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jjuwuni · 1 year

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caught in his web ; choi yeonjun ch. 1 | SWEET DREAMS

pairings — yeonjun x afab reader

genre — smut (lots of it so minors dni please), fluff, angst, college!au, friends to lovers, drama

word count (for this chapter) — ~2.3k

summary — You thought you’d be immune to Choi Yeonjun's charms, turns out you were completely, utterly, shamefully wrong.

And what’s worse? He’s your new best friend's boyfriend.

Wanna hear something even worse than that? His dad and your mom are dating.

MOA University: An educational institution created for the 1%. The elite of the elites. Those who are to inherit large multinational companies, take oath in office, and represent Korea's future in business and politics. This is where it begins.

warnings — almost-stepbro!yeonjun but not really since your parents are in the early stages of dating, kinda slow burn yes, black haired!yeonjun, bad boy yeonjun, all of you are trust fund babies, all the tubatu's make a cameo and are in the same friend group, might reference some other 4th gen idols, alcohol, drinking, drunken mishaps, lots of sex, profanity - lots of it, yeonjun is a menace but he's so cute wtf i'm screaming, jealousy, making out etc. minors dni istg! i'm watching y'all..

A/N: hello! bela here! my apologies for dipping after posting the preview. here is the official first chapter! hope you guys like it. i'll try to update more frequently. 🙏 comments and reblogs are very much appreciated xoxo also please do let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the next parts!

MASTERLIST: [ preview ] | [ 1 ] | [ 2 ] | [ 3 ]

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

“O-oh..” You clear your throat after telling yourself to get it together about a million times. Opening your mouth after what seemed like an eternity, “I uh.. Uncle Minjun? It’s nice to meet you. I’m y/n.” You offer your hand out to the man who was undeniably a splitting image of Yeonjun - just older.

He was dashing and had an air of charisma around him. One would know that being in the real estate business, you need to have some type of charm after all, so you're not too surprised that he owns the biggest housing and commercial property business in Asia. He seemed like the type to be able to sway you easily into buying things without much hesitation.

Also explains why your mom fell for him.

“y/n.. Very nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you from your mother, you seem like a very smart lady. And as expected - beautiful too. Surely you have a lot of suitors by now, eh?” He says in a playful manner, as you finally take a seat to join them, right across from Yeonjun.

“Oh, trust me, dad. Soobinnie's all over her.” The male across from you nonchalantly points out, making you cough right as you scoop the clear soup into your mouth.

“Oh? CEO Dongwon's son? Well sounds like he’s a decent man.” Your mother for sure wouldn't pass off the chance to give her two cents, “Why didn’t you tell me this, sweetie? You should invite Soobin here sometime.” She lets out a giddy laugh as you grimace into your soup.

"Well, we’re not an item, Mom. And you know I want to focus on my studies first…”

“It’s rare you hear that nowadays eh? I wish my son would see education the same way as you y/n. Maybe you should teach him a thing or two, huh?” Minjun replies, sipping from his scotch glass and giving Yeonjun a look to which the younger male replies with a sarcastic scowl.

“I’m sure Chaewon’s got that covered.” You take the opportunity to tease back, it was your way of repaying him for bringing Soobin up. “They’re a really cute couple.” You smile the sweetest one you can muster and look over at his dad who seems to suddenly be interested at the mere mention of a girl.

“Well, if you’re serious about dating her, son, stop bringing random girls home. You know the guards see you when you do that, right? It's quite distasteful really.”

Your eyes widen upon learning this little piece of information, he was still bringing girls home, even though he’s dating my friend? You think to yourself. You could feel Yeonjun’s glare directed at you from across the table, but ultimately decide to avoid it and just eat.

“I-I’ll go get the dessert.” You shoot up from your seat not too long after, wanting to do anything to get you out of that semi-awkward situation.

“I’ll help you y/n!” Yeonjun chimes in, walking behind you and following you into the kitchen- giving you no other choice.

“Ahjumma, can you please take out the cream cake my mom bought this morning? I’ll cut it myself.” You say in a polite tone and a smile to match, watching the older lady walk out back to the refrigerators to go grab it.

You let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back against the expensive Italian marble countertop. “Not even an hour with you and I’m already tired.” You glare at the male.

It’s true, there’s a reason why you never got along with him, as he was always picking on you. But it was more of a welcomed gesture for you because even though it was annoying, you were just glad you are not a part of the population of MOA-U girls who have fallen victim and succumbed to his charms.

“Well, you do know what this means… right y/n?” Yeonjun asks, almost in a teasing tone from what you can pick up.

Soon, his hands lay flat over the countertop, on each side of your hip - effectively trapping you in.

You swallow hard, you’ve never been this close to him before.

Chaewon always had somewhat of a fence around him in school, which is why we’ve never been face-to-face like this. You find yourself taking note of his prominent features- from his black locks, which complimented his hazel eyes, his strong jawline, his raised nose bridge, and even that cute, boyish smile.

“H-huh?” Great, what was that part about being immune to his charms again?

“We’re going to be siblings," He says, arms wrapping around your waist, "..so you’ll see more of me around, most likely.” His smile stretches out even more, and it was like he enjoyed that you were flustered by the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Like a shark being able to smell fear from a few feet away.

"You're... You weirdo." Was all you were able to say, and it took all of your might to push him off of you, and right on time too, as the help finally came back with the cake to save the day.

You leave the kitchen as fast as you could, and even as you briskly walked away, you could feel Yeonjun smirking behind you.

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

"I don't know how I feel about it, honestly." You say as you plop down on one of the couches in Chaewon's living room after school that day.

"My best friend and my boyfriend becoming step-siblings? Who would have thought..." Chaewon says with a smile, though you couldn't tell if it was a sarcastic smile or one that was of genuine nature.

"I know my mom's been a notorious magnet for rich dudes but I never thought she would end up in the arms of Choi Minjun, tsk. This is driving me nuts." You whine out, pulling at your hair and punching the throw pillow repeatedly.

"You do know there's some business strategy side to this, right unnie?" Minjeong suddenly speaks up. The youngest in your group rarely opened her mouth, which is why all four of you were all ears whenever she decides to give her input on things.

"How so?" You ask, trying to make sense of the situation and guessing where she was going with this statement.

"Mm well... Yeonjun oppa's dad owns a lot of properties, and you guys own a lot of department stores.. So if your companies merge... Then, your mom can expand to more places and oppa's dad will acquire more patrons because of the brand - since your mom does have an insane amount of fans. It will be the merger that everyone in Korea will be talking about."

"Wow.. I never really thought of it that way." You say in a hushed tone, trying to put the pieces together.

"At this rate you'll be richer than all three of us combined. With the exception of Chaewon, of course." Yeji says in a joking manner, her statement causing Chaewon to flip her hair over her shoulder.

You laugh it off, "Ah, well- that's.. that's really not my concern now. All I know is that my mother needs to get her life together.."

"Well look at the bright side y/n, at least you get to look after my baby for me," Chaewon interjects, putting her hand over her chest. "You know, you can report to me and tell me if there are girls who try to flirt with him and all that. You’re basically going to be his younger sister anyways." She points out, nodding her head a few times.

You stay silent, suddenly remembering that one little fact that his dad gave away at dinner.

He was still bringing random girls home at this point.

There was an inner battle in you suddenly - should I say something? Or should I keep it under wraps since their relationship isn’t my business anyway? Something prompts you to go for the latter, not open your mouth and just nod.

You'd rather not be caught in the middle of the drama.

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

As expected, there was another party that night at Chaewon’s house.

There were indeed perks to being inheritors to future companies: your parents were more often than not, too busy to take note of anyone's whereabouts. Which is why you have the luxury to party whenever you wanted.

Surprisingly, you were actually in the mood to party then. As you’ve managed to down a few shots of soju as well as soju bombs with Yeji.

And not surprisingly, Chaewon was all over Yeonjun that night.

You could feel him staring at you from time to time though. Nevertheless, you don't think much of it- as you’ve always made it a point not to.

He's probably waiting for me to f*ck up or something so he can tattletale on me to my mom next time we have a ‘family’ meal.

“How’s my favorite girl?” Soobin’s voice made its presence known as he wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you into a hug. Your arms instinctively wrap around his torso, and you stay that way for a few minutes.

“Ah- y/n! Before I forget! Remember how you were looking for that limited edition version of that manga we both loved?!” He asks as you pull away from the hug. You, of course, nod quickly.

The two of you have a lot of similarities, and your love for mangas and graphic novels was one of them.

In a swift motion, he then pulls out something from his bag. And lo and behold, in its pristine condition, was the same novel you've been searching high and low for.

“WHAT! NO WAY!!!” You shout over the music, enough to draw attention from the people around you. You envelop him in another excited hug out of gratitude. “I can’t believe you found it?! How did you do it? I had my mom’s assistant look all over for it. Even my grandparents’ staff were searching for it.”

“Ah well, I have my connections. You’re not the only one, y/n.” Soobin winks as soon as you pull away to take the manga and read through the back cover.

The rest of the night was spent with Soobin and a few more soju bottles. And by the end of the night, you were feeling the ugly effects of alcohol.

Cuddled up with him on one side of the couch, with the two of you talking about all the animes you’ve watched the past week. It was pretty fun to have someone with whom you could nerd out, especially in a group of socialites such as the one you both have.

“Ah, you’re remarkable. I can’t believe you like the same things I do.” He said, pinching your nose which causes you to scrunch it upwards.

“y/n...?” He suddenly grows quiet after a few moments of just staring at each other.

“H-huh?” You ask, your forehead creasing in curiosity. Unfortunately, right on time, your vision starts to blur, and the dimmed-out lights in the living room turned party area wasn’t helping. “W-what is it?”

“C-can I k-kiss-- Y-yah.. y/n?! Hey! You ok?!”

That was pretty much the last thing you hear before passing out.

And that was it, your dear old friend alcohol got the better of you, knocking you out on his lap.

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

“Yeonjun, I don’t understand, you know I can bring her home safely.”

Was I dreaming?

“I know, but I promised her mom I’d take care of her, and that’s what I’ll do so hand her over.” His voice didn’t falter, standing firm to the promise he made to your mom.

W-wait.. I can’t see anything.. I can’t open my eyes. I’m still dizzy, I can only hear faintly.. Ah, what is happening to me?!..

“Pff, alright, fine Jjunie.. But you better not try any funny business.”

You could feel another pair of strong arms underneath you, cradling you as you shifted. The air is crisp and cold as it brushes through your legs. You were outside.

“Babe! Where are you going?! You can let Soobin handle her and the party’s not over yet.”

That was Chaewon’s voice..

“I have to go Chae, I’ll bring her home first and make sure she’s settled. I’ll see you tomorrow in school hmm?”

————-　★　-———— . ————-　★　-————

You wake up to music, a hummed lullaby of sorts. It was soothing and pleasant to hear. You can feel the soft mattress under your tired body. With how familiar it all felt, you could tell you were in your bed.

Apart from that, you can feel someone stroking your hair.

Your eyelids felt so heavy as you open them, curious to see who it was. But you could barely see, vision still blurry no thanks to the after-effects of alcohol.

Add that, and the fact that it was rather pitch dark around your room- signaling that all the lights were off.

Someone was in your room, that you knew. Because you can hear him and his melodic humming, and whoever it was- he was unmistakably sitting at the edge of your bed next to you.

“O-ow..” You croak out, feeling the throbbing in your head. Pressing the palm of your hand against your forehead almost immediately, the melodic, soft voice cuts as you note the mattress' weight shift when the person beside you leans in to check on you.

“y/n, don't get up, just get some rest…” That voice, you know who it belongs to, but it took you a while to process it.

Yeonjun’s voice?

Even though you wanted so badly to keep your eyes open and verify if your guess was correct, you've had way too much to drink to keep up.

You couldn’t believe it though. How can someone so rugged and nonchalant about things have such a sweet voice? Plus, the mere idea that he’s here to make sure you're okay- that definitely does not seem like something he’d do.

Or have you had a skewed vision of him this whole time?

Soon after, You feel his lips against your forehead. His soft buds leave a small peck and a tingling sensation on your skin, and you swore your cheeks felt a lot more heated than it was before.

At that point, you weren't sure if it was all a dream. You feel your stomach churn. Was it butterflies? Nah, it must be the soju. You tell yourself.

“Sweet dreams, y/n.” And with that, you drift off into dreamland.

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darkhymns-fic · 7 months

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A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening

Husk used to like dancing, once upon a time.

Amazing how certain people can ruin such things for you.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Alastor/Husk, Charlie Morningstar, Angel Dust Rating: M Word Count: 4421 Mirror: AO3 Notes: I caved in and wrote fic for the funny swearing cartoon. Please note that this story contains depictions of abuse and power dynamics, as well as implications of violence. More tags are listed on the AO3 mirror. Grumpy cat man does not have a good time here (or even a choice).

Husk raised an eyebrow as he processed the information that was passed to him. (No, he couldn’t have heard that right.)

He was still cleaning up a shot glass with a less-than-clean rag, but his movements slowed, keeping his eyes level with the princess of Hell who stood in front of his bar. The eerie glow of the wooden walls fell over her hair, coating it in a green sheen that reminded him of poison dripping down the strands. A bitter but familiar taste settled on his tongue.

“…A dance party?” he finally asked her.

“Yes! For everyone in the hotel! There’s gonna be balloons and camaraderie and so much music!” Charlie was bouncing up and down on her toes. If she got any more excited, she’d probably jump straight up through the roof. Not like it would’ve been the first construction hazard the hotel had, or even the last. “It was Alastor’s idea! He said it would be a really good morale booster!”

Not a whisker twitched on Husk’s face, but he could feel the cracks in the glass forming underneath his hand. Another one for the dustbin. “Of course it was.”

Too low for Charlie to hear him, not that he wanted her to. She was riding on cloud nine, which was an achievement for a Hell-born denizen. “I just gotta get all the decorations set up! Oh! And Alastor told me to invite you specifically! It’s going to be so much fun!”

Thankfully, Charlie turned away then—to check up on all those decorations, the bright balloons, and streamers, and what looked like a disco ball (?) up top that was just gonna break the beams of this shack of a building. Because by then, the glass Husk was holding had shattered to pieces.

With a growl, he picked away at the shards embedded in his fur, one by one. Just a few of them were stained in blood, their color gaining a sickly green hue from the glow of the bar.

What a painful way to start the night.

Before anyone had even hit the dance floor, Husk was already shit-faced. But he wasn’t blackout drunk, and right now, that was his ultimate goal. Cheap booze was hardly good for anything else.

He could barely care whatever music was playing—but by the way Charlie was twirling and shaking her arms like an excitable chicken, it must have been some of that new pop stuff Husk never took much of a liking to. Much of the scene was a blur to him, still staying put behind his bar, hoping to be forgotten for his boss’ new…interest.

(Awful to think, but some men craving for freedom, for anything, become desperate. He knew this too well.)

Alastor was doing all he could to encourage the princess with a bleeding heart; holding up his mic to comment on her dancing techniques, to cue applause at just the right moment, always telling her the same thing. “Wonderful! Just a wonderful performance!”

Even so, one could barely call this much of a party. Hazbin Hotel’s guests were so few—still only two total—but that Sir Pentious was also doing some of the dorkiest moves Husk had ever seen, and still falling face-first on the floor despite having no legs to trip over to begin with. Somehow, Angel Dust’s moves weren’t as X-rated as Husk would have expected on any other day. Instead, the guy was lending a pair of hands to Niffty, letting her lead yet still somehow controlling her rabid movements to pull him across the floor, also avoiding any sudden bites she would randomly decide to do.

There were times, also, when he would see Alastor reach out a hand to Charlie. He’d lean on his cane, mouth close to the mic head, humming a little ditty reminiscent of the jazz lounges back when their bodies weren’t made of fur and weird demon magic. It wouldn’t be the first time Alastor danced with the princess, but then an arm would reach out, safely guiding Charlie away from him.

Surprising that the same arm lacked a spear in it, one with a suspicious glint to it that Husk recognized but bit his tongue from ever mentioning. Vaggie’s one eye burned brighter than most firepits, and Charlie, innocent soul that she was, thought her girlfriend was just impatient for another close dance.

“Aw, Vaggie! Did you wanna try the Lindy Hop together?”

Another glare, her and the red demon’s staring contest looking ludicrous underneath the shifting lights of the spinning ball overhead. “Yeah, sure thing, hun.” And then she broke from that gaze, her expression changing to softness as she looked at Charlie in the blink of an eye and just that. It must have been love, not that Husk knew anything about it anymore. “I’ll follow your lead, if that’s okay.”

Alastor kept his smile as they both moved away, slowly pulling back his hand as his fingers curled. But a close listener could hear the static, garbling slowly in a crescendo. No, his boss didn’t like being denied his playthings.

And if he wasn’t being entertained this very second, then he’d—

“Hey, ya gonna join us? This dance party’s not half bad.” Angel Dust leaned on the bar, grinning as he took his usual seat. He hid it well, but Husk noted how his chest shifted with his heavy breathing, using his second right arm to discreetly wipe away the sweat from the fluff. It took all one had to keep up with Niffty, even from a guy who claimed to have amazing stamina.

Crossing one leg over the other, Angel kept up his smile, but it lacked the biting veneer from other times. An honesty that could be seen, even with Husk’s somewhat blurry sight. “I mean,” Angel continued. “If ya feel like sucking off that bottle instead of something with a little more taste.”

Husk didn’t take offense to such jokes anymore (just for show, which he also knew all too well) but he still didn’t move. This was the closest to safety he got. Besides, the bottle wasn’t even empty yet. “Nah, got two left feet. Wouldn’t work out.”

At that, Angel Dust laughed. “Didn’t stop our slithery friend over there! Or even Niffty! Though, uh…”

A quick look from them both showed the tiny Niffty now crawling along the walls, heading for the disco ball and then clamping it tightly with her entire body.

“Yeah,” Angel nodded. “Think she’s got the hang of it now.”

Husk shrugged. He slid a glass to Angel that was half-full, a motion he could still do even with slightly trembling hands. “Don’t let me tie you down, kid. I’ve seen your moves.” He allowed himself a smile, one he could say he even felt.

Angel took the drink, one that could barely buzz a chihuahua, and gave Husk a smile back just as he stood up. All limbs, and a smile that hid back its usual gleam for fatigued eyes. “Alright, but if you change your mind, I bet I could teach you how to move it.”

Husk could barely count the minutes since Angel left and the party continued. The soundtrack for the dance eventually changed from the generic pop to a swing number—one that Husk could probably mouth the words to if he still had any hope inside him. And sometimes, he did feel it. Staying in this hotel was misery at first until the faces became more familiar, more concerned, and less like the eyes of something that hunted and searched for that moment of weakness.

The music was as grainy as his vision, so heavily textured and straining on the ears that he kept trying to pick it up, even as it changed. The vocals. The soft melancholic chorus in the background. It lacked the instruments of the previous songs. Weird choice for a dance. So much did he focus on it, all while holding a whiskey bottle with both hands because now he wanted some of the good stuff. He stared into the warped glass as he listened for so long that he forgot how there was no safe place for him. Just for a moment, but that was all it took.

A shadow fell over the bar. Over him. He knew who it was. Husk tipped the bottle to his lips and took long, long drink.

“Husker! My dear friend, didn’t you get my invite?”

It was a while before he answered. He slammed the bottle onto the mahogany surface, twisted his lips. Already empty, he needed another. “Yeah, I did. What about it?” Whiskey made him braver, but also careless. “Gotta keep serving the guests, don’t I?”

He heard the familiar chuckle, frizzled and slightly skipping, as if the vinyl had been scratched. “While it is good to see you still keeping to your deal, you have to understand it’s rude to RSVP and then not show.”

He wrenched the cork from his new bottle; wine this time, because this felt like as good of a time to switching things up as any. He watched the mist curl from the opening with all the fascination of a man pointedly avoiding the signals around him. “I am here to anyone that’s got eyes. Besides, I never promised Charlie I would actually dance.”

“Oh? You saying our little princess is a fibber?”

“I’m saying you only hear what you want. All the damn fucking time!” A hard grip, and then, he made the mistake of raising his head to see. (Never look into his eyes, you fool.) “Why don’t you take your dumbass musical project and just shove it along with that stupid mic of yours?! At least then I can just—”

Something tugged him forward. Cold yet hot at the same time, just around his neck and clenched tight. He gripped the bar, claws digging in to keep himself from slamming his forehead into the wood.

Suddenly, his vision was crystal-clear.

The eyes burned into his. Red as the fiery sun over the sea, as the freshly split blood over a forest floor. A grin that was impossibly wide for a living thing, but neither of them were alive anymore, so all he could do was wait for when those same fangs would bite down on something else other than pride. Strange, twisting shapes curled from behind, appearing from behind the Radio Demon, like some demented crown of thorns.

