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onewordshy · 9 months

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2023 Animated Shows (That I Watched) Ranked

(Picture unrelated, I just like putting a picture at the top of things)

My friend and I watch a lot of animated shows and since it's a new year I put together a little ranked list with my thoughts on all of the 2023 releases we watched- beneath a read more, of course.

#1. Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur

I never really got into the whole Marvel thing but this is basically its own thing (Lunella is a more recent character in the comics so she doesn't have the daunting backstory of the more established hitters) and also probably one of the best pieces of superhero media to come out in ages. Maybe even one of the best animated children's programs of all time? The story, characters, aesthetic, soundtrack, messaging, it's all there, especially during the action scenes where the soundtrack and animation come together to create some incredible sequences.

Diamond White's vocal performance as Lunella deserves a special shoutout, she brings so much life to the character. I was a fan of her music before watching the show but I had no clue she had these acting chops! It's incredible the chemistry that her character builds with a nonspeaking character like Devil Dinosaur, but they make a great heart for the show.

#2. Fright Krewe

Banger alert! I feel like it's been a while since we got a good "kids get powers and have to keep them secret and in the process become best friends" show (a la W.I.T.C.H.) and this scratches that itch in a big way, absolutely nailing the archetypes and dynamics that make these types of shows work. It's set in New Orleans so the lore/aesthetic draws a lot from the cultural tapestry of that area and the story it tells is tight and intriguing- I know "this kid's show is DARK" become kinda played out in recent years but like... come on, the antagonist is a skinless corpse. Animation is kinda weird at first but once you get used to the style it's pretty good.

Overall it reminds me a lot of the Discovery Kids programming block from when I was growing up, which is one of the highest compliments I can give. I don't see a ton of people talking about it, which would concern me BUT it's already renewed for season two so I stay winning!

#3. My Adventures With Superman

I like that they called this My Adventures With Superman because it really felt like our Superman- like this is the version of this story that we wanted to see today. Clark is a dorky himbo, Lois gets to be a girlboss, Jimmy is a YouTuber, and these versions are refreshing while still feeling recognizable and organically written. And funny.

Despite the epic alien invasion/high-tech crime syndicate story it spins it's almost cozy in a way; Metropolis has never felt so warm and inviting, and it all works to highlight the optimism that's at the heart of the Superman mythos. With how grimdark most mainstream interpretations of the Superman archetype have been in recent years it was nice to see a show that leans into the potential for good that a man with power has.

#4. Captain Laserhawk: A Blood Dragon Remix

Biggest surprise of the year for me, this came out of nowhere and wound up being a total gag. It was a high-octane thrill ride that felt more like a movie than a series, but in a good way- there was no "status quo" to uphold so it wasn't afraid to break its own mold and offer twists galore with no punches pulled. The story was way darker than I expected from a show built around licensed video game characters but it felt fitting in a way, a Subspace Emissary type of deal where the rule of cool reigns and all your childhood heroes come together for an epic adventure.

The animation was just as ambitious as the story, bringing to life a sexy and stylish cyberpunk city while also throwing in some fun pixelated sequences that gave the show a unique style. I don't know how this got made or if it will get a second season but I'll be watching if they do.

#5. Skull Island

Never been much into King Kong so I wasn't expecting to like this as much as I did but I had a blast with it! A classic "mysterious island" adventure with a lot of fun creatures and monster fights, I came away loving the characters and really wanting to know what happens next in the story- which isn't always easy to do with franchised properties like this. Surprisingly funny too. I'm actually a little bit surprised that this doesn't have more buzz considering the central trio have a dynamic that seems laser designed as fandom bait (somehow, I mean this as a compliment) and the overall quality of the project.

Also King Kong was sexy. Let's just say that.

#6. Pokémon Concierge

Somebody please isekai me to the Pokémon resort... the colors and textures alone made this one of the prettiest shows I've watched in a while, but the most delightful part is seeing the Pokémon world brought to life in a new way. It's a cute little story clearly aimed at bringing hope and cheer to the franchise's continually growing adult audience, but at just four episodes all below twenty minutes it feels more like a short film than an actual tv show. Sort of like a lo-fi chill hip-hop beats to study for type of thing.

#7. American Dad (Season 18)

For a long time I had this show pegged as "not for me" but my friend made me watch a bunch of it and honestly, it's quite good! The strength of these long running sitcom type shows is that you develop an affection for the cast and the formula, but this can be a double-edged sword as over time the characters naturally wear down to caricatures and the plots spiral out of control- but despite the odds I think this has helped actually American Dad. Everyone is such a huge, wacky character now and the storylines are so off-the-wall that you can count on every episode to be entertaining.

It helps that the show isn't as reactive to pop culture as some of its peers and the writers get a lot of room to play around with unusual plots and sometimes surreal humor. A great testament to what can happen to these types of shows when the driving force is silliness.

#8. Digman

This kinda debuted to crickets but I enjoyed it- in the sea of adult animated comedies coming out these days (usually I watch an episode or two then stop) I thought this stood out for having good heart and some strong humor. It tended to lean a lot on volume, meta humor, and overly long gags, but its flips on standard adventure stories and sitcom plotlines were clever and it did get a lot of laughs out of me and my friends. I think this one deserves to survive for another season.

#9. Tiny Toons Looniversity

Had a fun time with this show but I'm not really sure who it was for? Like, it's airing on Cartoon Network but it's set in a college and a lot of the plotlines feel like stuff that would be lost on kids so it was like a show for young adults but with the tone and content of a kids' show. Some great bits and fun character dynamics but it left zero impact on me, I don't really think I'd notice if it went away.

Honorable mentions: Hailey's On It / The Ghost & Molly McGee (S2)

Didn't finish either of these because I didn't find either one particularly compelling but they were cute enough. Specifically I found The Ghost & Molly McGee to be a bit of a letdown after how fantastic the first season was, but it was still a strong show so I might finish it later.

#10. Rainbow High (S4)

Centering a season around a Project Runway style competition was a stroke of genius but just like season three's Rainbowvision, it was let down by the execution. The individual episodes were fine but none of the characters were allowed to have the storylines or iconic moments that make actual reality competition shows memorable so the season was just like... pleasant, but not much more. For fashion doll line shows the point of these webisodes is to get us invested in the characters, and this missed the mark on that- losing some of the more intriguing characters early on in the season didn't help either.

Ultimately though I think the only thing anyone is going to remember about this season is the Poopsie Surprise jump scare in the final episode. Can't wait to see what treasures the reboot brings.

#11. Barbie A Touch Of Magic

I literally forgot that I watched this until I was making this list... it was pretty okay! I'm not really gonna critique it because I don't think it was really made with an all-ages appeal in mind, like this is explicitly for little girls and I think they'll enjoy it.

It's about what I expected from a modern "regular girl" Barbie series that takes a more grounded approach to the franchise, but the fantasy elements were a decent shakeup and Rocki in particular really stole the show. She's a trickster fairy called a "glyph" which involved some surprisingly cool lore concepts for the otherwise standard fantasy plot, and having the main antagonist maintain a friendship with the heroes by wiping their minds any time she's discovered led to some interesting scenes.

Fashion and music were bad though :\

#12. Velma (2023)

Didn't hate this as much as everybody else seemed to, but I can't deny that it let me down in the end. The show never quite realized its own potential- it set up interesting premises and character arcs but then neglected them in favor of a web of uninteresting love triangles and tasteless jokes, and the way the final five minutes of the last episode just completely threw out any semblance of progress made over the season felt like a big middle finger.

On the positive side though I did get a good number of laughs out of it and the designs and animation were pretty great... I'd watch a season two.

#13. Fired On Mars

I can't say that this was a bad show- might even say that it was a pretty good show -but I think my friend put it best when he said "I think this show has a body count." This was sooo depressing, like, the main character is so pathetic it's difficult to watch. That's what they wanted, and it does go places and ask interesting questions, but man, I could not in good conscience recommend this to anyone.

#14. Unicorn Warriors Eternal

One of the worst animated shows I've seen in a while! It clearly wanted to tell this huge, generational fantasy epic, but the actual plot was an uninspired combination of disparate elements populated by flat characters. None of the dialogue is memorable, the tone is wildly inconsistent, the drama is overwrought but the attempts at humor are painful, the pacing is bizarre, and on top of ALL THAT the animation is bad! Like I thought I could count on the show at least being pretty to look at but the Fleischer-esque style that they go for looks like something out of a YouTube parody video.

(There was also like a shockingly racist "mysterious Arabian mystic" caricature in several episodes, not sure how nobody stopped that.)

The only show on this list that I would say I outright disliked- it seemed to get a positive reception which makes sense I guess because it has all of the qualities that make it seem like a good show, but I don't know about this one team. I think this might be a miss.

Special Mentions: The Amazing Digital Circus (they only made one episode but it was fun) and Lackadsaisy (they only made one episode but I hated it) and Family Guy season whatever (I don't know why I'm addicted to clips of this show but they're all soulless)

On the watchlist: Scavengers Reign, Carol at the End of the World, Hilda (S3), Teenage Euthanasia (S2), Lupin The ZERO

Excited for: Jellystone (S3), Arcane (S2), Take Off The Blindfold... (aka the second season of Secrets and Lies In A Town Of Sinners), a Girls Of Olympus international release (please), an update that Magic: The Gathering show that's allegedly still in the works

So yeah, on the whole a really good year for animated shows! What I really liked about 2023 was that it was a lot of promising newcomers- a lot of the shows I've enjoyed have ended or been cancelled in the past few years (RIP Dead End: Paranormal Park, taken from us far too soon) and now I have stuff to look forwards to... assuming they manage to survive the cutthroat environment of modern streaming.

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one-sad-human · 3 years

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•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

"Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

"No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

But then he called.

"I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

"You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

"Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

"It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

"Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

"I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

"I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

"You're worth it."

After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

#classic rock imagine #guns n’ roses #guns n’ roses x reader #guns n’ roses imagine #80s #duff mckagan fluff #duff mckagan x reader #duff mckagan #duff mckagan imagine

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writeforfandoms · 3 years

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Hi Jen! I hope you’re having a wonderful day today, my love! ☀️ I was just thinking about Din in Merry Go Round and was wondering something. Do you have any thots on how he might feel just watching reader and the child dozing off together in front of the fire? Like, getting back from a particularly unpleasant job, walking in and standing there for a minute watching you both looking so comfy and warm together, in his space? x

Okay, you know what? I have never written anything so fast in my life.

You did this, bestie. You asked for it.

Have a drabble.

(Yes, this takes place in three different times. The first is somewhere near-ish the beginning of the story. The second is middle ish. And the last... well. You'll see.)

Din stopped just inside the door. He’d been gone for two days, and he expected to find a little more chaos when he got back. The child was usually unruly when he was gone - but it couldn’t be helped. There was no chance he was taking the little one on jobs like this. And then there was you. He had… no idea how you’d react, really. He didn’t know you well enough, not yet. He liked what he knew, but…

He took two careful steps into the room, looking around. Everything looked in order. Clean. Tidy. Cleaner than when he’d left, actually.

And then he found you and the child both. The child was in your lap, curled up and sleeping peacefully, while you reclined in the armchair in front of the hearth. Even Peli was down to a muted flame, gentle but warm.

Din allowed himself to pause and look. Really look. You looked… comfortable. Cozy. But more than that, right, somehow. Or, almost right. There was still something itching in the back of his mind, something not quite right. Something to do with the tendrils he could feel twisting around your head, tendrils he hadn’t yet found the source of.

But he would. He’d figure it out.

If there was one thing Din was good at, it was solving problems.

He felt his lips twitch beneath the helmet. Well. It would be a shame to wake you, now that you were asleep. And the child looked plenty comfortable where he was. Din could allow it, for tonight.

He lifted a hand, pulling one of his blankets out of storage with no more than a quick thought, and draped the dark fabric over the two of you, careful not to disturb either of you. Peli roused a little, and Din shook his head, holding up one hand in front of his helmet to signal for quiet.

Just for tonight, this was fine.

He went upstairs to go collapse for a few hours of sleep.

Din groaned quietly as he walked in. He was stiff and aching from this last job - there had been far more action than he’d been prepared for. He would really like a hot bath. Or, just this once, he wouldn’t mind the child using a little of that healing power on him. Maybe. If the kid was up and offered. Maybe.

Three steps in, and Din stopped, coming upon a very familiar scene. You were sleeping in the armchair in front of the fire (despite the perfectly good bed Din knew was only steps away) with the child snoring lightly in your lap. Peli had fresh logs stacked within reach. And the blanket, the one he’d quietly given you all that time ago, was spread over you and the child, keeping you both warm.

Din smiled under the safety of his helmet. One gloved hand reached down to touch the child’s cheek, so carefully, all too aware of how easy it would be to rouse him. But the child merely murmured something and rolled further into you, cuddling in.

And then there was you, soft and sleep-tousled and warm. The only mar was the curse he could practically see, winding around your head and burrowing into your heart. A tricky one, this curse was. He’d tried already to remove it, but it was proving… remarkably stubborn.

That was alright. Din would out-stubborn it. He just needed more time.

He was a good problem solver, after all.

Leather-clad fingertips brushed feather-light over your brow, weathered with age still, and you pouted in your sleep.

Din absolutely could not wait to get to know you as you truly were. Soon, he promised himself and you silently. Soon.

Regretfully, slowly, Din pulled himself away and trudged up the stairs to sleep.

Din let himself in very quietly, well aware of how late it was and how likely it was that you and the child were sleeping. Maybe in bed for once. Maybe.

Somehow, he doubted it.

He couldn’t help but smile at the familiar scene, though. You, curled up in the armchair, the child nestled into your arms, the both of you fast asleep. Din greedily took in the sight, his gaze following your cheek, the curve of your nose, your brow.

You, as you truly were, finally. No longer cursed.

Din pulled his helmet off, setting it gently on his work bench, and stepped over closer to the two of you. Peli crackled and shifted to look at him until he waved her back to sleep, hardly even taking a look at her.

His gaze was too busy, fixed on you and the child. The two most precious people in his world.

He leaned down slowly, letting his lips skim over your soft cheek, his eyes fluttering closed at the familiar scent of you and the child mingled together. Home. This is what home smelled like.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked rapidly, waking up, and then you smiled. It was like the sun breaking through clouds, like the swell of music, like coming home.

“Hi, Din.”

#merry go round of life #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din is a drama queen #have a drabble

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

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Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth. "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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whippin-cream · 4 years

Text

Blooming Day, Part 1

You neve imagined that your engagement would fail, that you would move to Korea, or that by a series of coincidences you would meet your long-term celebrity crush, Byun Baekhyun. You most certainly never imagined that someone like him would take an interest in you either, but he did; and now you’re stuck because you don’t trust like you used to and you just aren’t quite sure if you have the courage to take a chance on him.

Wordcount: 4k

You let out a sigh as you dropped your spoon back into your tea. You wondered how long it would take for the cheap metal to turn the drink as bitter as you felt about the state of your life at the current moment. You flopped back onto the floor, still not having any actual furniture despite having been in Korea for just under a month now.

Who needed a sofa or a nice set of kitchen chairs when you had that homely camping chair you picked up for cheap at the street market? Sure, the arms were flimsy, the cup holder was too small, and it sagged very low when you sat in it, but, it was something and it was yours.

To be fair, you thought, you were never supposed to have been here.

You were supposed to have rejected the opportunity to study for a year in Korea in favor of finally marrying your fiancé in the Spring: transferring to a college just 15 minutes away from the job he was offered at some powerhouse music label.

That was what you had been planning ever since you got engaged 6 months ago. Even found a nice apartment with the view of a park filled to the brim with tall trees and dickhead geese that you liked to watch chase people. You spent so many Saturday mornings with Ethan on the balcony. Nothing sounded better than finally starting a life together with the man you loved more than yourself.

Well, at least until you came home early on your anniversary to surprise him with his favorite dessert and found him balls deep in your (former) best friend.

On the bed you paid for.

The bitch even had the nerve to be wearing the fancy set of lingerie that you had bought for yourself just a few months prior as a reward for acing a particularly brutal exam.

You remember dropping the sweets onto the floor, furiously yanking the diamond off your left hand, and throwing it somewhere in his general direction. You tightly clutched the purse that you never even got the chance to set down to your body and ran back out of the apartment. He rushed after you, yelling some bullshit about how it “didn’t mean anything”, “it isn’t what you think”, and “(Y/N), I love you! I’m sorry. Baby, please stop!”

You didn’t, though. Your brisk walked changed into a full sprint when curious neighbors opened their doors to take a peek at the commotion. They glanced repeatedly between the sobbing girl and the naked man yelling after her. It was by far the most humiliating experience of your life.

From there the details of that day get a little fuzzy, but you remember taking a taxi to the airport and buying a last-minute flight to Seoul. A child kicked the back of your seat for at least half the time you were in the air out of boredom, but you didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop. After a good five hours of doing nothing but staring blankly in front of you, you managed to drift off.

When you came to, a flight attendant was explaining to everyone that they needed to get ready to disembark. Her warm smile and friendly tone did nothing but annoy you. Who gave her the right to be so happy when your world just crumbled beneath your feet?

You knew you were being irrational, but still.

After making it to what appeared to be a small shopping center within the airport, you decided that you needed a drink. Preferably something warm and sugary to get you out of the daze you were in. Luckily, a Starbucks was nestled in between two shops: One being an overpriced gift shop and the other selling fast food that was far too greasy for the average customer. About 20 minutes later you were sitting alone on a barstool, with a half-full venti cup that was most definitely cold by now, but you didn’t mind.

With one more deep breath, you reached into your purse and slid out your phone. You had turned it off immediately after buying your plane tickets and you were scared of the notifications that you would receive. Part of you was even more scared that you wouldn’t receive any.

Was it possible for him to just toss five years together away so quickly? Could you? After all, he did say he was sorry. That it was all just a big mistake, and that he loved you and not her.

But how could he do something like that to you when he said he loved you? You loved him, and you most certainly never slept with another man. Especially not in the bed you shared with him and with his closest friend.

How many times had they done it? Was it truly a mistake? Maybe he had just gotten drunk and it was all one big accident. Your head started to hurt with all the possibilities floating through your mind.

You had shocked yourself with a quick, but firm smack to the center of your forehead. “You don’t accidentally stick your dick in someone else, idiot. Why would he be drunk at 2 pm? He knew what he was doing.”

With your thumb pressing into the power button you watched with bated breath as the welcome screen flashed on. You waited for the notifications to flood your phone; the flight to Seoul was long, surely, you’d have received many texts in that time, right? Your finger tapped anxiously on the screen as it refreshed.

Then, one after another a notification popped up in a bright banner at the top of the phone. There were several voicemails and even more texts. They started out apologetic, parroting the words he yelled after you in the hallway. However, they grew increasingly nasty. Ethan always did have a nasty temper, and it flared up when he was being ignored and when he was drunk.

Judging by how slurred his voice was in the last few messages, and how incoherent his texts became, it was safe to assume that he had downed the bottle of (far too expensive) whiskey he loved to always keep stocked at the house.

While you weren’t able to make out everything he said to you, the gist was that you were just some dumb little girl that he had settled for because you were safe. That he never loved you and that you needed to apologize to him for the scene you created when you left the apartment.

“The neighbors were staring.” Because that was your fault, just like the reason he cheated was your fault too, apparently.

He ended his drunken tirade by saying that you would never find a man like him again and that sooner or later you would come crawling back to him. After all, you were dating up by dating him, he claimed. "What other man would want you?"

Though, you did not go crawling back to him. Not even after he sobered up and the second round of “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of it”s started back up again.

It was clear that he didn’t respect you. The only thing your father ever made you promise about how you would date is that you would not tolerate staying with a person who treated you with less dignity than you deserved. You knew that you would never be happy marrying a man that looked down on you. How would your life be anything but constant paranoia with a person that could run around with other women without even acting guilty about it?

It definitely was not easy, and there were times where you did consider that maybe you had overreacted. Admittedly, moving across the globe did seem rather dramatic at times, but going to Korea was something that you wanted to do long before you ever met Ethan. When you tried to look at things in a positive light, you saw that: you got to move on in your life, continue your education, and cross an item off of your bucket list all in one go. Despite trying your hardest to stay optimistic, most days you simply did not have the energy to do anything other than wallow in your own self-pity.

Today was one of those days.

You brought your hands to your chest and rolled over a few times to get on the sleeping mat you wanted to snuggle up in. While it was no Tempurpedic, it was surprisingly comfortable; especially when you wrapped yourself in the soft and bulky you crocheted the week prior.

You slipped off your glasses and placed them a few feet above the mat. Light was still pouring in through the window, so you brought your blanket up and over your head. It covered your eyes while the edge curved down around the side of your face and rested under your chin. You loved the darkness and all-around cozy feeling it provided without having your mouth covered by the blanket. You hated having your mouth covered by the blanket. It never felt like you could get enough air when it was.

Unfortunately for you, the sleep was not as comforting as you assumed it would be. The happy dreams where everything you could have ever wanted and hoped for were nowhere to be found that night, neither were the strange ones that left you with a feeling of confusion that you couldn’t quite shake when you woke up. Instead, you were plagued with watching a replay of your anniversary on loop.

After a few hours, you managed to pry your eyes open. Your skin felt uncomfortably sticky due to the cold sweat you had broken out in. You felt warm tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill over. You blinked them away, angry at yourself for still crying over him.

You felt pathetic.

You pressed the heels of your hands against your temples in a sad attempt to get the thump, thump, thumping in your head to stop. You raked your fingernails down your face, wincing at the slight burn you felt. You snatched the glasses from the ground and hastily shoved them onto your face.

You picked up your phone and tapped on it harder than you probably needed to. You didn’t know what you were expecting to find on your phone, but you hoped that there would be something there that stop the lonely feeling you felt in your chest from consuming you entirely.

Your salvation came in the form of a text from Minji. “CALL ME!!!” It read, several emojis following the exclamation points. It brought a smile to your lips. That was something Minji had always been good at.

You had first met her back in high school when she was taking part in her own foreign exchange program. The two of you became fast friends, staying in contact with one another even after she went back home to Korea. Her personality was bright and warm, and she had a knack for making even the most socially awkward people feel comfortable in her presence.

