be back as quick as I can." His father ruffled his hair, a bright smile written on the man's lips as he watched his son be so excited having bought his first guitar, never seeming to have the will to let go of the instrument despite the fact that it's almost the same size as the kid.

The young boy nodded, his dad helping him settle his guitar on a bench before disappearing to handle some adult business, Shawn swinging his short legs that couldn't touch the ground as he sat patiently and waited as he'd been told to do so.

He was humming a simple tune that he thought of on top of his head, eyes looking up the CN tower as it stood tall and mighty that it seemed to touch the blue sky in the perspective of a young boy's eyes.

And with a simple turn of his head, Shawn's vision was met by another magnificent looking building. One that looked like it stretched till forever down the street, not as tall the tower, no, but definitely bigger, or fatter, as Shawn thought.

ROGERS CENTRE

The big and beefy letters was staring right back at the boy, all red and bright at the very head of the stadium. Shawn's always wondered how big it was inside, and how cool it would be sit amongst thousands, or in his dreams, sing in front of those people.

"Hey there kid, this guitar yours?" A man sat down beside the boy, face unrecognizable as it was hidden under a baseball cap and dark sunglasses. He wore an all black outfit too, hands shoved in the pockets of his black coat, a very suspicious outfit but with a smile bright and welcoming that Shawn couldn't help but smile himself.

"Hello mister and yes, it's my first guitar ever." The boy chirped excitedly, face lighting up as he talked about the most precious item in his life as of now.

The man's smile only widened from there, nodding with a soft chuckle as he gave the kid a pat on the back. "That's amazing dude."

"Yeah! I can't wait to learn more and play it." The little one giggled, tearing his eyes away from the man to look back up at the big, fat building. The man followed Shawn's eyes with a soft sigh. "Have you seen what's the inside of that stadium?"

Shawn looked back at the man and shook his head no, a small frown on his face with a look of full curiosity, an innocent one that a child possess. "You want to see it from the inside?" The man asked softly, his smile never wavering as he looked at the boy adoringly.

Shawn contemplated on it for a moment, his parents' rule of never talking to strangers echoing inside his mind. But that's the thing, this man doesn't feel like a stranger to Shawn, if not, the boy feels like he knows who this guy is, despite not having seen him before.

"We'll be back here before you know it bud." The man reassured, standing up fully on his feet as he offered Shawn a hand. Shawn smiled, his trust for this man feeling so strong in his veins as he stood up on his own two feet, taking the man's hand as he held his guitar case on the other.

"Here, let me help you with that." The man chuckled, taking the guitar from his grasp at they walked towards the stadium.

***

"Whoa" Shawn gasped, his features coated with nothing but absolute wonder as he looked around the huge and spacious room. His eyes glanced up at the roof that seemed to go on forever, the endless numbers of seats from in front of him to high up above. Compared to the young kid, the stadiums size was overwhelming to say the least.

"Come here little guy." The man called out as he beckoned Shawn to the side of the stage, helping him carefully up the stairs.

"This place is so big!" The boy shouted in pure glee, followed by that sweet giggle as he heard his voice echo throughout the space. The man couldn't help but grin wide as he felt his heart grow ten times its normal size.

"I know. I'll never get used to seeing this view." He chuckled as he stood right beside Shawn, his expression barely readable having that his face was half covered but his smile just says it all how in awe he was, just like the kid beside him.

"How many times have you been here before?" Shawn asked as he looked up at the man warily. "A couple of times." The man shrugged with a fulfilled grin. "Now, put this on and stand right there in the middle." He handed Shawn his guitar, helping him slip the strap on and guiding him right in the middle of the stage.

"Now close your eyes kiddo." Shawn did as told as he clutched his guitar tight as much as he can in his hands, the man crouching down right beside him with a hand gently rested on his shoulder.