“Silly Husker. That wasn’t a request and you know it.”

Oh, he knew it.

In the chaotic lighting of the room, from that fucking stupid disco ball, to the blinding streamers and balloons, and even a few rave sticks Husk caught Sir Pentious waving around, no one would notice the subtle green of the chains. How they burned into Husk’s neck, rubbing it raw until the fur would fall off, leaving him bruised beneath.

He shook again, keeping himself upright as much as he could. All to not be humiliated again, and this time in front a crowd. They would hate seeing him that way. They would demand Alastor to stop.

But the crushing indignity was too much to endure that.

“Fine,” he hissed out. “Do whatever you want.”

“Why, gladly!”

The chain vanished. Husk was left gasping, his fingers pressed against his throat to feel for any mark. (Just his property and nothing else). But he saw the hand now held out to him, palm facing upward. Those seemingly delicate fingers moved back and forth, and there was the familiar static, the usual dead air, but also…if one could turn the dial just so, the faint cacophony of screams that echoed in the distance, only to be drowned out by grainy noise.

“Shall we dance, dear Husker?”

Any choice he had once, he’d already made a while back.

Husk said nothing as he slid his hand into the other’s, claws carefully dulled to not scratch. He was practically pulled over the bar, his wings flapping in surprise. Red and black feathers circled around them both, and then he was tugged in close, looking up at the man with the smile that had now considerably shrunk—to look charming, almost. But always sharp and ready to bite.

“Now look lively, my dear. It’s as if your feet are encased in cement!”

The voice slid through his chest, like poison once more, carefully given to him in small doses over the years. A hand placed itself at the small of his back, his feet nearly lifted off the floor. An arm kept his wings closed in, so that they couldn’t stretch, like a straight-jacket forcibly put on him. Those wings were one of the few things he even liked about his form here in Hell, even if he sometimes found them to be an eyesore. But nothing else now could catch him from falling.

Nowhere to stabilize himself except in Alastor’s arms.

Anything to make him feel helpless. Vulnerable. Nothing more than a pet.

That’s all he was to him.

Alastor leaned in slightly, moving Husk’s free hand to clasp onto the taller demon’s shoulder. Husk sighed, but he followed through. Resigned. Better to be led through and survive the night without much damage. (Why even fight it?)

Just barely on his toes, and feeling the sharp nails dig just against his fur, they started their dance across the floor.

This wasn’t the first time they did this.

It was easy to fall into the motions. The thing that Husk had to begrudgingly admit was that Alastor was a pretty good dancer. He moved his feet with a grace that could be easily followed, and Husk did so. The trail of a footstep following the other, their hands joined together, leading him to the right or left with barely a pull. And with the grip behind his back, fingers circling into his fur, making Husk swallow hard.

Eyes started to follow them now, even with the awful-as-fuck lighting. He caught a glance of Niffty to the side, how she stopped trying to gnaw on Sir Pentious’ tail as she stared gleefully at her boss and co-worker getting close on the dance floor. He could hear Charlie make her excited little noises of happiness, commenting on just how sweet it was to see them demonstrate to everyone how to dance. Yeah. Sure. Anything to keep the princess oblivious to the rot beneath. At least Husk was sure Vaggie wouldn’t explain much more.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought he saw Angel Dust in the far back. Hard to tell, because the effects of all his drinking were slowly making its way back, his fear replaced by numbness. But seeing Angel’s expression, it wasn’t pity. It was an understanding between two losers at the bottom of the barrel, witness to another form of degradation. Sold souls that could do nothing else but share the pain from across the room.

And then he couldn’t see Angel anymore. Because Alastor suddenly dipped him, so low to the ground that Husk found himself clinging tighter to the demon. His fur stood on end, his hat dangerously close to falling off. But Alastor leaned in close, his sharp teeth just at Husk’s ear, his breath parting the fur as gentle as a caress.

“This is a lovely way to spend an evening. Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

Husk widened his eyes. The music playing in the room, its echoes finally reaching his drunken skull. Oh, this absolute fucker.

The guy’s face really was made for radio.

Alastor lifted him up again, twirled him with barely a thought for Husk, who could have vomited from motion sickness. Wings flapped open, desperate for freedom, only to be closed in again by Alastor bringing Husk close. Another lean, and the song played again, closer, on the speaker that was Alastor’s mouth, with a voice that wasn’t his but that age-old recording.

“A casual stroll through a garden, and a kiss by a lazy lagoon.” Alastor’s grin could be felt against Husk, and how so often was he told how soft his fur was, to touch and play with. “Catching a breath of moonlight. Humming our favorite tune.”

Husk bristled. His claws bent inwards, so close to Alastor’s neck. It would be easy to at least draw blood, right in front of everyone, to show that this demon, horrifying as he was, can still be wounded despite it all.

Except, Husk had already tried that once. Back when the deal had still been fresh.

Alastor turned to face him, his smile so manic, so very daring.

Husk did nothing, instead continuing to listen to the song that Alastor played, dictating their movements. The same song that Husk remembered hearing on the radio so many years ago.

“I want to save all my nights and spend them with you. I love spending all with you…”

It felt like centuries before the party was finally over.

Husk could barely stand to be back behind his bar, let alone in the hotel lobby. The balloons, which half were already deflated, were a fucking eyesore and that damn ball up top or whatever did eventually fall—on Sir Pentious. But if the guy could survive an attack from the Radio Demon absolutely demolishing his ship and half of his egg boys, then it was clear the snake was indestructible.

Maybe Husk was a bit jealous.

He didn’t want to deal with seeing anyone, even when Alastor, finally, finally let him go. Still, their clasped hands lingered, and Alastor leaned down as if to kiss his knuckles, Husk frozen in place at the very thought. And then, fingers laxed in their hold, allowing Husk to pull back, his fur on end and his wings frazzled, the feathers out of place.

The song had long stopped playing but still he heard it, deep in his skull, as if someone had shoved a phonograph there, the horn of it directed right inside his ear.

A quick exit, before anyone could reach him. Hypocritical maybe, but he didn’t feel like voicing his troubles right now. Not when it just fucking happened right in front of everyone, with only one of them even getting a hint of what it was all about.

Alastor and his stupid games.

But even when Husk retreated to this room, he could barely relax. The room was just one in a hundred in this empty hotel, but one that Charlie had been so happy to lead him to that first time. She had pointed to each pillow on the bed and even to all the little mints that were stacked on top. She had even been hyped for the shaded lamps on the bedside table, despite the bulbs long weakening. Overkill, like much of what she did. But earnest, and genuine, and one that truly did see the good in everyone despite how each sinner had earned their keep here.

A complete difference from the Radio Demon that had just materialized at his side, a whisper of a soft, nostalgic melody his only warning.

“Oh, Husker. I didn’t peg you to be an early sleeper.”

Followed immediately by the door slamming shut.

Husk didn’t dare turn. Not yet, not until he reached for the cards in his pocket. They could be as sharp as knives, as strong as wire. He was drunk, and tired, and maybe he was past his limit at having himself played around with in front of everyone like it was all just normal.

But, before he could even pull back his arm, something held him in place. A blink. The lamp in his room flickered, and he caught the antlered shadow on his left wall, grabbing at his own. Of fucking course.

“Bad kitty! And after I let you keep your little toys.”

A quick squeeze and Husk sucked air through his teeth, dropping a flurry of his cards to the carpet. Then a violent turn, and the manacle appeared once more around his neck, the sickening green creating valleys and crevices all over Alastor’s grinning face.

Still, that godforsaken melody kept playing.

Then a pull.

Husk choked. He reached for the links, clung to it, even as they burned off his fur. His wings stretched wide, flapped once and then twice. All he could do to keep his ground.

Alastor leaned his head to the side at a painful angle—unclear if he even felt anything while doing so, or maybe he did because he could, relishing the crack of bone and the rupture of blood vessels. All while he held onto Husk’s leash, keeping it taut.

It wasn’t enough to make Husk shut up.

“You fucking psychopath. What more do you even want from me? I already danced with you! I even let you just… touch me like…” Husk could barely speak, but he glared at the Radio Demon with all the rage and humiliation he felt deep within whatever he had left of his soul. “I know you get off to this shit!”

The demon leaned in close. The sight of it was compressing, losing full shape, covered over with black marks and strange symbols that he had never understood. Antlers grew and took shape, their sharp points reaching out to Husk like an embrace. But, they stopped just short of his face, just over his eyes, making him terrified to even blink.

In corrupted static, the music garbled and off-key, Alastor whispered. “And so do you.”

Husk’s grip on the chain loosened. He gritted his teeth. Fuck. This was it. He was going to die, with his agony broadcasted all over Hell.

Another quick pull, and Husk lost his grip completely. The shadow from behind him had grasped at his wings, stinging in the pain as tendons snapped like twine, and suddenly he couldn’t extend them anymore. Another avenue of possible escape, already taken away from him.

Then he was pulled forward again to the real Alastor, a hand grasping his own, fingers interlaced. Husk trembled. Would the Radio Demon start by breaking his hands, going through each limb slowly until he couldn’t even move anymore?

Alastor pulled taut on the chain once more, straining the metal. But they would never break, no matter how much Husk wished for it. It was close to his face, and he wondered if Alastor was going to bound and gag him, burn off his tongue, so that his screams would have no words.

That is not what happened.

Instead, Alastor took the chain and wrapped it carefully, almost delicately around their clasped hands. Husk grimaced at the touch, burning yet freezing all at once. Alastor showed change in emotion at all. Still smiling wide, the antlers retracted back like tentacles. The discordant melody shifted back to harmonious, no longer warped and out of tune. The record played, undisturbed.

Husk blinked. His eyes moved to their hands, tied together by the chain, before going back to Alastor. “What…are you doing?”

A hand reached for his back, pulled him close until his nose was pressed against the front of Alastor’s suit. A finger pushed against a suspender in what could have been seen as playful, and a thumb rubbed circles into the fur, searching for the skin beneath.

“You’re just lovely when you dance,” Alastor said so softly, just against his ear. The teeth nipped just so slightly, tugging at his fur, at him. Husk shook, and he wasn’t sure if it was entirely from fear. “And the night is still so young.”

His wings still ached from the sudden clipping of his feathers, and his hand was half-burned from the links pressed against his fur. Even so, he didn’t step back. He felt his feet just almost leave the floor, their bodies pushed even closer than before in the hotel lobby.

He didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

And he even used to like dancing, once upon a time.

Husk’s body felt like a rag doll, pushed and pulled to go wherever his owner wanted. The chain kept them bound, even if it was already connected to his neck. In the quiet of his room, they slow danced to what had once been one of Husk’s favorite songs as it played in its vintage soundscape.

It was nothing new at all. In fact, it was very much the usual. The playing of an old ballad or a jazz rendition when Alastor was near him. The subtle brushing of knuckles against his own when walking by. A quick pat over his head. A tug of his ears, done so lightly that Husk sometimes wondered if it was imagination. A patting of the shoulder, the hand lingering just a moment too long. A finger rushing down his side. Even a delicate pull of his tail. After all, Alastor would tell him, it was just so very soft.

Husk had pushed back at first. He had groused and cursed, hating to be ridiculed. He still did so now, like the fucking genius that he was, the current pain in his wings reminding him with glee.

Sometimes, Alastor would laugh and be on his way. Other times, not so much.

Husk forgot that he couldn’t pick his battles—for there was none he could win.

He gritted his teeth, letting his body be swayed, shivering at the hot breaths along his neck. The dim lights of his room swam in his vision, and soon, he was falling more against Alastor, pulled in by warmth that could turn scalding at any moment.

(Perhaps dancing was what cured the loneliness, in a way. He really was pathetic.)

He looked to their joined hands, engulfed in green that seemed all encompassing. Then he stepped in something wet, tracking it in the carpet. Too apathetic to the thought that they were dancing out patterns with his own blood.

“This is a lovely way to spend an evening,” sang Alastor, in that same recorded voice. But also, Husk could hear Alastor’s own, as if the demon was singing along in his own private booth for his loyal listeners. “Can't think of anything I'd rather do.”

Husk breathed carefully, letting himself fall quiet. When he made his deal, he was never promised he’d understand the Radio Demon or his motivations. He knew, in the end, that he didn’t want to anyway.

The night blurred, until the pain had all but numbed, and their song was all he could hear.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #husk #radiohusk #fanfiction #one shot

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princehrry-writings · 2 years

Text

I posted 11 times in 2022

8 posts created (73%)

3 posts reblogged (27%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fanfictionisalifestyle

@just-my-type-x

@princehrry-writings

I tagged 11 of my posts in 2022

#colby brock x reader - 3 posts

#harry styles - 3 posts

#colby brock - 3 posts

#sam and colby - 3 posts

#skye answers - 2 posts

#xplr - 2 posts

#harry styles x reader - 2 posts

#skye rants - 2 posts

#lizzy mcalpine song fic - 1 post

#when the world stopped moving - 1 post

Longest Tag: 43 characters

#it’s colby’s hand around nate’s neck for me

My Top Posts in 2022:

feeling very blocked at the moment and would love to hear some requests!!! let me know what you want to see!!!

2 notes - Posted June 17, 2022

happy valentine’s day miss skye 🫂💌

omg thank you🥺🥺🥺 happy valentines days!!!!!!!!!!!!

3 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

guys im in my colby brock era rn... so you're probably gonna see some stuff for him from me :) i'm working on a piece for him rn!!

19 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

Let Light Be Light

i've been on a lizzy kick and also experiencing college for the first time so this is what came of that.

warnings: BRIEF mentions of a serial k*ller, slight angst, fluff!!!!! mentions of family trauma

wordcount: 1894

masterlist

But my therapist says To just let light be light So I'm letting him stay around

I’m alone almost every night and I don't know if I’m processing right.

The days grew shorter and the nights colder. Y/n spent most of her time studying, trying to stay on top of her school work. Fall semester was in full swing and while she was sad to be away from home, she was happy to be allowed to think her own thoughts and feel her own feelings instead of everyone else’s. It was a breath of fresh air she didn’t know she needed until she took it.

Another late night at the library, nailing down her answers for her music theory midterm. She found that she loved the smell of old books and dust. Something about it made her feel so studious. She thinks it must be some kind of placebo effect or something because anytime she studies in the library, she feels like the information sticks better.

Her friends had invited her to a study session but she's never been able to focus in group settings like that. She had to figure shit out on her own growing up and that's been a running theme with everything she does in her young adult life. She does shit by herself. She’s never had anyone to lean on before so why would she start now?

That’s not to say Y/n doesn’t appreciate her friends because she does, but if something isn’t broken, no need to take it apart and put it back together.

It’s nearing closing time at the library, meaning it’s closer to midnight then she realized it was. It’s dark out and she forgot her pepper spray in her room, but her dorm isn’t too far away from the library. A 10 minute walk when she’s really moving, so she packs up and gets ready to head out when a voice stops her.

“Wait, you’re not gonna walk alone are you?” She turns around to see this boy, who she recognized from a few classes and he worked here, standing at the counter, lookin at her like she's about to jump off a cliff. He seems cute enough, more than she would ever admit to herself, really. He’s tall, long legs and arms, built muscles. His hair falls right above his ears and is curly, but not too curly. It’s very flowy from what she assumes is him running his fingers through it all day to keep it out of his face, and it looks really soft.

“Yeah…?” She says, wondering why he’s so concerned for her. She’ll be ok, it’s not a bad walk.

“It’s not safe… haven’t you seen the news? There’s a suspect for a murder case running loose on this side of town. His targets are college age girls. Let me walk you home?” His accent makes her a lot less annoyed than she normally would be by somebody telling her she can’t take care of herself.

“How do I know you're not him?” She quips, hoping he’ll give up so she can just go home. Well, as home as a dorm room can be.

He raises an eyebrow, making him more attractive than she thought a random boy in the library could ever be, chuckling a little bit and picking up his bag. She notices that everyone else is already gone and it’s just the two of them, and wishes just for a second that she didn’t listen to true crime podcasts because she’s a little scared he could actually be the murderer he just warned her about. But when he comes over and she gets a good look at him, she just can’t see him being a murderer. She couldn’t really see him hurting a fly if she had to be honest.

He grabs his bag and a ring of keys off the desk and pads over to where she stands.

“M’ Harry, by the way. Figure you should know my name before I kill you behind the library.” He smirks. Oh, so he’s funny too. Now Y/n really has to put up a wall. Funny guys are dangerous.

“I’m Y/n. Figure you should know the name of your latest victim.” She smirks back, matching energy but mentally she detaches herself because she can’t let herself form any sort of attachment to him.

“What hall are you in?” He asks, leading her to the front door and turning off the lights, locking the door behind them.

“It’s only like a 10 minute walk from here. I live in Greeley.” She answers quickly, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. Fall nights can be brutal but there's something that endears her to them. Something about the promise of the seasons changing, new beginnings, a fresh start. A cycle you can always count on. If nothing else, you always know that summer will turn to fall, and fall to winter, and so on.

They walk quickly, making small talk and learning little things about each other. Like Harry is in three out of 7 of her classes. He talks to her like they’ve been friends forever and she can’t figure out why he’s being so nice to her. Can’t figure out what he wants, not that she really has much to give in the first place.

Too soon do they arrive at the front door of her dorm building. He says goodbye with a charming smile that she has to consciously not blush at and she makes her way upstairs.

The butterflies win anyway, flooding her with a warmth she swore she would never feel again. She just met him today. What is she doing with herself?

Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?

Suddenly, Y/n sees Harry everywhere. She knows it's crazy to think he’s following her, but that’s what her brain tells her because why would she be seeing him everywhere all of the sudden. She definitely doesn’t think it’s because he’s all she's been able to think about since he walked her home from the library.

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54 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I Feel Like A Hero and You're My Heroine

i'm back on my sam and colby shit after like 200 years

warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, party, hella fucking fluff bro like omg

wordcount: 1093

masterlist

You had no idea how you ended up at this party. One moment you and your friends were having a girls night, getting tipsy and talking shit. The next moment, you're in an uber on your way to a house party.

When you pull up you still have no idea whose house this is, you’re just along for the ride. The music is loud and there's people everywhere, dancing, drinking. People out back are smoking, sitting around a fire.

You make your way through the crowd, finding the kitchen and deciding to make yourself another drink.

“Welcome ladies! My name is Colby, I’m one of the hosts. If you need anything or have any questions, I’m your man!”

You look behind you and see the guy who was talking to you and your friends. You were shocked, of course you knew who he was and you knew that your friends ran in the same circles as them but you never thought you would ever meet him or anyone doing what he was doing. After his little introduction, his eyes zeroed in on you, an almost imperceptible smirk appearing on his face.

“Hi!” He smiled, walking closer to you. You’re already tipsy so that makes it even easier to talk to him and flirt like you want to.

“Hey, thanks for the warm welcome!” You smile back, opening yourself up for him to invade your space. He got close but not too close. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable but to you he couldn't be close enough. You felt a pull to him, like something had just clicked into place.

Maybe you're more drunk than you thought.

Colby smiled at the little giggles you were letting out, stepping closer when you draped your arm over his own, almost pulling him into you. Your friends were all standing around, watching the interaction and smirking, knowing a sober you would never be this forward.

“I’m Y/n by the way.” You smile up at him, putting on your best game.

“Nice to meet you Y/n.”

You two are glued to each other for the rest of the night, talking and laughing, getting progressively more drunk. You’re having the time of your life, the most fun you think you’ve ever had actually. Colby understood you in a way no one ever had before. The way he listened to your words, as slurred as they were at the moment, and the way he stared into your eyes as you spoke made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

“I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG!” You yelled out as Hero/Heroine by Boys Like Girls came on. It brought you back to your emo phase that you never really grew out of, you just learned how to style yourself better.

“YOU KNOW THIS SONG?” Colby yelled back at you, eyes wide, grime spread across his face.

“YEAH I FUCKING KNOW THIS SONG!” You jumped up off the couch where you had been sitting with Colby, grabbing his hand and dragging him up with you. You started jumping around and dancing, screaming the lyrics, and not giving a fuck who looked at you weird. Colby didn’t look at you weird.

That’s all that mattered.

He danced with you, pulling you closer to him.

“You caught me off guard, now I’m running and screaming. I feel like a hero and you're my heroine, do you know that your love is the sweetest sin.” You both yelled together.

Without thinking, Colby leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. You reacted before you knew what you were doing, pulling him closer to you. The kiss was needy, like he’d been waiting all night for this. His hands roamed your body, pressing you flat against his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand threading through his hair, the other lightly cupping his cheek.