Despite your history, you had to admit that you were a bit shocked to hear from her. Seven months ago she became a trainee for SM entertainment, and your communication with her went from nearly daily to radio silence. It stung, but you understood. Becoming an idol had always been her dream, and you didn’t think it would be fair to try to distract her from that.

You had let her know when you first arrived in Korea, and while she seemed excited over the phone, she hadn’t seen you yet. You pressed the phone icon next to her name, opting to put the call on speaker because your earbuds were nowhere to be found.

“(Y/N)! You got my message.”

“Yeah, what’s up Minji?” You replied, lightly digging your fingers into your thumb. You couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. You wondered what exactly it was that she needed.

“Look, I know I’ve been a bad friend. I have been distant lately, and this isn’t fair. Especially not to you. I mean, you’re the one who encouraged me to even go to the audition in the first place. If you hadn’t of yelled at me until I got off my ass and went…. Well, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

She paused for a moment to take a breath.

“So, I want to make it up to you. I don’t exactly have the money to take you out for dinner or anything, but SM is having a party on Friday. All the trainees that are close to debuting will be there, and so will the established artists. It is supposed to help us build “inter-company relationships”; whatever that means. We are all allowed to bring a plus one, and I want that to be you. There will be expensive catering, and that fancy booze that is so easy to get drunk on since it doesn’t taste like alcohol. The perfect venue for catching up. So, what do you say?”

She sounded slightly awkward, but hopeful as well. Before you could answer she started speaking.

"I know it isn't exactly your scene, but I really want to see you."

"What's the dress code, Min? I wouldn't want to look totally out of place." You replied. You closed your eyes tightly. Minji was right, big parties were not your thing. However, you reasoned, maybe you needed something out of your comfort zone.

Minji squealed so loudly that you recoiled slightly. "Does that mean you're coming? Yes! Nothing too fancy, but not casual either. Remember, simple is sexy, baby."

You snorted and shook your head. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"I'll text you the address.” You heard her name get called in the background. “Sorry, I have to get back to practice now. I’ll see you in a few days. Bye!” The line went dead, and you rolled back over. You felt a contentedness that you hadn’t felt since the breakup wash over you. It was nice to know that you still mattered to someone.

The days leading up to Friday flew by quickly. You had bought yourself a fitted black dress for the party. You wanted to look nice, but you didn’t exactly want to draw any unwanted attention to yourself either. You paired the dress with some flats and kept your makeup minimal as well.

You grinned at yourself and gave a little twirl when you did your final once over in the mirror. You rarely got to wear dresses; Ethan had always gotten upset with you when you tried. He thought they brought on too much male attention, and in the interests of keeping the peace you just gave them up.

You felt pretty.

You felt happy. Truly happy.

A pleasant warmth bloomed in your chest, and you could feel it spread throughout your body. You eyed the perfume you had bought and saved for a special occasion. This occasion, you decided, was special enough.

In 20 minutes time you found yourself in front of the doors to SM Entertainment. They seemed big, and mildly intimidating, but you pushed through them regardless. You sent Minji a text that you had arrived and you moved to stand by some chairs in the lobby.

You dug your fingers into your thumb while you waited. It stung a bit, but the feeling kept you grounded. You took in the architecture of the building, staring in awe at how sleek the whole place looked.

A hand on your shoulder startled you and you turned to see Minji’s smiling face. You smiled back at her, and you were quickly brought into a hug. It was slightly awkward, as a hug was a greeting she reserved for her foreign friends only. Nevertheless, you appreciated the gesture.

When she pulled away you finally got a good look at her. The first thing you noticed was that she was significantly slimmer. You felt a flash of self-consciousness hit you, but you quickly dismissed it.

“Come on, the party’s this way.”

After a few hallways, and a short elevator ride you found yourself in the reception room. It was loud, and lively. Minji led you closer to one of the walls by the back of the room. It was in close enough proximity to the dancefloor that you two could join in without too much trouble, but just quite enough that you two could talk comfortably. Minji spoke first.

She went on and on about all the funny things that happened in practice, and how she was so excited to have been placed in a group she knew would debut sometime in the near future. She hadn’t been given an exact date yet, but they had started to shoot promotional content. Minji explained that she had done three photoshoots in the past week, and cringed when she talked about how awkward she felt doing her solo shots.

She giggled and grabbed a glass of something pink and pretty from a waiter that was carrying them by. “I felt like I was doing school pictures again. Hopefully these ones turn out a little bit better.” She took a gulp of her drink and then nodded toward you.

“Enough about me. How have you been? How’s the wedding planning going?”

Ah, right. You hadn’t told her about the breakup yet.

You coughed awkwardly and brought your left hand up to show it off. “It’s…” you hesitated “It isn’t anymore. Ethan and I are over.” You averted your eyes, grabbing your own alcohol and downing it. When you looked back at Minji, her eyes were wide and she sputtered out a quick apology. Her cheeks were stained an embarrassed pink.

“What happened?” She questioned before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I caught him and Rachel in bed together.” You answered simply, not wanting to go into too much detail. You didn’t want to ruin the night that had been so fun so far.

Minji’s face hardened. She had never liked Rachel, or Ethan for that matter. You knew that, and you were hoping to escape an “I told you so”. Minji scoffed. “What an asshole.” She muttered quietly. “Who needs him anyway?”

You smiled at her. “Not me; but what I do need is some more of this.” You held up your empty glass and shook it slightly.

After a few more drinks and reminisced memories you found yourself on the dancefloor with Minji. You felt the heat radiating off of you, and you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from the dancing, but it was nearly too much for you. You made a mental note to just drink water for the rest of the night, but your head was fuzzy and you weren’t quite sure if you’d be able to resist a pina colada if one became accessible.

You weren’t the best dancer, especially compared to the trainees and idols surrounding you, but you were enjoying yourself. You felt a fresh rush of adrenaline hit you when Exo’s Wolf came on. You were sure you and Minji looked ridiculous when you made wolf ears with your hands at the “awoo” parts, but the two of you were laughing to hard to truly care.

“I haven’t heard this song in so long!” You shouted to her.

She looked at you in surprise. “What? But you love Exo.”

You nodded back to her. “I do, but Ethan didn’t like me listening to them.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, he never really gave me a good reason.” Minji rolled her eyes once again.

“Just another reason to be glad he’s out of your life.” You giggled at her statement. She was right. The more you thought back on your relationship the more you realized that maybe he wasn’t really the prince charming you thought he was. You couldn’t just be you when you were with him. You were the you he wanted you to be. The only thing that you left the relationship with was a monthly payment to a landlord for an apartment you weren’t even living in. Ethan had refused to allow you to take your name off of the lease. So, fuck Ethan.

“Have you met them?” You asked. Her eyes brightened, and she nodded her head rapidly.

“Yes, and god. They are so much hotter in person.” You noticed a shift in her expression then. Something mischievous made its way onto her features. “Are you ever going to tell me who your bias is?”

You laughed. “Fuck no, Minji. Definitely not now. You know them! That would be weird.” You whined. You knew that if you admitted to holding a fondness for Baekhyun that you would never hear the end of it. She pouted at you. Her lip stuck out and it wobbled slightly.

You walked backwards a few steps and she followed. “Puppy dog eyes won’t work on me, Minji.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t know Exo that well. Just tell me.”

“Nope, too weird.” You laughed again. The room was spinning, and everything seemed far more funny to you than it should have. However, your laughter was cut short when you backed into the firm chest of someone behind you.

You felt the warm exhale of breath against your face as a voice you only recognized from interviews and fancams whispered in your ear. “What’s so weird about us?” You froze. A feeling of terror shot down your spine and your face became far hotter than you thought was humanly possible. That voice definitely belonged to a one Byun Baekhyun, and his tone was teasing. “Huh?” He questioned again. After the initial shock wore away, you realized that your body was completely pressed against his.

You shot away from him like you had been scalded. He had a Cheshire-cat grin plastered on his face. “N-nothing.” You stammered. Your eyes were so wide they nearly popped right out of your skull, and you were sure Minji’s were doing the same.

His eyes slowly glanced down the length of your body before his gaze found Minji’s. “Friend of yours?” He asked. She merely nodded in response. He turned his attention back to you and bowed slightly. “I’m Baekhyun, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You didn’t respond until you felt Minji elbow you in the side.

You bowed back, slightly lower than what he had given to you. “(Y/N).”

He grinned at you once again. He ran a hand through his neatly styled hair, causing a few strands to fall back over his forehead. His cheeks were flushed red, and you wondered if he was as tipsy as you were. “Minji, we are having a bit of an afterparty at the dorms later. Well, technically it’s supposed to be a mentorship meeting, but we want to make it fun, you know? The rest of your members have already been invited. Feel free to bring your friend along.”

He winked at the two of you, and then he was gone.

You stood there for a moment, not quite sure how to process what had just happened. You glanced over at Minji to find that she was already staring at you. “What the fuck was that?” You whispered to her. You felt a sudden need for secrecy, and it seemed she felt the same way.

“I think Baekhyun just hit on you.” You shook your head violently.

“And I think you’re crazy.” You stated, though conviction was nowhere to be found in your voice.

“You are coming with me to that afterparty.”

“I most certainly am not! You heard him. It is supposed to be a mentorship thing.”

“And you heard him when he said he wanted something more fun that that.” She hissed back.

“Minji.” You warned.

“(Y/N).” She shot back as she raised her eyebrows at you. “If nothing else, come for me. Tonight is our night to catch up, remember?” Your fingers went to your thumb, and you nodded your head. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach and you tried to expel them with a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

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puckinghell · 4 years

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The Plus One Pact | Part 1 | William Nylander

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 1, let me know what you think about the idea of this series!

“I have a plan to fix this,” your best friend says, and there’s absolutely nothing worse than when Zach says that.

To be fair, when you called him in complete, blind panic, you weren’t really thinking straight. If you were, you would’ve started your tirade with a I don’t need you to fix this, but…

As it is, you forgot to say that, and so Zach is trying to fix it. That’s how your best friend works.

“I have a plan, too,” you say. You’re sitting on the floor in the kitchen, legs pulled up to your chest, and your phone is on speaker on the floor next to you. It’s quite a dramatic scene, with it being dark outside, the Toronto city lights twinkling below you; if you weren’t having a mental breakdown, you’d laugh about the high romantic comedy feeling this has.

“I’m going to throw myself off the roof and fake death.”

“If you throw yourself off the roof, it won’t be faking anymore.” Zach sounds undeterred by your possible impending death, which. Rude. Maybe you need a new best friend.

Outside, you can see the rain falling. Spring has arrived, but spring is really hit and miss in Toronto, and this week the weather has been dreadful. It kinda feels serendipitous, now.

“Zach,” you whine into the phone, “I can’t go to my ex’s wedding alone. You have to come with me.”

Zach sighs, but doesn’t say anything. To be fair, he’s already explained to you why he can’t do that – he has plans, and a wife, so - but…

“It’s so unfair.” You let your head fall back against the kitchen cabinet with a thump, and wonder idly whether you still have a bottle of wine stashed in one of those cabinets. If there was ever a time to pull it out, it’s probably now.

“I told you, I have a plan. We can fix this.” Zach sounds smug, which doesn’t do anything to help your worry.

He always means well, and he’s a smart guy, yet somehow his plans never work out too well for you.

“The plan that I have,” your best friend says slowly, cutting himself off to interject: “And don’t say no right away!”

That probably means you’re gonna say no right away.

“My plan is that you’re gonna take Willy.”

You laugh.

“Fuck no.”

So, it’s not like you hate William.

It’s just. You also don’t like him.

He’s always so chipper and happy, and there’s no way anyone can be that chipper and happy all the time. And he’s always confident, sometimes borderline cocky, and you never know whether he’s being nice to you or taking the piss, whether to take what he says at face value or with a grain of salt. You don’t know what to make of him, which makes you feel uncomfortable in his presence.

And then there’s the fact that he’s William Nylander.

Obviously, being friends with Zach, who loves William, there’s gonna be times when you’re around him. And whenever you are, it seems like the entire city is around him, too.

Clubs, restaurants, cinemas, even stores: you can’t go anywhere without people whispering, without a crowd forming. Sometimes people even follow you.

And you know it’s William, because it never happens when it’s just you and Zach. Even though Zach is, in your opinion anyway, just as big a deal in Toronto as Willy. So. It must be something about William as a person.

However.

The idea of having to go to this wedding alone makes you wanna vomit, or cry, or maybe both. You feel your skin crawl and your heartbeat speed up, and you haven’t had a proper panic attack in years but it feels like it’s just below the surface, when you think about having to see Noah getting married, while everyone around you is just feeling sorry for you because you’re still lonely and pathetic.

It was such a bad idea to get your entire family so involved in Noah’s life, because now they’re all gonna be at his wedding, and even your own family will look at you with quiet disappointment.

It’s too much, literally, for you to even process, and you blame that lack of mental capacity for the fact that you end up telling Zach he can arrange a meeting with William for you.

Toronto is still hiding underneath an everlasting raincloud, and everything about you is soaked by the time you hurry through the coffee shop door.

So far for your jacket being waterproof, then.

The coffee shop, luckily, is warm and cozy, and you wonder why Zach has never taken you there before. There’s something hipster about it, sure, with mismatched furniture and indie music playing, but it has the kinda relaxed vibe you’re always looking for.

That’s when you spot him.

He’s wearing a hoodie and a snapback, and his glasses, which somehow make him fit right in with the aesthetic of the place, as if they hired him to sit there and be pretty – shut up, you don’t like him, but you’re not blind - and drink coffee, to fit the decor.

He looks up when he sees you coming, a lazy smile appearing on his face.

“Y/N,” he says, almost amused, “this was unexpected.”

“Hey, William,” you mutter, shrugging off your wet jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair opposite him. “I’ll just go get a coffee and then I’ll explain.”

“No need.” William motions towards one of the two mugs that are on the table. “Ordered you a hazelnut latte with oat milk.” He sounds proud, and you assume Zach told him your favorite coffee order but you’re a little impressed anyway.

From anyone else, maybe you’d seen it as common courtesy, but for William, to think about that? You’ve noticed he has a habit of thinking about himself, first, so, that’s a thing for him.

“Thanks,” you say, and you must look as baffled as you feel because William rolls his eyes a little.

“It’s just a coffee. And call me Will or Willy, please. William is what my grandmother says.” His eyes twinkle when he adds: “Oh, and angry old white dudes on hockey Twitter.”

If you didn’t kinda need him, you would’ve probably kept calling him William just to annoy him a little: you’ve never really seen William – Will – annoyed, not if not jokingly. You’ve seen him happy, dejected, upset, but never annoyed.

It’s a mood he regularly instills in you, so you wonder if you could return the favor.

However.

“Okay, Will, so here’s the thing.”

You do need something from him.

“One year ago, I had a boyfriend.”

Will raises an eyebrow, takes a sip of his coffee in the most pretentious way. “Congratulations.”

“Do you want to hear the story?” you snap, forgetting for a second that you’re supposed to be nice to him. Old habits die hard.

Will holds up his hands and stills.

“So, my ex, his name is Noah. We got together when we were 16 and I thought he was the one for me. He was over at my house so much, my parents used to joke that we’d already gotten married and just hadn’t told them. He was as much part of my family as I was, and I thought we’d be together forever.”

Will takes another drink. His leg is bouncing up and down slightly; another habit of his that you really wish you could kick out of him.

“Long story short,” you decide to settle, “next month he’s getting married to the woman he cheated on me with.”

Now Will’s eyes widen, and you can tell he wasn’t expecting that. You bet he’s really not expecting your next sentence.

“So I need you to go to the wedding with me.”

It’s quiet. You take the chance to take a sip of your drink; it’s delicious, maybe the best you’ve ever had, and now you wonder whether Will spends a lot of time here cause if not, you’d like to make this your regular coffee place.

“You wanna go to this douchebag’s wedding?” Will asks, sounding incredulous. And, okay, maybe you can’t blame him for sounding like that.

“Want is a big word,” you hum. You link your fingers together, think of your mom when she spoke to you last.

“You have to come, Y/N. I promised him he’d always be a part of our family, and if you don’t go he won’t feel welcome. Surely you’re over him, by now?”

“My whole family is going and I think my mom will disown me if I don’t go. I told you, he’s as much part of the family as I am. If I didn’t go, it’d be like… Me not going to my brother’s wedding.”

“But he’s not your brother.” Will still looks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “He’s a cheating ex!”

You sigh. “They don’t know about the cheating part, actually.”

When you and Noah broke up, you hadn’t been in a good place. You felt embarrassed, but most of all, worthless. Like it had been your fault he cheated: if only you had been prettier, skinnier, smarter, funnier, better, he wouldn’t have had to. He wouldn’t have fallen for Betty – his soon to be wife – if you’d been enough.

So, ashamed as you were, and knowing how much your family loved Noah, you didn’t tell them the truth. You simply told them you’d broken up because you’d grown apart, become different people.

In a way, you still think you made the right choice. You don’t think they would’ve chosen Noah’s side if you’d told them the truth, but it would’ve hurt them to cut him out of their lives, and still to this day he comes over all the time to fix stuff at their house or make them dinner.

You’re thankful for the way he cares about your parents, even if he never cared about you.

You try to explain this all to Will, but no matter what you say, the deep edged frown in his forehead doesn’t leave.

“I still think it’s bullshit,” he declares, a little too loudly, when you’re done. “But at least I get why Zach wants me to go with you, now. As a barrier.”

He’s puffing his chest a little and it would be cute if it wasn’t so typically William-Nylander-out-there, and now you’re wondering if he’s making fun of you or if he’s being genuine.

“You don’t need to be a barrier,” you say, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I just didn’t want to show up alone and have everyone think I’m still all kinds of messed up about this. I want people to know I’m doing great in life.”

When you see Will’s questioning gaze, you frown at him. “Don’t be sexist. I am doing great in life, even if I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t need a boyfriend for that. It’s just that my family seems to disagree with that.”

“That’s not just a female thing,” Will says, and he seems to genuinely get it. “My mom asks me about twenty times every week if I’ve found a girlfriend yet. She wants grandbabies and she wants them now.”

“Even with your hockey career?” you ask him. It seems silly to you, for Will’s family to focus on grandkids when Willy is still so young, living his dream in the NHL.

Will laughs. “She doesn’t care about that. She says she’s had enough of that with dad. She’s proud of me for my career, but she wants me to have the family life, too, and she worries it’s gonna be too late really soon.”

“You’re 24, not 55,” you huff. Will shrugs, but he’s smiling.

“Either way,” he says. “I can go with you to that guy’s wedding, and I can be your handsome, succesful, charming pretend-boyfriend.”

“And so humble,” you scoff, but there’s a weight lifting from your shoulders at his words.

“However,” Will continues, and the weight is back instantly. Damn it, you shouldn’t celebrate so soon. “My cousin, who lives in Calgary, has this baby shower, gender reveal party situation going on next week, and I don’t wanna listen to my entire family ask me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend for my babies every six minutes. So you have to come with me to that.”

You quickly do the thinking; one gender reveal party can’t last very long, you’ll just have to eat colored cakes and smile at people’s baby stories and chug some champagne, and then your wedding fears will be over.

However…

“Okay,” you say, “but my boss is getting married this weekend and I told him I had a plus one because I did, but Zach canceled because he’s a loser.”

Or, because his knee is bothering him and he’s doing some extra physical therapy to rehab it more. Whatever.

“So you’ll come with me to that, too, and we can practice for the real thing.”

“The real thing?” Will’s eyes twinkle and there’s an amused tilt to the corners of his mouth, and you realize you made it sounds as if you and him are gonna get married.

You glare at him and kick his feet under the table, and Will laughs a loud, obnoxious laugh that has always irked you but now that his full attention is on you, suddenly something like warm pride glows in your chest.

Maybe, this won’t be so bad after all.

Famous last words.

#william nylander #william nylander fic #toronto maple leafs #nhl fic

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 3 years

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Undercover - Chapter 22

Chapter Selection

After Spencer’s realization there were no new connections, thoughts, nothing. We were all stuck on a single thought. 'I have something to do with all of this.'

"There's another body", an officer peaked through the door and all of us gathered and left for the most recent crime scene. It was close by to the station almost like Mark knew we were catching on, he always was a cocky asshole.

It was in a cozy neighborhood, yet again the victim shared an uncanny resemblance to me. Half of us were dodging all of the CSI workers as they secured the scene to make sure it wasn't contaminated. The woman was bound to her bed, again with deep slashing running down her bad.

I subconsciously touched my scars only stopping when I felt Aarons hand go to my lower back. The blood was collecting in the wound, "Cuts were anti mortem."

"He wanted them to feel everything", Spencer spoke. There was something that didn't feel right at the moment. This kill for some reason gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I rushed out the room and went outside and threw up.

I turned feeling a hand on my back, Morgan had followed me out. "You wanna talk about it."

"Not right now", there was a hint of disappointment but he wasn't going to make this about him. "Derek something some thing doesn't feel right about that." I pointed to the house.

"I know I have the same thought", he nodded and waited for me to get back together before walking back inside.

We rejoined the group inside the house on the first floor. Something urged me to turn around and when I did I saw a note poking out of one a drawer.

I opened it and the note had my name on it:

The one was very special to me... she reminds me so much of you

In more ways than you think

Reading the note brought a bad taste to my mouth. The team noticed me at the desk and walked over, "What'd you find?" I folded the note and gave it to Aaron, "I don't know yet."

The corner took the body and we waited for the ME to look at the body and give us a report. We all returned to the station sitting in the same room. There was a darkness over every single one of us for some reason; they all could feel it.

Hours went by, we decided to call it. Heading to the hotel; until the ME got back to us we could form anymore theories to get the case closed.

I got in the car with Aaron, he took his time driving us back. I wanted to enjoy the slim time of peace that I had at the moment. Soft music playing in the background, I stared out the window looking at the passing street lamps and people walking minding their business.

We arrived at the hotel, none of us saying a word. Going to our separate rooms, There was a wrapped box at our door, addressed to me. Aaron put his around me, pulling me back and calling everyone. He wasn't taking the chance, if there was a bomb.

He had the bomb squad there in 10 minutes. They carefully unwrapped the paper and made cautious cuts at the tape on the box. Unfolding it they were met with another fucking note. What the hell is his obsession with that.