"Imagine this stadium full, all the lights, the beat of the drums and the bass shaking the stage beneath your feet. You're feeling the adrenaline rise through your body as scanned the huge crowd. Imagine all the people with bright smiles on their faces, all of them singing loud with excitement that they might blow the roof off." The man whispered softly, a sense of full on gratitude and pride in his voice that Shawn was feeling it course through his chest too.

"What are they so excited for?" Shawn asked, fingers absentmindedly strumming the guitar strings emitting a soft melody that softly echoed around the space, eyes still shut tight as he imagined what the man had said, a tingle in his stomach that Shawn couldn't help but grin.

"They're excited for you buddy. These fifty three thousand people are here for you, to cheer you on."

"Me?" The young kid's voice was full of question, not seeming to believe what the man had said. Why would that many people scream for him? Little Shawn from a small town called Pickering?

The man hummed, voice filled with a mixture of so many emotions as he said:

"You did it kid."

"Huh?" Shawn opened his eyes as he looked at the man beside him with furrowed brows. But he only grinned at him, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze before standing back to his full height.

"Come on. Let's get you back. Your dad might be looking for you." Shawn didn't question any further as his young brain tried to understand what the man could have meant.

There's no way that many people would be there for me. That's just impossible. Shawn thought to himself. But the more he tried his hardest to make it make sense, the more confused he was getting as he was just a young kid who know so little, so he decided to just forget about it.

With one last look at the view from the stage, Shawn smiled before turning back around, placing his guitar back on the case and following the man out.

***

"Dad's coming. Always remember kiddo, have the greatest time of your life."

The man gave Shawn a curt nod, hand grabbing his hat to tip it down with a wide smile, and that's when Shawn caught a glimpse of a bird tattoo on the man's hand.

A look of confusion coated the young boy's features but the man only smiled wide at that. And before Shawn could even ask about the tattoo, he heard the calling of his name.

"Shawn! Where have you been? I told you not to wander! Are you okay?" Manny's face was in full panic as he crouched down in front of the boy, cupping Shawn's face with both hands, turning it side to side to see if he was hurt.

"Dad I – I'm fine. Dad there's this man–" Shawn started, pointing back at where he last saw the man only to see no one. Manny followed Shawn's finger only to end up looking at nothing. "What man son?"

"He was–" Shawn blinked for a few times, brows furrowing as he scanned the crowd only to see no sign of the mysterious man. The boy's casted his eyes down at the guitar case he was clutching, staring at it for a few seconds before his gaze landed back up to stare at the stadium.

"Let's just go home bud. Your mum is worried sick."

Shawn nodded as he took his father's hand, walking down the street and taking one last look at the huge sign up above: Rogers Centre

***

Rogers Centre, Toronto, ON, Canada – September 6, 2019

Shawn stared at his swallow tattoo with a shaky breath.

His emotions were all over the place, the adrenaline in his veins growing tenfold as the lights flickered pink. He was all crouched down at the bottom of the stairs as the sub-bass thumped through his body.

His heart was racing against his ribs as the crowds roar only grew louder and louder by the second. Shawn gripped his guitar tighter to his chest, a wide and bright smile making its way to his lips as he looked up at the opening of the stage to see thousands of people all there for him, screaming his name. A small tear slipped out of Shawn's eyes, his heart full of warmth and gratitude as he reminisced on how far he's come, selling out his first ever stadium show, right here, in his home.

You did it kid.

Shawn shook his head with a soft chuckle, wiping his tears with the back up his hand before bringing it up to press his guitar pick against his lips, eyes fluttering close as he took one deep but thankful breath, right before someone in his ear said that it was time.

Placing the pick on the floor right under the stairs, Shawn climbed up slowly, emerging into the crowd as the people only screamed louder from there on out, that excitement all for him, a sense of pride and gratitude filling him up as walked and reached the middle of the stage.

Shawn gripped his guitar tight against his chest, and under his breath he spoke, his voice soft as a whisper that only he and that mystery man could hear the words:

"I did it."