By the time he pulled away, you were both gasping for breath.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, opening your eyes and staring straight into Colby’s.

“I might be really drunk but I think I just fell in love with you…” He whispers back to you. You can’t tell if the blush on his cheeks is the alcohol or the dancing or if he's embarrassed but you find yourself leaning back into him.

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110 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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brywrites · 4 years

Text

Gifted

Spencer Reid x Reader. Summary: All his life Spencer Reid has been told he’s gifted. And all his life he’s wondered what the point was of those gifts that felt like curses. Until her.

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Though he holds so many memories in his mind, Spencer Reid isn’t quite sure who the first person to call him “gifted” was. It was probably his mother, he thinks. Certainly not his father, who thought he was strange. Perhaps a teacher, or maybe even his Aunt Ethel. All he’s certain of is that he’s lost track of the number of times people have praised the so-called gifts he possesses. His eidetic memory, his autodidactism, his absurdly high IQ. His mind, they say, is a gift. But it’s felt more like a curse for most of his life.

Those same things that helped him skip grades and earn the praise of adults brought him years of bullying taunts and miserable adolescent trauma. They isolated him from his peers. His companions were library books and stories and mathematic proofs – nothing with a beating heart. They plagued his nightmares, for his mother had been brilliant too and what had that done for her? And those gifts came with a tremendous burden of pressure, they demanded use in a powerful way. Reid was always terrified he’d fail to live up to that impossible potential, proving himself unworthy of such great and terrible gifts.

By the time he’s thirty-six, he wonders why he was ever given such gifts in the first place. Clearly he’s squandered them, spent them on chasing monsters he thought might be human. They turned out to be hydras – for each one they catch, two more take its place. He’s let his mind waste away on drugs, on grief. In shacks and in prison and in grudges he just can’t let go of. He’s saved lives, he knows, but his team do that same thing without the gifts he’s been cursed with. What’s the point of him? Of any of the talents or tricks he possesses?

And it’s that question on his mind as he walks into a Virginia library to interview a witness to the latest in a string of serial arsons. Her name tag says Y/N. She’s clearly nervous, a little shaken, but she manages a smile when a child runs up to interrupt and ask her how to find The Magic Tree House books. And when she turns back to look at Reid, that smile still lingers – her eyes so bright it catches him off guard. She takes him back to the area of the library that was burned to talk about the crime scene, and she off-handedly asks if he has a favorite.

And when he says, “Oh I could never choose just one favorite. I love books too much for that,” that smile returns, unexpectedly bright.

“A man after my own heart,” she says. “Tell me a few then.”

So he rattles off a handful, hoping at least one of them will keep that light in her eyes. They do. “Bradbury is one of my favorites, too. I just love Dandelion Wine. Sorry, I probably should focus on the fire. I try to distract myself when I feel stressed, and well, remembering what happened that night doesn’t exactly help with my anxiety.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. Or excited. Really, I think I just talk a lot.” Another smile, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Over the course of the investigation, the BAU has to ask her to come to the station twice. By chance, Reid finds himself interviewing her both times, and both times he finds himself rambling a little more than he means to – because he finds himself inexplicably a little nervous and a little excited in her presence. It’s that smile, the one that lingers long in his mind after she leaves each time.

There’s something about her, about the light she seems to carry, that draws him in. That compels him to say yes when he shows up at the library to inform her they’ve caught the unsub and she asks, “Could I buy you a cup of coffee to show my appreciation? If that’s not too much, of course.”

“I think that would be perfect,” he says. And as they sit at the café across the street with lattes in oversized mugs, he’s never been so grateful for his vast knowledge of literature. Each title is a start into a new conversation with her, and they swap stories about stories – the ones they have lived and the ones they have loved. When she disappointedly announces her break is over, she adds, “But maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“How should I get in touch with you if you’re not showing up at the library to interrogate me, Dr. Reid?” she teases.

He hastily withdraws his cell phone from his pocket and offers it to her. She begins to type in her number. “You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he tells her.

She grins at him and something in his chest shifts at the sight. “I’ll definitely call you soon, Spencer.” He’s never liked the sound of his own name more. And he thanks that eidetic memory of his for allowing him to replay it again and again in his mind until he can see her next.

They get coffee again the first chance he gets. And then again. When she asks how he has time to read so much and he tells her about how his mind works – about his memory and speed-reading and quantified intelligence, all the things that have been called gifts – she thinks for a moment before saying, “That must be lonely.”

The relief he feels at her understanding is immense. “It is sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s felt less so lately.” They go to a park together. Then out to dinner. By the time he realizes he’s falling, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be on solid ground. Fortunately, he isn’t the only one at the mercy of gravity. She feels it too. And when she laughs at his joke as he walks her home from dinner, he just can’t help himself. He leans in and cups her cheek to pull her to him, pressing his lips to her still-smiling lips. The taste of wine still on her tongue. And though he doesn’t drink anymore, the sensation of her is enough to make him feel utterly intoxicated.

Slowly, his life fills up with her. His sabbatical arrives with the perfect timing to allow him evenings and weekends with her. He picks her up after work. She meets him for breakfast. He takes her to the planetarium. She falls asleep on his couch. He tells her it won’t always be this way and she assures him that’s okay. But it gives him the chance to build the foundation their relationship needs. It’s in that time that he begins to catalogue her smiles in his memory. The dazzling ones she sends his way when she spots him at a coffee shop. The soft, shaky ones she wears after a long kiss. The coy ones that twist the corner of her mouth when she’s teasing him. The nervous one that slowly grows when she meets his team for the first time – not as a witness, but as his girlfriend. A title she declares like a badge of honor. He holds each smile in his mind, picture perfect thanks to that eidetic memory. When a case has been particularly tough or he’s away for longer than he’d like, he flips through them in his mind, trying to remember the cause of each one, trying to hold on to that light until he can hold her in his arms again.

He surprises her with flowers on her birthday. “You remembered?” she gasps, her eyes wide. “And these – these are my favorite. How did you know?”

“I could never forget,” he laughs, but she stares down at the bouquet and clutches them to her chest.

“I don’t make a big deal about my birthday, so people don’t usually remember,” she says quietly. “And nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you, Spencer.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

He grins from ear to ear. Forget the sound of his name, those three words are the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you, too.” It’s a first for both of them. And one week later comes another first – witnessing her panic attacks for the first time. She’s shaking too hard to tell him what she needs, so he tries to do what would help him. He sits down next to her on his living room rug and wraps her in his arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and murmurs the words to her favorite poem. She seems to breathe a little easier and so he recites another one she loves, and another until her breathing finally steadies and she unclenches her fists to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face in his sweater.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel like such a curse to remember everything he reads when it means he can give her the words she loves when she needs them most.

The first time they sleep together is only the second time he’s been intimate with someone and he feels more awkward than he wishes he was. But he commits himself to studying, to remembering what she likes and what she doesn’t, and the next time he proves to be the quickest of learners when he succeeds at making her come within a matter of minutes. He discovers a new smile of hers, one of dreamy bliss and kiss-swollen lips. He loves it. He loves her, adores every single part of her she’s shared with him and every piece yet to be found. And to his continued surprise and delight, she loves him just as much.

He tries every day to be worthy of that love. He makes time for her. He goes to meet her friends and he shakes their hands even though he hates touching people, even though she insists, “You don’t have to. They won’t mind.” He does it because she’s the only person in the world whose touch he actually craves.

When she swoons over a dress Penelope has shown her on Instagram, he makes a note of it. She’s utterly enamored by it by her smile falls upon checking the price tag. It’s far out of her budget. So the next week when he’s out on a case in Atlantic City, he swings by one of the few casinos that doesn’t have his picture framed on the wall of their security office. He wins more than the cost of the dress in an hour and leaves before anyone can get suspicious. The dress arrives at his apartment the same day he gets home, and he invites her over to surprise her with it. When she opens the box, her eyes go wide.

“Spencer, this is… this can’t be. It’s… do you know how expensive this is?” Y/N asks.

Bashfully, he replies, “Now might be a good time to mention I’m banned from casinos in almost every state for my card counting abilities.” It’s well worth the little effort he expended to see the way her face lights up at the sight of it. And though he’s never been a gambling man, when he sees her wearing it for the first time he considers trying his luck a little more often.

At times he worries he’s doing too much, but how could it ever be when the way she loves him has been so much more than enough? For the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he’s enough. When she says, “I love you,” he believes it. When she says, “I’ll be back,” he trusts her. He’s given another person more of his heart than he ever has before, and for once he’s not afraid of it breaking. She doesn’t mind the strange hours he works or heaviness he sometimes carries with him. When he wakes up from a nightmare, she holds him close and keeps him grounded. He sends postcards from each city he visits and she makes his favorite food when he comes home and home is suddenly a place they share. She moves into his apartment and it feels like it was never complete without her there.

Not long after, there is a case in Boston. Their terrifyingly intelligent unsub taunts Reid as he leaves the interrogation room. “Judge me all you want, Dr. Reid. But I’ve used my mind to change the world. You’ve done nothing with yours.” The words haunt him on the flight home. He sits on the back of the plane lost in thought. What has he done? Sure he’s saved lives, but could he have done more? Could someone else have used those gifts he’s been burdened with in a way that was better? Why does he have any of these talents? Why has he acquired any of these skills?

His phone chimes. A text from her. Brought home a new book from the library I think you’ll love! Can’t wait to see you, dearest. And it hits him.

It’s her. All along it’s been her.

The answer echoes in his head as he races home to her. Everything in his life has led him to her, has let him be the person she needs. He can memorize all her favorite songs and poems to recite for her when her anxiety gets the best of her. He can remember every date that matters to her and everything she adores. He can read her favorite books overnight to talk about them with her in the morning. He can profile from her body language and her microexpressions when she’s having a bad day and needs him to be there for her, even when she’s too afraid to ask for what she needs. When she asks absurd questions out of the blue, he can give her actual answers with the useless encyclopedia of knowledge he’s obtained over the years. When she needs a distraction his rambling finally proves useful. It’s all for her.

She’s the reason his mind doesn’t feel like a curse anymore. How could he ever think of it with disdain when it’s the reason he can picture every smile she’s ever let him see? When he can catalogue every wonderful word from her lips, every inch of her skin, every action that drives her wild.

Reid can’t seem to open the door to their apartment fast enough. When he finally steps inside, she’s sitting on the couch. She turns away from the book in her lap to smile at him. “Welcome back,” she says. Then, tilting her head, “Is everything okay?”

An unshakeable grin spreads across his face and he knows he must look like a madman right now as he crosses the living to sit beside her. “Everything’s perfect. I just… I had this epiphany. All the things I hate about myself, you love. And all the things I can do let me love you better. It just feels like everything – everything has led me to you. Even the bad things, I mean, being in prison forced me to take sabbaticals and if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have had that time together early on and maybe we wouldn’t have worked and I don’t believe in fate,” he says, taking a breath. “But I can’t help but feel like for the first time, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. With you. Like that’s where I was meant to be all along. And I… I just thought you should know.”

His long-winded rambling is rewarded with one of his favorite smiles from her – one that makes her eyes soft and puts sunsets to shame. The kind she wears when she is incandescently happy. Her fingers lace through his and they are a perfect fit in his big hands. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says, leaning in to kiss him.

All his life, Spencer Reid has been told he is gifted. But this time, he thinks it might actually be true. He holds the greatest gift the universe has ever granted him in his arms and knows that no part of him is a curse if he is loved by her.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #fanfiction #gifted #brywrites #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader

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nevenabadr · 3 years

Text

50 Shades of You! Tom Hiddleston X Female! Reader

Note: This is my first ever fanfiction for Tom Hiddleston. I have not written fiction for ages. English is not my first language.

Inspiration: this is inspired by:

“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

–Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Word count: 2660

Warnings: Romance, sweet words, and smut–this is +21 and not for everyone.

Enjoy reading and please comment with your feedback. 💚

-------------------------------------------------------

During the summer Cambridge University was having a conference "Gothic Elements In John Milton's Paradise Lost." As you the young professor of literature, the coordinate manager suggested that the University alumnus could join for not just attending, but acting a piece of the tragedy. Amongst the candidates was the Classic department graduate and famous actor, Tom Hiddleston.

You know that he might have scheduled issues or time conflicts, but you suggested the committee email him. To your surprise, he accepted the offer.

The scene of choice was casting the devil out of hell.

On the stage during the conference eve, you did not have the perfect time to watch him, but you took a glimpse of acting from far.

He even caught your show and face attending the rehearsals.

The conference day was pressuring. You were trying to get everything right, in the middle of your so-close meltdown. A voice brought you to reality, "Hello, is this professor Y/N)?"

You turned to find the British handsome alumni smiling peacefully at you. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Indeed, I am the one offering help." As he adjusted his glasses, I asked the committee manager to take upon some errant backstage. Maybe I can assist with the front ceremony?"

"Of course," you paused for a moment, "can you help me with the dinner's seats arrangement? My assistant is absent and I have to print and arrange them myself."

"Just show me a computer and all will be done."

Both of you took your time arranging an evening missing up some seats.

"Here comes my name. You will be seated with the professors, of course!" He was busy putting name tags over the table.

"Oh! Don't remind me." You replied as if it is a conversation with an old friend and continued "the Classic department and Literature."

"They might start a war." Both of you started laughing

"I have an idea." He took a tag from his table and moved yours next to his. "Now you will be with a friend"

The presentations finished, you had to go for the gym showers to change and wear your conference and dinner dress.

By the time you arrived, the scene from the tardy was about to be played. You took your place in the front seat.

Tom was playing Satan. He noticed that you were reciting the lines with him. He even almost smiles at you. Could not hold himself from looking at you in the front row while playing the scene of...

"All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield; (And what is else not to be overcome?) That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me to bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee and deify his power, Who from the terror of his arm so late Doubted his empire[.] (I, 106–114)"

Your facial expressions captured his eyes, the movement of your lips and then the flame of your applause.

At the dinner, he was interested to hear all about your work and writings. His eyes could not able to leave you.

By the end of the dinner, he walked you to your car, "this was lovely, thank you for tonight"

You smiled at him, "thank you for accepting our invitation."

You shake hands and opened your car door like the gentleman he is.

"Would you like to go out with me, for a coffee? Books and coffee, maybe." He did not hesitate to ask.

"I would love to. You already have my number within the conference contact information." You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

As your car drove away, he knew he was up for an adventure.

Three months later, you are happily dating and sharing sweet kisses. He suggested a film marathon. Each week one of you chose a topic.

That Saturday's topic was Russian Literature and you had to add: "or inspired by it"

"Excuse me, but Tolstoy has no comparison!" He grimaced

"Shadow and Bones, love!" You teased him, "it the Netflix adaption of the era"

"After Anna Karenina, please," he sounded like an old professor.

"Alright then, deal." You tickled him and kissed his lips softly

Both of you enjoyed Anna Karenina, however, you were crying in his arms.

"That dreadful ending."

He hugged you "Hey, Shadow and Bones will make it up to you, let me make extra popcorn." Once again, he kissed you.

He came back with popcorn that will at least survive three episodes. You snuggled between his arms.

"Look at Alexie, how he said 'Make me your villain.'"

You were swooning as a fangirl.

"I beg your pardon, I am literally a villain," he complained

Oh! I would literally," stressing upon the last word, "let him have me"

His face was irritated and you not coming close to making love made him anxious, that you might not be ready. He never inquired about you.

You caressed his tummy, "hey, a penny for your thoughts, sir." It sounded like one of the Jack the Ripper prostitutes, about which you have constantly been talking.

His voice evolved deeper and his eyes did not leave yours "your deepest sexual desire. What do you crave?"

Comparing to your age, you were nervous and inexperienced. "My life was spent between books. I..."

He did not let you continue speaking and took your lips between his drawing your body closer to him, uttering between his hot kisses "I am not just a villain" his lips made the earth move "I am a God" whispering against the sport skin of your nick " a king" his hands were moving down the same tomes his lips reached the line of your bosom whilst his hand slides prevailed touching down pussy and dug his fingers driving you till the edge.

"I want you," you whispered between your soft moans.

He neglected your cravings and maintained his rhythm, watching your complexion and closed eyes till you arched your back in awe.

You collapsed between his arms heavily breathing "that was extremely wonderful, but I need you"

He kissed your lips playfully. "you are a delicious girl, Y/N, but..."

You hashed him with a kiss that he pulled from "if your life was between books, I want you to write me your deepest desire."

"Darling, it was a series, Alexie is fictional." You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Fictional or not, he is a man, you are paying for this."

He was deadly serious "write me your longing."

You laugh "What? Like the 50 Shades of Y/N?"

He gazed into your eyes "aiming to please and punish you, darling, avenging my honour"

The next morning when you were with your family on Sunday's lunch, he opened an email titled "50 Shades of Y/A"

The content was as follows:

"You!"

He grinned to himself and determined to show her how fiction can become real.

Your week was busy. He had signed a new contract for a mini-series and was supposed to film soon.

Not replying to your email made you nervous, even went meeting for dinner. He was quiet about it.

You checked your sent box millions of times to make sure it arrived. Still, you knew he was busy working, and you were busy with the finals coming soon.

Thursday’s dinner, nothing yet, nothing but gaggling and discussing your days and current reads.

"Darling, we did not decide this week's marathon"

He did not take his eyes off the menu "Are not you having a big family week, you should go" he was confident and calm.

Deep inside you wanted to grab his neck and jiggle him, but for the lady you are and the restaurant, you were calm.

"Wonderful!"

The dinner was over; he drove you home, kissed you goodnight.

Saturday morning, a ringing at your door. Apparently, you received a package, a big one.

You kept thinking that some books might have come early from your publisher. Unwrapping it to a surprise satin 1950 coat with Ruby red entourage and black heels.

There was also a note, she recognised the handwriting:

"Wear nothing but this for your punishment. If other pieces were found upon your body, then fear my fury and vengeance.

Love,

So, it was her version of Mr Grey. But have you ever been ready to comply with anyone?"

Suddenly, a message arrived on your phone

"Reminder, a black will pick you tonight at 8, don't disobey me, Princess."

Your heel clicked on the floor as a man dressed in an old fashion suit opened the car for you. The windows were blacked out, so you did not see where it was heading.

"Welcome, Princess," he greeted you as if you were royalty, "My master is awaiting your presence."

You took his hands. The place was carved out of one of your favourite dark fantasies, a mansion with gargoyles, dark lighting, and a vast garden.

You could not believe your eyes. Tom knew your deepest desires indeed.

But that is not the end.

The inside was as of a dark enchantment with deep red flowers and candles. The servant showed you the way to a dining room fit for a feast. Tom was not there.

"My master requires you to await his arrival." The servant bowed and left.

You were like a child been left inside her favourite toyshop. The ornaments, the lighting, and even the shapes of the food. That aesthetic you only could dream of but never reach.

"Enjoying yourself already?" You turned to find your man dressed in a black Victorian suit. His face was shaved, shorter hair, no glasses. Just all of the handsome glory.

You took a step forward "no princess, I shall come for you"

He kissed your hand and then sat on the table's head, while it sat on the opposite side and faced you away indeed.

"Are you pleased, princess?" He raised his glass of red wine.

"Yes, my Prince." You smile.

"In here, you shall address me as your king." His eyes lit with fire, and his voice was harsh.

You played along and raised an eyebrow "my king."

"This is not a game, princess, you are my prisoner"

You dined quietly, as he did not drop his eyes from you.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You flirted "deeply, my king"

He left his chair and came closer to you, his fingers left your chain so you can gaze into your eyes.

He asked, "care for a dance?"

You smiled "I would love to."

You stepped forward and took his hand to a ballroom, just for you and him, the dark king.

The following piece of music was sensual and moving.

"The coat, princess, I want to see nothing but heels on your body,"

You obeyed the king, but for a tick. When you took it off, underneath it a short emerald green strapless corset dress tight upon the curves of your body and pushed your bosoms to their glory.

He grinned and his eyes darken "looking for further punishment, I suppose?"

"Anything to please the king." You took his hand and kissed it. He did not expect it.

He turned furiously and the next song was romantic. He wrapped his arms around you once again, waltz, you sneaky woman, deserved joy before being punished.

Twirling you on the dance floor like the earth has no one but the two of you.

By the end, he carried you "to my chambers, little one"

You were nervous and anxious. What if he did not like what was underneath the dress?

He entered a candlelight room with a four-poster bed in the centre. The curtains of the bed were black and emerald.

He laid you in bed, kissing your lips and playing with your hair.

His breathing was heating against your skin.

"You won't miss that dress, will you, princess?"

He did not wait for your reply as he lifted a dagger amongst the layers of his suit and cut the corset down to the last piece of the dress.