There was something else in there, it was a toy train; one a baby would play with. The bomb squad cleared it and let us near. I got my hands on the note

I'll give you a hint

It clicked in my mind, the latest victim was pregnant. The team surrounded me and stared, I never told them about that. They knew Mark wouldn't mess up like that, he planned everything out. Emily looked down, avoiding my eyes.

Not saying anything I watched as their forms disappeared from my view; they walked away to their rooms. Everything was moving in slow motion, Aaron gently gripping my wrist pulling me into the room.

I changed and got under the covers. Aaron pulled me close, keeping me warm from the winter weather.

I woke up to my phone ringing next to me. I wiggled out of Aarons grip and answered, "What Garcia."

"I figured you guys might wanna see this before I-- uh say anything to everyone else." I tapped Aaron and he stirred, finally sitting up next to me. Garcia shared her screen, "I haven't looked past the first photo, they seem-- invasive."

Our eyes opened wide, when she sent the photos, and a video to me.

They were pictures of Aaron pinning me to the wall, hovering over me laying kisses on my neck, me cuffed to the bed. The video was even worse, it showed very clearly Aaron pounding into me after I moved it. A full view of everything.

"That son of a bitch was there after you guys left." Aaron was livid, if Mark had these he could expose us to Strauss. Garcia tried to trace them but untimely came up empty. "Can you delete these."

She nodded, "I can try and with all the copies I can but I don't know if I can get all of them." We finished up and ended the conversation. I let my head fall into my hands.

"What are we going to do if Strauss finds out." He was trying to think of a way we wouldn't get transferred or fired. There was a way that I thought of, but if that was forced on me it would go well.

"If we're engaged or married, it's the same thing. I don't wanna sign a relationship form formally to HR cause they'd put us through legal hoops and I don't have the energy for that."

Neither did I, "I don't wanna rush this, I feel that- if you're forced to marry me then you won't wanna be with me anymore. That you'll regret it at some point." He turned to me, gripping my thighs and pulling me onto his lap. He pulled my arms over his neck.

"Now why would you think that, how about I 'propose' if she finds out and later I can actually do it... formally."

I pressed my lips to his, "I'd love that. Just know I don't like huge gestures." Ruining the moment like always the phone started ringing. "Hotchner", his face went from smiling to cold then sad.

I raised his eyebrows, he put the phone on speaker. "The last victim was pregnant, y/n is there something you need to tell us?" Everything was moving fast, I was getting too much information at once.

Learning the woman was pregnant and killed because of me, the photos and video of Aaron and I, the thought of Strauss finding out about the relationship; now the team is looking for answers in my personal life.

It was like being buried alive, my chest started feeling tight and I couldn't breath. I hated panic attacks; they made me feel small and weak. It was already starting and there wasn't much to stop it. Aaron noticed and held me close to him.

Trying to stop it before it got too bad, he pushed his lips to mine; focusing my mind on one thing at a time. At the moment all I could think about was his lips against mine. I held him there for a time before pulling away.

"Baby you need to calm down, one thing at a time... okay", starting the routine all over again, we got ready for another day at the station. if we didn't get close to closing the case soon, the Bureau would call us back.

__________________

Mark was going over the next thing he was planning, he called the doctor's office to see if he could get an update on the baby. When he called he was something he didn't want to hear.

Y/n had done something that he thought she'd never do, get rid of her baby. He always thought she was perfect to carry his child, he was wrong.

"She took away my child, I'm going to take away hers", he muttered to himself; Mark was getting angrier by the second.

____________________

"Y/n...", Aaron was calling out to me and shaking my arm. When I opened my eyes Aaron was already ready for work. Another day of trying to get this bastard; he has us running in circles at least he had me running in circles.

It was like trying to catch a shadow, as so as you think you're getting close it moves with you. I dragged myself out of bed and got ready, eating leftovers and drinking yesterday's coffee.

I wasn't focused on the case, but what the team thought about the last victim. They knew she was pregnant and so far every kill had something to do with me and this was a big part of that. As Aaron and I walked through the doors all eyes were on us.

Everyone stared even the officers outside of the case; they knew something bigger was happening. The team stared as I went into the conference room, I could feel it... the tension. The desire to ask that one burning question we knew they all had.

No one spoke. Aaron sat next to me, holding my hand under the table and squeezing reassuringly. "Y/n... you're gonna have to tell us everything if we're going to have a complete profile on Mark."

Rossi broke the silence and I kept my gaze on the table. Only Aaron and Emily knew about the baby and that was... not a good time in my life considering. I pushed my urge to run out of the room deep down.

"When we were on vacation, I was walking home from the club and... Mark had followed me there. He assaulted me and I got pregnant. I didn't find out till a month later and I decided to not keep it... obviously. His goal was to get me pregnant."

I was practically numb to it at this point... I never went to a therapist like I had promised but instead talked to Aaron about it. He helped me through it the way he knew how, he didn't pretend to know what it was like; he processed everything and listened.

I scanned everyone's faces and they all looked hurt. They were all upset I didn't tell them the personal things in my life. "We could've helped you", I shook my head.

"That's not your responsibility-- we have a job to do and I didn't want all of your focus on me." If they were all worried about me they wouldn't pay attention to the next unsub.

"Y/n, to do our job we need to make sure everyone is okay, I need to make sure everyone's okay." I let out a quiet I know. JJ was staring at me like she was trying to find a way to fix me, in a motherly way if that makes sense.

She lost a baby before; it's not the same because I chose to get rid of it but she sort of understood. Losing a baby, despite it being unwanted it still hurt in a sense.

___________________________

We were in Maryland for the next three days and no new body dropped. The case went cold and we were called back to Quantico. Driving back I was with Aaron, "When's Jack coming back."

"Jessica will be there when we get home." I smiled to myself. The ride went faster than I thought. One second we were leaving the precinct and the next we were back home. I opened the door and was met with someone jumping into my arms.

Jessica was on the couch, "I'll leave you too it."

"Thank you... really", Aaron walked Jessica out and he locked the door. "Do you wanna say hi to your dad." Jack never left my arms; he clung on, Aaron walked over to me and Jack reached out into his arms.

"Hey buddy, you ready for school tomorrow." That wiped the smile off his face, "No, the teacher said we're learning something new." I walked into our bedroom, changed out of the uncomfortable work clothes and collapsed on the bed, I heard the Hotchner boys conversation faintly through the door.

Aaron was talking about school, what they did while we were gone and how he was still making friends. I don't remember when but I had fallen asleep.

"Y/n!", Aaron calling my name pulled me out of my heavy sleep, I wandered into the living room wearing one of Aaron's hoodies. He had made food and was getting ready to put jack to bed.

When dinner was finished Jack was yawning and I knew he was ready for bed. I stood from my seat and held out my hand, he grabbed onto it and I brought him down the hallway and to his bed. Aaron followed us and he watched me tuck him in the blankets.

"Can you take me to school tomorrow?", I moved his hair off his face and kissed his forehead.

"Course buddy, make sure to wake up extra early and I can also make you a special breakfast." He grinned and nodded falling asleep in time. I waited for him to be fully knocked out before leaving the room and quietly shutting the door.

When I closed the door Aaron turned me around and backed me up against the wall, "You're so good with him you know that right. You're gonna be a great mom."

I brought my hand and combed through his hair, "Well it's nice to have reassurance." He smirked and tugged on my arms bringing us down the hallway to sleep. He got undressed and got under the covers, I slipped in after him and he held me tightly.

"Forgot to ask... do I get any of this 'special breakfast'." I shrugged, pulling his arms around me tighter.

"Depends", he playfully nudged me and we drifted off.

_____________________

I felt something dip into the bed and start bouncing, heard laughter and something pushing into my shoulder.

"Come on you got to wake her up", Aaron whispered to Jack. They didn't know that I was already up, I heard the breathing of Jack behind me and before he made his move I turned around and grabbed him.

I started ticking him, a playful scream filling the room with the laughter of Aaron and I. When I stopped he collected himself and sat on his knees gazing at me.

"Get ready for school and I make that breakfast." He squealed and crawled off the bed running down the hallway.

I turned my attention to Aaron who was gazing at the event that took place. "Sir, you have work to get to in an hour... you got to get ready." He leaned forwards pressing a soft kiss to my lips,

"Yes ma'am."

As the boys were getting ready for their days I walked into the kitchen and pulled out my ingredients. Grabbing the milk, eggs, cinnamon, vanilla, and bread. I set them on the counter and started the coffee.

Jack was the first to be ready and took a seat at the table. He waited patiently as he watched me make his food. Giving him two slices of French toast; he devoured it. Aaron was finally done and I served him breakfast.

He said thank you and like father like son, he also inhaled his food. I cleaned up the remains of the breakfast and got ready for work last. We got into our separate cars and I set a course for school. Seeing I had time, I decided to take the slightly longer way.

Jack was observing the outside, "Watch out!" I didn't understand what Jack was talking about until it was too late. There was a truck headed towards the car, slamming into the rear end.

Before I knew it the car was tumbling; I got knocked out and when I came too I was upside-down. My vision was fading in and out and my ears were ringing, I made out trees and wet grass.

I was able to unbuckle my seatbelt and turn around- Jack was gone and I didn't see a trace of him anywhere. No blood, clothes... just nothing. I stumbled out of the car and made my way to the road. Seeing a car drive passed, what I did get was a clear view of the driver... Mark.

I don't remember anything after that but feeling like I was underwater and falling into the grass. Faintly I heard sirens and the feeling of being dragged. I opened my eyes enough to see a paramedic, and being in a stretcher.

___________________

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Stark’s New Intern” Chapter 25

Summary:

Erik is whisked away from Tony by a Monaco Princess and discovers they have more in common than he suspects.

NSFW. Mature Audience. 18+. Smut.

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"The ego, gotta be vetoed if you want a free-throw The evils, stay with the scripture what your mama read you You gotta milk the game, son, I couldn't bottle feed you This next bar was 'bout to do some Logic shit But now I gotta stop the shit and let me pop my shit Drama still added on, stayin' positive All my niggas on my side, on the opposite…"

Denzel Curry—"Diet"

Vivienne dragged Erik through diplomatic guests and rooms until they were back at the entrance of the palace. A dark SUV with tinted windows whipped around and a guard opened the door for her and Erik.

"Get in!" she said.

Erik climbed into the back seat with her as light snow fell down.

"It snows here?" Erik asked.

"It's rare."

"Where are we going?"

"A surprise."

Vivienne pulled a small cell phone from inside her bra cup.

"Don't look so shocked!" she teased.

She made a call and Erik was able to make out part of her conversation with his basic French.

"Stark is not going to let me just hang out—"

"I'll handle Tony. You're the first interesting person I've met in a long time. I want to show you off."

"To who?"

"My friends—"

"Aye, driver…stop the car."

"Gasper, arrête la voiture…"

The SUV came to a stop just outside the palace property line.

"Stark has me on a tight leash here."

Vivienne pouted.

"Can't we just hang out in the palace?" he asked.

"Too many eyes and ears. I want to talk freely."

Going to his hotel was out of the question.

Vivienne gave instructions to Gaspar and texted someone.

Erik's cell buzzed. He pulled it out of his jacket.

"Where are you?"

Stark's voice was rushed.

"The Princess kidnapped me."

Tony didn't sound happy. Vivienne grabbed Erik's cell.

"I will bring him back safe to your hotel…it's boring there. He's young and should hang out with people his age…so what…you are such a bore right now! I don't care. I will call my Uncle and tell him. Yes…I will tell him. Goodbye, Tony. Stop acting like an old tired father."

She tossed Erik his phone.

"My Uncle wants you tomorrow night. I will keep you until tomorrow morning."

"Like some pet."

"And a sweet pet you are," she said patting his forehead.

Erik grabbed her hand and tossed it from his face.

"Easy now," she whispered.

Erik sat back and watched fat snowflakes fall from the sky. Forty minutes into their ride they were climbing up mountainous terrain until they passed through massive black metal gates. The snow had grown thick and at least three inches covered the ground. Two black Great Danes circled the car before being ushered away by a butler who held an umbrella to protect Vivienne from the snow.

Erik shivered as they stepped out of the SUV in front of a large chateau, but the Princess had them inside the secured hideaway quickly. Within the overly warm residence at least thirty twenty-somethings sat and stood around a cozy open space with dark furnishings drinking, smoking, and listening to music. Erik looked around and saw French antiques mixed with modern touches. Like the palace, it smelled old and decadent.

A fire roared in a tall and wide fireplace big enough to roast ten pigs on a spit. Above the massive ornate mantel was an aged oil painting of seventeenth-century royalty in a pastoral scene.

"Tu t'es échappé!"

A young man with oily dark hair and a lop-sided grin rushed over to Vivienne giving her cheek kisses.

"S'il vous plait parlez anglaise, Durant," Vivienne said.

"Is this him?" Durant asked.

"No. Don't even mention that bastard," Vivienne snapped.

She grabbed Erik's hand and pulled him to the center of the opulent gathering of blue-bloods.

"Vivienne, he has been calling here non-stop. He threatened to fly here and find you. You should speak with him," a young woman with flaxen hair pinned in a severe chignon said.

There was an urgency in her voice.

"Everyone, this is Erik. He works for Tony Stark. He is my Uncle's special guest. Erik these are my friends and that is my cousin Durant and my cousin Remy. Erik is American. "

"Do you speak French?" the flaxen-hair woman asked.

Erik lied.

"No."

The butler poured Erik a glass of medium brown liquor from a crystal decanter.

"No worries, Erik, we all speak English here," Durant said.

A raven-haired woman with thin glossy lips leaned into another white woman next to her as Vivienne turned her back.

"…hommes noirs…"

Erik caught the two white women snickering about Vivienne and Black men. He tried not to glare at them as he felt out the energy in the room. The decrepit rich. Millionaires would be shunned as peasants among this slick bunch.

Erik sipped his drink. Old rich bourbon. The kind not sold in stores.

The liquid beat a warm trail down his throat.

Durant gave Erik a tour of the first floor and Vivienne was cornered by her friends and berated for something that he couldn't hear nor understand that well.

"Where were you educated?" Remy asked.

Plump, bow-lipped, and nattily dressed, Remy smoked the same clove-flavored cigarette that Vivienne favored. Blowing smoke above Erik's head, Remy's ruddy cheeks looked influenced by too much liquor and whatever else they were snorting or popping by the blown-out wet look in his light blue eyes.

"I'll be attending grad school at M.I.T. soon," he said.

There was no sense lying. Erik knew they were just trying to place him in the proper hierarchy for their comfort.

"How long have you been with Tony Stark?"

"Almost a year now."

Erik swirled his glass and sipped a little more bourbon. He moved freely about the room admiring a few sculptures. One, in particular, caught his eye as it sat on a cherry wood console table. He pointed to it.

"This is a nice replica of the Actaeon and Diana statues at the Caserta Royal Palace."

"You've been there?"

"Twice. With my family. It was a museum tour."

"You know the story behind the work?" Remy asked inching closer to Erik.

"Diana was bathing with her nymphs in attendance and Actaeon was out with his hunting dogs. He accidentally saw Diana naked and she sent his own dogs after him. She punished him for his transgression. Turned him into a deer."

Erik let his fingertip touch the top of Actaeon's face transforming into a hunted stag. The head of the mythical man was all deer while the rest was still human in a dead run for his life.

"He commanded that his pack recognize him as he slowly morphed into a stag."

Ten various breeds of dogs surrounded poor Actaeon as the human and animal transformation disfigured his face.

"The gardens there are extensive," Durant said.

"Very beautiful. Like Tivoli itself."

"Well-traveled?"

"Try to be as much as I can."

Erik turned away from the sculpture and returned to the round wooden table that held the decanter of bourbon.

"More?"

A sharp-featured strawberry blonde seated on a beige double high-back chair pointed to the bourbon. She seemed amused to have Erik in her presence.

"Sure," Erik said holding his glass out to her.

Her eyes shifted from amusement to flustered surprise. She wasn't wearing pearls, but her expression sure was clutching some. Remy chuckled and Erik waited for the woman to pour.

She sat forward and lifted the decanter.

"Say when…" she said.

He let her go halfway before he held up his free hand.

"Thanks," he said. He took a big swig and turned away from her.

Vivienne's amused face beamed at him. He took a seat on a small couch and Vivienne swept over to sit with him.

There was small talk and Erik endured the irritating fishing into his past and personal life. Strawberry blonde and the raven-haired woman spoke in French, absorbed in their own world with not-so-subtle glances at Erik. He made out most of their conversation and grew bored with the idle chatter about men and parties. His focus moved back to Vivienne. She was the most beautiful woman in the room and the least invested in everyone else except for him. Her perfume tickled his nostrils.

"Anglais!" Vivienne scolded.

"Sorry," Strawberry said.

"So rude to my guest," she grumbled.

Vivienne grabbed his hand and pulled him off of the couch and moved him toward a staircase.

"We're off!" Vivienne called to her clique.

On the second floor, Erik followed Vivienne down a long hall. He glanced at more dynastic family oil paintings on the walls. He stopped at one that featured Vivienne. She stood next to him staring up at the gold-framed painting. Her father looked like a milkier Francesco, but much younger and with more hair. He had a pronounced large mouth and a weak chin. Cold gray eyes evoked a stern Monégasque aristocracy.

"My father Prince Julien, and my mother, Princess Ndaté."

Her mother was a rich warm espresso color with plump lips and a wide undefined nose with the cutest smile on her pixie face. Thick braids were twisted high on her head. Vivienne sat next to her mother on a forest green velvet settee wearing the same dark copper tea dress. Her father stood behind the settee with his hands touching his wife and daughter in a severely pressed dark suit.

"Your Moms became royalty here?"

"She was of royal descent from Senegal—"

"I have a play Aunt from Senegal."

"Oui?"

"Yeah. She's a queen to me."

"It was quite an event when they were married I am told. They met at Oxford. That's where I go to school."

"Only child?"

"Oui."

"Me too."

"Come…"

He followed her to another hall that led to a bedroom on the end.

"This your house?"

"Belongs to the family. We use it for special events. My cousins and I hide out here when we are between official duties at the palace. Unfortunately, having a father first in line to the throne makes my cousin Clara the sad puppy tonight. She had to stay behind for all the diplomatic duties."

"What's your shot at the throne?"

She cackled.

"My father is sixth in line. No chance. I will just be the speculative royal."

"A Black Princess in a white line. That's a big deal to a lot of people."

Vivienne unpinned her hair and the dark tresses fell even longer down her back.

"Close the door," she said.

Erik locked it and she stood in front of him.

"Unzip me," she demanded, her doe-like eyes seductive in the dim lighting of the room.

She turned away from him. Erik unhooked her and then zipped the dress down to her lower back.

"Merci."

She stepped out of the dress then tossed it on a pecan wood-stained rococo bed embellished with swirly scrolls and foliage fretwork. Her black silk underwear and strapless bra stayed on as she kicked off her heels. She had on sheer black thigh-high stockings and he watched her roll her hips as she walked to a delicate-looking bronze and leather Louis the Fifteenth writing desk with a matching leather chair. Her European Pops may have given her light skin and a loose curl pattern, but her African Mama most definitely gave her shelf booty and thighs for days. Her lack of modesty was much like his own when he was at home.

A chrome laptop was on the desk and Vivienne turned it on. Erik looked around the room and saw a pair of Bulgari sunglasses on a dresser. He put them on and admired his face in a dressing mirror. Her laptop powered up and she sauntered over to him. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of his head.

"I take off my clothes and you barely blink," she teased.

"I've seen a lot of bodies, Ma. Ain't no thang—"

"Ah, I saw you! Your eyes looked at my breasts just then."

He grinned.

"You're kinda spilling out there a bit."

She was.

Erik could see she had big light chestnut areolas that peeked out. Her snatched waist made her hips look wide from the front and enhanced the physical beauty that she displayed. Her eyes studied his face and she stepped closer to him. She unfastened his suit jacket and pulled it off of him, flinging it on top of her dress. He could feel her body heat.

"Get comfortable," she commanded.

Her fingers lifted and undid the first three buttons on his shirt. Erik clasped her fingers inside his hand.

"You're moving fast, girl. Don't even know me—"

"I know you're a liar," she whispered in his ear.

He frowned.

She tried stepping away from him but he held her wrists tight.

"I'm a liar?"

"You've been vetted by Tony. He doesn't just let anyone get close to him. And my Uncle hates commoners. You're not who you say you are."

He let her go. Her fingers went behind her back and she unclasped the hooks on her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts dropped two inches on her chest from their heaviness, but as much as he was interested in playing with them and stretching his mouth over them, the smug look on her face had him edgy.

"Erik Stevens. American sounding name. But I've watched you. The way you walk. The way you talk and carry yourself. You remind me of my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend. You swaggered into my family's humble abode like you owned it. Even in the palace you moved around like others were beneath you or not worth your time. You don't suck up to Tony like I've seen others do. Either your family is very rich and well connected, or you have royalty in your background…oh, see? Your eyes gave you away…"

Vivienne stared at him. Some type of recognition colored her face.

"Someone in your family is from the motherland, oui? The east? It's so evident—"

"Oakland through and through, girl."

"No. Menteur. You are African. More like Halfrican…as am I."

She poked his chest.

Erik swiped the dark glasses back down over his eyes. He sat on her bed and felt his belly churn with tension. Vivienne's intuition had him shook. He tried to deflect.

"Come bring your fine ass here."

He held out his hand.

She walked over to her computer and turned on some music. He grimaced.

"I don't know what kind of mood you're trying to set, but that ain't it," he said.

He moved from the bed to her side and turned off the dreadful Europop sounds. He typed in the search engine and pulled up the M.I.T. website.

Her voice came into the room and the energy shifted.

Buttafly.

His muse.

"What is this?" Vivienne asked.

"A radio station I listen to. It streams worldwide."

"I like it."

Vivienne swayed her body, her hips circling with little dips. Her bare feet took tiny steps as she latched on to the hypnotic dreamy beats. Erik's eyes raked over her curves and the slight bounce of her tits.

"How many guys do you bring here the first time you meet them?"

"Guys? Mon doudou, do I look like I interact with guys?"

Her hands fluttered around her body.

"I only entertain the powerful and worthy."

Something within Erik stirred. Vivienne rolled her body and the music transitioned to something even more sensual.