-:-:-:-:-

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[welcome-to-the-end-of-eras]

My dad used to play club hockey when he was in college and has a lot of stories about different fights he got in, but he just told me about one and I can’t stop picturing the foxes so here we go:

-It’s a few years after the events of the book, and everyone except Neil has graduated

-The foxes make it to the championships, and to absolutely no one’s surprise they’re facing the ravens again, but thankfully the foxes will be at a home-court advantage

-Obviously both teams had changed a lot from the time R*ko was there, but I like to imagine that the ravens are still gargantuan pricks, just y’know less murder-y

-But none of the og champion foxes can’t bare to leave, so they’ve all gotten jobs helping around the stadium (student loans are also a real bitch and the school pays them pretty well)

-Matt, Dan, Andrew, and Renee work security for obvious reasons

-Allison and Nicky work the front desk (for the sake of this story he and Erik moved to the states) bc they like to shut down people looking to get in for free/being pricks about where their tickets are

-Aaron’s out selling the tickets bc he knows that if he sees someone being especially rough in the crowd Andrew’s gonna fight the guy and he just knows he’ll get roped into it

-But Kevin decided he’d come back and ref for the game, along with some former ravens to make sure it’s fair to both teams

-So the game’s going, it’s neck and neck, and Neil scores an point for the foxes that puts them just in the lead

-The ravens are having n o n e of that shit, so the next play Neil’s mark starts getting especially rough

-Like REALLY rough

-Kevin’s got his hand on the trigger with a red card, but the other refs are being bastards and saying “he hasn’t made an illegal play” and “it’s just a rough game, you’re being biased”

-But suddenly the guy marking Neil breaks off and starts going after some of the freshmen players, and Neil’s Captain/Mom Instincts start kicking in and he’s ready to fuckin demolish the guy

-The poor freshman his mark is targeting is trying to hold Neil back and tell him it’s not worth it, but as the kid turns his head Neil’s mark comes in swinging and does a baseball swing with his racket at the freshman’s head

-Ding ding, round one, Neil goes absolutely fucking batshit on the guy

-Kevin sprints over to break it up and he’s trying to pry Neil off the guy, but then he starts hearing all the shit his mark is spewing about how Neil’s “a psycho” and “deserves to rot like his dad”

-Ding ding, round two

-Suddenly THE Kevin Day, the same Kevin Day whose father is planning on making him run the Boston Marathon three times over if he so much as thinks about making a shit call on the ravens, is swinging on this guy with everything he has

-The people in the stands are going absolutely fucking nuts, the reporters are having a field day, and both teams have left the bench to help their respective teammates

-The security squad made an attempt to stay on task and make sure the crowd doesn’t riot, but as soon as one of the ravens knocked the cage off of Neil’s helmet Matt and Andrew took off running for the court

-Dan and Renee followed, intending to stop the two of them from getting involved, but they hear someone call Neil a fairy and suddenly Renee has her knives out and Dan’s knuckles are bruised and bloody

-Aaron went inside to hang out with Allison and Nicky after the game got started, and they all overhear some of the other stadium staff calling over the walkie-talkies for someone to call the campus police, so they turn on the monitor to see what the hell’s going on

-Aaron just mutters “ah, Christ” under his breath and makes a beeline for the court, Allison on his heels

-Nicky stayed behind to call the campus police, but as soon as he dialed the extension someone from the ravens put Andrew in a chokehold and started saying things in his ear with a smirk

-The small, almost imperceptible crack in his cousin’s apathetic facade had Nicky sprinting to catch up with Allison and Aaron

-On the court, Neil’s still swinging on the guy who hit the freshman when he notices Andrew in the chokehold

-If Neil wasn’t seeing red before, now he was drowning in it now

-Neil tears off towards them, rips the guy off Andrew, and takes the guy down

-Mind, the guy’s nearly twice his height and three times his width, but Neil is five feet and three inches of Rage and doesn’t stop wailing on him even after the guy passes out