You wore nothing else. You were lying exposed as he stood to look upon your naked curves for the first time.

You spontaneously tried to cover your bosom and private parts.

"No, do not you dare" he was angry and you could not distinguish reality from fantasy.

You throw the rest of the dress away. Hands laying by your head and he stood there for a juncture, gazing at every inch of your body.

"Turn," he ordered angrily as if the soul of Loki took over him, "I said, turn"

You nearly dropped tears "here my king"

You felt the softness of his lips upon your delicate shoulders.

Kissing the line of your spine. He knows this will work like magic. You tickle from your back, now trying to lick you, taste you, slap you.

He flipped you to face him. You were sobbing. He could hear it under your moans.

"You are not a princess, you are not a queen."

He wipes her tears from her cheek "you are a goddess and I am your slave."

You giggled between your tears, wrapping your arms around his neck "my king"

"Your, slave" As his voice became softer, he hushed you with a finger.

He kissed every inch of your body. You were playing with his short blonde locks.

"Let me worship your bosom, my goddess" he kissed, licked and played with your nipples and cupped your bosoms gently.

Kissing down till he reached your pussy, "Let me worship your temple" as he licked your clitoris.

You were moaning loader now

“Not this time, my king I want you inside me."

"Alright, as the pleasure of my goddess, I shall obey."

He adjusted his weight on you and asked, "wider for me, my goddess of beauty"

You opened for him as he enters you for the first time. You let out a loud breath "are you alright" he took your hands between his.

"Continue, my king."

He is just thrusting himself gently inside you. Your moans filling the room

"I am a villain, a king, a god, and a man"

Your hands were free to run along his back as he continued, "a man, no, a slave for my goddess"

You were moving with him and moaning louder, "my king, what else?"

Thursinting himself harder and moving with a faster pace.

"My goddess, the sculptures of beauty," between his breathing and moaning "Da Vinci would not be able to capture your grace"

You were kissing as your nail dug inside his shoulders.

His last whispers as moving himself inside your pussy which was clutching around his manhood. He moved with pace, as you rocked your lap against him

"I will live in thy heart," kissing your lips as you bite his lower lip between your steamy breath. "Die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

He was going faster now and you were in tremendous awe and your skin was heating up with your pleasure.

"Look at me goddess" you were closing your eyes as you become close to you your orgasm "look at me," he ordered

"I love thee, Tom," you said as your pussy was clutching around his manhood and trembling underneath him. His enormous climax followed your orgasm.

You were shaking. He used his hands to keep himself from crushing you with his weight.

He rested his forehead on yours till both of you caught your breath. Gently took you between his arms as resting on his side "and I love thee, Y/N"

kissed you and as you were falling asleep, yet muttered, "I made you my villain, did not I?"

He giggles, "I beg your pardon, your God, King, and lover"

You kissed for the last time of that night and snuggle between peacefully each other's arms.

----------------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@shafverani

@imsebastiansta-n

@brokenwitty

@221bshrlocked (awaiting your feedback)

@sinner-as-saint

@zemosimp05

@buckys-fairy

#marvel #fan fiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #Loki #loki fic #Loki Smut #tom hiddleston × reader #Crimson Peak #Thor #loki laufeyson #Disney Loki #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston one shot #Tom Hiddleston OneShot #Tom Hiddleston x you

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papipopsicle · 3 years

Text

AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

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y/n Humph!

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Cheryl busy being my own icon

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"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

#fanfic #fanfiction #riverdale #archie andrews #archie x reader #archie andrews x reader #archie #Riverdale imagine #riverdale fluff #riverdale smut #riverdale imagines #archie imagine #fluff #smut

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rkived · 4 years

Text

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 04 │ JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) angst as per usual what’s new, jk is sad, reader is sad, sunhi is sad, everyone’s just SAD

↳ RATING: (for this chapter) PG

↳ WORD COUNT: 4k

↳ SYNOPSIS: Jungkook’s been feeling a little weird lately. Maybe it’s got something to do with his crumbling marriage and the way you seem to care for his daughter more than his own wife.

↳ A/N: ehem let’s pretend like i didn’t ghost this story for like half a year aha i’ve written more than this for cp but i decided to just divide it and leave the juicy stuff for the last chapter !! sorry for making u wait so long </3 anyway hope u enjoy still n i’ll see u in a couple months for the final chapter of cp!! (i’m jking…..or am i?)

01 02 03 04 05 (coming soon)

Minji thinks you’re starting to get better.

Well, she hopes you are because it’s been two months since you broke the news on her and anyone would think that’d it be long forgotten by now. She tries to stop as often as she can to check up on you, even though you assure her that you’re fine and that a simple text would suffice instead of having her come over every day in between.

Which is why she’s unsure if giving you the invitation Jungkook had handed her about two weeks ago was a good idea, considering that it’s been a few days since you had last even mentioned him to her like you usually did before. In fact, today you look like you’re at peace for the very first time.

‘‘I did yoga!’’ You explain when she mentions that you look different, ‘‘I still can’t face going back to Namjoon’s class, but I remember a ton of positions he taught us!’’

Minji has to force herself to smile, her hand lingers inside the purse she’s carrying as her fingers fiddle with the cardstock paper waiting patiently to be handed.

‘‘And then I stopped for some yogurt at the place down the─’’

‘‘I need to give this to you,’’ Minji stops your ramble and you’re taken aback by how urgent her voice sounds, very unlike her. ‘‘I promised I’d get this to you, so…’’

You’re about to ask her what she’s on about when she abruptly hands what you could make out to be a colorful piece of paper. Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight, completely confused until it suddenly hit you what it is that your friend’s talking about.

‘‘How did you─?’’

Minji gives you half a smile and shakes her hand so you can take the card instead of just staring at it, ‘‘Just─take it.’’

Your hand reaches out to grab it from her and your eyes quickly focus on the unicorn and sparkles themed birthday invite. It reads that it’s Sunhi’s birthday and that you are invited! You recognize the handwriting that filled the party’s information details, you always thought he had really nice penmanship.

‘‘I think you should go,’’ Minji’s voice sounds like she’s faraway, but she’s just a few feet away from you, ‘‘for Sunhi.’’

You’re still staring at the invitation, memorizing every single detail. There’s so many unicorns, when did she start liking the mythical creature? She had never mentioned a liking towards them to you ever. You assume it must’ve happened during these few months of your absence.

How many moments have you missed? How many unanswered questions must Sunhi have by now? How many new toys has she had to wait to show you? How many kindergarten stories has she been saving to tell you?

You’ve been counting. Sixty days have passed since you last saw Sunhi. It’s been seven Fridays since you last had her in your arms.

Sixty days and seven Fridays since you kissed Jungkook. Fifty-nine days since you blocked him.

Minji is still waiting for any sort of reaction from you. You’re stoically analyzing the piece of paper and she wonders what is it that you’re thinking or feeling. Is it good, bad or all in one? Whatever it is, her small deed is done.

‘‘Y/N?’’ She calls out, you slowly nod and take your eyes from the invitation from the first time since she gave it to you. ‘‘Do you mind if I go? I have some stuff to─’’

A small gasp escapes your lips, ‘‘Yes Minji, of course!’’ Your friend smiles slightly and you proceed to escort her out your apartment. She actually doesn’t have anything to do, but she thinks it’s best if you get some space to take everything in.

Minji notices how you’re still holding on to the birthday invite and she has to suppress a chuckle because she knows you’re most likely doing this absentmindedly.

Before you’re able to thank her for coming, she stops you to say one last thing. ‘‘If you don’t want to go, then don’t,’’ she begins and your eyebrows raise at your friend’s comment. ‘‘Whatever it is that you decide on doing, I’ll support you either way,’’ Minji offers you a genuine smile and you can’t help but hug her tightly.

You’re alone again. Loneliness has come in waves as of lately. You’ve lived alone for years now, you’re used to being the only person present in your apartment ─ but that fact hasn’t felt more obvious than since you shunned Jungkook out.

Good days eventually turn sour. The times where it seems like you can go on about your life without thinking about him and what he might be up to quickly change because your mind makes you feel bad about feeling good.

Why did you cut him off knowing his daughter idolizes you like no other? Why did you selfishly decide to block him when you could’ve just talked it out? Why didn’t you stop him that night if you knew things would change between you two? Why did you let him kiss you knowing it was going to hurt in the end?

You know Sunhi’s fourth birthday is coming up. It’s one of those dates you can’t simply forget, it comes naturally to you. You had settled with the idea that you weren’t going to be invited this time around, it would’ve been okay since you think it’s what you deserve anyway. If Jungkook had taken you off the guest list, he was in his total right to do so.

You want to be mad at him right now.

Why would he invite you? Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? You wish you were angry, but you’re not. You feel slightly comforted with the fact that he had decided to include you even with everything that went down. In fact, not inviting you would’ve been selfish knowing that Sunhi must want you there.

And if the invitation wasn’t enough of a sign that you should go, two days ago you got an email that the gift you had preordered for Sunhi some time ago was on its way to your place. Just in time for her birthday party.

That’s life for you.

You’re quick to remind yourself of Minji’s last words to you. You’re not obligated to go and if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to. But you’d be lying if you said that because you really want to go, but there’s still some things that are holding you back. Your brain starts breaking down the pros and cons of going.

The pros: You’d get to see Sunhi again, who you missed terribly and a tiny part of you was wishing that she didn’t hate you for suddenly leaving. It’s too much to ask for, but you do hope that Jungkook had come up with something instead of telling her upfront that you had left.

The cons: You’d have to see Jungkook. Having to face the awkwardness of knowing you had blocked his number, prohibiting him from contacting you and discussing what happened like adults would do.

Oh, and you’d see Jiwoo too and pretend like you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her husband.

Whatever decision it is, you’d only have two days to decide.

Jungkook smiled warmly as he looked at Sunhi twirling in her green and purple dress in front of the long length mirror in his bedroom. Ever since he got the garment in the mail, he had to hide it from her curious hands because if it were up to her she’d be wearing it day and night.

‘‘Daddy, I look so cute!’’ Sunhi said with an excited tone, hopping in her place. The tull of her skirt followed her movements, making the glittery details sparkle brightly caused by the natural sunlight slipping through the curtain cracks.

He chuckled, ‘‘You do, Pumpkin, but you need to settle down.’’ Jungkook placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, making his daughter’s bouncing cease. ‘‘You gotta be fully energized for the party, alright?’’ She nodded quickly, but he could still feel the excitement radiate from her.

‘‘Gramma will do my braid, daddy.’’ Sunhi let him know once she noticed her father take a brush in his hand. The little girl much rather have her hair tangled in knots than having him attempt to do any sort of hairstyles on her.

Jungkook pouts, but nods understanding. He’s thankful that his parents had made the trip from Busan this year. He knows his mother knew he would have a hard time setting everything up by himself this time around. His parents would normally miss Sunhi’s parties due to the distance, but he’d make it up to them by visiting the following weekend and doing a smaller gathering at their house instead.

Things feel different. One could say that this time, everything is exactly where it should be. Sunhi’s growing older, his parents are here and not far away like usual, Jiwoo’s no longer in the picture, he’s picking back up the things that used to make him happy. There’s just a missing piece that doesn’t allow him to declare the puzzle’s finished.

And his daughter hasn’t really been helpful in allowing him to forget about it either.

‘‘Daddy, is Auntie Y/N going to come?’’ She asked for what seemed the thousandth time that week alone. The younger girl only wanted to make sure you’re coming even though her father had reassured her that you might be making an appearance.

Jungkook hummed, pursing his lips together, ‘‘Well, I don’t know if Auntie Y/N will manage to catch her flight in time for your party, but hopefully she’ll come,’’ he painfully lied and Sunhi nodded with a pout, she was hoping she’d get a different answer this time around, but still settles with her father’s explanation.

Ever since you left, it had been part of her daily routine to ask about you and your whereabouts. Jungkook hated lying to his daughter, but he knew that even if he were to explain the ending of your friendship, she wouldn’t be able to understand. He had foolishly hoped that after telling her, repeatedly, that you had been out of the country because of your job, Sunhi would get the clue that you showing up at her birthday party was very unlikely.

He can’t blame her because he’s also been hoping that you’ll show up for whatever reason. Jungkook’s aware that Minji had made no promises of you attending, but that little bit of faith he still had, clung onto you tightly.

He’s let go of so many things recently, but he refuses to add you to that painful list.

‘‘I miss Auntie Y/N,’’ Sunhi mumbled to herself, but Jungkook heard her clearly and his heart shattered at the longing in his daughter’s voice.

That’s why he’s relieved that she’s now running around the yard with her friends from the kindergarten she attends, screaming in glee as they all chase each other around the grass. The PinkFong playlist he had put together earlier that week has been a hit with the children, who danced and sang along to the lyrics; although some parents might’ve gotten tired of hearing the infantile music after a while. Jungkook himself is part of the people who much rather listen to something else, but it’s worth it if it means he catches Sunhi humming along to the tunes every once in a while.

Having to entertain the parents has taken his mind off of knowing you’re not there. The party started two hours ago and you’re never late for anything, especially his daughter’s birthday celebrations. He’s settling with the idea that you’re no longer coming while he dabbles in serving food and refilling drinks, all the while having to make conversation with the parents of the invited kids.

He can feel just how bad they feel for him, the word’s gotten around the PTA committee that he’s in the process of divorcing while taking full custody of his daughter.

‘‘Jungkook, how are you doing?’’ One of the invited moms asked him with a tactful tone, accompanied by a gentle smile that made him feel like a child for a mere moment. With a smile that could put anyone’s worries at ease, Jungkook assured her ─and the rest of the worrying mothers─ that he was doing just fine.

It’s Sunhi’s day, it’s her party, a few more hours and you can cry all about it when she’s sleeping, had become his mantra as the party goes on.

‘‘What’s with the long face?’’ His mother suddenly asks him after he finishes placing the candles on Sunhi’s unicorn themed cake.

Jungkook furrows his brows, ‘‘The unicorn’s face looks pretty alright to me,’’ he comments looking at the fondant shaped mythical creature at the top of the cake.

Mrs. Jeon rolls her eyes, shaking her head slightly at his son’s obliviousness, ‘‘I’m talking about your long face. Is everything alright?’’ She asks in genuine concern, making him sigh as he scratches the back of his neck. ‘‘It’s not because of Jiwoo, right?’’ The woman cautiously asks, afraid the mention of her son’s ex partner might be too sensitive.

The news of the divorce had surprised his parents, but they weren’t completely heartbroken about it. They had known her for years, but it had never been a close relationship at that. His mother had made a couple of comments here and there before concerning his ex partner’s behavior, but were always overlooked by Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘I’m fine, mom. I’m just kinda tired.’’

For someone who hates lying, he’s been doing it a lot recently.

His mother doesn’t seem so sure about his answer, but decides not to interrogate him any further since she knows her son has been dealing with too much recently and she didn’t want to add her nagging to the list.

Eventually the party guests all sing happy birthday to Sunhi as she sits behind her cake clapping alongside them, mumbling the famous song as she waits for everyone to finish so she can blow the four candles out and make a wish. She closes her eyes with force, putting her hands together as the guests watch her silently mouth words out.

‘‘What did you wish for, Sunhi?’’ One of the kids excitedly asks her, fingers curling around her arm as he waits for her to answer.

Sunhi hmphs and turns her face away from him, ‘‘If I say it out loud it won’t come true!’’

Jungkook can only hope his daughter had asked for something he’s able to buy. The newest Barbie doll, a trip to the zoo, that pretty tutu she saw at the store. Anything that is at arm’s reach from him to give her. But Jungkook knows his daughter all too well, those things don’t really matter to her right now.

Sunhi’s wish is something he can’t obtain ─ someone that’s no longer a call away from him. His daughter doesn’t know, but he’s wished for the same thing too.

You to come back.

The small pieces of confetti on the ground, paper decorations pasted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling of the house are enough to give away that a party had happened the day before, and that someone had been too tired by the end of it to even attempt to clean up.

Even the thought of having to deal with all of the mess that his living room currently looks like is already making Jungkook regret not accepting his mother’s willingness to help after the party had ended yesterday, assuring her that she had done enough that day and that it was only fair he took care of the cleaning.

Sunhi’s birthday had gone smoothly for the most part.

And as Jungkook scrolls through his phone’s gallery, smiling warmly at the small clips he managed to capture of his gleeful daughter running around the yard with her friends and the multitude of pictures his mother took of her blowing the candles of the cake out, granted, majority of them blurry, he is reminded that, although the party had been a success, the aftermath hadn’t been as pretty.

The party was over when he started hearing the first goodbyes and thankful comments of the parents for inviting them over, wishing Sunhi a final happy birthday before they took their sleepy kids in their arms. He had hoped his daughter would be drained too, despite the amount of sugar she had a few hours before.

‘‘Auntie Y/N didn’t come.’’ Sunhi had stated, a pout on her trembling lips as she looked up at her tired father. ‘‘Why didn’t she come?’’ She asked in genuine curiosity as her eyes started glossing with tears.

Jungkook sighed, ‘‘Pumpkin, I told you she’s not in town. I’m sorry she─’’ It didn’t matter what excuse he had given her, the waterworks had begun. He hadn’t seen his daughter cry like that in a long time and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do to get her to stop.

Even if he tried to coax her with distractions, like the number of gifts she had received from the guests or telling her he’d let her have another slice of cake if she stopped crying. He knew that what his daughter wanted wasn’t toys or food. She wanted you. And as much as Jungkook wants you just as much, he’s lost on ways to make you come back.

Sunhi cried for what seemed like hours, his parents had even tried to cheer the little girl up by promising to take her to their house the very next morning for the rest of the weekend, to which she merely nodded as she fell asleep from exhaustion on her father’s chest.

He envied her as he remained awake for most of the night, tears streaming down his face as guilt ate him away for his daughter’s heartbreak.

It’s his fault after all.

Jungkook isn’t upset you didn’t show up, you didn’t have to. Not even Sunhi could make you come back. Selfishly kissing you that night had changed the course of your relationship forever and that meant that his daughter would have to pay for his wrongdoings.

With the absence of Sunhi, he’s reminded of just how big his house feels when he’s by himself. Ever since Jiwoo moved out, the only company he’s had is that of his daughter and it’s more than enough. With her dancing around the hallways and singing songs to the top of her lungs, Jungkook doesn’t feel as lonely.

He must’ve missed the knocking at the door or the ringing doorbell ─if there even was one─ because of the earphones he had on while he swept the confetti paper scattered on the hardwood floor of his home because by the time he opens his door to get a run around the neighborhood, he notices there’s a gift placed in his front doorstep.

Jungkook’s brows furrow with confusion, unsure of why it was there in the first place. He’s sure Sunhi had opened all of her gifts last night, lazily and not very excited about them after her big cry, but she had made sure to leave them all unwrapped.

The medium-sized box is wrapped with a white and pink polka-dot paper, a cute golden ribbon placed right in the middle of it. Jungkook picks it up, bringing it closer for better inspection. Maybe it was from one of the kids that couldn’t make it? Although, they could’ve just gave it to Sunhi when they saw her at school again.

His eyes widen and his heartbeat races up when he reads the sticker tag with the name of the person responsible for the gift.

‘‘To: Sunhi ♡

From: Auntie Y/N’’

His eyes scan the tag over and over again, just to make sure he’s reading the name correctly. When he manages to take his attention away from it, he looks around the street in hopes that he’d find you.

How long has this been out here? Could he have caught a glimpse of you had he been less distracted?

Although it feels wrong to open his daughter’s gift without her consent, he feels the urgent need to peek at what’s inside. His mind even tries to reason with himself, telling him it’s probably only a doll or a clothing item, like the other gifts Sunhi had received from the birthday guests yesterday.

With a click of his tongue, he forgoes doing the right thing and tells himself that he’ll just wrap the gift again before Sunhi comes back from his parent’s house.

The cute wrapping paper is thrown over his shoulder carelessly as he quickly unveils a white cardboard box, tilting his head slightly at what could possibly be inside. When he takes the top off, a soft gasp escapes his lips.

A pink and white digital camera aimed for children lies inside, there’s decorative paper placed around it and a note inside. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, taking it delicately in his hand as he reads the words written in the familiar handwriting that hasn’t changed from all those years back in college.

‘‘Happy 4th birthday, Sunhi! Since you’re growing older, I wanted to gift you something different this year around. Your daddy loves taking videos and I thought you should start doing it too, maybe he’ll pick his camera back up again haha. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you blow your candles out, I hope all your wishes come true! I love you and miss you so much,

-Auntie Y/N’’

Jungkook blinks back the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He places the note back inside the box and breathes in deeply, exhaling slowly as he stares at the gift. No one but you could come up with an idea like this. It hurts him, but he smiles slightly at your thoughtfulness.