"If the night brings you gossamer wings made of starlight and sable dreams, you better fly…"

Erik imagined moist lips with Buttafly's honey mouth whispering the words in his ear that he heard from the computer. Since he couldn't have the unseen girl of his aural fantasies on the radio, Vivienne was perfect compensation. He stepped to her and entwined his fingers with hers and shook his hips. Twirling her around to face him, Erik led Vivienne in some Chi-town two-steppin' that his grandfather taught him.

"I love this!" Vivienne squealed.

He pulled her in close and she was able to follow his lead.

"That's it, Princess," he encouraged.

She pulled the dark glasses from his eyes and tossed them on her bed as they stepped in time together. He spun and dipped adding the Oaktown drip to their partnering. Drawing her in tight, her breasts mashed into his chest and he liked the pressure she started to put on his loins as he felt his dick grow fat in his tailored slacks.

"I feel that," she sighed grinding on him.

"It's yours if you want it, Princess."

Vivienne turned and backed her ass against his groin.

"Let me be your heartbeat…"

Whatever poem Buttafly was reciting on top of the erotic beats made Vivienne gasp as she stood still and let him dry hump her ass. Erik's dick turned to iron and the heavy print beating against the split in her backside made her panties wet. His fingers stroked the front of her underwear forcefully to let her know what time it was. Her legs shook. Erik gripped her waist and held her in place as he thrust against her.

He wanted that weight bouncing on him so he pulled her back with him as he sat on the bed with her seated on his lap. She gave him what he wanted, lifting and dropping on his dick, the friction from his pants adding to the pleasure he was enjoying. He reached up and yanked on her long hair, threading his fingers through the thicker strands.

"Big ole ass…girl you know you got a big ole ass…look at you!"

Vivienne laughed and he tugged harder on her hair forcing her head back.

"Who takes care of all of this, huh? I know these white boys ain't handling you right. Look how you're acting. Your man know you wilding right now?"

"He's old news. There are other fish."

"You're sinking some hooks, Ma."

Vivienne spun around on him and straddled his thighs, her breasts sitting on his chest.

"You have protection?" she asked.

"Yeah. Will we be disturbed?"

"No."

She slid her fingers down to the last fastened buttons on his shirt and freed him from it. The skin on skin contact made his dick harder. Erik pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and fumbled for one of his condoms as she nibbled along his neck.

"I won't cause no international incident fucking a Princess will I?"

Her lips smothered his and her tongue was aggressive with his open mouth. Her kisses were desperate.

"You need me bad," he whispered in her ear as he snaked his tongue inside it.

Her greedy fingers went to work on his pants and he let her take them off along with his dark briefs.

"This is what I need," she groaned wrapping her fingers around his wood.

She stroked him nice and slow, teasing pre-cum out of his slit before she engulfed him with her lips. Resting on his elbows, Erik enjoyed watching her slather his dick with warm saliva and moans.

"Damn, baby. You know how to handle my shit. Rub them big titties on it."

Vivienne knelt down and lifted her breasts. He sandwiched his length in the deep valley of her cleavage and she interlocked her fingers together making his erection snug and secure. She rubbed her tits up and down and he had memories of Athena as he watched his dick disappear. He fingered around her areolas and tugged on her nipples.

"Nasty girl…just met me and got my dick like this. You like being a good slut?"

Vivienne lunged for his mouth and they kissed until the throbbing in the root of his dick made him antsy for pussy. He wasn't sure how much privacy they really would have, so he didn't want to waste time eating the box and then being interrupted without having a crack at royal walls. She seemed to be hot for his erection right away too. He could taste her folds after he pounded her good and proper. It was time for royal fucking and he planned on giving her Wakandan Prince dick.

Buttafly was providing the soundtrack he needed to serenade Vivienne into submission. She was about to quench the female drought he was experiencing. He tore open the gold magnum condom wrapper and slipped the rubber down his thick inches. The bed didn't feel sturdy to him so he pulled her over to the solid-looking cream vintage chaise lounge.

"Wait," she whispered and quickly walked to a door he thought was an ornate closet but was actually a bathroom.

She came back with a dark towel and spread it on the lounge. Erik sat down and helped her climb back onto his lap. They kissed once more and she moaned into his throat as he gave her deep soul kisses. He held the back of her neck and plundered her lusty mouth until she was whimpering.

"Fuck me," she begged.

"You want this dick?"

The mewling sound from her voice made him so horny. It was obvious they both hadn't had it in a long time. He didn't give her time to pull her panties off or slide them to the side. He just ripped them off and tossed the scraps on the floor. Gripping the bottom of her ass cheeks and lifting her up, she eased down on his length with only two adjustments with the angle. His abundant size didn't bother her at all. She was so wet that he knew she could slide down even more inches if he had them. Feeling more confident after a few false starts and gripping the back of the lounge for balance, Vivienne started dropping her pussy on him forcing harsh cursing to erupt from his mouth.

"You really tryna break a nigga in!"

"MMMhmmm."

"Okay, Princess. Big ole heavy ass…big heavy ass!"

He slapped her butt and the solid sound made his balls jump.

"Fuck me…fuck me, Princess. Ride that bitch…ride that bitch. Damn you got some weight on that shit."

She knew how to move and shook what her Mama gave her and then some. The clapping of cheeks was so loud that Erik just knew that everyone had to be able to hear it downstairs. She twisted her waist and circled her hips to make that shit even louder and his mouth fell open trying to inhale more air to keep up with her. He jackhammered into her until the music settled him down and he got caught up in a rhythm that had her begging him to wreck her shit for all time. She stopped speaking English then, and her breathy French made his mouth filthy talking back to her. He slid his fingers along her thigh-high stockings.

"Damn, Princess!"

Vivienne turned her body to the side and rested her head on the back of the lounge as she watched Erik's face next to hers. She rode the first four inches on the top of his dick and the sensation of her circling that tight box on him without going all the way down made him press his feet hard into the carpeted floor.

She had his face all scrunched up as he stared into her eyes. Her mouth was open and spilling more moans.

"Fuck me, Princess. Just like that…just like that. Got this big ass clapping!"

"Oui…oui…oui…"

"Fuck me…fuck me…take some more girl…go all the way down. Don't be scared. Fuck me good…take some more. You can get more in there…shit yeah…I like that shit…all the way down. Dassit…more…lemme stretch that shit more…fuck…oh fuck…there it is. Riding the tip so good, baby. Dassit…dassit, Princess. All the way down…all the way bitch…yeah…let a real nigga handle you…mmmmm…"

He pulled out and her eyes looked confused.

"Turn over. Get on your knees."

He forced Vivienne to clutch onto the armrest as he took her from behind.

"Spread them cheeks with your hands…I said spread them. Don't make me fucking repeat myself!"

Erik slapped the shit out of her ass and her body jerked from the punishment. Her hands reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart for him. Her head rested on the cushion.

"Poke that ass out…dassit. Arch that back for me. Good girl. Make that pussy tight for me. Make it hard for me to get in this shit."

He inserted the bulbous head in and he felt her pushing her vaginal muscles against him.

"Yeah! Just like that! Make it hard for me to get in there…c'mon girl! Fuck!"

Vivienne's head angled back to watch his face.

"Fuck me….please…fuck me hard…" she panted.

"Hold them cheeks open!"

Her pussy was frothy and the creamy fluid dribbled down her thighs every time he pulled out to thrust back in fast.

"Nobody been taking care of this pussy."

"…fuck me, Erik…."

"Ain't no Oxford niggas available to break you off?"

She laughed and it died in her throat when he deep stroked her. He held her left arm back to help him get down deeper. He wasn't going to last.

"Loud pussy, girl…"

Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth stayed lax.

"Oh…oh…oh…oh…"

"Get it, girl! Getcho dick!"

Vivienne clutched onto the armrest with her free hand and lifted up. He released her arm and she rode his dick by rocking back on him with her hands resting on her thighs.

"Do that…do that…" he hissed.

"Erik!"

"…finna nut…"

Her pussy made obscene farting noises and he let loose into the condom.

"Fuucckkkkkk!"

He fell over her back and gripped her shoulders, kissing the side of her face.

"Fucking icy, Princess!" he panted.

He lifted up feeling the hardness in his dick still holding out.

"I ain't forgot you, Ma."

Erik made her turn over and he lifted her legs over his arms and put in work. It didn't take long for her to fall apart all over his dick before he had to grab the base of his length to keep the condom from slipping as he became flaccid.

Vivienne ran her hand across the top of her hair and grinned from ear to ear.

"That was…mon Dieu…" she sighed.

She reached up and caressed his face.

"Are you using your wings? Are you flying above the world Black angel….?"

Buttafly's voice calmed the rapid beating in his heart from the physical exertion. Vivienne took his hand and pulled him onto her bed.

"Viens mon amour," she whispered.

###

They used all of his condoms.

Three in total.

Vivienne was insatiable and he gave it his all until he fell asleep. He awoke to find the two pitch-black Great Danes sleeping on the floor at the foot of the bed. When Erik stood up to go urinate, both dogs growled at him, their big ears tall on their heads like radar.

"Chut!" Vivienne hissed.

Both dogs backed down and rested their heads on their large paws.

Dressed in a fluffy ginger-colored robe, Vivienne sat on the bed with her laptop in front of her crossed legs.

"Morning," he said.

"Good morning to you. Sleep well?"

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"One—"

"Shit!"

"Don't worry. Tony knows you're still with me. I called him earlier. You don't have to be back until tonight."

"I have to be with your uncle."

"I know. Take a shower. Everything you need is in the bathroom. Are you hungry? I had lunch brought up since you slept through breakfast."

She pointed to a covered silver serving tray on the writing desk. There was fresh juice and water in glass pitchers with glasses.

"Be right back," he said.

Erik showered and pulled on a thick black robe that covered him down to his feet. A brand new toothbrush with individual toothpaste was sitting on the sink next to an unopened travel size deodorant roll. Stepping back into the bedroom, the two dogs watched him closely but didn't move or growl at him.

"Let them out before you eat anything. They will beg and it is so annoying."

Erik walked past the Great Danes and unlocked the bedroom door. They lifted their heads and Erik whistled. They jumped up and he shooed them out closing the door behind them.

Padding over to the serving tray, Erik lifted the cover and found ham omelets with cheese, resting on top of a large croissant with a side of diced mixed fruit and small finger sandwiches. He nibbled on a grape and poured himself water.

"Merde!" Vivienne snapped.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She glared at her screen.

"What do you want?!"

Her voice was annoyed. Erik tossed another grape into his mouth and drank some water.

"You refuse to take my calls. You make me hunt you down from the palace to your family chateau. I will not tolerate your disrespect!"

Erik froze.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and his fingers shook so bad that he had to put his glass of water down. He stepped away from the writing desk and walked carefully to the bed, his eyes narrowing and the breath in his body moving rapidly in his chest.

That voice.

It couldn't be.

"T'Challa, we are no more. I told you that when I left—"

"You said we were just taking a step back to evaluate our relationship…who the fuck is that?!"

Blazing dark orbs burned into Erik's face. The hard scowl on T'Challa's mouth matched the one on Erik's own lips.

"That is my friend—"

"Friend? He is wearing a robe—"

"Hey, Princess. We have lunch waiting for us. Hang up."

"No one asked you to speak—"

"I'm talking, nigga and I'm digging out your bitch!"

"Vivienne!"

T'Challa's shout made Vivienne jump. Her eyes darted between them.

"He is a guest, T'Challa. We have a lot of guests here. There was a party last night—"

"You ain't gotta explain shit to him. Hang up!"

"If you hang up. I swear to Bast I will—"

"Do what?" Erik challenged.

Vivienne's eyes grew coy. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder and gave T'Challa a sly smile. She was enjoying it.

"We can talk when I get back."

"We shall talk now. Make him leave!"

Erik plopped down on the bed next to Vivienne and picked up her dark glasses. Pulling them on he placed his face close to the screen. T'Challa's eyes reminded Erik of his father's. For a second, N'Jobu's face loomed in his mind. Staring at his cousin, seeing the dark smooth skin, the flared nostrils, and hearing the haughty entitled voice, Baba was forced into his heart. Not only could Erik see his father in T'Challa's face, but he could see his own too. It was in the eyes. Those damn haunting Udaku eyes. No wonder Vivienne pegged him for royalty. She was fucking his cousin and unknowingly recognized the bloodline. Incredible.

"Where are you going?" Vivienne called out.

Erik stalked to the bedroom door.

"I have to get some air."

"Eat some food—"

"Vivienne!"

"T'Challa stop screaming at me! You'll see me when I let you!"

She slammed the laptop shut and jumped off the bed.

"Erik…Erik…what's wrong?"

Anger coursed through his body and made it rigid as the Princess wrapped her arms around his.

"I was being petty. I shouldn't have taken the chat. Not with you here. He's such an arrogant ass all the time—"

Erik lifted her up and crashed his lips onto her mouth.

Carrying her back to the bed, he pushed her laptop to the side and dropped her on the plush lavender duvet. Snatching off her robe he threw it behind him. Her eyes were ablaze as she watched him disrobe. His dick was ramrod straight and pointed toward her. He fisted the head and when he glanced at his wallet on the nightstand, he remembered he had no more condoms.

"Do you have anything?" he asked. His fingers twirled around the underside ridge of the tip.

She heard the desperate need in his voice. Her head shook and he couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Here," she said spreading her legs.

The faint pubic hairs on her plump mound were already damp and her vulva was swollen, the inner lips wide open revealing glistening pink.

"You sure?"

She lifted her legs up high.

Erik lined himself up with her.

"He wants you back," he said.

"He has to learn to deserve me."

"He don't deserve you. He doesn't deserve shit."

He plunged into Vivienne full over reckless venom. He wasn't gentle and she didn't want him to be.

"…ooh…mon dieu…ahhh…mon dieu…Erik…!"

He put his full weight on her and she clawed his back.

"Oh…oh…oh…oohmmmph…oui…oui…oui…"

He slammed into her, his length splitting her open wide, his aggression overwhelming her. She cried out in pleasure and he pushed her legs all the way back and shifted to his knees so he could break her down.

"You go back to Oxford, he gon' feel this dick!"

"Oui!"

Reckless. Piping her raw. Needing to stretch her out so she would remember him. The indignant anger in his cousin's voice aroused the alpha within himself and he pounded the fuck out of Vivienne to get back at his blood. If he couldn't bust that spoiled bastard in the face with his fist, then he was going to bust his woman down with his dick.

Erik fucked most of the sound out of Vivienne. She couldn't even make coherent words anymore. Her eyes were glued to his with her lips parted in sweet agony. Every few seconds a deep groan would spill from her throat. He kept the pace brutal and she was game for it.

"Hold your damn legs, bitch!"

Vivienne reached up and curved her hands under her thighs and held them in place as he gripped her throat with one hand and held onto the headboard with the other.

"OOooohhh!"

The vibration in her throat was felt in his hand and he pulled all the way out just to thrust back in to hit that bottom of her pussy hard. Her eyes rolled back and shut as tears spilled from her lids. He eased his grip from her neck to allow her more air but she pushed his hand back down harder.

"This my pussy now. Right?"

Her eyes popped open and her breasts bounced distracting him. He reached down and felt all over her chest as she thrashed under him. He plucked at her clit before rotating firm circles into the small nub.

"I'm cumming!" she shouted.

Erik watched her pussy contract around his girth and before she went limp in his arms, he pulled his shiny erection out and stroked it until stringy hot ropes of semen spurt all over her belly.

"Princess!" he choked out.

He milked out all that his balls could give and Vivienne smeared it into her skin. Gulping for air, Erik sat back from her. When he was able to breathe normally, he searched for his clothes and got dressed.

"You won't eat?" she asked.

"I need to get back to the hotel and get ready for tonight."

Disappointment turned her face sour.

"You have plenty of time."

He glanced out of the window. It was snowing again.

"So unusual," she whispered staring at the falling flakes with him.

"Do I need to call a car service?"

"Gaspar will take you where you need to go. Won't you stay longer, Erik? Please?"

Her face was lovely with the glow of their rough sex. Erik hated the man's guts but he had to admit that his cousin had great taste in women.

He sat on the edge of the bed and put on his shoes.

"How long you been with that nigga?"

"T'Challa? We've been on and off for two years."

"You love him?"

"I do. I'm not in love with him though. He makes that difficult."

"How?"

"He only loves himself and some other woman back in his country."

"Where is he from?"

"Wakanda."

"Have you ever been there?"

"No. It's a poor country and I don't do poor. He won't take me there anyway."

"Why not?"

She shrugged.

"He makes excuses. His family is well off. I think his father is a despot. He's been in power forever."

"He have any siblings?"

"A little sister."

This was news to him.

"What's her name?"

"Aren't you a curious one?"

"Sizing up my competition."

"Her name is Shuri. He's crazy about her. Brags about her all the time."

"Have you met his father?"

"King T'Chaka is T'Challa times ten."

She laughed. He tried to smile. His stomach was tight.

"I met him in London once. With T'halla's stepmother Queen Ramonda."

"He re-married…." Erik pondered the information. Another heir. And a wife that could get in the way.

"You know about them?"

"What?"

"You said 'She re-married'. Like that was important to you."

"Nah. Just curious. He seems so uptight."

"He can be a delight…when he gets his way."

"Why do you need a break from him?"

"He's intense. Like you. That can grow tiresome. But the sex is worth it."

She fell onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

"Thank God you both weren't in the same room. It was like watching two male Betta fish circle each other. The expression on his face though when you wouldn't leave! He's never been denied anything in his life!"

Erik stood from the bed. Vivienne crawled over to him and sat up on her knees holding out her arms. He kissed her lips but didn't hug her. She pouted.

"C'mon now, I can't get cum on my clothes."

She sat back on her heels.

"I enjoyed your company," she said.

"I enjoyed yours."

"Can I see you again?" she asked.

"Depends on Tony. We're here a few more days then it's back to L.A."

"I want you to call me."

"If I can. I will—"

"No. You call me. Or I will kidnap you again."

She cradled her breasts.

"You're the one who's spoiled," he said.

She didn't deny it.

###

The private room in the private Gentlemen's club reeked of pungent cigars, cognac, and tired old man cologne doused too liberally on pale pampered skin.

Erik tugged on the tie he had to wear wishing he had some good weed to smoke to help him focus. Tony sat near him cradling a Cuban cigar. The room was filled with high rollers from Saudi Arabia, China, Australia, Argentina, and South Africa. The card table and the dealer was set with chips. They all waited for Prince Francesco. He was late.

Erik's leg began to bounce and Tony kicked the bottom of his chair to make him stop.

"Forgive us!"

The Prince strolled in and Erik was surprised to see Princess Vivienne behind him. They both took seats at the poker table. He couldn't hide the delighted smile on his face when the Princess looked up and saw him sitting across from her.

"My niece, Princess Vivienne. I know the rules say men only, but I couldn't deny you all a chance to play with the best."

Small head bows were given to Vivienne but her eyes were only on Erik's.

The moment all their hands were dealt and bets were wagered, Erik learned the hard way. Never judge a book by its cover.

Princess Vivienne cleaned everyone's clock during the first two games, and as his pile of chips dwindled, Erik knew then that it was going to be a long night.

###

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downwiththeficness · 4 years

Text

A Need So Great-Chapter 19

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~4,600

Warnings: Smut.

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty @anaeve

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 20, 21

She’s slipping on her heels when he calls out to her from the living room—Amorcita, are you ready? Eva shook her head and picked up her clutch, slinging the little chain over her arm and flicking off the lights as she moved through the house.

“Yes,” she said as she turned the corner, “I’m ready.”

He was buttoning the jacket of a deep navy blue suit, turning at the sound of her voice when she spotted him. It never failed. Never. Eva’s breath caught as she took him in. Broad shoulders that led down to thick arms that could hold her so tightly, hands that she had long since memorized the feel of as they skimmed over her skin, the focus of his eyes as he looked at her. She swallowed, smoothing down the folds of her dress.

Eva was wearing the red number that she’d worn to the last crime scene she would ever be a part of. It felt right that she should give it a new memory to live in. She had decided to make as many new memories as possible so that she could dissolve the hurtful ones that had controlled her since she was fourteen. So much had happened in the last year that Eva almost couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She went from being almost completely alone in the world to having friends, to having Horacio.

He was staring at her, eyes dark, taking in every detail. Eva let him look as she sauntered forward, rising up in her heels when she reached him to give him a chaste kiss. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her close.

“Maybe we should stay in,” he prompted, nose tracing down the line of her neck.

Eva squeezed his shoulders, shivering as his lips skimmed her skin, “You promised me a night out.”

He pulled back, considering, “I did make a promise.”

“You did,” she confirmed, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Then, we should go,” he replied, taking her hand and leading her to the door, “Before I decide to break that promise.”

Smiling like an idiot, she followed him out the door and into the darkening of the night. He took her to a little bar—bar was not the word. Eva didn’t have a word for what this place was. Small, so dimly lit that she was having a difficult time seeing clearly. The clientele were all dressed similarly, suits, cocktail dresses, heels, and ties. The décor was all dark wood and polished bronze, warm tones in all the fabric. It smelled a little liquor and a lot like spice and heat.

He led her to a table off to the side of the dance floor, a few couples already swaying to the sultry beat. Eva tucked her dress beneath her thighs as she lowered into the chair Horacio held for her. As was usual, she let him order for her, smiling wide when the wait staff brought forth a pair of tumblers filled with amber liquid. She watched carefully as he gave the waitress a few bills, tucked discreetly between his fingers.

Eva was struck was the fluidity of the action, something he probably did a lot as he bought and sold favors. Though she had seen quite a bit of his work in their time together—had glimpsed the ruthlessness with which he hunted down his targets—it still gave her pause. He did it almost without thinking, muscle memory as much as it was training and experience. Eva found herself continuing to watch him as he scanned the room, ever vigilant. Even now, when they were supposed to be relaxing and spending time together, the inherent threat of his work subtly pressed in from the outside.

With conscious effort, she put the subject away and focused on her drink. A small sip confirmed that he’d ordered the same thing that he’d ordered in the restaurant all those months ago, a whiskey he favored. It rolled over her tongue, burned fire down her throat. She’d had to nurse it, if she had any hope of staying upright in her heels.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

She asked the question to get the answer as much as to start the conversation. He’d fallen silent during the ride over, his attention diverted by whatever he was thinking about. Eva’s flight out of the country was fast approaching and they’d discussed that he would be accompanying her to the meeting Javier had scheduled. It hadn’t gone much further than that, their lives lived one step at a time. Though Eva had spent nearly the last fifteen years doing that very thing, she found herself wanting to plan a little further out, to actually look forward to something in the future.