-Andrew eventually gets Neil to stop, but at least 5 more guys are coming for them, so he grabs the guy’s racket and starts swinging it around

-Andrew: you want me, you gotta get through 6 feet of Christian

-Random Raven #1: only hockey sticks are called Christians, exy sticks-

-Renee, six feet of Christian: *body slams the guy*

-(I’m a simple lesbian and I love Tall Women so I choose to believe Renee is at least 6 ft tall, do not attempt to tell me otherwise)

-Eventually campus police get there and break up the fight, but over the years they had gotten pretty familiar with the foxes bc of their shenanigans, so they just go up to Neil and ask him “what’d these fuckers do to you to make you hit them so hard?”

-The ravens are fucking livid bc it’s OBVIOUSLY not THEIR fault (note the sarcasm), but no one’s rage can compare to Wymack’s

-Whew boy is man’s pissed

-He sits them all down (og foxes included) in the locker room and absolutely tears into them

-Wymack: WHAT THE FLYING FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL THE DEAN HUH??? THAT MY GUYS GOT IN A FIGHT AND THE FUCKING R E F JOINED IN??? THAT SECURITY STARTED BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THE OTHER TEAM??? THAT THE KIDS AT THE FUCKING DESK STARTED THROWING HANDS???

-Nicky: but coach you don’t understand, they’re fuckin pricks-

-Abby has to physically restrain him after that

-So the og foxes decide to have a little sleepover after things get sorted at the station and of course they get roaring drunk

-It’s a mess

-Kevin’s crying because he messed up the fox’s chance at a 4th consecutive championship title

-Matt can’t stop laughing and yelling “THAT’S MY WIFE” at the press footage of Dan bodying a girl on the ravens who tried to attack Allison while her back was turned

-Aaron just passes tf out. He’s Tired Of This Shit.

-Andrew and Neil aren’t quite as drunk as the others, but they’re a little tipsy when Neil asks why Andrew got involved if they got rid of their promise of protection

-Andrew just glares at him

-“117%”

-When they wake up the next morning, it’s to a series of missed calls from Wymack

-Neil answers after about 6 missed calls

-Neil: coach it’s 8 in the morning-

-Wymack: GET YOUR ASSES DOWNSTAIRS NOW

-So all of the v e r y hungover foxes drag their asses downstairs and who do they see but the dean of palmetto state holding up this morning’s headline that reads “NCAA Exy Championship Game Ends in All-Out War”

-Wymack is revving up to tear into them again despite being hungover himself, but the dean stops him and reads them all the statements from their favourite southern Californian exy team, who had been in the front row of the stands and witnessed everything firsthand

-“‘...the ravens were absolutely to blame,’ says former USC exy captain Jeremy Knox, who witnessed the altercation firsthand. ‘That backliner was way out of line, taking a shot like that at a kid half his size, and the rest of the Ravens were egging the guy on.’”

-Matt: I mean no shit-

-Dan: just keep reading, honey

-“‘...this is exactly the type of thing to be expected from one of Riko Moriyama’s protégée,’ Jean Moreau, both a former Raven and a former Trojan, tells the press. ‘Not only did he deviate from the game over a petty rivalry, but his teammates targeted specific players and staff with severe PTSD. The Raven’s should be held solely responsible for the altercation.’”

-Nicky: we already know that coach, what’d you drag us out of bed for???

-But before anyone could finish the article, someone in an official looking suit came in, wheeling the championship trophy into the middle of the confused group of kids

-They explained that both Jean and Jeremy’s first-hand accounts, as well as videos of the incident, convinced the board that there could absolutely not be a rematch between the two teams, but that the foxes would still be crowned the victors by default

-If Ichirou’s influence over the board had anything to do with their decision...well, a win’s a win for the foxes

-And that’s how the foxes, both old and new, ended up roaring drunk at the local Denny’s at 10 am on a Sunday

[coneygoil]

The Home We Built Together, part 23

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9| Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22

Writer’s note:  Hi everyone! Thank you for all the comments and kudos! This is the first fic I've ever hit 40k word count on and it's such a huge accomplishment for me! All of you have been great at giving me the motivation to keep going and make this my longest fic ever :)

Also, mentioning that this part is NSFW-ish. 