A different feeling arises inside him as he holds the gift in his hand, looking at it like this is the sign he had been sent from above. The last thread of his string of faith. He doesn’t even think twice, placing the gift gently inside and rushing to step outside to close the door.

He’ll go on that run, just not around his neighborhood.

As he runs past rows of houses and stores, the voice inside his head tries to tell him that he should think rationally. There’s a reason why you didn’t show up yesterday and another for you dropping the gift in front of his house without a sound. You don’t want to see him and yet he’s running straight towards you even if he knows this is hopeless.

He manages to shut that voice off as he maintains his rapid pace, rushing past the rows of buildings he’s familiar with and the street names he’s memorized by now. It all feels so different when he’s not behind the wheel, he usually always has to depend on his GPS to help him reach places. Your address, though, is one he proudly knows by heart.

As Jungkook stands outside your apartment building, he stares at it with the sound of his heart drumming inside his ears. Catching his breath, he’s reminded of the many times these past few months he’s been here, with Sunhi fast asleep in her car seat at the back.

He always pictured going up, knocking at your door, and begging for forgiveness, all for you to turn him down in the end with a gut-wrenching I don’t want you in my life anymore and a door closing on his face. That’s why he always drove away, deciding that uncertainty is better than hearing you reject him.

This time, though, nervous and unsure as he usually is when he comes here, Jungkook breathes in deep and ignores the familiar knot formed inside his stomach.

He decides that uncertainty isn’t a feeling he wishes upon you.

#heartsforbts #bangtanhq #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #btsghostie #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

We Make a Pretty Good Team

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s game night at the Avengers Tower, and you find the perfect partner in Loki. Warnings: ‘tis but fluff A/N: Just another self-indulgent, fluffy story. Hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“First Saturday of the month. You know what that means,” Tony hollered to the Avengers scattered about the Tower.

“Yes!” Thor boomed. “Be prepared to lose.”

“Funny,” Clint laughed with a roll of his eyes. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

“What is happening?” you asked, somewhat bewildered, as the heroes came into the room. “What’s significant about Saturday?”

“Oh my gosh, that’s right. You just missed the last one. Every first Saturday of the month we have a game night,” Nat explained.

You’d been part of the team for just under a month, having officially joined on a Sunday. So, it was true that you’d yet to experience their apparently traditional game night. It sounded like a great deal of fun, though, especially because the Avengers had become your second family in the short time you’d known them. Well, you’d actually known Nat and Clint for years, since you all worked for SHIELD. In fact, they were a huge part of the reason you were an Avenger now. A few months ago there was a particularly dangerous crime ring, and they’d specifically requested you as backup. You’d clicked with everyone immediately and, numerous transfer papers later, here you were.

“Sounds exciting!” you told them. “What are we playing first?”

“Well actually,” Bruce said kind of sheepishly, “it’s not that I want you to sit out, but they’re all team games, and we don’t have an even number of people.”

“So we have a team of three,” Nat said, as if it were obvious.

“No way. That’s unfair,” Tony argued.

You bit your lip, feeling like maybe you were intruding on something you shouldn’t be a part of. It was their thing, after all, and perhaps there was simply no room for a newcomer. As they continued to bicker about whether one larger team mattered or not, you considered just slipping away. That’s when you noticed that there was someone missing.

“What about Loki?” you said. “He would make the numbers even.”

Much to your surprise, everyone burst out laughing. You nervously ran your sweaty palms on the legs of your pants and let out a small laugh, though you weren’t quite sure at what. Once their cackling died down, you dared to ask what was so funny.

“My brother never attends these games nights,” Thor informed you. “He isn’t one for group activities, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Well, have you ever invited him?”

“Once or twice,” Tony said. “Listen, if you want to try to make a social butterfly out of Reindeer Games, be my guest. In the meantime, we’ll work out a feasible way for us all to play.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed a little, standing up to go find Loki. It was honestly ridiculous that they still treated him the way they did. Sure, he likes to be alone sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he likes being lonely. Not that he’d ever actually admitted to you that he was, but you knew. It was blatantly obvious in the way he sent longing glances toward the rest of the team when you gathered together. You always made sure to ask him over, an invitation he usually accepted. Everyone else had laughed the first time you’d done that, too. They’d only ever asked him a few times, and it was right when he was new and still so lost, so alone, so afraid. Why they took that to just be his permanent disposition, you didn’t know. Regardless of how insensitive they were to his situation, your inclusivity had brought Loki out of his shell a bit, and a friendship had blossomed between you.

A short walk later, you reached his door. You stretched out a hand, but hesitated to knock. Doubt gnawed at the back of your mind. Maybe he truly was not a fan of board games, and then you’d be interrupting his night. After all, he must have a tradition of his own if this happens every first Saturday. Still, you knew that was usually not the case, and steeled yourself against the uncertainty.

“Hello, my little mortal,” he greeted you, opening the door. “Is everything alright?”

“No.”

“What is it? Are you ill? Hurt?” he questioned, jumping into action and shepherding you to his couch.

“No, nothing like that,” you laughed, though you were touched by his concern. “It’s just that it’s game night, and we don’t have an even number of people.”

“Oh? And I suppose that you are asking me to join,” he mused as you nodded. “I am not usually invited, and I am notorious spoiled sport, just ask Thor.”

“Well, people say a lot of things about you, and they’re usually not true.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t have to play if you really don’t want to, but will you? Please. For me?”

“For you, my little mortal, anything. After all, how can I resist those puppy dog eyes?”

You giggled and led the way out of his room, ignoring the thumping of your heart when his hand accidentally brushed yours. Nat and Tony were still bickering about the teams when you arrived, but were quickly stunned into silence when they saw Loki.

“Brother! Good to see you’ve decided to join,” Thor greeted, breaking the somewhat awkward silence. “Shall we begin then?”

First up was Cranium, and you could tell that everyone else was divided into their usual teams: Tony and Bruce, Clint and Nat, Thor and Steve. You rubbed your hands in excitement, ready for some friendly competition.

“Yes!” you shouted a while later, after you and Loki answered the final question right. “We win!”

Everyone else’s jaw hung open, shocked by how serious of a competitor you were. Not to say you were mean-spirited or gloated or anything, but it was obvious you took game night very seriously. Loki was a little surprised too, but he relished in the infectious energy of your feisty spirit. Not to mention he absolutely loved to be on the winning team.

“Congratulations, guys,” Steve said. “Don’t expect to get as lucky in the next game, though.”

The next game, apparently, was charades, which you and Loki absolutely dominated again. The two of you worked as a well-oiled machine, guessing the simple ones like sewing and the more obscure ones like whale watching with ease. Loki was also surprisingly knowledgeable about Midgardian movies and literature. The two of you high fived, having just edged out the competition.

“Wow, good job guys,” Nat congratulated. “Tony and Bruce usually win that one.”

“Way to rub it in,” Tony groaned, flopping back on the couch.

You could tell a part of him wanted to accuse Loki of cheating but, having no real evidence and not wanting to start a fight, restrained himself. Instead, he contented himself with just mumbling how much of an outrage it was. You, however, were on cloud nine.

As the next game was set up, Loki pulled you onto his lap, instilled with confidence after his latest wins. Of course, if anyone were to ask, he would just say he was saving room on the couch. It would have, though, been a lie.

“Ready for a clean sweep, my little mortal?” he whispered, his breath surprising cold on your ear.

“Bring it on!” you whispered back with a wink.

The last game of the night was Pictionary, and by now everyone knew you and Loki were the team to beat. Unfortunately for them, you got this win, too. The Avengers let out a collective sigh as you shouted a victorious whoop and hugged Loki.

“Good game everyone,” you said, starting to help clean up.

“What are you doing, my little mortal?” Loki questioned, half joking. “Do you not know the losers have to clean up?”

“Not sure that’s actually a rule, Rock of Ages,” Tony grumbled.

“Fine, I’ll help,” he replied, placing a singular piece back in the box. “There. Now it is time for our victory lap.”

Then he scooped you up bridal style using his superhuman strength and began running you around the Tower in his arms, both laughing the whole time. He finally brought you to a stop on the balcony of his room.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?” you said, still chuckling.

“Perhaps. But we deserved that after an excellent showing.”

“I guess so. As much as it pains me to admit it, we should probably go easy on them next time. We’ll just win one a night, ok?”

“That’s my little mortal,” he happily sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “Always looking out for others. Always looking out for me. Thank you for inviting me along tonight.”

“No problem. It was a lot of fun. We make a pretty good team.”

“Indeed.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and you rested against Loki, whose arms were still wrapped around you. He felt more relaxed and happy than he had in a while. He knew he’d ask you out someday, but right now he was still too shy, this friendship still too new. One day he would, though, and he couldn’t wait to get there and to every day after.

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perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Job interview (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: Landry Olsen goes to speak to the Head of the Diagnostic Team in hopes of working in Ethan Ramsey's team.

Warnings: None

A/N: Just Landry being Landry. And my two idiots being in love - this time with actual words being said. Also, Ethan being protective and proud - you know, like a husband.

Landry Olsen walked the halls of Bloom Edenbrook with his head held high. After two years of being gone, he felt a familiar feeling of pride at the sight of rooms and staff, no matter how many changes have taken place.

The news of a job opening in the Diagnostic Team flooded the medical community, reaching the doctors of Solomon Kenmore. In particular, Landry Olsen. It was like his dream came true once more, like he got a second chance at this.

Since his residency ended, he knew for sure that Claire’s residency was over too. For an opening in the team to happen now? It couldn’t have been a coincidence – she must have packed her bags and left, leaving a space for him to fill. Leaving him a chance to finally work by Ethan Ramsey’s side and prove to him that he was a better doctor between him and his former friend.

That’s what brought him to Edenbrook. He didn’t think to check, so blinded with his pride that he strutted to the nurse’s station, asked where the new DT office was and, as soon as he got the confirmation that the head of the team was in, walked towards the place that would grant him a new start for his career.

He straightened his shirt, shaking in anticipation to see his medical hero, sitting behind the desk, waiting for him to give him his resume – waiting for Landry to join the team, like he should have done two years ago.

A screeching sound of an alarm blared in his ears when he stepped through the door and casted his gaze onto the figure sitting behind the desk. They were hunched over a chart, drumming the pencil against the smooth surface under their palm. Their coat was draped over the back of the chair they were sitting on, completely in their element – like they owned the place.

At the sound of the steps, they spoke up. “Ethan, babe, you’re early, you said you’d be here in ten minutes- “ Claire lifted her gaze from the lines of patient information and moved it towards the person standing two meters from her. “Oh.”

They stared at each other in silence, neither sure what to do. Landry’s brain didn’t register the term of endearment she used in regards to Ethan Ramsey, too shocked by seeing her in the room to notice the additional information.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” He managed to spit out, shaking himself off mentally. She raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you expect to see? You knew I was in the team, Landry.”

“I heard about an opening in the team, and since our residencies are over, I figured that… you’d leave.” He explained, shrugging as though his line of thought was the sanest thing in the world. Claire nodded slowly, sending him a strange look.

“I see. And, well, as you can see, that’s not the case. As a matter of fact-“

“That’s the last time I let you choose our lunch option, Claire. The traffic could not have been worse.” Ethan’s voice interrupted her as he walked into the room. At the sight of a faintly familiar face, he stopped in his tracks. Only for a moment, though, because he resumed his stride pretty much immediately, joining Claire behind her desk, their food in hand. He put the boxes down, then kissed her forehead warmly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Besides, why couldn’t you just order? They would have delivered it, no problem.” She grinned, leaning back in her seat.

“No problem, huh? I’ll remind you of how much it’s not a problem the next time you want those cookies that they do not deliver.” He nodded towards the smaller bag on the side. She gasped, touching her chest theatrically.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

“As I love you.” Ethan replied without missing a beat, his eyes softening as he smiled at his girlfriend.

At that moment, Landry Olsen cleared his throat. The couple looked at him at once, as though they only now remembered that they had company – neither embarrassed by the situation, though.

“Right.” Claire cleared her throat, turning in her seat to face him again. “As I was saying, I didn’t leave.”

“If you didn’t leave, then who did?” Landry asked, confused beyond measure. The next words wrecked his world and he felt ground slipping from under his perfect little vision of his future.

“I did.” Ethan spoke up, leaning against the desk. He nudged Claire’s arm with his knee, winking at her, both smiling.

“So… who’s the team leader now?” He stuttered, not for the first time in the past ten minutes, unable to understand what was happening.

“I am.” Claire raised her chin confidently, her posture straightening. “So, if you still want to discuss the opening in the team with its leader, that would be me.”

Olsen looked between the couple, the reality of their relationship suddenly catching up to him. The kiss, the love confession, their closeness – all like a slap to the face, all confirming what he already knew years ago.

“I… you two- but I- “

“I don’t think he’s a good fit, if I’m being honest.” Ethan shared his opinion, turning towards her. “You’re the boss here, so the decision is yours, but he doesn’t look like he’d be able to get much done. Well.” He gave the younger doctor a dirty look, well aware of what he’s done in the past. “Maybe except for sabotaging his coworkers.”

Landry paled. He wanted to run but his body froze, and he couldn’t move a finger. Memories of the conversation he had with Claire when she realized what he’s been doing came back to him immediately. He still stood by his point – a resident leading a team? In what universe would that be happening? He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

Ethan smirked at the sight, shaking his head at the younger man. He turned towards Claire and dropped his voice to a mutter. “I’ll wait for you in my office.” With a kiss to her cheek, he gathered their food and moved towards the door.

“You gave her the team because you’re sleeping with her?” Landry finally spit out, his voice pitchy and cracked. Ethan stopped immediately, turning around to reveal the stone-cold look on his face.

“I invite you to say it again and make an even bigger idiot out of yourself.” If looks could kill, Landry Olsen would be a pile of ash from how fiery Ethan Ramsey’s gaze was. “Go on, say that again.” When no other words were said, he scoffed. “That’s what I thought. You have nothing going for yourself, so you resort to bringing others down to hide your own incompetence. Truly touching. Now do us both a favor and go back to the place you came from so I can enjoy my lunch break with my girlfriend in peace.”

He glanced at Claire, his expression melting into a tender smile. “Come to my office once you’re done here.” She nodded, a barely visible gesture. He turned around, leaving the room without sparing Landry another look.

She stared at her former friend for a long minute, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she sighed, deciding to take the high road. “Would you like some water?”

Landry shook his head, taking a step back. He apologized after what felt like forever, then bid her goodbye and began to leave the office. He ran into Tobias and Harper, dropping his gaze to the ground when he passed them by to avoid embarrassing himself any further. The last thing he heard before he got too far away was Tobias’s taunting voice.

“Aw, man, Ramsey said it would get good. We always miss the fun, Harps.” He nudged Harper with his elbow, both of them laughing. Claire joined in, standing up and reaching for her sweater.

“We come here to spend out lunch break with the boss and the boss is leaving?” Harper teased her playfully, knowing damn well where Claire was going. The blonde shrugged innocently.

“Sorry, guys, my boyfriend just destroyed the guy that sabotaged me two years ago. He earned some kisses at the very least.” She walked backwards, grinning. “Not to mention that he has my food. See you in a bit!”

Harper giggled at their dynamic, her shoulders shaking as Tobias reached for a piece of paper, formed the ball and then threw it at Claire. “Lock the door when you get there!”

Notes

Claire: “Would you like some water?”

Perrie: “For your newly obtained burns?”

I’ve wanted to write some Landry-being-roasted fic again for a while now, and this just jumped at me today. A splitsecond decision was made and here we are.

Long story short, I have absolutely no time to write, but I write anyway. I’m probably gonna die because of this, so it’s been fun guys <3

Jk, but not really. I’m probably going to be gone for a while because of my finals. I’ll be back as soon as possible, and in the meantime, I’m going to be here, reading and praising our Queens for giving us the content we need after OH ended.

Thank you so much for being here with me for the entirety of the OH journey, having you here means more than I can express.

See you on the other side of the war. Literally.

Love you guys so much, thank you for reading <3

Tagging separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x mc

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years

Text

Braid | Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: You have long hair and Bucky learns how to braid and surprises you one day.

A/N: I usually don’t write anything that could specify something about a reader cause I like to keep it where everyone is included, but this was requested. It’s not the best, but I thought it was cute! anon, I hope you like it! xx

Also, i’ve heard two different stories of Bucky’s siblings and I wasn’t sure which one was true. First it was he had four sisters and then the other is he only has one sister. So, I went with the later for this story; he has one sister

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“Whatcha doing?” Bucky asks as he enters the bathroom where you were standing in front of the mirror, fixing your hair.

“Braiding my hair.” You smile up at him, “I have a lot of hair so it’s easier to braid it. It keeps it in check.” You laugh softly.

He nods, admiring part of the braid you completed, “It looks great. I don’t know how to braid.”

You shrug, “it’s really not that hard. I can teach you?”

“Maybe another time. I have to go to training.”

“Okay, I love you.” You pucker your lips at him and he obeys, kissing you.

“I love you too”

Later when he arrived at training, Nat and Wanda were there along with Steve.

As him and Nat start to spar, “Do you know how to braid?”

“Braid?” Nat asks, lunging at him.

“Yeah.” he grunts, blocking, “Braid, like your hair.” He motions to his hair.

“Yes I know how to braid.” She kicks him in the side, “why would you want to know?”

“Teach me.”

“Teach you to braid hair?”

“Yes. I want to learn, y/n always wears her hair in a braid and I want to learn how.”

She can’t help but laugh, “Okay. I can do that. But why not ask her to teach you?”

He shrugs, “Wanted to surprise her.”

She hums, “okay lover boy. You, me and Wanda can have a sleep over tonight and braid each other’s hair and drink cosmos, sound like a fun girls night.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, “Don’t make this weird.”

He sits in the floor with Wanda and Nat as Nat is showing him how to braid on Wanda’s hair.

“See? You just take three pieces like this and then cross them over each other.” She does the motion, “It’s pretty easy once you get it down.”

He nods, “Okay.. I think I can do that.” He moves closer to Wanda, “Let me try.”

Nat undoes the braid so Bucky can practice. “I never would have thought I’d see the day the Winter Soldier learns to braid hair.”

His tongue is stuck out in concentration, “I.. had a sister..” He tries to braid but messes up and has to start over, “But she never braided her hair. Plus, we were separated at a young age.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Wanda comments, glancing back at him.

He nods, “Yeah we were separated at a young age.. she was sent off after our parents died. I wasn’t of age to care for her.”

Wanda frowns, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs, “Like this?” He hopes to change the subject and Nat nods, “Just like that.”

He practices a few more times on Wanda’s hair and then on Nat’s, sipping on his beer in between while Nat and Wanda drank their cosmos. He listens quietly to Nat and Wanda talk about the drama and gossip going on around the avenger’s tower. “Wait, Ben from accounting, who is married, is sleeping with the girl at the front desk downstairs?”

“Oh god Bucky, keep up.” Wanda groans.

“That’s so last months news. Now he’s impregnated her.” Nat says.

“He got her pregnant?!”

Nat and Wanda continue on with the gossip and Bucky finally masters braiding their hair.

“You’re officially invited to all our girl sleep overs Bucky Barnes. You know how to braid.” Wanda laughs.

“We are to never speak of this.” He motions to the three of them, empty beer bottles and the two empty glasses that Nat and Wanda drank their cosmos in, “And I mean never again.”

Nat nods, “Okay fine. It won’t leave this room.”

“Oh this is so going to everyone.” Sam laughs as he snaps a picture of the three of them sitting in the floor, earning a scowl from Bucky and Bucky running after Sam to delete the photo.

The next morning when you get up to start the day, Bucky follows you to the bedroom, “I can do your hair this morning.”

“You do my hair?” You sit down, “I thought you didn’t know how to braid.”

He starts by brushing out the tangles in your hair, “I took a few lessons.”

You hum in response, not mentioning the photo Sam had sent last night, “Well isn’t that sweet.”

He starts by dividing the hair and then braiding it, “You have a lot of hair.” He mumbles. It’s a lot longer that Wanda and Nat’s that he’d practiced on, but he finally finishes.

“You’re a master at braiding hair, bucky barnes.” You comment, admiring the braid down your back, “You must tell me who taught you.”

“That’s a secret I will never tell.” He tickles your side and kisses your cheek, “Looks good? You like it?”

“It looks great! I love it.” You smile and turn around his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as his slip around your waist.

“Did you know that Ben from accounting got the girl from the front desk pregnant?”

Your eyes widen at the information, “What?! Really?”

He nods, “yeah. And he’s married.”

“Well I knew that. That’s so last months news.” Your fingers mindlessly play with his hair at his neck.