Horacio glanced at her, setting his glass down and thinking, “I liked Spain, when I was assigned there.”

She recalled that he’d mentioned spending time there, an assignment that he enjoyed until he’d been called back home to deal with the rising power of the cartel.

“Oh?”

With a nod, he continued, “It was...quieter, there.”

Eva hummed, “Quiet is good.”

“Quiet is different,” he offered, as a compromise, “But, the work was steady, and I didn’t get shot at half as much.”

Brows lifting, she prompted, “Half as much?”

His mouth curled a little, “At all. I didn’t get shot at, at all.”

“That’s a nice change of pace,” Eva replied, crossing her legs.

She liked how soft his expression was in that moment, the little smile he allowed to form on his lips. He’d been smiling like that more and more since they’d met, though it was not yet a daily occurrence. She hoped that it someday would be.

He gave a low chuckle, wordlessly agreeing with her. Then, “What about you?”

Her answer was reflexive, “I’m right where I want to be.”

That seemed to startle him. He stared for several long seconds, eyes unblinking. Eva held his gaze, unwilling to back down from her statement. It was true. She was exactly where she wanted to be—with him, here. It didn’t matter that she was probably still in danger from her former in laws. It also didn’t matter that her administrator may or may not have set her up to be killed. Eva was content to be sitting in a cozy little not-quite-bar, sipping bourbon that burned down her throat, next to a man who was looking at her as if he couldn’t quite figure her out.

Horacio lifted an arm, taking her hand as it lay on the table, holding it warmly. They sat like that for a while, listening to the band. When a low, slow beat started up, he stood and pulled her onto the dance floor. She followed with a smile, draping her arm over his shoulder and toying with the collar of his jacket.

He looked good in it, the dark blue contrasting with the lighter blue of his button down. The low light cast half his face in shadow, accentuating the sharp jawline, the pout of his lips. She couldn’t resist rising onto tip toe and kissing him quickly. He smiled into it, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Around them, she noticed a few turned heads, the eyes of curious onlookers. She’d gotten used to being a little bit of a curiosity, an American out of her element. These kinds of looks, however, were a bit newer for her, occurring more often when they went out in public. Narrowed gazes, jealousy shining in them, pointed in her direction. Eva ignored them, focusing on the man in her arms. Her hands spread out of his chest, fingers pausing over an unfamiliar bump in the cloth of his jacket. Brows drawing together, she peeked underneath.

“Do you think you’ll need this?” She asked with a lifted brow, her mouth half smiling.

Horacio sighed, “This is a new location for me. I wanted to be safe.”

Eva tapped her forefinger over the strap of the harness that was secured over both shoulders. Though she couldn’t see them, she knew there were a pair of hand guns tucked at his sides, ready if he needed them. This didn’t seem to be the kind of place where a gun fight would break out, but she agreed that safety was a priority, even when it was unlikely.

“Okay,” she said, eventually.

He looked away, hands flexing on her body. Eva hadn’t fought him on the body guards, hadn’t even argued when he ordered an officer outside of her apartment. Not arguing didn’t mean that she liked the fact that he had to be armed even on a date night. It just meant that this wasn’t the hill she was willing to die on—figuratively, speaking. Inherently, she knew that he wouldn’t give her an inch when it came to her safety. Even if he verbally relented, he’d just tell his men to hide better, so that she didn’t notice them. She’d rather know who was watching the house, and when.

They danced until the end of the song, but when they moved off the floor, their table had been taken by a group of people talking animatedly. Eva could see that he was going to approach, and she was reluctant to draw any further attention to them. So, she grabbed his arm and leaned her weight back to slow him down and direct him towards the bar. To her surprise, he went with her.

At the bar, he ordered another round and they spent some time talking and drinking. The music continued on, a low thrum that echoed the excited beat of her heart. She found herself leaning into him, touching his arm and thumbing the buttons on his jacket. He welcomed her touch, as he always did, eyes straying down her body from time to time, lingering on her legs.

Eva’s cheeks were warm, the feeling spreading down her neck and chest. Her skin felt too sensitive, sizzling when he touched her or when she brushed against his body. It was heady, knowing that he wanted her, knowing that she could have him whenever she wanted. An inhale told her that he was feeling it, too, his scent deepening slowly as time went on.

She caught another narrowed look from a woman at the far end of the bar. When she held the gaze a bit longer than would have been polite, the woman rolled her eyes and pushed away, heading into the crowd. Eva laughed derisively, draining her glass and setting it on the bar.

“What?” he asked, curious.

She shook her head, “Nothing, just a thought.”

All he did was lift a brow and she knew exactly what he was saying. She huffed, looking to the side and debating her words.

“I’ve been getting a few looks tonight,” she muttered, taking half a step towards him so that the skin of her thighs brushed the fabric off his slacks. “That’s all.”

He was immediately straightening, his head turning. Eva caught his chin quickly, keeping him from being too obvious about it. That was exactly what she did not need right now.

“Its fine. They’re not bad looks.”

And, they weren’t. Eva was proud that she’d garnered a little bit of envy that night, a testament to the man standing in front of her. She let go of his chin, smoothing her hand down his lapel.

Head tilting to the side, he asked, “What kind of looks are they?”

She bit her lip, chin lowered so that she could look up at him through her lashes, “Envy, mostly.”

His lips parted, brows furrowing. Eva shook her head and ran a finger down the little crease between them, smoothing the skin. Then, she pushed up a little and kissed his cheek, charmed by his confusion.

“You’re hot, sweetie. I’m bound to get a few evil eyes now and again.”

He huffed a breath, his expression a little boyish, “Thank you, but I think you’re maybe just a little biased.”

Eva rolled her eyes, “I might be biased, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see that you’re objectively gorgeous.”

He rolled his eyes and fixed her with a sardonic look, “I think ‘gorgeous’ might be going a little far.”

Pursing her lips, Eva decided that maybe he needed to hear the evidence. She leaned further into his space, chin tilting up to hold his gaze.

“Should I describe it for you?” When he went to say ‘no’, she pushed on, “I’m gonna start at the top, okay?”

Gently, Eva wrapped her finger around a curl that had fallen over his forehead, “You have the most adorable curls that you do your damndest to tame. I love how wild they are when you wake up in the morning.”

One side of his mouth lifted, not quite a laugh. A good sign. She kept on.

“You have the most expressive eyes. Even if I couldn’t read your scent, I’d be able to tell your moods just by looking at them.” Hand tracing down over his temple and behind his ear, “And, I think we’ve established that I could absolutely drown myself in your scent. Its part of why I love wearing your clothes.”

His hands were holding her waist, pulling her closer into his body. Eyes flicking down to her mouth, she could see his intent to kiss her. Not to be deterred, Eva leaned a little bit away, smiling at the little sound of frustration he made.

“And,” she continued, “Let’s not even talk about this mouth.” Her thumb traced over his lower lip, pushing just a bit into the soft pillow of flesh, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come just thinking about how deeply you kiss me—and where you kiss me.”

The hissing inhale was gratifying for Eva, as was the unchecked fire burning in his eyes. She was on the right track. She should definitely keep going.

Hands moving, she followed the line of his throat and over his shoulders, “I love how strong you are, I love how tightly these arms hold me.” Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, left bare by the open buttons of his shirt, “I love it when you hold me down, make it impossible for me to move.”

Her name escaped his lips in warning, followed by a hard swallow. She shushed him lowly, fingers dancing down his chest to fall to the cool metal of his belt buckle. Angling her body, Eva blocked any onlookers from seeing how she turned her palm down and cupped him, half hard behind his fly. Against her side, she could feel the vibration of the groan he couldn’t keep inside. His hand encircled her wrist, keeping her from adding any further pressure or friction.

She looped her arm around his waist beneath his jacket. It was a little awkward, the bend of her elbow curving around the barrel of a pistol. Eva leaned as much weight as she dared into him, head tilted back so that he could read her expression.

“Big Guy, all I have to do is look at you and I want to feel this inside me. I can guarantee that anyone who looks at you is going to feel the same way.”

His eyes closed, jaw tight, and Eva knew she’d finally pushed him to his limit. Pulling her hand away, Horacio spun her around and guided her towards the door. She had to skip a little to keep up with his longer stride, but Eva could not keep the delirious little smile from her face as she followed him to the parking lot.

The ride home was tense. He was quiet, but the hand on her knee was firm and warm. Eva let the silence hang between them, feeling little tingles of anticipation rise ever higher as they got closer.

Once he had her inside, Horacio turned and pushed her against the door, hands cradling her jaw as he kissed her. He nipped at her mouth, sucking her lower lip to soothe the sting. Eva struggled to keep her balance as she soaked in the heat of his kiss, the sensual press of his body against her.

With a long, firm caress, he ran his hand down her side, fingers bunching her skirt until he had the mass of fabric balled in one fist. Using his free hand, Horacio gripped her hip, a rough sound escaping his lips as he discovered she hadn’t been wearing panties. Eva loved that he was always surprised, though she went without them regularly.

Face pushed into the crook of her neck, Horacio slipped his fingers through her folds, breathing hard. He groaned lowly as he spread the wetness around, encouraging her non-verbally to widen her legs a little. Eva balanced on her heels, head falling back to rest against the door. Her breath stuttered out of her as he circled her opening firmly, just once.

He played with her for a moment, breath hot against her neck. Slow, teasing touches that weren’t nearly enough. She grasped his forearm, using it as leverage to rotate her hips up and into his fingers. Head lifting, he kissed her. It was a harsh thing, almost a punishment, but she encouraged him nonetheless, her body responding excitedly to the prospect of more rough touches. Eva’s eyes closed tightly, a strange feeling rising in her chest.

It was hope. A warm, desperate hope—desperate for this man, desperate for the life she was building, desperate for the thing she wanted very much. Eva fought with herself trying to stay in the moment, trying to feel the way he tangled his tongue with hers, the way his scent sharpened with arousal, the way his fingers were sliding inside her.

She moaned, ending on a high pitched whine as he circled her clit with hard pressure. Gone were the teasing touches. Instead, he pushed her harder and harder with every thrust, fingers spreading out inside her and curling to rub at her g spot.

Legs shaking, Eva came with a hoarse shout, her hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life. He eased her down, praise falling from his lips. Horcaio held her close while she regained her footing, pressing little kisses over her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks.

Then, he dropped to his knees, both hands on her hips, her dress draped of his wrists. Licking up the inside of her thigh, he said, “If you hit the floor, I’ll fuck you on it.”

Eva knees buckled reflexively, a laugh already forming even as he growled in frustration. He laid back, hauling her up his body. Eva went willingly, though her brows came together as he urged her higher. Walking on her knees, she settled with her thighs on either side of his head, his arms holding her steady from below.

He gave her maybe half a second warning before his mouth was on her. Still sensitive, Eva curled down over him, one hand gripping his hair, the other balanced on the arm across her thighs. Running the flat of his tongue from bottom to top, Horacio shook his head a little, spreading her folds. He kissed first one side, then the other, tongue rolling along the seam and adding an undulating pressure. Eva bit her lip, her hips swiveling. When he sucked hard on her clit, she keened lifting a bit when the pleasure burned at little too hot.

The hand holding her hip rotated, pushing up her sternum and between her breasts. He hooked his fingers in the center of her bra, using it to hold her down and against his mouth. Eva whined, the sensation of his stubble scraping against her inner thigh zinging through her. Her breaths came faster as he zeroed in on her clit, tongue circling over and over. He encourage her hips to rock against him, his arm pushing against her lower back.

The fabric of her dress kept her from seeing his mouth working her over, a fact that made the sound of him sucking and nipping at her all the more tantalizing. Feeling the orgasm grow closer, Eva gripped both of his arms, shuddering. It was shorter, less intense than the first, but it only seemed to urge him on. His mouth opened, drinking her down, tongue rubbing from side to side.

Heaving deep breaths, Eva tried to rise up, intending to slide down his body and reciprocate. She was stopped when his arms tightened to near the point of pain, keeping her right where he wanted. His low growl rumbled against her, causing a little aftershock of feeling.

Letting go of her bra, Horacio massaged down her belly to her hip to her knee. Thumb pushing into the soft skin behind it, he widened her stance even more. Eva’s legs shook as she tried to keep balance, the carpet digging into her knees and shins.

Slipping his arm underneath her, he pushed first two, then three, fingers inside, mouth locking on her. Eva gave a startled little cry, breaths stuttering. The feeling of him mouthing at her, arm holding her still had her ricocheting off the previous orgasm and stumbling into the next. Surprised, she couldn’t keep her weight underneath her, her thighs giving out.

In an effort to keep from suffocating him, Eva tried to push forward onto her hands. With a sound of censure, Horacio held her still, licking lazily at her still fluttering pussy. He let her go eventually, when he was sure that he’d gotten every drop from her. Boneless, Eva fell to the side, letting him roll her to her back.

“Good?” he asked, settling between her thighs and tucking her hair behind her ear.

Eva nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open, a soft warmth filling every corner of her body. He gave her a small smile, eyes twinkling with amusement. Eva scoffed, pushing at his shoulder a little, embarrassed. He caught her hand and kissed it, following up with a soft kiss to her wrist.

The smile on Eva’s face faded as she took in the adoration in his expression. He looked at her as no one ever had. With him, she was not a possession to be used, or a felon paying penance, or even an unbonded omega. She was just herself, that was all she needed to be.

Gaze soft, Horacio leaned down and kissed her. Eva closed her eyes, trying to keep the emotions she was feeling inside. Knowing that she was riding a thin line, Eva slipped her hands under his jacket, pushing to down and over his shoulders. He balanced on one hand and then the other, tossing the jacket away.

Resting his weight on her, Horacio pushed her dress up a little further, gathering it beneath her hips and tilting them up. Deep, intense kisses. Firm, warm caresses. He built her up slowly, pulling her along with him until she was arching up into his body, grinding against the erection at her hip.

Nimble hands pulled at his belt, opening his fly and pushing the fabric down. He rose up, reaching for his jacket and digging into the breast pocket. With a sound of victory, he pulled out a condom and tore into it, rolling it on with smooth, efficient movements. And then he was pushing inside.

He took his time, easing in and out, pushing just a bit further with each thrust. The movement was so controlled that the normal two or three pushes inward became six, the glide easy with how wet she was. Eva tucked her head into his neck, hands clenching in the fabric of his button up. When he pulled back and gave her a slow, full thrust, the air went out of her and her upper body collapsed against the floor.

Sensitive and flushed, she looked up at him. He was breathing deeply, sweat on his temples. She touched his cheek and he smiled, kissing her briefly. Leaning on his elbow, he dropped his forehead to hers, hips rotating. The pace mounted, his movements ending with a little grind that had her bowing up with the sensation.

They were sharing breaths, their bodies wrapped tightly together, heat bouncing back and forth between them. Eva gripped his biceps, chin tilting up, eyes squeezing shut as she hissed in a breath. A harsh sound escaped him, caught in that back of his throat as he reached down to grab her thigh, hauling her leg up and around his waist. The cool metal of the pistol at his side dug into the soft meat just above her knee, the little bit of pain adding to the frisson running all over her.

Eva gasped as he pushed deep, filling her to the brim and holding her suspended for just a moment. She bit her lip, watching him look at her with such affection that she could feel the urge to cry well up behind her eyes.

“I love you,” she said, the words out of her mouth before she could catch them.

She expected him to be taken aback, perhaps pull away and ask her what she’d said. She expected the he’d be surprised by the admission. He wasn’t. Horacio searched her face for a moment, then grinned at her, full-dimpled.

“Good,” he pronounced, as if he’d known all along. Then, “I love you, Eva.”

Ah, fuck, she thought, blinking as she tried very hard not to cry. He chuckled, kissing her sweetly. Unable to stand it, she grabbed at his collar and took a deeper kiss, lifting her hips to encourage him to move again. He moaned into her mouth, lips pulling back from his teeth.

Spurred on, he picked up the rhythm again, building to a faster, harder pace than before. Each forward rock of his hips intentionally pushed as far as he could go, as if he couldn’t get deep enough. Movements fluid, Horacio gripped the leg not wrapped around his waist and pulled it up and around, locking her ankles just above his ass.

Pushing to his hands, he snapped his hips against her, eliciting a squeak from her. Eva could only hold onto the wrinkled shirt in her hands as he changed the angle slightly. Pleasure careened wildly, her body clenching down, a squeeze that had him biting out a pathetically high whimper, his face scrunching. His hips faltered, arms shaking, breath stilling as he pulsed, coming hard.

He dropped to his elbows, hands in her hair. The kiss that followed was soft and sweet. Carefully, he pulled out, slipping the condom off and tying it off. They laid there for a few moments, staring at the ceiling. Eva’s head lolled to the side, looking at him in profile.

“You know, we haven’t packed yet for our flight.”

Horacio huffed a laugh, “Its a three day turn around. We won’t need much.”

Always with the practicality.

“Oh, yeah,” Eva replied, rolling her eyes, “I’ll just show up to the offices in my underwear.”

He lifted a brow, glancing sidelong at her, “I wouldn’t complain.”

Rolling to her side, Eva rested her head on her elbow, “You would. What you wouldn’t do is let me out of the hotel room.”

With a nod, he conceded the point. Sitting up, he pushed to standing and headed for the kitchen to toss the condom in the waste bin. Eva laid there and watched him unfasten the harness across his shoulders, setting it on the kitchen table. Pants hanging open, he made his way back to her and helped her stand.

“Hurting anywhere?”

She shook her head, “Although I’ll probably have a little rug burn. I’ll take it though.”

Shaking his head, he kissed her, fingers running through her hair, “I love you.”

Eva felt her chest constrict, unused to the feeling. She swallowed, her voice a rasp, “I love you, too.”

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

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Une Premiere | Ju Haknyeon (The Boyz Christmas Series)

La Joie De Noel Series.

'Une Premiere' : A First, included in the expression ‘That’s a first’.

In which you and Haknyeon go on a first date on Christmas Eve.

things to know: - moelleux au chocolat : molten chocolate cake. It has a liquidy chocolate sauce inside.

I dedicate this story to: @atbzkingdom , Dee, thank you for always bringing me comfort and for always having my back. Being friends with you on Tumblr has helped me so much this year and I wanted to write this fic for you as a gift. So I hope you like it <3

-♡-

The warmth of Haknyeon’s hand on yours was burning through your palm and making it sweat bullets even though the cold was busy biting at the rest of your body.

You were surprised that he hadn’t pulled away in disgust yet. Your mind was internally screaming at you: you had one job Y/N, and that was not to make a fool of yourself!

You wouldn’t have been in such a state if not for the sudden inclination of such events tumbling one after another so that they left you feeling dizzy with euphoria, in a mess of feelings that made you want to squirm in place.

When Haknyeon had proposed to you that it was about time you’d had a first date with him -- he had confessed his feelings a few weeks ago and ever since there was this unknown, unspoken feeling that teetered between the two of you as though you were constantly balanced on a plate about to crash at any moment -- you had agreed wholeheartedly without thinking twice about the consequences that followed.

Like right now, when you were practically unable to function because he’d intertwined his fingers with yours like it was the most normal thing he could’ve done.

You wondered whether he could hear the way your heart seemed to palpitate within your chest like a ping pong ball.

Y/N you loser. Get a grip.

The Christmas Eve market was bustling with people and shining with lights that were strung, multi-coloured LEDs adorning the pedestrian cobblestone and turning the scene in a fairytale wonderland. You could hear music, Christmas jingles that floated through the air, and managed to somewhat relax despite your initial nervousness around the said young man.

"Oh look, they have Christmas cookies,” Haknyeon tugged you along to one of the stands where a multitudes of red, green and white Christmas cookies were displayed for the occasion.

“Three for five dollars!” The girl beamed while handing out samples.

“Woah it’s good,” your eyes rounded in surprise as you looked at Haknyeon, who chuckled at your expression, “we could buy some for your grandma. She likes Christmas cookies doesn’t she?”

His thoughtfulness for your own grandmother made your heart soften. He was so considerate that you wondered how someone as angelic as Haknyeon could walk this earth.

Precisely one of the reasons why you’d fallen for him so hard.

After thanking the cookie seller and stuffing one of her Christmas cookies boxes in your bag, you followed the string of people down the line of stands filled with various Christmas-themed items; decorations for sale, gift ideas already wrapped up in their respective bags, food items that would make good appetizers for your own family dinner if you hadn’t already prepared anything.

"Oh my gosh they’re all so pretty!” You couldn’t stop yourself from exclaiming as you crouched along the row with barely restrained excitement thrumming through your veins, “what do you think? Look at this one!” you held out a glittering gold angel silhouette, “your sister would love that.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately she’s at that stage where she likes to shove everything in her mouth, edible or not,” Haknyeon grumbled softly, causing you to giggle as you tried to hang it off his ear.

He eyed you with amusement, “Do I look like Christmas tree material?”

"More like boyfriend material,” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them, though he just burst out laughing before tugging you closer to drop a kiss at your temple, “you’re so cute.”

Face burning with heat at his bold action, you tried your best not to show your embarrassment, which proved to be useless since he noted the way you ducked your head away and how your hands seemed to pick at your nails in that adorable way of yours whenever you weren’t sure of what you should be doing.

Deciding to warm yourselves up, you decided to stop by one of the cozy coffee shops that sold only Chocolate-themed desserts. Haknyeon’s excitement doubled when you confessed you’d never actually been to this place, quickly whipping the menu from your hands and promising that this was going to change your life forever.

“You’re in for the biggest surprise of your life,” he stated upon spotting the waitress making her way to your table. You had not failed to notice, in all this flurry of excitement, that his hand had entangled once more if yours under the table and was now currently rubbling circles over your palm.

You hoped that your face didn’t betray the way your heart was racing about hundred miles an hour.

“Y/N,” he probably noticed your expressions, “you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” oh shit. Were you that obvious? “so what’s so special about that place anyway?”

“I’ll tell you later,” and his hand squeezed yours softly, almost making you gasp at his tenderness.

A few minutes later your table was filled with a moelleux au chocolat and a macha-dark chocolate infused crepe garnished with bananas and snow sugar, accompanied by two hot macha lattes decorated with foamy little kittens.