“You’re turn.”

Astrid’s brows disappeared into her bangs. “What?”

Her and Hiccup had worked with the Monstrous Nightmare the day before. It was hard to believe they were interacting with a dragon who only days before was trying to kill you in the training ring. She was astounded at how docile the fatal dragon could be, and even more astounded that a twig of a boy could tame such a beast with the offering of a gentle hand.

Hiccup swept an arm around. “Pick a dragon to train.”

“Oh no,” Astrid shook her head, not noticing the small step back she took, “You’re the dragon whisperer, not me.”

Hiccup grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side before she could inched away. “You can do it. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Standing there with an axe in her grip and ready to fight a seething dragon to the death seemed far easier than standing in front of one to befriend it. She knew Hiccup wouldn’t let her back out of this and resolved to his request.

Astrid pondered her decision carefully. The Gronkle was cumbersome and slobbery. Not really her type. The Hideous Zippleback had two heads to train. Double trouble. That fact turned her away instantly. Which left the Deadly Nadder. Sharp. Swift. Primed. Proper. Now that Astrid thought about it, her and Nadders had a lot in common; something she could work with.

She grabbed a chicken leg from the feeding basket and approached the cage. “Let the Nadder loose.”

Hiccup gave her a side-look, nodding approvingly. “I can see it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, figuring he’d put two and two together as well. Astrid raised her chin and stood tall as Hiccup opened the cage. If Hiccup could tame the beasts, she could too…right? Astrid pushed any doubt away.

The blue Nadder squawked threateningly at her, its wings spread wide. “It’s okay,” Astrid reassured, trying to keep her voice steady. The Nadder remained in its defensive position. “You hungry?” It sniffed the offered chicken leg from its spot and crowed sounds of interest.

“Here you go.” Astrid tossed the chicken towards the Nadder, and it caught the food with an eager snap. Once the food was eaten, it turned its head to the side to get a better look at Astrid.

Astrid took one small step after another towards the dragon, palm held out in front of her just as Hiccup instructed her to do. “I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you in the ring. I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

For a split second, Astrid was hit by the surrealness of her current situation. She’d hurt this dragon more than once in the training ring. It had every right to rip her to pieces, but it only watched her cautiously as she slowly approached.

Astrid stopped, keeping her hand extended in front of her. “I won’t hurt you,” she barely said over a whisper, as if any louder would destroy the delicate moment.

Her breath caught in her throat as the Nadder leaned its beak forward and pressed it to her palm. Astrid’s mouth formed a surprised ‘O’ as her lungs filled with air again. She rubbed the Nadder’s horn, its heated breath fanning over her arm.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Hiccup watching from the cage entrance wearing the warmest smile she’d ever seen cross his lips. Right there, at that very second as they gazed at each other, something new had taken hold of her and Astrid wanted more.

***

As they worked with the dragons that morning, new desires stirred in Astrid that had barely been ignited before. She yearned to be closer with Hiccup in ways she wasn’t sure how to acquire and needs she didn’t realize she had until recently.

They went through their evening routine of sitting by the firepit. Astrid had scooted her bench closer to Hiccup’s and rested a hand on his knee. Her cheeks flushed in delight as his arm curled around her waist.

Astrid made sure to get to the bedroom first, leaving Hiccup to wash the mugs and douse the fire. Rummaging through her trunk, she pulled out the sheer nightgown that was gifted to her by the married women of the tribe. She was told to use it to seduce her husband. At the time, the idea sounded preposterous. She never imagined desiring Hiccup in such a way. But now, the thought sent shivery sparks along her skin where she longed for Hiccup’s touch.