“yeah that’s what Nat said last night.” He chuckles.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “What?” The tower gossip was always what you nat and wanda talked about at girls night.

He slowly pulls away from you, clearing his throat, “Yeah, I over heard them.. talking last night. You know after I got done going out with the boys. Drinking our beer, starting a couple bar fights.”

You nod, humming. You already knew what happened last night because Sam sent the photo but you just had to tease Bucky about it, “Out with the boys?I don’t know about that... cause according to the photo sent to me by sam last night you took my spot at girls night.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and his mouth forms an ‘O’. “uh, oh.” He’d been caught.

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

A New Life

Part Three: Art, Bets & Dates

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,404

Warning: None

When you arrived at the exhibition, you were greeted by one of Cian’s and Cillian’s friend who, surprisingly, was accompanied by Robert.

‘You must be Y/N. My son has spoken very highly of you’ the man said to you and you were somewhat perplexed when you realised that he was Robert’s father.

Being a friend of Cian, you expected him to have attended Cian’s birthday party but you were soon to find out that he had a prior engagement related to his work that evening.

He was a well-known artist in Ireland and his artwork was, according to what Cillian had told you, rather interesting and controversial.

‘I had no idea that you would be here Y/N’ Robert said, much more confident than the night before.

‘You told your father about me. Why?’ you asked somewhat confused.

‘He is over exaggerating. I told him about having met you last night and that we would be going out for dinner sometime soon’ Robert explained, causing you to look sharply towards Cillian who simply shrug his shoulders.

‘How about the theatre instead?’ Cillian then suddenly suggested and you immediately shook your head.

‘I think dinner sounds fine’ you huffed out quickly, not realising that Cillian had, in fact, planned to save you after having accidently gotten you into this mess in the first place.

‘Well, I was just thinking…I’ve got four tickets to the new play at the Abbey and you could both go together with Cian and Evelyn’ Cillian suggested.

‘A double date?’ Robert said almost excitedly, causing Cillian to smile and nod.

Cillian had known Robert since he was a young boy and had gotten him his first acting job in an Irish TV show. He was a good young man but Cillian could see that you clearly were not compatible and hoped that Robert would realise that as well.

Being a young mum, you were at different stages of your lives and Cillian was surprised by your level of maturity after he had found out how young you actually were when he googled your name.

‘Well, I am not one for the theatre Cilly. Unless you are in the play, I don’t think I’ll force myself to sit through it’ Cian then said, causing you to roll your eyes. ‘But, Laura loves the theatre and you should go with her and take my sister and Robert along with you’ Cian then suggested while giving Cillian a wink.

Cian’s comment caused Cillian to chuckle but, when you looked at him with big puppy dog eyes, he couldn’t help but sigh.

‘You owe me’ you whispered towards Cillian quietly without anybody noticing and he nodded reluctantly in response.

‘Yeah, sounds good. Let’s go together. Are you in, Laura?’ Cillian asked and, of course, she gladly accepted his invitation.

***

The exhibition itself was as interesting as Cillian had promised and you were quite impressed with Robert’s father’s artwork.

Laura, on the other hand, seemed a little lost and couldn’t make much sense of some of the pieces. Her plan was to follow Cillian around and agree with everything he had to say which made you realise how much she actually liked him.

She had no interest in art whatsoever nor did she seem to enjoy literature much which was all Cillian had been talking about for the past two hours.

‘I think you are wrong Cilly. Clearly, this work refers to Ulysses by James Joyce’ you teased him as he tried to make sense of one of the works. He was determined that the work was inspired by a less a famous book and an argument evolved.

‘If I am right, you owe me a pint’ Cillian chuckled while Laura stood by and watched you both laugh and argue at the same time as you were analysing one of Ireland’s most famous pieces of literature.

‘Let’s make it dinner and we have a deal’ you chuckled, causing Cillian to nod.

‘Fine! If you are right, I will buy you dinner and if I am right, you buy me dinner instead’ Cillian confirmed, causing Laura to sigh while you continued to engage in the conversation without her and, just as you were about to seek out Robert’s father to get your answer, Cian arrived with a brochure about the exhibition while Laura excused herself in order to visit the bathroom.

‘Apparently, this painting was inspired by Ulysses. Interesting’ Cian said, causing you to grin while Cillian snatched the brochure from Cian’s hands.

‘Damn’ he huffed out before informing Cian that he lost a bet against you and now needed to take you out for dinner.

‘Is that alright with you? Me having dinner with your sister?’ Cillian chuckled, clearly seeing the humour in this not so serious bet.

‘So long as you don’t sleep with her, I have no objections’ Cian then laughed, causing Cillian to roll his eyes.

‘The fact that you are concerned about that is flattering man, but I am sure your sister would prefer a younger model for this kind of stuff’ Cillian then joked, shaking his head in disbelieve about your brother’s comment.

‘Topic change, please. My sex life isn’t up for discussion’ you laughed and, just as you did, Laura returned from the lavatory and joined you to see the remainder of the exhibition.

It was obvious to you that she no longer liked to be around you and, whilst she appeared nice when you met her, she was now rather frustrating to deal with. It was clear to you that she wanted to mark her territory and didn’t appreciate your interactions with Cillian.

She looked at you sideways for the remainder of the day, ignoring your presence and trying to pull Cillian aside wherever she could. Yet, you didn’t even try to interfere with her as all of your interactions with Cillian came naturally to you. You simply were you and he was comfortable being around you. It was as simple as that.

‘What are you trying to achieve?’ Laura eventually asked you when no one else was around and just before you were about to leave the exhibition.

‘What are you talking about?’ you asked rather curiously.

‘Don’t play dumb Y/N. It’s obvious. You are putting on act and it’s almost embarrassing, really. But, I guess, at your age, you don’t know any better. You are just young and in it for the game’ Laura then said and, whilst you were getting angry with her, you still weren’t sure what she was talking about.

‘You have to realise that he is a grown man Y/N and clearly won’t be interested in someone your age’ she then said which is when it hit you. She was talking about Cillian, thinking that you are hitting on him.

‘Oh Jesus. Laura, I am just trying to make friends, alright? Cillian is nice but I am not even interested in dating anyone. That includes him’ you pointed out, shaking your head, before walking away from the conversation.

***

At around 5 o’clock that evening you arrived back at Cian’s house which is where Max was spending the day.

‘Mum, can we go to the Zoo? Pretty please?’ Max asked pretty much as soon as you walked through the door with Cian and Cillian. He had been reading a book about tigers and was really keen to see one in real life.

‘The Zoo? Honey, the Zoo is like an hour’s drive and we don’t have a car. Maybe we can go to the Zoo in Perth when we get back home, hmm?’ you suggested, which is when Cillian jumped in and suggested that he would drive you.

‘You will drive us to the Zoo? It’s an hour’s drive Cillian’ you said somewhat surprised.

‘Well, I do owe you’ Cillian chuckled, feeling terrible about the situation with Robert. ‘Despite, I wasn’t going to just sit in the car. I’ll check out the cool tigers and elephants with you and then I’ll take you both for dinner’ he then said, remembering the bet he had lost, while Max was showing him the book with the tigers.

‘You will be so bored’ you giggled quietly before gladly accepting his offer.

‘I doubt that. I haven’t been to the Zoo in a decade and some of the animals are pretty fascinating’ Cillian said with a warm smile which almost made your heart melt then and there.

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM II

TĒCTUS: Covered, concealed, hidden, having been covered, hidden or concealed

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18, mature content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @ava-valerie , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @cazxcx , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @bayley-no-friends , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I would like to thank @letsgivethisonemoreshot , for not only being my partner in crime with this trilogy but also being one of the best friends someone could ever have 😘 This is fully written in Damian’s POV. If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist

Want to hear a joke that’s really in poor taste? The Mother Superior of the famous Mary Magdalene Convent (isn’t that ironic) is being accused of hosting ‘parties’ to the oh so loving convent donors. And you know who isn’t invited to those parties? Jesus Christ. Because the Devil sure loves to be a part of them! Drugs, orgies, alcohol, prostitution, even black masses... you name it! Everything that is unholy happens in the so-called house of holiness, and if that isn’t a bad taste joke, I don’t know what is.

So here I am now, driving towards the Devil’s den: the Mary Magdalene convent for three torturous days of interviews. Out of all of the reporters from The New York Times, of course I was the one who drew the short straw and got assigned this article. Some people see this as a career changing opportunity... a blessing, but me? I see it as a fucking curse! I don’t like religion, I don’t like churches, I don’t like priests and I sure as hell don’t like nuns! Anything that has the word “holy” in it, I prefer to be as far away as I possibly can from. But today was not my lucky day….no, today was the day that I was going to be tested. The only thing I’m hoping for is to not fail.

I knocked on the convent’s door and a young lady answered me.

“Hi, good morning. I’m Damian Priest, reporter from The New York Times and I’m here for an interview with” I looked down at my notepad “Mrs. Y/N L/N? Whom I believe is the Mother Superior”

The young girl only nodded once and motioned for me to follow her, without saying a word.

I followed her in, mesmerized by the size of the convent, the whole place was fancy as fuck on the inside. Art pieces from famous painters were displayed on the walls, modern furniture, dim lights that made the place look cozy and inviting. *What a scam* I thought to myself. The young lady in front of me suddenly stopped walking and pointed towards the door in front of her before turning around and leaving.

Presuming that it was the Mother Superior’s office, I knocked on the door twice before someone told me to come in. You see, when they told me I was going to be interviewing the Mother Superior of a convent, the last thing I expected was for her to not only be beautiful, but young (considering I was under the impression that women in that position were around sixty years old). She was breathtaking to say the least! Soft features, her skin had an angelic glow to it and there was something in her eyes that trapped you in them...something you could not turn your gaze away from no matter how bad you wanted to.

“Mr. Priest, please sit down” She smiled

I nodded and sat on the chair in front of her desk

“Thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to speak with me, Mother Y/L/N-“

“Please, call me Y/N” Her sultry voice spoke

“Y/N” I tested the word on my lips and it sounded oddly pleasant

She smiled softly and...fuck she’s gorgeous! Her beauty was a painful and constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, couldn’t touch, couldn’t-“

“Mr. Priest?” She said softly

“Damian”

“Damian, would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice, tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you” I answered, while grabbing my notepad and a pen out of my backpack. Clearing my throat, I said “Can we get started with the pre-interview?”

“Of course” She smiled widely and reached for a cigarette pack on top of the table, which made me raise an eyebrow

“We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we, Damian?” She asked, licking the cigarette filter before sucking it

*Am I going crazy?* I thought to myself

“Damian? Your first question is?” She giggled

“Ummm” I cleared my throat once again “Y/N, recently the convent was involved in a huge scandal involving drugs, prostitution, orgies and black masses. Would you like to clarify why an institution that’s deeply connected to the church is in the middle of something so profane?”

She grinned “God is in the most profane things, Damian. After all, the sinners are the ones who need Him the most, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure if I follow-”

“You see” She took a long drag on her cigarette and walked towards me “God is our Lord and savior. He forgives us from our sins, grants us forgiveness to our most foul actions” She sat down on the chair beside me “If you steal from someone and repent; He’ll forgive you, kill someone and repent; He’ll save you, cheat on your wife with the hot, young next door neighbor and repent; He’ll brush it underneath the carpet and pretend it never happened” She shrugged “God doesn’t judge, Damian. He only forgives” She leaned forward on the arm of the chair, until she was uncomfortably close to me “So if the big boss himself doesn't judge anyone, then why should I?”

“And what does judgment have to do with drugs, orgies and sin?”

She smiled “How can God forgive you if you don’t sin, Damian?”

“And how can God forgive his so-called followers who incite others to sin, Y/N?”

“Incite others to sin?” She chuckled “Are you talking about the allegations, the donors or yourself?” She smirked

………………………………………………….......................

Since we’re so far from town I was informed that I would have to spend the night at the convent. They showed me my bedroom and it looked pretty fancy. King size bed, Egyptian sheets, expensive furniture. Everything was oddly normal, except for the weird dream I recalled having. I was at the convent, lost, calling for help because I somehow ended up locked in here. I was inside what looked like a large basement, the room was only lit by red lights, a faint smell of leather took over my nostrils as I heard someone moaning softly in my ear…a woman. And the weirdest thing was that I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. Needless to say I woke up with my dick as hard as a rock and had to spend a solid thirty minutes trying to get rid of a very painful boner, which did not leave me no matter how many times I came. Half hard and inside a convent...yeah, I’m definitely going to Hell!

“How did you sleep, Damian?” Was the first thing I was asked when I walked into the Mother Superior’s office in the morning. Something in her voice told me she knew exactly what I had done underneath the shower.

“Good”

“I bet you woke up feeling much better after a good night of rest, right?” She smiled devilishly and I just nodded

“Would you mind if we took a tour through the convent at some point?” I asked, quickly changing subjects

“Of course not! Let me know when you want one”

I nodded and began to ask my questions

“So, why do so many men keep coming and going from this convent? Seems like the place men shouldn’t be”

“The only men who come to the convent, Damian, are maintenance, the donors for the ‘thank you parties’ we host and now you” She smiled

“How do you get so many people to keep donating?”

“We don’t oblige anyone to do anything. People are still kind enough to see the work we do for those in need and they get touched by it. So God is the one who inspires them to donate, Damian. Not me”

“I’ve noticed a lot of fancy things here. Shouldn’t the money be going to something else?”

“The ‘fancy’ things you see are gifts from the donors. Things they felt in their hearts they should give us freely. We don’t buy things for the convent, apart from food. That’s one of the rules”

“Speaking of rules” I looked at her “Why are you smoking? Isn't that not allowed?”

“We don’t have rules against smoking here, Damian. The choice to do it or not is personal, but there are no rules for it. It’s not forbidden or a sin. Now, if you think nuns shouldn’t smoke, I suggest you pay a visit to the convents in Rome and give them a piece of your mind about their choices regarding health”

I chuckled at her comeback

“Why so cynical about our good intentions?” She licked her lips

“Because you don’t have any” I spat

“We live for helping those in need, Damian” She pointed towards my visible bulge

“Helping those in need, huh? And what do you get out of it?”

She walked towards me “Satisfaction in its purest form” She lifted one hand up and caressed my lower belly over my shirt “It’s incredible how much providing relief to others can trigger the biggest pleasure in our bodies...to see their eyes semi-closed in...relief is so rewarding to me”

I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “And just how needy do these people have to be?” I was speaking in financial terms of course

“Very needy” Her hand toyed with my jeans button “Some even have trouble sleeping due to their neediness, so you can see how a helping hand goes so well in this case...even the right mouth, you know to profess the Lord’s word”

“And just how many of these ‘charitable acts’ have you been involved with?” I felt my cock grow harder and harder

“Directly? Only when things get too hard, Damian” Her hand brushed against my hard bulge “That’s when I offer my help, so things can stop getting so hard and painful”

I gulped as I tried to shift away from her touch “So what, you just have all these other poor girls do your dirty work for you?” I try to keep my serious composure

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Damian. The girls do what they can, what they’re instructed to...but sometimes things get so hard that I have no other option but intervene” She pulled the fly of my jeans down “Then, once the seed of evil is finally spilled, things can go back to being soft again” She leaned in closer “Would you like a demonstration, Damian? I’m sure you have some kind of evil inside you that needs to be released” She asked with a sinister smile reaching her hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs

“I’m just here for work, Y/N, I have nothing to donate”

“Don’t worry about it. My girls will not be involved in this...it will be our little secret”

“I would like the tour now, please”

She smirked “Of course” and stepped away from me “This way” She went out the door as if nothing had happened

“Psycho bitch” I whispered to myself, as I pulled the fly of my jeans up and tied my hoodie around my waist to cover up the boner.

“This way we have the nuns bedrooms” She pointed towards a hallway “Kitchen, restrooms, archives, laundry room, storage for cleaning supplies, pantry” She explained each room, until we were outside “The patio, garden; where we cultivate flowers, fruits and vegetables, garage and the chapel is this way”

She walked towards a medium sized chapel in the middle of the garden, it looked like a regular chapel on the inside. It had an altar with a bible on it, a pulpit, a big cross, devotional statues of catholic saints, wooden benches and a confessional. Candles were lit up all over the place and everything looked normal. Scarily normal, until I noticed a few nuns who were sat on one of the benches staring at me with a weird look on their eyes

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked Y/N

“Like what?”

“Like, with...” I trailed off

“With desire?” She whispered in a mocking tone

I looked down at her speechless

“One could say that you’re a little too obsessed with the lust theme, Damian” She smiled “It’s all you can think about ever since you got here, dear. You should be careful” She licked her lips and pulled me by my hand towards her office again.

………………………........................................................

Later that night while I was trying to get some sleep, I began to hear some mumbling. Muffled voices kept saying something unintelligible and filling up the bedroom with mainly female voices. But one of the voices sounded too familiar to me...

I stood up from the bed and began to search in the room where those voices could be coming from, and as I almost gave up, I found it. A small hole of the size of a coin, in the concrete wall in front of my bed. Scooting closer to the wall, I knelt down and peeked through the hole, but weirdly enough, the room was pitch black. The mumbling started again and they soon became moans. Above all the moaning voices, one stood out to me. It was Y/N’s voice, she moaned softly while she said something I couldn’t quite understand. Her voice was filled with lust, her moans were pornographic and I could swear she was moaning my name. It both frightened and turned me on, so I did what any wise man would do. I returned to the bed, laid down and jerked off before falling into a deep slumber.

..................................................................................

“Wake up” Someone softly whispered in my ear

I quickly opened my eyes and my heart was beating at a frantic pace due to the fright.

A young girl was sitting down on my bed “Please, follow me” was all she said before standing up and leaving my room

I was so confused that I didn’t even bother to grab a t-shirt, so I just followed her down the hall barefoot and only with a pair of sweatpants on. Looking outside the hallway windows, I could see that the sky was still dark, which could only mean it was the late hours of morning.

She took me inside the laundry room and pressed a button underneath the folding clothes table. A door opened and a red light lit up the dark wooden stairs. I continued to follow her down the stairs, and we began to walk down a long hallway that looked more like a basement. The whole place had only red lights as the lighting source, so it took my eyes a while to get used to it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, but only received silence as a response

We walked for what felt like ten minutes until we reached a black wooden door with an iron door knocker. She knocked on the door four times and left.

“Is this a prank?” I asked myself, after five minutes of standing there alone. Suddenly the door opened, but I couldn’t see anything other than darkness ahead

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, but no one answered back

The thing that made me such a great reporter was my utter curiosity, and even with all my senses screaming ‘don’t go in there!’ I decided to listen to my curious side instead, and went into the room. As soon as I stepped a foot inside, the door behind me closed shut.

The room was pitch black and I stumbled across a few items. I placed my hand on top of what felt like a table so I could try to guide myself through the room, at least back to the door again so I could leave. When suddenly I felt several pairs of soft hands on my torso pulling me back.

“What the fuck?” I gasped in shock

But before I could make a move, my wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden surface and a red light turned on in the room

Five nuns were in front of me, staring silently at my body

“Leave” Someone said from behind me, and the nuns obeyed and left

“I would be lying if I said you weren’t a beautiful sight” Y/N said, and and walked in front of me

“You psycho bitch” I growled and pulled at the restraints “Let me go!”

She smiled “Oh Damian...You don’t want that!” Her nails softly scratched my lower belly “And neither do I”

“You’re sick! Let me go, you fucking-“

“Na ah” She slapped me across the face “I’m done playing these pretending games” She lit up a cigarette “Pretend you didn’t jerk off to my moans, pretending you don’t want to fuck me...that gets tiring” She dipped her hand inside my sweatpants and found my semi hard bulge “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you laid eyes on me” She giggled and I licked my dry lips

“Those sinful, filthy, thoughts you’ve had, Damian” She closed her fist around my erection “You wanted to know what we do here, right? We purge that demon out of you” And scooted closer until her lips brushed against my own with every word she spoke

“We send him away, so he can’t bother you anymore” She freed my cock from my pants and began to pump her hand up and down “We release you from the seed of evil”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I panted

Y/N knelt down in front of me and darted her tongue out, licking my slit “Give me the seed of evil, Damian” and gave an open mouth kiss on my tip “Feed me with it” Licked the underside of my shaft “Release yourself from what’s been bothering you ever since you got here” Darting her tongue out “Use me to purify your soul” And opened her mouth wider.