Haknyeon didn’t hesitate to feed you, even folding the crepe nicely so that there was no need for you to open your mouth wide. Though you made a face at being babied (especially in public), he just insistently kept on urging you until you gave in.

“Good?” he tilted his head, watching you with affection practically brimming through the corners of his eyes.

You nodded, taking a quick sip of your latte and sighing in bliss, “okay, you win. This is really good.”

“Told you it would.”

You cut into the moelleux as the chocolate oozed out of the cake, a delicious sight really. You reached over the table, “your turn now.”

Haknyeon accepted your offered fork though from the reddish tips of his ears, he was just as embarrassed as you were. This was the first time you two were out in public, officially anyway. Still, you couldn’t help but coo at how cute he was.

“I’m not cute,” he scowled while unable to keep the grin off his face, “you’re the cute one in the relationship.”

“That’s debatable,” you take another bite of the crepe, “have you seen yourself?”

“Actually I have, and I disagree with you.”

Without warning, he reached over to pinch your cheek, “look at you, so adorable,” he said, laughing as you swatted him away.

It was getting closer to midnight by the time you two hopped off the last night bus to walk towards your house, the streets alight with golden hues cast by the light posts and the snow that bathed the entire scenery in magic. A muffled silence rang through your ears, only interrupted by the soft stomping of your boots up your porch as you looked up and perceived the darkness coming from your humble abode, meaning that everyone was already asleep and no prying eyes would be peeping out at you.

Haknyeon’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly when you finally reached your door. Turning to meet his gaze, a small smile tilted your lips upwards when you are met with his eyes that seem to shine brighter than the snowflakes falling to the earth.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you murmur out, scared that speaking too loudly would break the magical bubble you’ve created with Haknyeon by your side, “thank you.”

"Would you...” he tilted his head to the side, eyes averting for a second before locking with yours once more, “would you be okay to do this again?”

You knew it was eating him up on the inside, but you decide to drag it out of him, pressing your lips and drawing out a hum as if you were thinking it over.

Haknyeon just shuffled uncomfortably, glad that the darkness was hiding the red flush creeping up his neck.

“Sure,” you grinned then, “why not? I quite liked it--”

And that was when you spotted a gleaming sliver of leaf atop Haknyeon’s head. Your mind stuttered to a stop, heart jumping up through your throat.

“What?” Haknyeon frowned at your shocked face, before tilting his head up. You scrambled to stop him, “don’t!--”

Too late. He gaped at the mistletoe hanging atop his head, blinking slowly.

And when his head dipped back down slowly to gaze at you, something in his eyes had shifted. His orbs a darker, glimmering obsidian as he seemed to trace your features for a full minute.

Silence. You wondered whether he could hear how your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour.

“It’s just a petty tradition,” you finally found your voice and hoped you didn’t sound so desperate as you struggled to string a coherent sentence together, “I mean, really. Think about it--”

But he only tugged you closer, causing your words to die in the back of your throat as he leaned down so that his nose brushed yours softly, “should we just...” he gave you a look, hesitantly licking his lips and making you swallow, “humour it?”

It felt like all air had constricted inside your lungs so that no words could make their way out of your mouth. He was so close, chest brushing yours and his hand entangled with your own in a firm grasp that had goosebumps skitter up along your arm.

Your head dipped into a nod.

Haknyeon’s sigh was shaky. His other hand softly skimmed along your waist to pull you closer still, before he tilted his head and softly, tenderly allowed his lips to touch yours.

Your heart skipped a beat. He was so warm. His lips so soft.

It was impossible not to melt slightly.

When it was clear that you had no intentions of pushing him away, Haknyeon proceeded to pull you even closer so that your curves blended into his frame, causing your lips to part with a soft gasp, one that he swallowed as he proceeded to kiss you a little deeper, a little longer. He massaged your lips with his own plush ones, catching your lip, kissing it, before going to your lower lip and letting his teeth nibble on the patch of skin with growing endearment. The sensation had sparks fly through your chest, butterflies practically rocking through your body as your lips gently moved back against his, as shyly as a baby fawn taking its first steps and Haknyeon would be lying to say that his own heart hadn’t leapt in excitement at how innocent you were, at the purity of your kiss, your lips.

When you parted, it was only to come up for air and he took this chance to run his thumb over your lower lip in adoration.

“Merry Christmas Y/N,” he breathed, nuzzling the side of your face before burying his nose into your hair.

Your hands wound around him in a gentle hug and you closed your eyes, allowed yourself to feel his warmth encircle you, “merry christmas Hak.”

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

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The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Eight: Heat/Ice

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Playing hooky leads to more delicious food (Sy cooks! Swoon!), some deep conversation, and new revelations about Shane’s past.

What? You’re behind? Don’t worry! CLICK ME to catch up before reading this chapter!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, more food sluttiness, shameless nerd speak, unfettered and shameless sappiness.

Author’s Note: So, guys, I’m sorry. I really wanted to get this chapter to you Sunday. Life has just been a bit disheartening of late. Between being upset over some personal turmoil some friends are going through (two of my oldest friends are getting a divorce!) and coming home from work utterly exhausted on all possible levels, it’s been hard to write about lovey dovey things. As I said in my recent reblog of my masterlist, though, I’m working on some prologues, one for each character. I don’t plan on them being terribly long, but I want you guys to have some more back story.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

It was hard to feel guilty for calling out of work for the afternoon under false pretenses when she was curled up on the sectional in Sy’s “nerd lair” with his head in her lap as they watched John Wick on the massive TV he had down there.

“You mean to tell me we watched the entire Bourne franchise upstairs on that…that iPod Touch, by comparison, when we could have watched down here on this majestic monolith!? In what is essentially a theater!?” She’d asked immediately, derailing the grand tour of the museum of things she would soon find amazing.

“Hey, I haven’t been coming down here a whole lot since I hurt my knee. Stairs haven't exactly been easy or, ya know, possible. I had my gaming computer down here for weeks, too, couldn't do a damn thing about it, because I didn't trust a'one of my buddies or my neighbors to haul her up the stairs for me. Leia's a custom machine worth thousands a' dollars. If she's getting' broke, it's all gonna be on me."

"You named your gaming computer? Leia?" So many emotions were flooding her. Adoration, sympathy, lust, and just a sheer need to squeeze the bejeezus out of him.

"Yeah, it's a common thing. And…not to be that guy, but…you do know who Leia is, right?

"If by Leia, you mean Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, true daughter of Darth Vader, adopted by Bail Organa at birth, sister of Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion against the Empire?"

"Hey, I thought you wanted to take things slow, sunshine." he pulled her close, flush with his body. "Then you go talkin' all sexy to me like that." he lingered at her cheek with light kisses.

"Well, you did the same with your baseball talk the other night." she moaned into the contact with relish.

"I can't help it if certain sports terms have made their way into everyday speech. Your…exposition there, about my boyhood crush was intentional."

"You had a crush on Leia?" he nodded, shyly. "I had a crush on Han! Heck with Cap and Widow, THERE'S our couple's costume for next Halloween!" she said, excitedly!

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking about costumes for public use." he said, a naughty smirk in his eye.

"Stop it, you. Finish your tour. I want that soup on the stove." she said, patting her tummy.

He showed her the various memorabilia he'd procured over the years. Posters from a few of her favorites, and a few others that she recognized but wasn't as excited about. Die Cast models of several famous film vessels and vehicles, and a "life size" LEGO R2-D2 which would have had her salivating even if she hadn't been hungry. Apparently it took him almost a month to assemble the droid, but he did it all by himself.

"Aww…I wish I could have helped." she lamented.

"Maybe I'll pick up the Death Star and we can do that one together."

She nodded excitedly, eyes wide, rubbing her hands together in front of her chin with greed.

"Okay, little mouse." he chuckled. "Let's fill that belly and start this movie."

They filled massive bowls with generous portions and took the crackers down stairs so they could start the marathon. If they wanted to get through all three films tonight, they'd best get started.

They were both fairly quick eaters out of habit given her often truncated lunch breaks and his typical ten minutes in the mess hall. Even savoring the delicious creamy, cheesy concoction, as she tried to do, it was hard to slow down on. It did give her something to focus on during the first, emotionally devastating part of the film though. Once she finished, she expressed a final groan of delight and thanked Sy, kissing him on his cheek as she held the other. She felt the smile bloom across his face as she prolonged the contact.

They were about halfway through the movie, a big fight scene in a night club, when something dark and grim hit Shane in the chest. Watching Keanu Reeves pretend to beat up and kill all of these actors and stunt men, it occurred to her that the man with his head resting gently on her lap, long body taking up the rest of that side of the sectional, had fought and killed. The man letting her play her fingers through his hair and beard had shot and blown up people. He was told to do it. Ordered to do it. But even though he was doing it lawfully and by military order, as far as she knew, it was still his job…at least some of the time. She knew that was an oversimplification of the function of the armed forces, but…sometimes, it was an apt description.

She had never thought of Sy like that before. Someone other than the strong but gentle teddy bear that had come to be such a comforting presence in her life. She needed that, after all she'd been through…she tried not to think about the hurt of her last relationship. She hadn't discussed it with Sy. It was history. Ancient history. But she was, after all, a believer in the fact that those who knew nothing of the past were doomed to repeat it. She'd tell him…one day. Everything that Elliott had done to her…had put her through. But not tonight. Suddenly, she thought being on the arm of a soldier, someone who'd lived the kind of life that Captain Logan Syverson had lived, might make her feel more safe than she had in ages.

"You're awful quiet, sunshine." he said, cracking a beer open and handing it to her before doing the same for himself and sitting down with his thick arm around her.

"Just…trying to be respectful of the movie experience. You know." she smirked at him as the menu music to the second movie played.

"It ain't that. I know this is still new, what we're doin', but I've watched enough movies with ya over the last few weeks to know that you don't keep quiet for a full length feature." Shane worried the tab on her cold Miller Lite. She wasn't sure how to bring this forward. "Spill it, sweetheart. What's eatin' ya?"

"What…what do you think about when you're watching movies like this, Sy?"

"Guess, same as anybody. How awesome the fighting and driving is. Wondering when Keanu got to be a badass. And if there's really an underground society of assassins. Why, hon?"

"I, umm, I only wondered if it…it doesn't make you miss…your job?"

The smile he gave her was both bemused and amused. "Come 'ere." he prompted her to lean her head into him, and sat his beer down on the buffet behind the couch so he could better hold her. "Do we need to go over the function of a captain of the Army of These United States? Because as flattered as I am that you think so highly of me, I'm no John Wick, nor do I know anyone like John Wick. Or five guys that would make one John Wick. Ten guys. Maybe twenty."

"The fighting doesn't bring anything back?" she smoothed the creases in his shorts as she tried not to act like she was over thinking his past.

"That fightin’s…it's like dancing. It's choreographed, precise, and the outcome is predetermined. Real fights are the exact opposite. They're chaos, unpredictable, and the right guys don't always win. Trust me, I've seen a lot of them go south in a big way." they both let a moment of silence pass before Sy broke it. "What’re ya really askin’, Shane?"

She wanted to ask so many things. The questions seemed to clog the ventricles of her brain like leaves in a rain gutter. Bottlenecked traffic.

"I just…couldn't help but think…about things you must have had to do when…when you were active, and I just…if you need to talk about anything, I'm here." She imagined that taking someone's life, no matter how personal or impersonal the act itself seemed on the surface, would create some level of emotional scarring.

“Oh, sweetheart." he kissed the top of her head, making her feel as warm and cozy as the soup had…perhaps more so. "You are important to me for so many reasons. You've shown me how to smile again. Laugh. Real, genuine happiness. No sarcastic shit like I had to use on my men in my squad. But although I'd feel comfortable talkin' to ya 'bout near anything, there's a counselor on the base who's specifically trained to help guys like me. Who've seen what I've seen and been through…similar situations. He makes sure I don't feel like less of a man for what happened to me. You make me feel…like more than a man…something stronger than I thought possible."

She was straining hard to corral the tears within her waterline, but they broke free when he squeezed her tightly to him with both of his massive arms.

"So…that HEP I gave you is working?" she laughed, knowing full well that his home exercise program had no bearing on the strength he meant.

"Come on, Shane." he raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her to see herself the way he saw her. "Them handouts you give me don't mean a hill o' beans in this conversation and you know it. The way you hold yourself, speak to others. There is so much quiet strength in your kindness that comes right out of your beautiful little heart. Some days I'll see you working with kids, if I get in early, and I know they annoy you and freak you out, but you never let that show." He looked into her eyes, misty from emotion, and he wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "I'll never be able to explain it right, the way you inspire me to be a better and stronger man. And my heart just breaks to hear you put yourself down. And don't say you're just kidding, because I know you think you are, but behind every one of those jokes is a truth, at least as you see it." He'd seen her make to argue and knew her tactic before she had attempted it. "Give yourself some credit, Shane."

"I'm too busy blaming myself for the bad stuff to give myself credit for anything good." she sniffed. "You're the first guy I've…I've been involved with that's acted like I was worth anything more than a meal ticket. Someone who was only suitable for enough sex to make it an official relationship just so they could have a place to live, and do whatever quasi-job was a thing. First serious boyfriend was a freelance writer, but he never seemed to be writing. Then there was the guy with the internet start-up…but he could never tell me in a satisfactory way what the company actually did…so that was brief."

He seemed to know she was bracing for something big. Something difficult. He gave her silence and stroked her shoulder in encouragement to continue. She took one of her deepest ever breaths.

"Then came Elliott. Elliott Thomas. My last boyfriend. The worst of them all. Most useless and greatest offender. I ignored all of the signs, of course. He had a YouTube channel and an Instagram that he was trying to gain followers on and become a so-called "influencer." she rolled her eyes. "He had no life skills. He had a bit of an eye for photography and he could find humor in uncommon places, which he thought made him insta-famous and vlog-worthy."

"I hate him already." Sy growled.

"Well, maybe I shouldn't tell you the rest, then." he asked her to go on. "He always seemed to find these ways to cheat on me and lie to me that I couldn't quite prove, but I was just certain of. But I just…I didn't want to believe it. I wanted THAT one to work. Well. I came home one night after work, and he had another girl in our bedroom. I told him he had until the next day when I got home to leave. Things got a little physical, but I can hold my own." she said, proudly, "and I bolted with my purse. I stayed with Heather, our evening secretary, and we hashed it out, and got a little blitzed on moscato, and cried together."

"Wow."

"He was gone the next day. All I heard from my landlord was, 'you shouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon.' so I guess he had his cop buddies send him a message. He blocked me on all social media and I haven't heard a peep from him since. That was five years ago."

"What a scum bag." he stated, obviously.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to really think about a relationship since then…until…" she let the word hang there, knowing they both knew what the end of the sentence was. "Until I met you." Drifting unsaid in the ether of the unspoken.

"It's been a long time for me too. I mean…I haven't quite been a monk, but I haven't…I haven't cared for a girl since…actually, I've never felt this way about anyone."

"I didn't mean to unpack all of that tonight when we're only a third of the way through our marathon. I really wasn't even going to bring it up at all. It's just…been on my mind. Ya know. I once heard a very poignant parable about keeping your mouth shut if you're warm and happy. I was attempting to do that." she chuckled.

"Yeah, but we need to be able to open up to people in this life. Keeping a bottle stopped under pressure ain't no good for the bottle. Or what's inside."

"Such wisdom. You know just what to say to me." she grinned into him.

"Just seen what keeping yourself closed off can do to a person. And the people they love."

Love…there was that word in the air. Not officially said, but felt in all ways. They held each other close as the opening to the second movie played.

Up Next: Chapter Nine-Group Therapy

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy

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vipclifford · 4 years

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Red is the Warmest Colour

event masterlist

soulmate au where you can’t see colours until you kiss your soulmate

Luke coated his nails in a dark grey colour, though the label claimed it to be ‘candy apple red’. Whatever that meant. He knew that red was the colour of blood and anger and love, that red was fiery and intense. He knew that red was the colour of lipsticks that stained his cheeks after his aunts kissed them when he was younger. He knew that red was the colour that made his face warm when embarrassed. He just didn’t know what it looked like.

Colours only appeared after kissing your soulmate. Not after a first look, not after a first touch, but after a first kiss. Some people went on their entire lives without ever finding them, instead settling for a dull existence with a mediocre partner, and the idea terrified Luke. He wanted nothing more than to see the blue of the sky and the sea; the greens and yellows of the leaves; the oranges and reds of a sunset. He wanted nothing more than to love and be loved like he truly deserved, to have someone made for him by his side as they explored the colours of the world. Luke felt like he was running out of time.

“We’ve got to pick up Amber in twenty minutes, so we better get going,” urged Michael as he rushed into the living room. Luke nodded, blowing on his freshly painted hand as he grabbed his phone with his dry one.

Luke remembers the day Michael found out he had met his soulmate. He remembers the excitement in his eyes as he kept looking at everything and anything, occasionally yelling ‘this is green, Luke, this is really green!’ or ‘why does everyone hate the colour orange? It's so nice!’ Luke was so happy for his friend, but he couldn’t help but wallow in envy that night as he tried hard to envision Michael’s detailed description of the colour red.

But you can’t imagine a colour you’ve never seen.

The party’s atmosphere was chill and cozy, not rowdy like the ones Michael usually brought him to. Ashton, the host, greeted him with a hug as he stepped through the door, and Luke loved how amiable he seemed. The only faces he recognised were those of Michael and Amber, and yet he felt like he belonged amongst these strangers.

“Nice nails,” commented a dark haired stranger who leaned on the railing a couple metres beside him, cigarette between his fingers. “What colour are they?”

“Red,” he told him proudly, a small smile stretching his lips. “At least that’s what the label says,” he shrugged, turning his attention back to the city lights.

The stranger hummed in response, seemingly pensive as he blew a cloud of smoke.

“Fiery and bold. I like it.”

Luke nodded as he gave him a quick glance, noticing that his nails weren’t plain either. “What colour are yours?”

“Blue.”

“Calm and serene. I like it,” Luke echoed his previous words, smiling when he heard his quiet chuckle. “I’m Luke.”

“I’m Calum. You want?” Calum offered, holding out the cigarette towards him. Luke declined with a shake to the head. “You don’t smoke?”

“I’ve, uh, I never found the appeal,” he shrugged somewhat nervously, something deep within his mind telling him that he should’ve just complied, that he should’ve tried to fit in.

“Good. Smoking is shit. By the way,” he said in a low voice, taking a few steps closer to him. Close enough that Luke could smell his cologne masked by the smell of tobacco. “Don’t look now, but the girl in the stripy top has been eyeing you for the past five minutes. Might be worth seeing whether you can finally admire your red nails by the end of the night,” Calum told him with a soft smile, giving a supportive squeeze to his shoulder.

He still couldn’t see red by the end of the night.

Luke laid in his bed, phone in hand as he scrolled mindlessly through instagram. But then he found his fingers tapping on Michael’s account, found his eyes searching for Ashton amidst his followers, found himself looking through Ashton’s followers as well until he landed on the account he pursued.

Calum Hood.

He felt his lips tug upwards as he scrolled through his feed. There were pictures of coffee cups and what he presumed was his dog; blurry pictures from nights out and shirtless pictures at the beach. He couldn’t help zooming into those. Although Luke hadn’t ever found the appeal of tattoos either, too indecisive to commit to a design for the rest of his days, he was intrigued by the patterns covering the skin of his arms and chest. Something about the way the ink clung to Calum’s bicep made him open his eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath after unconsciously double tapping the screen, accustomed to liking every picture when scrolling through his feed. Hasty fingers were quick to unlike it before throwing his phone across the bed.

Luke’s heart was racing in his chest and he could feel himself begin to sweat and his fingers were tingling and he knew that if he could see colours he would be seeing red. A panicked and anxious red. He hated himself for always getting like this over minuscule situations, though he hated himself for a lot of things. But then his phone buzzed, snapping Luke out of his thoughts. A smile returned to his face upon reading the notification and he felt the world go back to a tranquil blue.

‘@calumhood followed you’

The second time he saw Calum was at some other friend of Michael’s pool party, eyes gazing over the buffet of finger food. The place was once again packed with strange faces and Luke was glad to have found his new acquaintance amidst the crowd. He looked different in the daylight. Maybe it was the way the sunlight bounced off of his grey skin, or the way droplets of water trickled down his chest, but Calum looked as though he was glowing. Almost ethereal.

“Stick to pizza, it’s always the safest option,” Luke commented as he approached the man, Calum’s eyebrows briefly shooting up in surprise when he realised it was him.

“If it isn’t my instagram stalker,” Calum teased with a cheeky grin, nodding at his suggestion. Luke turned his head away as soon as he felt the red heat rise to his cheeks, beyond embarrassed by the fact Calum remembered. “Any luck with stripy top?”

“The fates didn’t seem to be on my side that night,” he replied with a shake to the head, reaching for a fresh can of beer. “Maybe I should go for a girl with a plain top next time.”

“Cheer up, mate,” Calum said with a soft chuckle, placing a comforting pat to his back. Luke chose to ignore the way it lingered for a few seconds. “Soulmates aren’t everything.”

But they were everything to Luke.

He had been dreaming about finding his soulmate since he was six. He was playing weddings with his friends during lunchtime and after the ‘groom’ kissed his ‘bride’, the pair yelled out in horror. They kept telling the group that everything around them had changed, that everything looked brighter and beautiful yet so strange, but none of the kids could understand what they meant. He remembers telling his mum about it on the walk home from school, who enlightened him about the concept of soulmates with a smile. Luke spent the rest of the day asking about the colour of the sky and the trees and his shirt, just to receive answers he couldn’t comprehend. He still couldn’t.

Luke simply hummed in response as he opened the can, trying his best to be nonchalant despite strongly disagreeing with his comment.

“Lots of people lead wonderful lives without ever finding their soulmates, you know? They just say ‘fuck you’ to the universe and live a happy life without depending on a soulmate, I think it’s amazing.”

“I guess,” Luke agreed with a shrug. “But don’t you ever picture yourself being truly happy, discovering the colours of the world with a girl that’s perfect for you in every way?”

“Sure I do,” Calum replied casually, taking a bite of his pizza slice. “Not necessarily with a girl, though.”

The speed at which Luke snapped his head to look at him in surprise was almost embarrassing. Calum’s eyebrows rose in a coquettish manner, a knowing smile on his lips as he watched Luke process his confession.