Astrid quickly changed into the nightgown and crawled onto the bed. She tucked her legs underneath her, the coolness of the air clinging to the nearly transparent material and causing chill bumps on her skin. The rhythmic pumping of her heart carried extra blood to her cheeks and ears. She was a blushing bride if there ever was one!

Her heart leapt into her throat at Hiccup’s footfalls on the stairs. Astrid fiddled with her loose hair, twisting it over one shoulder, making sure the flowing locks weren’t covering her delectable places.

“Hey Astrid, I was thinking—”

Hiccup nearly stumbled over his own feet as the top half of him came to a screeching halt. Astrid shifted her shoulders, trying to look as pleasing as possible. She was lost as to what to do with her face in an affair like this. She found her bottom lip and nibbled on it, her nerves tingling throughout her body.

The trance Hiccup had fallen into broke, and he averted his eyes to the floor. “You’re uh…you’re…” His words stuck in his throat.

It was apparent by his immobility that he wasn’t going to make the first move. Astrid left the safe zone of the bed and closed the distance between them. She tried to steady her breathing. This was uncharted terrain; a step in the direction she’d never entertained.

Her mother had given her several lessons on the subject of the “marriage bed”. The biology behind it was the first lesson taught. How both the man’s and the woman’s bodies were to react to each other and how it was to all play out. The points were basic, and to Astrid the whole matter was like two giant puzzle pieces fitting together. That part seemed simple enough, but she didn’t count on the desires being this strong or this complicated or this confusing. That lesson was hardly covered.

Hiccup’s gaze was careful to stay fixed on her face, their eyes locked in a strange battle of wanton and heavy blushing. Astrid took the lead, leaning in to press tingling lips to her husband’s. Hiccup’s breath was heavy on her face as she closes the space between them.

Astrid wasn’t sure if this was how these matters were supposed to play out, but her natural instincts aided her limbs to move on their own accord. It took a hesitant moment for Hiccup to respond, but as Astrid worked her lips on his, his startled state began to melt away.

Hiccup grasped her hands in his, holding tight as if she were his lifeline from drifting out to sea. A shiver coursed through her and Astrid knew exactly what she wanted. She guided Hiccup’s left hand to the soft mound awaiting to be touched.

She swallowed Hiccup’s gasp. He wanted to pull away, but this was a barrier they needed to break down and Astrid knew she had to be the stronger one to do it.

Astrid held his hand in place, his palm covering her breast. Cupping the outside of his palm, she worked his hand to squeeze the mound of skin through the sheer nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. She can feel the trembles that shook up his arm, and the reaction did the same to her.

Astrid wrapped nimble fingers around his waist, drawing Hiccup flush against her. Her mind was hazy, and her vision was seeing stars at the newly founded needs.

Astrid paused at the feel of something hard on her thigh. Her recollection of what was happening all came to her. She wasn’t sure what it looked like, but she did know the man was supposed to become hard down there during intimate endeavors. She wondered if her touch would feel just as good to him down there as Hiccup’s ministrations were on her breast.

Astrid slipped a hand between them, cupping the hardness in his pants. Hiccup’s hips suddenly jerked and he hissed as if burned.

“Does that feel good or bad?” Astrid asked uncertainly, inches his lips.

“Good,” Hiccup choked out. His eyes screwed shut as his jaw clinched.

She pressed into the bulge one again. Hiccup groaned deep in his throat.

Astrid wasn’t sure what should happen next. They both needed to be unrobed for the puzzle pieces to fit together. There was an uncertainty inside her whether she wanted to get to that part yet. There was so much more exploring to be done, so much more mapping out of both their bodies.

The squeeze of his hand on her breast elicited excitement inside her, like when Hiccup held her waist as they fell asleep at night. Astrid wondered how he’d react if she slid her palm up the length in his pants. With unabated curiosity, she did just that.