At such a sight I had no other option but to buck my hips forward…

And chase for my cleansing

If you’re comfortable with it, please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

#damian priest smut #damian priest one shot #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x reader #damian priest imagine #damian priest #masochist writes #resistere tentationem trilogy #wwe x reader #wwe superstars #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction

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it-was-summer · 4 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Same things applies with the asterisks in this chapter, I hoped it helped last chapter! Please remember that if anything relates to you in this series that you are not alone and you are loved! I am begging you all to read the warnings and be safe. Thank you for all the love and support! Please enjoy this chapter. Love, Em :)

Warnings: Infidelity, cursing, blood, gruesome imagery, mentions of suicide, disturbing content, sex talk, sensitive material ahead (After the interrogation a very dark scene will occur, please, please be wary)

Plot: The team start to piece some new information together and get a little bit closer to finding you, Morgan and Reid unknowingly meet with their Unsub.

Word Count: 3k

The first shop Derek and Spencer visited was a tiny shop just around the corner from the library, they proceeded to bombard the manager with questions. Had they seen a beautiful woman come in here, asked if anyone had bought an insane amount of roses around Valentine’s Day. They got an abundance of death glares for that question, it did seem stupid.

They didn’t get anywhere till store number five, a slightly bigger store that seemed to be closer to your apartment complex. Behind the counter stood a red-headed woman, looking extremely bored. Her name tag read, Sorrel, and her posture became straighter as the two men approached the counter. “Welcome into the Rose Bud, how can I help the two of you today?” her voice didn’t seem to match her, Spencer assumed it was just her ‘customer service’ voice.

“Hi,” Derek motioned between the two of them, smiling, “I’m Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI. Are you the manager?”

Her eyes went wide at the sound of ‘FBI’, but she didn’t seem nervous just surprised. “Manager? No, our manager is Heather.” She glanced over at the clock mounted on the wall before frowning “Heather left early today around four, usually, she’s here from open to close but she got a call from her husband and left.”

Spencer spoke up this time “What time do you open?”

“We’re open from nine in the morning till seven in the afternoon. Why are you asking about Heather?”

“We just wanted to ask her a couple of questions,” Morgan answered gently, he didn’t want to panic the girl more. “Do you think she would be alright with us visiting her house, to ask her some questions?”

Sorrel bit her lip gently, she had a hard time saying ‘no’ to people, so she nodded a very slow ‘yes’. “I don’t think she would mind, no.” she opened a drawer, pulled out a notepad, and started to write down Heather’s home address, handing the paper over to Derek quickly. “She’s not in trouble, right?”

“I doubt it, ma’am.”

Heather lived in the suburbs, a white picket fence adorned with bushels of flowers, rose bushes, azaleas, peonies, etc. There was no doubt she had a green thumb. According to Garcia, her husband was in the navy and had been deployed to Okinawa, Japan. They got married when she was twenty, a couple of years after she dropped out of college.

When she opened the door her hair was wet, but even Spencer took note that she was, indeed, beautiful. She invited the two of them in, getting two glasses of water for them as they sat in her living room. Her living room had grey walls with forest green accents, Spencer found it aesthetically pleasing. She set two glasses on the dark green coffee table using coasters, said coasters had different flowers on each one. She noticed how Spencer’s eyes lingered on the coasters and she smiled before saying “They were a gift,” she sat down “When you work with anything floral people just default to flowers.”

Morgan laughed lightly and nodded “I understand that.” Heather smiled at him before she let out a tiny sigh.

“So, how can I help you?”

“We just wanted to ask some questions regarding your customers, see if you had any regular customers, possibly a woman?”

“I’m sorry, but could you be a little more specific?”

“She probably seemed on edge, came in on Valentine’s Day and bought quite a bit of rose’s?”

“Valentine’s Day? You’re joking right? Everyone buys roses on Valentine’s Day!”

“We know, we know, maybe she came in later on in the day, possibly near closing?”

Heather bit her lip, doing a phenomenal job of not smiling, before she let out a tiny gasp. “Yes! Oh, what was her name?” she asked herself as she tapped her temples gently “Adeline Smith! She came in just before closing, looked like she had been crying all day or something, bought a big order of roses she reserved the day before, all red roses. I remember she used a credit card, it had a picture of her family on it.” Heather smiled a little, letting it drop as she feigned concern. “We went to college together, well before I dropped, is she okay?”

“I’m sure she is,” Derek said as he stood up, Spencer following quickly. Heather led them to the door, exchanging pleasantries with the two men with the sweetest smile, closing the door gently as the two men were walking down her driveway towards their car. Her smile dropped as soon as the door shut, she turned on her heel and headed upstairs to a sealed door with locks decorating it. She unlocked them as fast as she could. Her mind was racing, you were just right upstairs and those men, those filthy, horrible men could have found you. They could have exposed the love the two of you shared, she couldn’t let that happen. Then she stepped into the pink room.

***

The morphine was wearing off slowly, it started about an hour ago. The throbbing pain in your foot was coming back slowly but now you felt more awake. You were able to sit up on the heart-shaped bed, scooting back so you could rest against the headboard. It was possible that over the course, well actually you didn’t know what day it was, you only knew it was a weekday because the other two days she had been with you almost all day. Your eyes scanned the walls, foam padded them and you didn’t see any windows so you assumed that the room was sound proofed, you frowned.

While you were happy you could have a complete thought, you were slowly become more convinced that you were never going to get out here. Years would pass and you wouldn’t remember your name, you would be Catherine. Maybe Heather would kill you. Then a sudden and terrifying thought snuck in, what if you fell in love with Heather? Would it come to the point that you would be so brainwashed to love someone so delusional?

The sound of keys jingling and locks unlocking brought you back to reality. You didn’t have time to think about the future, not when Heather was coming in with a frown on her face. “Catherine,” her frown dissipated as she shut the door behind her, quickly making her away over to you. You tried your hardest to move closer to the bed, Heather noticed this and let out a sigh as she sat on the bed next to you. “I know I look mad, some terrible men,” she pulled you over to her by the arm, stroking your hair quickly “Some terrible men, tried to take you away today.” You turned your head towards her, speaking in a shaking voice.

“Men?”

“Men. It’s always men. I hate them, all of them. They’re all pigs, honestly.” Heather pushed some hair out of your face before she continued “My husband, he’s gone right now, thank god, he’s such a bastard. Sleeps around on me, can you believe that? He sleeps with other women, while he’s married to me!” her eyes met yours and she relaxed more “That’s why I’m so glad I have you, my dear Catherine.” she whispered gently as she leaned in to kiss you on the lips sweetly, a shiver shooting down your spine as you tried your best to disassociate from the situation.

Heather pulled away with a soft giggle, she looked so desperately happy, a complete one-eighty from how she was when she came in just a few seconds ago. You tried to think back to college, tried to think about how she used to be. “You know I remember when I first saw you,” Heather spoke up as she ran her fingers through your messy hair slowly “, it was move-in day and you were walking back downstairs when you saw me struggling to pick up some boxes and you stopped, bent down and helped me. I was so happy that someone so kind saw me and picked me.”

You hung on her words, wondering why she decided to say that you picked her, when in fact you just simply helped her. Was that all it took for someone to become obsessed? Your stomach twisted with anxiety as Heather pulled you in her lap, hugging you around the waist. “If they ever found you, I don’t know what I’d do,” she trailed off slowly before she rested her chin on your back “ If they ever found us, I’d have to kill you and then I would kill myself.” Heather decided in a quick moment, hoping that they would never find you and you, wanting to stay alive, felt the same.

That night, Heather had fallen asleep in the same bed as you. You, however, didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire night, you thought about the keys she had carelessly thrown on the dresser, but you didn’t think you had the strength to make that type of move. In all her madness, Heather had forgotten to feed you. An empty stomach, mixed with veins filled with morphine was not a good mix, and despite your disgust, you were finding it hard to stay awake. As soon as Heather left in the morning, your eyes closed.

***

Spencer and Morgan called Garcia on their way back to the Richmond police station, learning that Adeline was a widow and a mother of one daughter. When they got back, J.J. carefully placed a photo of Adeline on the whiteboard. “It seems like Adeline Smith and Heather Alexander both went to the same college as Y/N L/N, all lived in the same hall and possibly on the same floor.”

Prentiss spoke up “Are we sure the unsub is a woman?” Spencer nodded as he wrote down some information underneath Adeline’s photo.

“It’s possible that when her husband died, Y/N reached out and that’s when the obsession started.”

“Let’s bring her in for some questions before we decide that,” Hotch said, then the team headed out.

March 9, 20XX

The next day, Adeline was cradling her cup of water, seeming extremely depressed as she waited for someone to come into the interrogation room. Her mind should have been at the police station, but all she could think about was her daughter. Her daughter was currently sleeping in a hospital bed. “Adeline,” Prentiss’s voice broke her away from her thoughts in a second. “Thank you for coming in today.” Adeline nodded, feeling suddenly stiff.

“You knew Y/N L/N in college, correct?” Another nod. “Would you say the two of you were close?”

Adeline smiled at the thought of you, of course, the two of you were close, you were at her wedding. “Yes, we were roommates. Y/N was my best friend, she was at my wedding, and when John,” Adeline paused and took a sip of her water. “When John died, she made some dinners for me and Anna, my daughter.” she finished, looking Prentiss in the eyes. Behind glass Reid and Hotch shared a look before turning their attention back to the interrogation.

“Did you ever visit Y/N at work?”

“The library? No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have the time to visit people most days,”

“Did you visit her after Christmas?”

“No!”

Prentiss sighed, leaning in towards Adeline, “I understand that you love her, you wanted to visit her. You gave her all those flowers on Valentine’s Day.”

“No, I didn’t! Valentine’s Day? I was at the hospital on Valentine’s Day, my daughter, that’s her birthday! I went to Heather Alexander’s stupid floral shop to get roses for her.”

“For your daughter?”

“Yes,” she stopped for a second and looked down at the table “She has leukemia, we, I mean I found out this December and she’s six. She’s six and she wanted her prince charming to come to the hospital with flowers. So I hired an entertainer and bought a shit ton of roses for her. Heather, she and I were never that close, but Y/N liked her, so she gave me a good deal on them and held them for me.”

Prentiss slid a photo, taken on Valentine’s Day, of your apartment covered head to toe in rose petals. Adeline let out a small sound, almost sounding impressed “So, her boyfriend or whatever was being romantic. Is that why I’m here?” She looked up at Prentiss.

“This past few months, Y/N learned she had a stalker, unfortunately, officials can’t step in till something happens. On Valentine’s day, Y/N came home to her apartment that had been covered with red rose petals. This past Saturday, Y/N was abducted from her apartment in Richmond.”

Adeline suddenly felt sick to her stomach, thinking about how her friend was missing and how she was just now finding out because she was a suspect. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She announced, standing up and running over to the bin in the room to vomit.

Prentiss shot a look over her shoulder towards the glass where the rest of her team was standing, unseen, they all knew that this wasn’t their unsub. Adeline was hunched over the trash bin as Prentiss brought her another cup of water. “Thank you so much for your time today, Adeline.”

***

The next day Heather was there in the morning to open up her shop, her smile was as bright as the sun as she flipped the lights on. People usually commented that everyone looks better when they smile, but the smile that Heather was wearing on her lips seemed more sinister. She was moving a hibiscus tree over when she decided that she wanted to go home. One of her other workers, Mac, was already there and she didn’t need to cover any shifts so she went home to her Catherine. When she entered the pink room, she watched your sleeping form from a chair near the bed, she wanted to leave you alone, she wanted to let you sleep but she couldn’t help it, you looked so damn beautiful, she just had to. She walked over to the bed, gently kissing your lips before she was inspired to lift your shirt and kiss your exposed stomach.

You woke up slowly, feeling something gently touch your stomach, you tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but when you moved to turn over, two hands squeezed your waist tightly. Your eyes shot open, sitting up as soon as you realized what was happening to you. “Heather!” you yelled in surprise, trying to scoot away from her, but she held you tight and you didn’t have enough energy at this point to fight back.

“Catherine,” she said your name with a smile before she kissed your exposed stomach lightly. You held back a scream and writhed around with disgust.

“Please I don’t want to,” you whimpered softly, trying to push her hands off of your waist.

“You don’t want to?” Heather scoffed, with a glare “Fine, I guess you don’t love me very much!” She snapped at you as she slid off of the bed, moving towards the dresser. You felt a sigh of relief escape your lips, happy that Heather’s hands were no longer touching you.

Heather pulled a small paring knife out of one of the drawers, walking back over to you as she watched your body tense. You made a move to roll over to the other side of the bed, but Heather grabbed you by your broken ankle, pulling you back to her. “You don’t love me?” she questioned as you let out a cry of pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You screamed as Heather moved to straddle you on the bed, trapping you as she held a knife close to your face. “No, no, please, I’m sorry,” The tiny knife was slashed against your bottom lip, your mouth filled with the taste of blood.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Emma, but sometimes you’re just so stupid!” Heather hissed, spit hitting your face as she traced your chest with the small knife, cutting into your shirt to expose the top of your breast. Heather smiled wide as an idea came to her, she put the tiny kitchen knife into action, carefully carving into your skin.

You trashed underneath her as you cried, painful hot tears falling from your eyes. Every time you would move Heather would snap at you “You’re ruining it, Jane!”

“I’m not Jane, I’m not Emma-”

“Yes, you are!” the blade went in deeper as she finished carving the letter ‘L’. “Hold still!” she screamed before she squeezed your cheeks together in a painfully tight way with her free hand. “Isn’t this better than loving me? Jane?” she let go of your face quickly, continuing with her work. Once she was done, she dropped the tiny knife on the bed with a smile. “Now there’s no hiding what you are, Slut!” she said with a twisted smile as her eyes met your terrified ones, she brought saliva to the surface of her tongue and spat in your face. After she did that she grabbed the bloody knife, got off of you, and headed for the door, locking you away once again.

As soon as the door shut you broke down sobbing, you wanted to scream but the painful cut on your lip made you think twice. You moved a hand up to your chest, feeling around the word carved into your chest, shaking. You laughed softly through your sobs, ‘Slut’, it made sense now. The stupid panties, Heather thought you were a whore. She hated that about you, but apparently, she was in love with you. After you had your emotional breakdown you stayed on the bed, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling as you bled onto the bed with spit on your face.

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beaubokuto · 3 years

Text

━ smile a crooked smile

pairing: koutaro bokuto x f!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, royal!au, angst, fluff

summary: koutaro bokuto was the light amongst the darkness that was the kingdom of peredine. but being in love with a flame can only last for so long before burning out.

for the #tooruluv2kparty contest hosted by the lovely @tooruluv !!

prompt: “falling in love with my best friend...it is the most destructive thing i have ever done.”

tags/warnings: angst, royalty, swearing, medieval, fantasy, friends to lovers, characters age up throughout the story, minor depictions of violence (dueling, a little bit of blood, open wounds, the creation of a scar), stealing, made up words and phrases, mentions of domestic violence

You met your soulmate at the age of six. As just a mere child, you had found a piece of yourself in someone else.

It was the first day of schooling. On the first day, it nearly always consisted of crying children begging to stay with their parents and teachers pretending that everything was okay.

You had walked to your first day alone.

As you took the steps that lead to the small building, you walked by a small boy sobbing into his mother’s chest. She was petting his head and whispering something to him that you couldn’t hear.

He was the only one left outside.

“Look,” His mother said, this time in a voice a tad louder. Just enough for you to hear. “She is being brave and going in all by herself.”

The boy turned to you, tears in his eyes and face a shade of red that you never witnessed before. He looked on either side of you, assessing the fact that you were by yourself, and turned back to his mother.

“I can do it.”

The boy wiped the tears that stained his cheeks and gave his mother one last hug, barely a second, before rushing to your side. You hadn’t realized that you paused on the steps. It was as if you were waiting for him.

“Hi.” The boy was a little small compared to you, still baby fat and full cheeks. “You’re alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Not anymore!” He smiled. You felt the need to squint. “I am Koutaro Bokuto and my dad isn’t here because he’s a knight, so that’s my mama. She said you’re brave.”

“I guess.” You walked again. Bokuto followed. “You’re brave, too.”

He sent another bright smile. This time it was accompanied by a twinkle in his golden eyes.

The friendship only grew from there. You would sit together during reading, play together during recess. He would wait for you on the steps every morning just to walk into the building together.

This continued into advanced schooling, into your preteen years and into high school.

He became a true friend.

At the age of ten, four years into your friendship, he asked you to have dinner at his house.

“Why?” You asked in return.

“I think it would be a good idea!” Bokuto took a bite of his lunch. “I can show you around! And my mother is a great cook.”

“I do not think...”

“Don’t think!” He pointed at you with his spoon. “Just agree!”

The thing about Koutaro Bokuto was that he was never formal. He would talk to teachers as if they were his friends; he would laugh at the King if he had the chance.

He was the only one you were informal with.

“Fine.” You slapped his hand away from stealing a bite of your lunch. “Meet me in the town square tonight?”

“Yay!”

That started your routine dinner. For years, you would either meet with Bokuto or arrive at his house for your final meal of the day. Bokuto’s mother would greet you every time with a smile that mimicked Bokuto’s and took your tastes into consideration while cooking.

Bokuto had a life that you wish you had. His parents were married, but his father was a knight who worked in the castle a majority of the time. He had two older sisters, one who was working towards becoming a teacher and one who was only two years older than you two. They would laugh and smile together, discuss each other’s days.

You couldn’t remember the last time you and your mother had spoken since your father left on a mission to another kingdom.

A garden lined their backyard, and you found your peace in the flowers.

The line between love and friendship is rather thin. You love your friends, of course. But, when does that line blur and shift into something else entirely?

You feared you knew the tightrope of love.

The year between your first and second year of high school was the year Bokuto became taller than you.

He grew overnight, it seemed, as he arrived at your doorstep. His shoulders were muscular against his giant frame. You had to gain your bearings for a moment.

You found yourself staring.

“You seem smaller.” He joked, obvious to his recent growth and broadness.

“I suggest you bite your tongue.” You rolled your eyes.

You were going to say another quip, something about gloating in the presence of a lady, when you noticed a bruise on his cheek. It was purple against his naturally sunkissed skin, boiled at the surface of his cheekbone directly under his right eye.

His father.

You reached to trace the bruise that marked his skin. He must have forgotten about it; he sent you a confused look as you placed your hand on his cheek.

“It was him again, wasn’t it?” Your thumb brushed the purple. Bokuto winced, but only a little.

“It is all right.” He took your hand off of his face and intertwined your fingers with his. “We will be late for school if you continue to stare.”

Holding hands was not something new to the friendship. Oftentimes, you would find your hand on his or fingers interlaced. Bokuto would grab your hand, and you would allow him to do so. It was a common occurrence.

But his hand in yours felt like flames. He was attempting to comfort you, telling you that it was all right without using more words.

That he could endure the pain his father inflicted.

"Twist your waist.” Bokuto giggled from across the grass. “You cannot possibly think you are doing this correctly.”

You sighed. “Kou, I am throwing knives. You are the one that is good at this. I am not.”

“You are good at everything you do.” He walked to your side.

He had placed a false target on several trees, lining from close to pretty distant from where you stood. The two of you spent most days under the leaves; there was a dock that lead to the seas close by, and you preferred the smell of the salt anyway.

“This is the hardest part.” Bokuto stood directly behind you. You had grown used to his height and broadness, yet you still felt small with his chest at your back. “Here,”

His hands found your waist, clasping you at your sides. He turned you in a quick movement, only at the hips.

“Do you see?” He was far too close for you to breathe. “Now repeat that motion, but aim at the same time.”

You inhaled when he took a step back. You felt the oxygen enter your lungs as if he had taken it away in his mere presence.

You did as told, moving your hips as you held the knife in the same way he taught you. Letting it fly, the knife landed in the second-most outer ring of the target on the tree.

Bokuto cheered. You smiled, noticing the improvement.

“I was right.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned to your head. “You are good at everything you do.”

You wanted to tell him that you were still not hitting the middle, but you could not bring yourself to damper the mood. You pressed your side closer into him, instead, “And you are always right.”

Being the son of a King’s Knight, Koutaro Bokuto was invited to many of the castle’s festivities. There was a hierarchy according to profession, meaning that the richest were the ones who worked for and with the castle (The High Order: Knights, Cooks, Messengers). Many of the Magick and Medics lived with favor to the castle as well.

You always stared at the Castle of Kageyama from afar. The castle sat on top of a giant hill that overlooked the rest of the kingdom; it was dark and always seemed to have a black shadow cast over it. You could only imagine how large it was if you were closer.

Bokuto and his sisters would tell you stories of balls, dinners, meetings. Sir Bokuto was high in the chain of command after General Shimizu, and that created a favorable blanket for the rest of his family.

This particular time, Bokuto received an invitation to a ball for Princess Miwa. She decided to step down from the crown, not wishing to be a Queen and planned to travel to the other kingdoms and discover new things. The ball would be her departing gift.