“Then, uh,” Luke muttered, returning his focus to the beer in his hand, “then you should at least try to find him. No need to rebel against the universe just yet.”

It was Calum’s turn to hum in response as he ran his fingers through his wet curls, watching his friends call for him from the pool. “Catch you later,” he said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before walking away.

The third time he saw Calum was in his own apartment

Michael just loved having the chance to get drunk and party with his friends, and what better place to do it than from the comfort of his own home. Soon enough, Michael’s friends began to fill the space between the walls, bringing their loud voices along with beer and vodka.

Luke tried to join in. Luke tried to let loose and have fun but all he could focus on was Calum. The way the strobe lighting made him move in slow motion; the way his biceps pressed tightly against the material of his shirt; the way his hand rested on some guy’s arm. Their eyes met for a brief second before the guy placed a hand on Calum’s cheek, returning his attention back to the stranger.

Luke didn’t know why but that simple action made his heart ache. It made his throat constrict and his hands shake and Luke had to get away, he just had to pull himself away from the scene he was stuck in. He couldn’t handle the loud music or the flashing grey lights or Calum. He pushed people out of his way until he finally reached the terrace, breathing out a relieved sigh when the warm breeze brushed past his face.

No guy had ever made Luke feel as jealous as he felt now. Especially not a guy he had only spoken to twice. He felt so irrational and silly and dumb for feeling the way he did and he had to force himself to look at his bold red nails to ground himself. To remind himself of the confident man he should be.

His mother always told him such amazing things about the colour red. She told Luke red was strong like him; that red was loving like him; that red was courageous like him. He could never agree with her words, always having been too shy and insecure for that, but incorporating the concept of red into his life never failed to empower him.

So maybe he was jealous, but he was okay with that. Maybe he liked Calum, and he was okay with that too.

“There you are,” spoke a deep voice he had been longing to hear for days. “I was looking for you,” Calum told him as he rested his arms beside his, elbows touching.

“Guess you found me,” he murmured, all newly acquired confidence replaced by his usual timidity the second Calum appeared by his side.

“Why are you out here on your own? Isn’t this your party?” Luke shook his head.

“It’s Michael’s,” he clarified, “I just happen to live here too. And I’m out here because I needed a breather.”

“Too crowded?”

“Something like that.”

The atmosphere between them was somewhat awkward and uncertain, as though neither of them wanted to say the wrong thing. Luke just didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Calum pulled out a cigarette from the pack, placing it between his lips as he lit it.

“I thought about what you said the other day, you know? About trying to find my soulmate,” Luke turned with curious eyes to face him, humming to urge him to continue. Calum thought about him. “And, you’re right, I guess. Deep down, soulmates are everything to me,” Calum confessed before taking his first drag. Luke placed a comforting hand on his toned arm, softly caressing his skin. “But I fucking hate that they could be anywhere. They could be right in front of me and I would never find out because I don’t go round kissing strangers. The chances of finding them are so fucking low, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke murmured as he turned back to look at the city lights, letting go of his arm. “Do you believe in fate?”

“To an extent,” Calum shrugged, “I think that there are certain things that are set in stone, but how you get there is completely up to you.”

“Okay, then I think that you finding your soulmate is set in stone. You’ve just got to take the leap,” he told him. “What colour do you want to see?”

“I want nothing more than to see the peaceful blue of the sky or the powerful navy of the ocean. I love the idea of blue so fucking much that I’ll paint my nails that colour like a fool even though it just looks grey,” Calum chuckled humourlously, holding his hand out to Luke to let him see. “I don’t want to die in a world that’s still black and white.”

“You’re like me but with red,” Luke chuckled slightly in disbelief just to wince at his lack of sensitivity regarding Calum’s last sentence. “Uh, why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “guess I’m just the right amount of drunk to ramble about my feelings. Don’t get used to it.”

Luke smiled softly at his words. Getting used to him, that sounded like a nice idea. “Well, drunk or not, I think that you will find your soulmate. In no time you’ll be looking up and seeing a blue sky, trust me.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

They were both silent as they looked each other in the eyes for a few seconds. All that could be heard were the cars driving past and the music blasting through the apartment. Luke noticed just how good he looked in the dark, and just how plump and appealing his lips were. He watched Calum lean in slowly, felt his body do the same, felt the tip of their noses brush against each other until–

“Luke!”

The pair are quick to pull away from each other upon hearing Michael’s voice, leaving a foot’s distance between their chests.

“What do you want?”

“Have you seen Amber?” Luke couldn’t help but frustratedly roll his eyes at his best friend who stumbled over towards him, annoyed that he had ruined the only highlight of his night.

“No. She’s probably with her friends or something, I don’t know.”

“Can you help me? I’ve been looking for her for ages and our apartment isn’t big enough for me to have taken this long. Please,” Michael begged, occasionally slurring his words.

Luke glanced over at Calum who gave him a nod, silently excusing himself from the scene. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

Michael found her a few minutes later passed out in the bathroom. They really were soulmates.

Luke couldn’t stop thinking about their almost kiss. The way his dark eyes fluttered closed, the way his face emitted warmth, the way the soft skin of his nose brushed against his. The moment was so tender and vulnerable and perfect until his ill-timed friend decided to make a guest appearance. He should’ve expected that from Michael.

The sun shone brightly on the hot June’s day as Luke and Michael made their way into a pub, desperate for some refreshing beer. It wasn’t their usual bar, it was one in the city that Michael’s friends recommended and as usual Luke felt out of place. They sat down at a table of faces he somewhat recognised, filled himself a glass from the jug of beer and listened to their conversations, only joining in when his self esteem allowed him. He eventually got up to order the next pint, patiently waiting at the bar for the bartender to take his order.

“Fancy seeing you here,” grinned Calum as he pulled up beside him, Luke’s eyebrows lifting up in surprise when he saw him. “Come here often?”

“First time. Michael dragged me, as usual,” he replied with a soft smile.

Calum nodded, fingers rhythmically tapping on the counter. “Keep it that way, this place is shit. Wanna get out of here?”

“What?” Luke asked with a confused look in his eyes, anxiety bubbling in his chest at the spontaneity of his offer. He never just did things.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Calum enunciated louder, fingers running through his dark curls as he awaited a response from him.

“Okay,” he found himself saying and soon enough Luke was running down the streets with Calum, chest full of laughter. He didn’t know where he was and for once he didn’t even care, too engrossed in the conversation and fun he was having with his new friend.

They found a small patch of grass and Luke felt like laying in it, so that’s what he did. Calum didn’t join him, however, too busy studying whatever was behind that metal railing.

“There’s a pool there. I think it’s a primary school.”

“Okay?” Luke chuckled slightly, not knowing where Calum was going with this.

“Let’s jump in.”

“What?” he asked but was too late, for Calum was already climbing the fence. “Calum what the fuck.”

“Come on, live a little,” he grinned as he sat at the top, looking down at Luke. Luke stood up and slowly made his way over to the fence, thinking that at some point Calum would tell him that he was joking and come back down. But he didn’t. “Climb up, it’s easy.”

Luke placed his clammy hands onto the metal railing and strategically placed his foot somewhere where he could later hoist himself up. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do,” he murmured as he climbed the fence, meeting the man at the top.

“That’s what life’s all about,” Calum smiled before jumping off the other side, sprinting towards the pool.

Luke shook his head in disbelief as he watched him, a small smile on his lips, before slowly climbing down the fence. He ran behind him until he reached the swimming pool. The lights lining the edges of the pool made the water glow and seem that much more appealing. Much like Calum, who glowed with the light from the sunset as he took off his grey shirt.

“Are you gonna jump in like that?” Calum teased as he watched Luke make no move to remove his clothes. Luke rolled his eyes playfully as he kicked off his shoes, eventually stripping down to his underwear.

Calum pushed him into the water when Luke least expected it, too busy testing the temperature of the pool with his foot. He was splashed in the face as soon as he resurfaced by Calum jumping in too, emerging with a laugh.

“That wasn’t funny,” Luke complained in mock aggravation, splashing Calum with water. “I could’ve drowned.”

“Why, don’t know how to hold your breath underwater?” he taunted, mimicking his action.

“I’ll have you know I’m the best at holding my breath underwater.”

“Really?” Calum questioned with a raised brow, a look that Luke couldn’t quite decipher in his eyes. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“A challenge you won’t disprove,” Luke said somewhat boldly.

“Alright, on the count of three we go down,” Calum explained prior to counting down, the pair taking a deep breath just before submerging themselves underwater.

They watched each other as the water made their hair flail about, determination written on their faces. But then time seemed to stop as Calum pushed himself closer, his rough hand finding its place on Luke’s cheek. He instinctively closed his eyes and suddenly Calum’s lips were pressed against the corner of his mouth and Luke felt like a fool. He still felt like a fool as he pushed himself up to the surface, vexed as he watched Calum emerge a few seconds later.

“I won,” Calum grinned mischievously.

“You fucking cheated, I demand a rematch,” Luke insisted despite Calum denying his claim, so they counted back down from three and immersed themselves in the water.

Luke felt flustered under Calum’s gaze, which kept dropping down to his touch-starved lips. Anxiety bubbled in his chest as he kept watching Calum‘s eyes linger, too scared to mirror the action. His previous tactic had left Luke dumbfounded and confused. He thought that he was going to kiss him, that he wanted to kiss him. But now he didn’t know whether Calum craved his lips as much as Luke did or whether he was trying to distract him again. Luke didn’t want to look like a fool.

But then he looked down at his plump grey lips.

Luke felt his hands jitter as Calum’s demeanour became determined. Calum’s eyes never left his as he slowly inched closer, each second that passed making Luke’s heart beat faster and faster against his chest. He could feel his pulse in his ears as Calum’s nose softly grazed his own and Luke had finally had enough as he pressed his lips to Calum’s.

Luke didn’t know where this sudden surge of confidence had come from but he didn’t care as Calum kissed him eagerly, arms wrapping around Luke’s neck to pull him close. It felt as though he had been wanting this to happen for a long time. He placed his hands on Calum’s soft cheeks as they pushed themselves back up above the surface. They kissed and kissed and kissed until Luke felt his lips go numb, but he couldn’t bear to pull away from his intoxicating touch. Neither of them could. Neither of them wanted to.

“Don’t open your eyes yet,” Calum murmured against his lips once he reluctantly pulled away, smiling softly when Luke chased them to leave a quick kiss. “I’m not ready to be disappointed.”

Luke frowned at this, though he understood the meaning behind his words. “Okay,” he whispered, softly stroking his wet cheek. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

“Too long,” Calum chuckled quietly, leaning into his touch. “Probably since the first time I saw you.”

“That night at Ashton’s?”

“No, before that. I can’t remember whose party it was but you were there, happily dancing with Michael and Amber instead of looking awkward and gloomy in the corner like usual,” he teased, accepting the light slap to his shoulder. “You just looked so beautiful and carefree and I was like ‘fuck, he’s the one, I need to talk to him’. And then I didn’t,” Calum laughed.

“Shut up, that’s too cheesy to be true,” Luke complained although he couldn’t stop himself from pressing happy kisses to his lips.

“Believe what you want.”

“Do you want to look now?” Luke asked after a few seconds of silence. He could sense his reluctance, which was eventually overpowered by the acceptance of the fact that he had to open them eventually.

“Okay.”

Luke took a deep breath, anxiety bubbling in his chest in case the world was still grey. But that kiss felt right, his touch felt right, Calum felt too right for someone who wasn’t his soulmate. He had to be. He wanted him to be. He needed him to be.

His eyes opened to a bright sky filled with so many different colours he couldn’t even name. They were bright and warm and real and fuck, colours were beyond anything Luke had ever tried to imagine. His cheeks hurt from grinning as he kept looking around, looking at the green of the leaves and the blue of the pool. He looked down at his nails and he felt like crying. “That’s red,” he said excitedly, almost in disbelief. Red was so beautiful. Luke looked back at Calum just to find him already looking at him with a smile on his red lips.

“Your eyes are so blue,” Calum muttered in amazement as he pulled him in by the cheeks to kiss him tenderly. “I fucking love blue.”

“I fucking love red,” Luke chuckled with a shy smile, glancing up at the changing sky before joining their lips together again. He kissed him and kissed him and kissed him once more because although the colours were wonderful, Calum’s lips were more.

i’ve had so many technical issues but she’s finally posted! thank you @maluminspace and @h0tsos for doing this event, it was really fun and i enjoyed writing something that was somewhat out of my comfort zone because i’ve never written a slash fic. also a special thanks to @sexgodashton and @5-secondsofcolor for being the most helpful when i was stuck!!

taglist: @cashtonasfuck @maluminspace @castaway-cashton @loveroflrh @5sosnsfw @gigglyirwin @mysticalhood @punkrockpreferences @koalacal @calumsmermaid

message me or tap on the link in my masterlist to be added!!

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noirshadow · 3 years

Text

New Beginnings - Ch. 1

I couldn't get this idea out my head and just had to write it. Let me know what you think!

Summary: It was supposed to be a fresh start for Mal and Alina. A chance to try to mend their relationship and new beginnings in a new town. And then she meets him.

A Darklina Neighbors Alternate AU. 🌘

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The new house was supposed to make things better. Alina looked out the window as she washed the dishes, giving a big sigh. It was nice that the new house was bigger, but it almost felt like it had forced the distance between her and Mal even wider. There were more places to hide, easier opportunities to avoid each other.

This was only their second year of marriage but it was doomed from the start. Yes, they were childhood friends but when Mal had finally asked Alina out in their third year of college, the old Mal she knew was already barely there. There were still glimpses of his old self, but they were few and far between. She cherished those in her mind, clinging onto those moments so that she couldn’t forget. With those memories on a pedestal in her mind, Alina had deluded and convinced herself into thinking this could work long term. Mal had been obsessed with his career and status and proving a point to his parents, who didn’t think they could ever do better for themselves and who in turn, ingrained this self-deprecation into their son.

After several years of hardly speaking to each other, Alina had approached Mal with an ultimatum - something had to change. His initial reaction was of shock. A total blindside, from his point of view. He was barely home, always at work or some leadership seminar or other, but when he was home, Alina always played dutiful wife. It was probably partially her fault that he didn’t think anything was wrong. She was also always radiant and charming when she needed to be, like at every work function as she was led around the room meeting all his bosses and senior management of the firm. Unsurprisingly, as was standard of their relationship, he misunderstood the root cause of the issues and decided that a new home and a new environment would be the solve.

—-

The neighbourhood was very nice but it was so manicured. It had nothing of the chaos and untidy charm of Os Alta. All the houses looked relatively similar and it was far from the action of the city centre where they lived before. This was a cozy street where everyone knew each other, especially where their new home was, where the street ended in a cul de sac. Coming from the city, Alina was having a small culture shock. There, you were just a tiny part of the faceless masses and no one gave anyone else a second glance.

On the second day after moving in, the doorbell rang. “Are we expecting anyone?” Mal said to her as he looked up from the box of books he was sorting through. Alina shook her head and went to the door.

“HI!! I am your new neighbor and number 1118 across the street. I’m Genya! I live there with my husband, David and two boys. Sorry, I would have stopped by yesterday but the day flew by. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood.” Genya smiled eagerly. A few years older than Alina, she had stunning vermillion hair and amber eyes. She was still more pretty than Alina ever thought she herself could look, but it was slightly faded on the edges as if the years and the kids had blurred her beauty a bit. Nevertheless, Alina instantly took a liking to her and found her charm, radiating and her positivity completely contagious. “Hi, I’m Alina and I just moved here from Os Alta with my husband Mal. He’s just inside - sorry, we are still unpacking”, she says.

“Don’t be silly! You must be exhausted. Here is my famous lasagna casserole I made as I’m sure you have had no time to cook yet. When you get settled, we must have a glass of wine! Oh, it’s also perfect timing that you moved in this weekend because there is a block party this Saturday in the court and you must come meet all the neighbours. Everyone is great and we are all so excited for you all to move in!” Genya’s enthusiasm spread to Alina like a soothing spoonful of honey on a sore throat. Despite Alina being much quieter and less vivacious, she immediately liked the other woman and felt at ease with her. With Genya’s exuberance rubbing off on her, she said “That sounds great, see you then!” in a tone much more cheerful than she felt.

——

On Saturday morning, Alina woke up early to make her own famous recipe- peanut butter blondies - that was passed down by her foster mom, Ana Kuya. She didn’t feel particularly nervous about meeting her neighbours but there was still a little gnawing feeling pulling at her insides. Perhaps it was the thought of having to put on a face that everything was fine or more realistically, a quiet voice from deep down pointed out, that it was having to show up with Mal and be associated as his wife and be paired with him.

At around 11, she could hear a commotion outside as tables were being set up and kids were already laughing and running around. Mal came out from his study in his classic weekend uniform of a crisp linen shirt with chino shorts. Alina had on a floral strappy sundress with her hair pulled into a low messy knot at the back of her head. “Ready to go, hun?”, Mal asked. Alina nodded blankly, “can you please grab that other tray to bring it out”.

Although it was already near the close of summer, the air was still warm with a slight breeze. The sun was bright and set a golden filter on the entire street. The cul-de-sac was transformed with three large tables in the centre in an almost wide u-shape. The left two were loaded with all sorts of nice food and the far right table had the drinks and a large speaker with some lively music playing. All the kids were already playing in front of it, zooming around on bikes and throwing balls around. Alina spotted a couple ginger boys run past with water guns and knew those must be Genya’s. She looked toward the table and saw the bright redheaded matron arranging some sandwiches and Alina walked over, with Mal trailing behind.

“Hi Genya. This is Mal, my husband.” The cheerful neighbor turned around and immediately broke into a wide grin. “Ah, so great to meet you. Let me introduce you to my husband.” She shouted loudly to a gentle looking man who was taking apart and trying to fix a remote control car for a little boy just on the edge of the driveway.

“DAVID, come say hi to Alina and Mal!” David looked up sheepishly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He waved and shouted, “hello, - I’m just about to access the capacitor mechanism here so I’ll come over shortly!” Genya turned back toward the couple and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, he is an engineer and will jump at any chance to tinker with any mechanical devices. Even if it’s a kid’s toy. I’ll bring him over in a second but go ahead and help yourself to some food.” She said this with a tinge of annoyance to her voice but you could hear the love seeping out from the corner of it. Detecting it, Alina was almost jealous.

The next couple hours passed quickly and pleasantly. They chatted with all the neighbours in the immediate cul-de-sac and met most of the ones further along the street. Although it was so different to Os Alta, there was a cozy and inviting atmosphere of the suburbs. It put one at ease that there was kindness from strangers and that people cared. Maybe Alina could learn to love it here and maybe things could be different.

Mal, for one, seemed to have found himself a little group of like-minded husbands and had already gone off to have beer with two of them. Genya was very busy as one of the main organisers but still somehow managed to always be the radiant center of things. She would come check on Alina here and there but after Mal went off, Alina found herself standing alone on the edge of the court, watching the action within.

After several minutes of surveying the scene from the sidelines, she was about to go back inside for a second when she saw him. He was at the far end of the court looking straight at her. It was as if the sea had parted and it was a tunnel connecting only her and him. The din of the other neighbors and the rowdy kids completely melted away. Alina had thought she felt eyes on her earlier in the afternoon but had not pinpointed it until this moment of calm.

The dark and mysterious man across the way from her was one of the most handsome men Alina had ever seen and when she returned his look, the hair on her arms stood straight up. Not in a traditional way, per se, but there was something about his face and how he carried himself that almost left her breathless. Although it was a relatively warm day, he had on a black t-shirt and black jeans. His dark hair was on the long side and fell slightly over his face. Just then, he lifted one hand and flipped his hair back without his eyes once leaving her face. Alina felt a zap of high voltage in her body that she had never felt before. She felt a long lost feeling awake within her - one that was so familiar but had been dormant for years - where she was like a giddy schoolgirl. Chemicals reacting within her, core going molten, and stomach doing butterfly flips as if the popular boy had noticed her.

Without looking away and before Alina knew what she was doing, she started walking past the tables toward him. She quickly scanned the area for Mal and spied him chatting around some planter boxes of 1114 with his new friends. He was joking and genuinely laughing, which she hadn’t personally experienced in months. Turning back, she focused on her task at hand she passed through the slew of tables, where it suddenly was much quieter. All the kids were running in the foreground where all the snacks and toys were. Here, there were only a few scattered adults talking quietly. As she walked by them, she broke eye contact to smile lightly at the man in 1109 who said hello to her. They had met earlier but she had already forgotten his name. Finally. After what felt like ages, Alina arrived in front of him. This breathtaking figure was standing on the edge of the curb, hands in pockets, and with her standing on the street, she seemed even more diminutive as he towered over her like a great black shadow.

“Hey,” he said, voice dulcet but with a coolness that sent a shiver right down her spine. His voice was low and deliciously rich. “You just moved into 1115, right? I’m Aleksander - I live in 1121, just here-” he gestured behind him to a much more modern and austere looking build then the rest of the neighborhood and without any of the kid accoutrement that littered the front yard of many of their neighbors.

“I’m Alina,” she said softly practically falling completely into the dark pools of black ink that were his eyes. “We just moved here from Os Alta.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood," Aleksander said, sweeping his arm to the court out like a game show assistant showcasing the prize. "As you can see, we are a friendly, tight-knit bunch. Do let me know if there is anything I can do to help welcome you in. I surmise Genya will have already taken care of everything, but just in case…” He trailed off. As if he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Aleksander's voice was slow and deliberate as if every word was calculated and there was no wastage. He looked at her and for a second, Alina almost saw a slight spark of hunger in his eyes but surely she must have imagined it. She had never seen or met him before. She shook it off and she smiled brightly and said “Thank you. Everyone seems lovely and I look forward to getting to know everyone.” She stared up into his eyes, searching for a response. Alina was never usually direct when meeting a stranger, but something inside her had awoken when she first saw him. And in this short and seemingly mundane conversation, it was as if a different conversation happened just between their gaze. In this moment, somehow emboldened, she blurted, “I would love to get a drink sometime and get to know you whenever you’re free.” She blushed and looked away, cheeks burning. She was nearly 30, how could she still feel like a young girl approaching her crush?