Hiccup’s bulge spasmed under her stroke. He whimpered and groaned and made noises Astrid didn’t think he could produce. He doubled over, pressing his forehead into her crook of her neck. One hand gripped her forearm as the other needled fingertips into the curve of her waist.

He looked as if he were more in pain than he was in pleasure. Astrid hoped that Hiccup would tell her if something was wrong.

Dampness had somehow seeped through the material of Hiccup’s pants, and Astrid removed her hand at the unexpected liquid.

“Did you wet your pants?” she asked, afraid she’d pushed him too far too soon.

Hiccup’s eyes shot open in horror as he jerked his head up. “Oh no,” he panted, out of breath. “I gotta—” He glanced down at the state of his pants. “Oh my Thor—I gotta go—”

“Hiccup?” Astrid called out as she watched him make a quick beeline out of the bedroom. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back!” echoed from down the stairs.

Astrid huffed as she stood there, abandoned and bewildered at what in Thor’s name had happened.

tags: @martabm90 @chiefhiccstrid @drchee5e @celtictreemuffin @ hey-its-laura-again 

[writinggolden]

Sunny Sweets

prompts: genesis and david meet at an ice cream shop, and can’t help but keep meeting up. ice cream isn’t the only sweet thing there

warnings: just lots of fluff (this was made for my friend genesis, so that’s why these names are used)

The ice creams shop door rings, your attention is pulled from your phone to the customer. A tall, good looking guy walks into the shop, his cute smile instantly takes your breath away. You shake your head and sigh, you really believed  no guy like him would actually go for you. You couldn’t help but take secret glances at him while he made his ice cream, a smile forming on your face. You look back at your phone, a new Chris Hemsworth article catching your eyes. You hear the loud screeching of a chair and look up. The cute boy that walked in was suddenly standing right in front of you.  

“Can I sit here?” he grinned down at you. You froze, you were surprised this boy wanted to sit with you. “Y-Yeah sure,” you smiled shyly at him as he took a seat and placed his arms on the table. Your cheeks were visibly pink and you couldn’t help but softly smile at him. “I’m david,” he exclaims his lips attacking his icecream, making you chuckle. “I’m genesis,” you breath out, his eyes sparkling at you, a glow on his cheek from the sun. “I couldn’t help but sit here and talk to such a beautiful girl,” he shows a lopsided grin and you can’t help but giggle and blush. He continues to lick his ice cream and asks you about your day.

You guys had a long conversation. Talking about your families and hobbies. You really felt a connection with him and hoped more could happen. The sun set and the store was closing, so you and David finish your conversation about marvel movies and slide out of your chair and walk out. “Can I walk you home?” He asks staring into your eyes, making you a bit dizzy. “You d-don’t have to,” you stutter whilst tapping your foot on the floor. “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home,” you sighed and couldn’t help but let out a soft snicker. “Then walk me home,” you reply as you walk past him and head towards your house, his feet instantly speed up to catch you.

You talk more on the way home, your arms slightly touching eachother with each swing, your cheeks heating up at each brush. You finally stop at your place and you turn to look at him. “Thank you so much for waking me home, I had a great time,” you say as your wrap your arms around yourself. He gives you a soft grin, “You’re welcome, I had a great time too angel, maybe we can do it again sometime?”. You quickly agree and you both decide on 3 o’clock on Saturday. You slowly lean over and place a kiss on his cheek. “Bye,” you squeak and run up to your door. He smiles softly as your run up your steps, he thought you were adorable.

It was finally Saturday and you had your date with David today at 3. You put on a cute dress and shoes and left your house, and headed to the ice cream shop. The annoyingly happy bell chimes as you walk through the door. Your head goes straight to where you sat yesterday, and you grin when you see David sitting there. You have a pep in your walk and you stride over to him. “H-Hey,” you mentally groan at your studder and can’t help but blush when he looks up at you. “Hey Gen,” he gets up and wraps his arms around you, causing you to smell his lovely scent. You separate and you take a seat across from him.