Bokuto asked you to come alongside him.

“Kou, I would not even know what to wear.” You laughed. “I do not even know how to dance.”

“I want you to come.” Koutaro Bokuto pushed you. You fell onto his bedroom floor. “You do not need to dance to have fun. I am always bored at these events without you.”

“Are you able to invite me?”

“Yes, why could I not?”

“I would need a dress.”

“I can do that.”

You looked up at him from his floor, his eyes twinkling in hope and anticipation. How could you tell him no?

“Then I will go.”

The dress he brought to you was blue, mimicking his tailored black and white jacket and slacks with the same colored blue accents.

You surprised yourself at how beautiful you could become, had given effort. The dress was one of his sister’s, but it fit you perfectly. You even did a spin in your mirror.

When you arrived minutes later at his doorstep, Bokuto was the one who opened the door.

He was surprised, too. With wide eyes, he blinked at you. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You replied. You hoped that he would not notice the blush on your cheeks when he took your hand.

You realized that your soulmate was Koutarou Bokuto at the age of fifteen. As a teenage, you had found a piece of yourself in someone else.

At the ball, he was someone new in your eyes. He smiled at everyone, talked to every person as if he knew all of them by name, waved at the cooks and they waved back. It was completely different than any atmosphere than you had witnessed.

You could not take your eyes off of him.

He left you for a moment, something about retrieving drinks, and you found yourself alone. All you could do was watch him from through the crowd. He danced through the people as if he did it everyday, easily weeding through them and greeting some in casual conversations.

He was glowing.

“For you, m’lady.” Bokuto said to you once he returned. The cup was of red liquid that smelled like fruit. “It is pretty good, though I am unsure of what exactly it is.”

“Why thank you, my liege.” You joked. You took a sip, the sweetness of the drink honey on your tongue.

“Good, is it not?” He took a drink after you took a second sip.

You nodded.

“That is enough of that.” He snatched the cup from your hand. You were going to protest, the words on the edge of your lips. “I believe it is time for a dance.”

“That juice must be expensive, we cannot just leave it.”

“They have plenty.” Bokuto took his hand in yours and nearly dragged you to the middle of the ballroom floor. “Follow my lead.”

Your feet matched the timing with his as he forced you to dance. The flow of the music seeped into your ears. You could feel lightness grow in your chest as the two of you danced in the festivities, fast music and laughter mixed together into a yellow light.

You never knew that the inside of the dark castle could glow such a color.

Koutaro Bokuto and you were one in the same, circling around each other and dancing to a rhythm you could only feel rather than hear. You were out of breath, sweat gleaming on your forehead, and your legs were tired. But you continued to dance. His smile matched yours, golden eyes shining with the reflection of you.

Perhaps being in love with him was similar to a dance. Unbearably exhausting, but you wish to do it forever.

You would hide your feelings, you decided. You had stared at the ceiling of your bedroom for what seemed to be hours. Your mind bleeding in thoughts and scenarios of you telling your best friend that you were in love with him.

If you knew him at all, you knew that Bokuto was dramatic. He would tell you that everything was fine, that he did not love you in the way you loved him, and he would do everything to make the situation seem casual and normal, only to make things astronomically worse.

You did not want that.

Hiding your feelings, masking them under the platonic love you shared, would be easiest. Perhaps they would go away in time, perhaps they would be replaced by someone else.

You did not even know what love entitled, anyway.

A crumbled napkin hit your face, causing you to look up with a glare. The lunch room of the high school was full of students, eating and chatting and enjoying the little free time between classes.

“Our final year of school and you still decide to drink milk instead of juice.” Bokuto laughed, blatantly ignoring the scowl you were sending him.

“Would you prefer I grab a juice next time, just for you to steal it?”

“I am no thief.”

He was, though, you thought. Because he had your heart in the palm of his hands.

“Sure you are not.” You jokingly agreed, though you rolled your eyes.

Keiji Akaashi was a transfer your final year of high school. He was younger than you and Bokuto, but quickly found place in your friendship.

The two of you were walking to the peer, doing nothing other than walking off the sweat and weakness of just training and practice fighting in the woods. Bokuto loved to spar with you, hand to hand; “It is great practice for your future husband!” He would joke.

As you walked along the sand, you caught sight of Akaashi spearing fish in the shallow water. With every draw of his spear, a fish would be on the end. He hadn’t missed a single shot.

He was almost beautiful, the way he stood in the water. His dark hair reflected off of the blue that glittered in the afternoon sun. You looked at Bokuto, your best friend, and thought of how it never matched to him.

“You are excellent!” Bokuto complimented, catching Akaashi off guard. The boy turned around, spear in hand, and shoved the fresh fish into a netted bag at his side.

“I hear you are amazing with knife throwing.” Akaashi said. He walked closer to you smoothly; it was as if the water was no barrier for his feet. “I am a mere fisherman.”

The boy seemed to not do well in social situations. His words were carefully thought, said in a manor of formality you only witnessed when village people spoke to the High Order or royalty.

“I have watched plenty of fishermen.” Bokuto crossed his arms over his chest. You had to look away before you would get distracted in the veins that marked his muscle. “No mere fisherman can catch every fish as you can.”

“Perhaps I can teach you, if you wish to teach me some of your knife throwing.”

“I can do that. I taught this one here how to, and now she is the best knife thrower in Peredine. After me.”

You scoffed at his superiority and pushed him in his side. Bokuto only chuckled and pushed you back.

“How long have the two of you been a couple?” Akaashi asked. He was becoming more casual after noticing your informality, you noted.

“She is only my best friend.” Bokuto flicked your forehead. “We have been best friends since the age of six.”

“He would not stop talking, so I had to give in to his friendship.” You told him. You were not wrong, which made your joke better. Bokuto laughed.

Bokuto turned to the netted bag that hung across Akaashi’s chest. “What are you planning to do with that?”

“I planned to sell them.” Akaashi shook the bag, sending drops of water into the tide below. “I am trying to save up to a moonful. Hopefully I can enter the knight program come summer.”

“Head towards the center of the town.” Bokuto advised. “They would love fish, they usually end with what the fisherman and peer do not have.”

“Thank you.”

“You can sit next to us at lunch tomorrow.” Bokuto said. “I invite you to the sanctuary.”

Akaashi spared you a glance. You shrugged. “He has invited you. You must attend, now.”

The entirety of your life, you had wished for more.

You would walk the streets of the village hoping for more. The village, especially near the center. It was dusted in browns and beiges, dirt and dust. Moss climbed the side of buildings and horses stood on the streets.

You would not hope to live in the castle, surrounded by white and light and food for days. You would not hope to be royalty, or to be a member of the High Order.

You would hope of travel. You would wish for what was beyond your island; you would wish for being... away.

You understood why the princess left.

Then your mind would remind you of Koutaro Bokuto. He was the only reason for your stay. Your family was not an avid presence, or a presence at all for that matter, and you had one other friend that you only recently became acquainted with.

Bokuto was your only reason for staying.

Despite every fiber of your being wishing to leave, you knew that you could not. The worst part of it all, is that you knew that if you were to tell Bokuto that you wished to leave ━ if you were to tell him that you wanted nothing more than to get on a ship and travel far, far away from Peredine and the Kageyama castle and the knife throwing every day and the walks on the beach ━ he would tell you to go.

He would tell you to live your life. He would tell you to write him every day and visit when you can. He would have a smile so bright that it burned.

How could you possibly leave someone who shined that brightly?

Shining that brightly would only end in destruction, you feared.

You already felt the inside of you withering in hopes of him returning your love.

You remembered the last day that Bokuto smiled.

It was nearing winter, cool air replacing the warmth of autumn. Leaves scattered the ground in every place imaginable. The entirety of the village seemed to be blanketed in brown and orange, reds and yellows.

You walked hand in hand, fingers interlaced and swinging with each step.

“Let’s spar!” Bokuto turned quickly, trying to catch you off guard. He might have been quick, but your reflexes were slightly faster.

With a swish of your wrist, you sliced his face with a knife. He had been the one to tell you to “always be prepared” and wear the knife attached to your thigh.

The moment your knife connected with his left cheek, you knew what you had done. He did not collapse, but reached up to stop the bleeding.

“Oh!” You immediately dropped the knife to check his face.

He was bleeding profusely, the hand he clapped to the cut doing nothing to stop the flow. You must have had a deeper motion than you thought.

“I’m all right.” He muttered, but there was a gargle beneath his tone. He was choking on his own blood.

“No, no. We must go to a Medic.” You said. You wanted so badly to move his hand out of the way to assess the wound, but you knew that it would only be worse.

“Yes, let’s do that.”

You held his elbow and rushed back through the trees. Leaves crunched under your feet, matching in footsteps. Blood dripped onto the ground in a trail.

You reached his home before long. You left him to run into the kitchen, finding his mother cooking. She dropped the ingrediants that she was working with the moment she viewed your expression.

“It’s Koutaro.”

You followed his mother out of the kitchen and to her son, who was still actively bleeding. She brought his hand out of the way to finally━ finally━ see the wound.

You had cut him across his mouth. It started just under his nose, across the left side of his lip, to his chin, and curved back into the middle of his left cheek. This may sound rather vulgar, but the skin was very gross and you wondered how it was still attached.

“We must go to the Medic. Now.” She turned to you. “Grab a towel from the kitchen and catch up to us.”

You nodded and ran into the kitchen, finding the cloth and rushed to walk with them to the Medic.

Because of their family being one of the High Order, they lived on the hill below the castle. The Medics were only a little higher on the land, their neighborhood close together rather than spread out along the grass.

We entered a house, not bothering to introduce ourselves with a knock. The family was eating a meal at the table, standing immediately at the blood. A mother, a girl, and a boy your age.

“We need your help.” Bokuto’s mother said. She must have known the family, because the Medic flew to Bokuto’s side.

“Aiko, the sewing set.” The mother ordered. The girl took off down the house’s hall, disappearing into the dark. “Asahi, the herbs.”

You watched from afar as the Medics worked on your best friend. He would grimace in pain, tears painting his cheeks. They laid him on the dinner table, replacing the food and dishes with his body. They were effortless in their movements, as if it was every day that they fixed a man with a gaping hole in his cheek.

“He will be all right.” The boy said from your side. He watched alongside you, as his mother and older sister finished their healing.

“I know you.” You did not look up at him. You could not take your eyes off of Bokuto. “You are in the same school year as I am. Asahi Azumane.”

“Yes.”

“I did not know you were a healer.”

“I did not know that you loved Bokuto as you do.” He replied.

It was three weeks for the cut to turn into a heavy, thick scar. It was three weeks of Bokuto’s absence.

He claimed that he was too ugly for you to see him. He did not want to see anyone, his mother told you after your hundredth visit to their home.

After the third week, he greeted you outside of your door.

“I cannot miss anymore school.” He said as a greeting. “And I cannot miss anymore of you, can I?”

Before you could take another breath, you leaped into his arms. He hugged you back, effortlessly, chuckling into your neck.

When you pulled back, you viewed the scar that curved on his face. The stitches had been removed. The scar was lifted, pink and bruised still; you could not help but want to cry.

You had done that.

“I am so incredibly sorry.” You said as you scanned the scar. You wanted to touch it. “Please accept my deepest apologies.”

He pushed your head playfully. “Do not apologize. I am the one who taught you to do that. I am a bit proud, if I were to be completely honest.”

You pouted, but he only sent you a smile.

A smile that only lifted to his right side. His smile would be forever crooked.

Because of you.

Bokuto would not stay because of you.

You knew that he wanted to leave someday. You knew that he wished to travel and fight and be himself. It was rather hard to be yourself when everything and everyone around you expects brilliance.

You could not tell him to stay when he told you that he wanted to be a knight. It was already something that you knew. He wanted to be a knight, to work on the King’s Court and throw knives for a living.

To be a better one than his father.

With a smile, the edge of his right lip the only one to reach the full length, he told you, “Do you think I would be a good knight?”

How could you possibly tell someone who shined that brightly no?

To be a knight on the King’s Court, there was a series of things you must do. Spend a moonful to be admitted━ a rather large sum, train in the castle for months━ dueling, fighting, training to the brink, and finally win a duel against the General or the King━ your choice. If you were to fail, you would have to pay another moonful to reenter.

You have heard that some people had been training and failing for years.

However, Koutaro Bokuto was confident. With his family being well off in terms of coin, he paid the castle his moonful.

“I start this summer.” Bokuto stated. Excitement drenched every feature. “Akaashi paid his sum, too, and will be coming along!”

“Akaashi is a year below us.”

“He will graduate early, his transfer from Hittaku allows him to leave when we do.” He explained. You hadn’t thought of that. “He will do amazing with his spear, perhaps that can be his specialty.”

As he rambled about becoming a knight with Akaashi, you let your mind wander. He would leave you come summer, and he would be taking Akaashi with him.

You would be alone.

The start of winter arrived as quickly as a blink.

Snow replaced the leaves beneath your feet, hiding the dirt and grass you walked every day.

You wondered if your love would be similar. Hidden and masked.

Koutaro Bokuto had a sweet tooth.

He loved desserts. He would beg after every dinner to have something sweet. He would pay for small chocolates and creams from the village center.

You were surprised that he was broad and large instead of overweight and rotting.

“Thank you!” He gleamed at the clerk, who handed him a bag of chocolate covered berries. The clerk thanked him back, adoring the generous tip that Bokuto had given.

“I think your addiction to sweets will be the reason for your inevitable destruction.” You told him, holding his hand as you walked through the town square.

“That must be why I am addicted to you.” He joked, handing you one of his chocolate covered berries. You accepted.

“I am not sweet.”

“Oh, you are correct.” He pretended to think, popping a berry into his mouth. “Perhaps that is why you are addicted to me, then.”

He had no idea, you thought.

The snow had been incredibly difficult that year. Clouds and snow casted the kingdom in white every day, baring the land and stealing away the darkness. What was once hidden in the thick trees was exposed.

One afternoon, the snow had slowed. Several feet lined the ground and hovered in the branches. Yet, you found Bokuto outside, throwing knives into trunks.

You were walking to the peer, prepared to trade some of your saved food for something better with the pirates and traders that never seemed to leave the beach. You dropped your bag and rushed to your best friend, kicking up the snow as you did.

“Hey, Kou.” You announced as you approached. He must have heard you, snow was not an easy feat to run in.

But he hadn’t. He was focused primarily on the target in front of him. With no gloves on, you could see the redness stinging his hands. Tears stung his cheeks as well.

“Kou, hey.” You stepped in front of him as he started to aim another knife. He threw it, the knife flying past your ear and into the bark behind you next to around five other knives. “Look at me.”

He wouldn’t. His tear stained face was red in coldness, matching his bare hands. He was not dressed to be outside.

“Look at me.” You reached for his face. He did not hesitate to let his face fall into your hands. “What are you doing out here?”

“I ━” Bokuto finally looked at you. You immediately felt a burning in your chest; his eyes were dull and more brown than gold. “I have to be better if I am to be a knight.”

“You are excellent.” You tried to warm his ears with your gloved hands, but also tried to examine him at the same time. “And you cannot get better if you overwork yourself. Or if you manage to get sick.” You wiped some of the dried tears away. “What happened?”

He did not utter another word. Instead, only more tears left his eyes and he collapsed into you. You stumbled against his weight, but held him with every ounce of your being.

His cheek was cold against yours.

“I’m sorry.” Bokuto muttered against your ear.

You did not know what he was apologizing for. “Everything is all right.”

Seasons changed quickly.

The snow melted, cascading the land in dead grass and leaves attempting to grow again. Attempting to live again.

You wished to stop time. There must be Magick Folk somewhere with that ability, to stop and freeze time. You knew that there was not.

The grass started to turn green, bright and vibrant.

Summer was arriving sooner than you wanted.

You could feel a rush of emotions at the thought of your best friends leaving. You were never one to be sad, or get emotional at all; but the thought of being alone left your chest aching in a way you never experienced.

You held back tears. For the first time in your life, you thought of crying about Bokuto.

Keiji Akaashi was a great person to be friends with. He never pushed his boundaries, he knew when to speak and when it was best to sit in silence. He always seemed to know exactly what to say and when.

He would also tell you the honest truth, which was refreshing against Bokuto’s natural optimism.

“You love him. I am correct, right?” Akaashi asked you.

You were sitting in Bokuto’s garden, waiting for him to arrive. He was the one who wanted to go for a walk, after all.

You sat up, looking to him. “You cannot tell him.”

“I have known since I met you.” He replied. “I would not tell him now.”

“Then yes,” You blinked. “You are correct.”

A string of silence filled the air. It was not uncomfortable; Akaashi was trying to find the words to say.

“You should tell him.” He finally said. “He would want to hear it, before going into the knight program.”

You sighed. You looked at him, sitting beside you in the colorful flowers. “Being rejected is not on my itinerary.”

“What will you do when he leaves? When we leave?”

“I do not know.”

You would be lonely.

That was all you knew.

You would be lonely without the two of them. There had never been a day since the age of six that Bokuto was not a part of. Every single day consisted of him.

You would go to school together, walk together, throw knives at trees together, sit on the beach together. You would go to sleep only to wake up to him.

It was no wonder you found yourself in love with him.

Bokuto hugged you tightly on your last day of school.

You only had limited time left.

The color blue reminded you of him.

He sat beside you on the sand. The beach was beautiful this time of year, just before summer. The water made the air cooler, yet you felt warm.

“I will miss you.”

He was leaving the next afternoon. He would head into the castle, starting his training and taking a step into his new life━ his dream.

“I will miss you too.” You told him, staring at the water.

As the sun sat close to the horizon, covering the ocean in sparkling light, you thought of him. He was the color blue, calm and kind and light and happy.

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that you were in love with him. Ready to tell him that you wanted him to stay, to sit with you like this, forever. You only closed it.

If you truly did love him, you would allow him to follow his dream.

The knights in training cannot be visited or visit. Only when they become knights will they have opportunities to visit, few and far between. They have the busiest jobs.

Once he left, you did not know when you would see him again.

You stared up at him, watching him as he watched the waves crash far away. His golden eyes twinkled, white hair shifting in the breeze.

He truly was more beautiful than the ocean would ever be.

You were talking with his older sister, listening to her stories. You were happy for her, enjoying the story of her meeting her love in a woman in her travels to Hittaku.

“I need to speak to my best friend.” Bokuto interrupted. You looked up.

His sister waved you away, smiling still. Bokuto had given everyone their goodbyes already. You were the last one.

Akaashi told you goodbye earlier in the day, telling you a brief “Do what you think is right for you, not for him.” before departing.

He would be waiting in the dorm for Bokuto.

The moment you were alone, Bokuto pulled you into a hug. You fell into his chest, cheek pressed against his heartbeat. Strong arms were arm around you.

His head rested on top of yours. “I will miss you the most.”

“I will miss you more than I would like to admit.”

“I will write you with every chance I receive.”

You nodded. You would not cry, you told yourself even as the tears trailed down your face and onto his shirt.

“You are crying.”

You heard the crack in his voice. “So are you.”

You pulled back, not wanting to break the embrace. His arms stayed on yours, and you kept your arms on his forearms.

You took him in for what seemed like the last time. His white hair was pushed from his forehead, golden eyes marked with sadness. The scar looked much better, pink against his tan skin.

His eyes met yours, and they were full of emotions you could not describe. He looked at you as if you were a dimming light in the darkness and he needed you to see.

He leaned closer, and you could feel the breath on your face. He smelled of wood and sea salt.

You could only inhale when Bokuto pressed a kiss to your lips.

The kiss was brief. It was a peck, barely a second before he pulled back to rest his head on yours again. You hadn’t even noticed his chapped lips, or that he tasted like sweets.

It was silent for a moment.

“Until we see each other again?” You offered.

He nodded, holding you against him. “Until we see each other again.”

You decided to travel.

Listening to Bokuto’s sister’s stories, along with some of the dreams you had already wished for, you decided that travelling would be the best option.

You were on the next boat out of Peredine, only a small suitcase at your side and the sun on your face.

You never did tell him that you loved him.

You did not think you ever would. As he hopped off of his white horse, full armor proving that he could only gain muscle, you could not help but feel the same ache in your chest.

He lifted his helmet off, his white hair releasing in a mess over his forehead. He rushed to you, pulling you into a hard hug. You laughed, the familiar feeling of drowning drenching your body.

You both were livelier, your travels and his knighthood.

You smiled at him, listening to him talk about the castle and battles he had been in since you last spoke over a year ago.

You were drowning, but you managed to hover close to the surface. Every breath you took of his familiar and wonderful scent, you could feel the water fill your lungs.

Falling in love with Koutaro Bokuto was easy, but the consequences were excruciating.

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