“I can go order if you want? What would you like?” he questions softly, a kind smile on his face. “Strawberry ice cream please,” you respond as you play with your fingers, anxiously. You watch him walk over to the counter and you can’t help but smile adoringly at him. He had a strong back and a cute butt, making you more intrigued with this boy. He comes back with your ice creams and you beg him to let you pay him back, but he just keeps denying so you give up, shyly. You guys have a long talk again, lasting almost 3 hours. You talked about Thor, Chris Hemsworth, and your drama classes from highschool. “Shoot I have to go, I have a class in 20 minutes,” David sighs as he looks up to you from his watch. “It’s okay david, I understand,” you smile sweetly and he can’t help but pout. “Hey cmon davey it’s okay,” your eyes widen at the nickname, “s-sorry i shouldnt of”.

“No gen it’s okay, I liked it,” he winked at you and threw his cup away. You slide out of your chair, causing a screeching noise to fill the shop. He walks over and wraps his arms around you, and places a warm kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you later gen, let me give you my number,” he whispers into your ear and your cheeks tint a rosey pink. He pulls away and writes it down on a forgotten napkin on your table. He hands it too you and you blush, “okay bye”. You wave bye and watch him walk out of the shop. Since then, you and David started to go to that shop every week. after his classes, he would meet you at the ice cream shop and you’d get strawberry or mint chip, like always. Your first kiss with him was there, and you’ll never forget it.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his cheesy joke, tears springed in the corner of your eyes. “You have some ice cream right there,” David points to the cream on the corner of your mouth. You blush and go to wipe it off your face until David grabs your hands and places them on the table. He quickly presses his lips against yours in a delicious kiss, and pulls away with a silent smirk, “got it”.

After that David asked you out as you walked out of the shop, and you’ve been dating ever since then, and your first I love you was said there too.

He licked the ice cream violently, the sweet cream dropped down his chin onto his cute hoodie (that you planned on stealing from his closet). He laughed loudly as you squeaked and covered your face, he was trying to embarrass you. “Baby stop, you’re causing a scene,” you tried to hold back your smile when you spoke but you couldn’t help it, he was just too cute. He wipes it off his chin and gives you a lopsided grin. “Sorry lovie, I just love embarrassin you,” you giggle, “ya I know that’s why I love you”. You blink quickly as you realize what you just said and sit silently. His mouth was dropped, “I’m so in love with you,” he mumbles back as he smeares his lips against yours, passionately.

If you didn’t think that was much, well you’re in for a sweet treat. You and David got married, at the beach next to the ice cream shop. The ice cream store caterered, and let you have your reception in the shop (they knew you very well and would do anything for you and David).

His hand slips around your waist tightly, his suit hugs his wrists snugly. “Did I tell you look gorgeous in your dress yet?” David asks as you sway back n forth on the dance floor. “Yes you have, lots of times, but i definitely don’t mind,” you reply softly and he leans forward and kisses you. “Time to cut the cake,” someone shouts from the kitchen and you all surround the beautiful wedding cake. You both take the same knife and cut a slice out together and giggle. You look at the camera next to you and smile for a picture, until you feel a cold substance smash against your face. The room erupts in laughter and you squeal as it drips off you. ”daveyyyy,” you whine and he snickers and wipes it off and kisses your nose. Your hand slowly sinks into the ice cream without him noticing, “give me a kiss”. He grins and goes down to kiss you until you repeat his actions and smash ice cream in his face. He squeals, “that’s cold,” everyone laughs and you can’t help but smile at him lovingly.

Of course, 6 years later, you’re seated on the bench outside. Your husbands hand is wrapped around your shoulders and your left hand rubs your child’s head as you lick your mint chocolate ice cream. You had your daughter and son on each side of you and David. You and him bought the ice cream shop three years after being married. You left it exactly the same, because you both knew it still had the power to have people meet their sweet soulmate. oh and it was nice to have sweet treats there too.