“I would like that very much.” Aleksander had not once taken his eyes off of her. Even now, it looked like he was straining, jaw firmly set - compelling every muscle in his body to behave. “For the moment, I have to attend to some matters that I could not reschedule. Enjoy the rest of the party. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Aleksander gave one last long look into her eyes, before quickly turning up the driveway back to his house. As she stared at the smooth wooden door, Alina stood there for a few seconds completely shaken at what had just passed and at the unfamiliar feelings coursing through her. She hadn’t felt this kind of electricity in years. It took Genya tapping her on the arm to bring her out of her daze. “I see you met Aleksander. He mostly keeps to himself but he’s nice enough. Shame he lives in that big house all alone. Come on back, we are about to cut the cake.” Genya turned and started walking back to the tables yelling for the kids to assemble by the tables.

Alina took one last look at the house and thought she saw a curtain move and a dark shadow. What was she even doing? She was married. This will never do. Shaking herself, she turned and walked back the group.

~~~~~~~~~~~

So sorry about the shit spacing. Tumblr is not being my friend today!

#darklina fanfic #darklina #ao3 #the darkling x alina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #naughty neighbors #alternate au #darklinadaily #the darkling #darkling fic #sab

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httphopewrld · 4 years

Text

hot summer (sneak peek pt.2)!!!

He was a boy across the street—no—an attractive boy across the street who happened to be a tattoo artist. You didn’t want to do anything about it, but your friends encouraged you to either stop sulking or make a move. And you chose the latter.

Pairing: tattoo artist/neighbourjungkook! x female reader

Genre: fluff and smuuuuuut

Rating: 18+ because there’s some smuuuuuutttt (it’s the most detailed I’ve ever written, soooo proceed with caution) and swearing

Warnings: smut, soft sex, dom!/sub!jungkook, dom!/sub!femreader, penetrative sex without protection (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), bullet vibrator, oral fem receiving, creampie, fingering, making out, and swearing. There are mentions of domestic violence, but it is not detailed. It is in the perspective of the reader, who is witnessing this from a distance.

Word Count: 9,000-10,000 (each because there will be 2 parts)

A/N: Uni has been a lot, so I will be post the full part 1 on Monday. Thank you so much for waiting, and for all the support and love I’ve gotten from the previous sneak peek! Here’s a little more to keep you on your toes ;)

Also, if you’d like to be on this fic’s (and future ones) taglist, comment your username, and I’ll update this fic and have your username in future fics too!

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You looked across the traffic, into the apartment building across from yours. A boy sat back into his chair, holding a book in his hands. He began to read, of course, in a simple manner. His eyes scanned the pages, imagining the words written in his mind.

He was man, most likely, in his early twenties, but referring to him as a “man” felt odd.

You were fascinated by him. He was good looking, even from kilometres away. If you leaned against your balcony’s rails, you could see his dark wavy brown hair, his slightly sun-kissed skin, and his all-black clothing ensemble. He wore no shirt, probably from the heat or being in the comfort of his own home.

You stepped away from the railing and back into your apartment, drawing back the curtain and turning your back to the balcony.

How long have you been gawking at this stranger? Had he glanced up from his book and saw you standing there?

You drew all your curtains closed, paranoid, and embarrassed.

People crowded the city’s streets.

The sun was out, which meant everyone became runners, joggers, and walkers. People, families, and friends came out from their hideaways and into the sunshine. You, on the other hand, sat safely on your balcony.

Crowds made you nervous. You liked meeting people, but the thought of pushing through a dense mass of strangers made you shudder.

So, you watched people push and brush pass each other from ten floors up, sipping at your iced tea.

You gazed at the apartment from the other night.

It was empty.

You could see simplistic black and white art and photographs decorating the walls and modern furniture. His bedroom is to the left, with a gaping window that allowed anyone to look in. The same applied to the rest of the apartment: big windows and no curtains.

You sipped your iced tea.

You could imagine this man’s wardrobe. Minimalistic shades, and maybe some pops of colour. Chunky black sneakers and dark accessories. He must’ve been an artist of some sort.

Your phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” Your friend, and roommate, Ashly, chimed on the other end. “Are you busy at the moment?”

“Not at all,” you replied, setting down your drink, “what’s up?”

“I was thinking of having a get-together. There’d be wine, snacks, and music. It’d be small, maybe five people, including ourselves?”

“You want me at your party?”

“Well, it isn’t a party—just a few girls and gossip.”

You pondered for a moment. “Where is it?”

“The get-together?”

“Yes,”

“It’d be at our place in two weeks.” Ashly sighed. “Is that enough time, mom?”

You chuckled. “Yes, my child.”

“Awesome! We can plan when I come back from work.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

“See ya!”

“Bye.” You hung up and looked back at the apartment.

The boy had come back. He wore a back cap, which he quickly took off and ruffled his hair, and, like a few days ago, adorned a full black ensemble. Despite the warm weather, he had worn a black leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers.

You watched him shuck off his jacket and toss it on the couch, and head to his bedroom.

He, with a lack of better words, flopped onto his bed and appeared to take a nap.

You chuckled to yourself—definitely a boy.

It had been a week since you looked back at the apartment.

You had just come back from work, and Ashly usually arrives back home an hour later.

The apartment you shared with Ashly was a carbon-copy of an IKEA display. You joked about it before, saying, “if someone were to flip through a 2019 IKEA catalogue, randomly choose a page, you’d probably think our place looked the same—or you’d find one of our pieces of furniture.”

It wasn’t a bad thing. IKEA was a popular place to shop at, and it was excellent quality.

Your furniture was various shades of white, navy blue, grey, silver, and light brown. The colour palette continued to your cutlery, kitchen items, and your bedrooms.

The place was cozy and didn’t leave room (pun intended) for a frivolous lifestyle.

The boy’s apartment was similar yet different. There was a sense of minimalism, like yours, but the furniture was dark—almost raven black.

As remarked before, there were black and white photographs and inky modern furniture. There were no colours in his home, just assorted shades.

His front door opened, and two bodies tumbled inside—his and a female.

Their bodies entangled with one and other and gripping each other’s clothes. The female’s clothes were the first to come off, exposing her bra and lack of underwear. The boy seemed pleased because he smirked before attaching his lips to her vagina.

You were shocked, scared, and worried all at once. You wanted to look away but found a curiosity within.

This man—boy—didn’t appear to have any desire to shut the world out.

You watched as this boy perform oral sex to this female—in the right way because the girl appeared to be moaning a lot—and you couldn’t look away.

It was like watching live porn, in a weird and public sense. It was, slightly, pleasurable too.

They took off their clothes shortly after the girl seemed to orgasm and engaged in penetrative sex. He took her from behind, against his couch. You, and whoever else stumbled upon this erotic scene, had a perfect view of their naked sides.

“Oh, my lord,” you gasped.

You felt the familiar tingle in your lower region.

Realizing this, you cursed under your breath and closed your curtains.

“What the fuck,” you exhaled, leaning forward on the dining table.

“I just watched my neighbour have sex,” you muttered, “and enjoyed it.”

You paced the room as if giving a lecture to a child.

“You were turned on by your neighbour having sex!” You shouted at yourself. “What the hell?! Were you fantasying? Him?! What the fuck, Y/N? Might as well be Joe Goldberg, and whip out your—”

“Y/N?”

You stopped in your tracks and turned to your front door. Ashly stood in shock.

“Are you alright?” Her Australian accent was thick with concern.

You smiled, “Never better.”

She let out a pulse of nervous laughter before tossing her keys in the small dish on the kitchen counter.

“What were you saying about Joe Goldberg? The guy from You? And why are the curtains closed?” Ashly leaned her hand against the counter, and her other on her hip. She resembled a mother about to lecture their kid about a text from a stranger.

You chuckled. “Nothing of importance—anyways, how was your day, Ash?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, Y/N. You’re not escaping this one.” She walked up to you and firmly placed both her hands on her hips. “What is all this that about?”

“Look who’s the mother now,” you muttered, making Ashly raise her eyebrow.

You inhaled a lungful of air. “The boy in the apartment across from us is having sex right now, and they’re bare-ass naked in front of their big-ass windows. I had to close the curtains because I felt like I was intruding on their sexual activity, and it was just weird that they didn’t close their own—but I feel like that boy doesn’t own any curtains—so I just closed our curtains.” You said in one breath.

Ashly’s eyes widened with shock, “What?” She walked past you and threw open the curtains.

“Ash, don’t just rip them wide open!” You rushed over and closed the curtains.

She glared at you before cracking the drapes a bit to take a look. “Oh, my God.” She gasped. “They are having sex.”

“Still?” You crouched down and peered through the break.

“Oh yeah,” she nodded, “and harder than ever.”

You both watched, only for a few seconds before closing the curtains again, the boy drill into the girl. The boy faced the windows, leaving everyone to see his face and the top of the girl’s head as she tilted it back with pleasure.

“Well, he seems very good at what he’s doing,” Ashly commented, walking away as you closed the drapes.

“Ash!” You said in a loud whisper as if the boy across the street could hear.

“I’m just saying, the girl seems like she’s having the best time of her life, being pounded by that dude!” She defended.

“Jesus Christ, Ash, shut up!”

“I’m not wrong,” she shrugged.

You looked at her sheepishly, and you both burst with laugher.

Both of you spent dinner recapping your days: Ashly was currently dealing with an HR (Human Resources) problem in her company—she couldn’t go into details because of confidentiality, but it had to do with a problematic employee who was spouting racist nonsense online, which could affect the company’s image; and was immorally wrong because racism and any discrimination based on sexuality, race, religion, and so on, cannot be tolerated.

Your day and work-life were conversely dull.

You managed finances and taxes for your corporation, and the only exciting event to date was the incorrect money evaluation from a co-worker, which lead the company to believe there was wiggle-room for spending; when in reality, they were spending too much.

You pushed the pasta around in your plate while looking at the covered windows. You watched the curtains sway in the wind. Ashly had opened the windows a few minutes ago to let the hot air out of the apartment.

It was the hottest summer since you moved to the city five years ago, including the weather and the recently noticed neighbour across the street.

You continued to think about him and the way he had sex with that girl. It was romantic, yet aggressive and needy.

Fuck. You cursed.

“Hello?” Ashly waved a hand in front of your face. “I know that HR can be boring to listen to, but please try to look interested.”

You chuckled, “Sorry, Ash. I just zoned out a bit.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied, “but thank you for the apology.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m ready to watch some Netflix.” She looked at her watch, “And as it is almost eight o’clock, I think I’ll only be able to last for a ripe two hours until my old body starts to shut down.”

You laughed, taking both of your empty plates and cutlery to the kitchen. Ashly joined you, bringing the drained wine glasses.

“Care to join me?” She asked while you loaded the dishes.

“It’d be the highest honour, m’lady.”

⋅. ✯ .⋅

Reminder:

if you would like to be on my taglist for “Hot Summer” and my future fics, please comment something like:

(ex.)

Hello! I would like to be in your taglist. My username is _____. Thank you!

Thank you!

- Mae (httphopewrld)

#jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fuff #ficswithluv

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selinakidreams · 4 years

Text

Junk of the Heart

this was inspired by this song and a personal experience that i could have only wished ended like this. side note: i thought kiri would b ideal for a first fic post bc........... i wuv him a lot nd i couldn’t get this scenario out of my head; everytime i hear this song i think of him singing it so there u go <3

paring: gn!reader x kirishima eijirou

band member au! so no quirks

genre: fluff

warnings: none, good ol ushy gushy self indulged romance

Word count: around 3.3k

You were surprised that exhaustion hadn’t taken over your body yet.

The day was a non-stop escapade of the mundane and the irregular; all in the same day, you went in and out of different big cities, to having afternoon coffee followed by going back to the apartment you were staying at to nap, to visiting a local rose garden, to drawing with chalk on the sidewalk of your friend’s house post potluck. You were only visiting for the weekend so your friends were going to make the most of it.

By the end of the night, you somehow found yourselves waiting in line on the side of a cozy neighborhood venue to try and get concert tickets to an already sold out show.

You didn't really know what was going on, not that you minded; the motto for the weekend was “go with the flow”. However, the spontaneity of randomly going to a concert where you don’t know who’s playing has peaked your interest. You’ve never done it before and once the idea had time to marinate in your mind, your heart was set on getting those tickets.

Waiting for 30 minutes for the tickets seemed like nothing until whispers of, “they’re not giving out any more tickets!” And “they’ve officially sold out!” came trickling down the line, causing your heart to falter.

Groups in front of you started leaving and your group moved to take their place. “Did you want to see if we could finesse our way in?” Said one friend. “Doesn’t it seem pointless, though?” Responded the other, yet your group remained in line. You didn’t want to leave, there was something in your gut telling you not to, but you were starting to doubt the probability of actually getting in.

Everything next happened in an instant.

Somehow, you and your friends managed to get up to the window selling the tickets and talk your way into getting in. It didn’t seem like a miracle more along the lines of sheer dumb luck, they just happened to find more tickets- but you didn’t dwell too much on it, you were already inside enjoying the vibrations of the live music moving through you.

Lights were reflecting off of a giant disco ball, bouncing in every which direction, exposing random people in the crowd. The lights on stage only added to the different colors brightening the dark expanse. Bodies swayed close together as the next song started calmly.

You had been off to the side, waiting for your closest friend to come back with the drinks she offered when you guys were first greeted by the bass and guitar. The rest of your friends had gotten lost in the crowd, but you didn’t mind. The scene you were taking in felt surreal. You had never seen complete strangers come together in a way that it made it seem like they’ve known each other for years because of good music.

As your friend made her way through the crowd with two cups in hand when the band announced that it was going to be their last song for the night. You looked up at the members on stage; you had been paying so much attention to the experience as a whole that you hadn’t even seen the band actually playing.

The first person that caught and kept your attention was the man in center stage. Bright red spikey hair with ruby red eyes to match, and a toothy grin. A white electric guitar with a red strap hung on his sizable shoulders. He looked like the physical version of the music he was playing; a plain black fitted t-shirt tucked into his loose blue jeans with holes in the knees. His black converse seemed worn out, like they’ve been on so many adventures, this night on stage being one of them.

You tried to look at the other members but your gaze always shifted back to him.

Now with a sweet alcoholic beverage in your hand, you were pulled to the barricade by your very persistent friend. You heard her say something along the lines of, “you look like you’ve witnessed a miracle! We need to get closer!”

Nobody seemed to mind your friend’s pushiness to the front, everyone there was just enjoying the show had to offer.

“Before we get on with our last song of the night,” the red head chuckled at the immediate chant of boo’s that rang out, “we figured we ought to introduce ourselves!” His smile showered over everyone in the crowd. He leaned into the mic stand as his big hand loosely covered the secured mic, “in the back, and away from people where he should be,” a melodic laugh rang out as he looked to his annoyed band mate, “is our drummer, Bakugo Katsuki!” The audience was greeted by an eye roll and a curt wave and gave back an applause. “Next we have our all talented bassist, Jirou Kyouka!” She ran her pick over the strings, you felt the vibrations through your whole body and decided to let out a laugh, joining the others in letting out a loud “wooop!”.

“And on the keyboard, we have the electrifying Kaminari Denk!” A wink and finger guns were shot out and in response, a few girly giggles could be heard throughout the cheering room as well as a few squeals. Kaminari threw his head back and put his hand over his heart.

“And me? I’m Kirishima Eijiro on guitar!” You could hear the swarm of girls that cheered overpowering the crowd as well as thunderous hollers from a few guys,

‘Pretty popular,’ you thought, taking a sip of your drink. Of course he was popular. His smile was contagious, full and bright. You could see the happiness illuminating his eyes, the crinkles by the corner of his eyes showed he truly couldn’t be more content than in this moment.

Bakugo spun his drumsticks and began playing a beat as Kirishima began to talk,“ We had a fuck ton of fun tonight, thank you for having us. We hope you give the same amount of love to the band that hops on the stage next.” he said, the smile never leaving his face. He adjusted the ear piece before finishing with, “But as for us, this song is called Junk of the Heart, let’s go Bakugo!” And just like that, they dove into the song. Kirishima began strumming to Bakugo’s already given beat.

As Kaminari hit the keyboard, the stage lights changed drastically. All of a sudden there was no color on stage or bouncing off the walls, beams of golden light shot out from behind them, giving them the look of angels. The space got significantly darker; you had no choice but to look at the band in front of you.

Backlit and beautiful, it was as if you were actually hearing them for the first time.

“See I notice nothing makes you shatter, no no,

You’re a lover of the wild and a joker of the heart,” Kirishima looked out onto the faces that were close enough to see. He loved seeing how invested people got- to see how music can bring people together and create a bond. It made him feel like he was at the top of the world.

You thought to yourself as you watched him sing into the mic, “He looked so god like, it was ironic that you were looking up at him.”- that was until your gaze was met with his. He stopped the wandering gaze; it seemed as though his eyes got bigger than before, which didn’t seem possible. His eyes were already so round and curious, but making eye contact with you brought a different kind of wideness.

When he sang, “But are you mine?” it seemed like he was asking you.

“I wanna make you happy, I wanna make you feel alive.”

Your body and your mind felt disconnected. You couldn’t decode any messages that were being played through your head, all you could feel was the beat of the bass match up with your heart.

“I wanna make you happy

If you’re a good girl tonight.” He sang to you before looking back at the rest of the crowd. It looked like he had just broke out of a spell.

“Y/n? Y/N? Was he looking at you?? Do you know him?!” Your friend's voice came into light.

And for the first time in the whole day, when the trip’s motto pushed itself into your head, you waved it aside.

You looked at your friend with a determined smile before leaning into her and yelling out over the music, “No, I don’t know him but I sure want to. After the song, I’m going to make it so there’s no way he could possibly forget the girl in the crowd.”

Your friend, stunned at your decisiveness but loyal, slowly began to nod. She reached for your hand and wrapped your pinky in hers, then slowly got back into the groove of the song by spinning you around.

“Let me make you happy, I wanna make you feel alive at night,” Kirishima sang on, grin growing as his eyes wandered back to the spot you were in. Something warm bubbled in his chest.

‘I want to dance with them’ was the first thing he thought when he saw you smiling in the dim lighting, hips swaying with hands in the air, and not a care to be found.

Finishing off the song, the lights faded to black for a second before the room became a tad brighter yet still dark enough to leave the haze of the concert euphoria just a little longer.

Kirishima bolted. At the speed of light, he handed his guitar to a snickering Denki before navigating his way through the maze of the backstage and into the crowd. So many heads to look over and so many gazes to catch, but when he caught yours, everything simply melted away. Time didn’t stand still, yet making his way over to you seemed like it was one of the easiest things that he could do.

“I’m sorry but I really need to hear you say something,” Kirishima said loud enough when he approached you, trying to ignore the intense gaze of the person standing next to you.

You didn’t really know how to respond- to you, everything happened so quickly. You could only tilt your head in response, to which you felt a jab in your ribs.

“Please just say my name. Not Kirishima but please call me by my first name in the next sentence that leaves your lips.” He said with a hint of desperation. It was almost like he was hoping your voice was a song he could listen to on repeat- that your voice was something he could eventually turn into a song.

You took a slow deep breath and let it out, there was a self-put urgency to have the next sentence you say mean something.

“I feel like…” you began to say, and paused when you saw his features change to something you couldn’t quite describe, “... watching you perform on stage is something I could do… more often… Eijirou.”

Something made his eyes twinkle. Maybe it was a trick of the light or maybe you just imagined it, but it made your heart race just a bit faster. When would it reach the finish line?

He let out a breath you didn’t notice he was holding; his chest slightly contracted.

“Just as I thought, your voice is beautiful a-and so are you.” He sighed. “Can we step outside for a second? I promise you it will only be a second. It would be rude for me to take you away from your friend for the rest of the night.” He smiled at your friend for a second. You were a bit stunned; first, the compliment that tugged at your heart a little too hard and now the decency to respect that you came here with your friends. A true kind hearted man.

It took you a second to reply but before an answer could even leave your lips, your friend yanked you towards them. Kirishima’s ever wide eyes grew again but showed no signs of leaving.

“Listen, this is all up to you,” your friend whisper-shouted excitedly in your ear. With impeccable timing, live music started playing.

“Anyway, what I was saying was,” your friend stated a little bit louder so you could hear her over the music, “it’s your choice! If you feel comfortable with hanging out with this dude for the night, do it! This is your trip, do what you want and have fun. Regardless, you know where we are and where we’re staying. Just text me and let me know.” She pulled away, waiting for your response. You smiled and mouthed, ‘I’m gonna go’. She showed her delight by pulling you in and leaving with the final note of, “stay safe,” before disappearing into the mass of bodies, probably to go look for your other friends.

You turned to Kirishima before taking his forearm, noting that it was one of the fittest ones you’ve ever laid hands on, and headed out of the venue.

The temperature drop was a bit of a shock but you held your composure as a wave of goosebumps washed over your body.

You spun around to face the guitarist, only to be greeted with a shyer version of him. It seemed his sheet of confidence went hand in hand with the warmth from inside. As soon as he stepped out, it was instantly ripped away by the cold.

“I- um, well.. may I ask for your name?” He stuttered out, realization hitting you that you never even said your name. You felt your cheeks grow hot before stepping closer to him and whispering your name then taking another step towards him. The nippy air seemed to have the complete opposite effect on you.

At this point, your chest lightly brushed up against his as you looked up at him; his gaze fidgety while yours is sturdy but kind- set eyes flickering from his ruby reds to his plush pink lips.

You chose not to question your boldness as you pushed yourself up to the tips of your toes.

He had approached you with such determination, you might as well match his energy.

With your chest fully pressing into him now, you carefully watched his reaction to see if there were any signs of discomfort before slowly draping your arms around his neck. Even on your toes, he was still a head taller than you.

“Kirishima, what is it that you wanted me to come outside for that you couldn’t do inside?” The teasing whisper dripped from your lips.

It was as if he was visualizing the words you were saying, his sight trained on how your lips moved.

“Can I kiss you?” He matched your whisper, his head already slightly dipping in to ghost his soft lips over yours while his large palms fell to your hips, invoking a ripple of heat to coarse through your body.

It was up to you, the fate of the evening was in your hands. Whatever you wanted to do, Kirishima would do as long as he was with you.

“You can…” you began as you moved to play with his surprisingly soft hair, “walk me to where I’m staying, and maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you.” You innocently giggled as you slowly lowered yourself against his broad chest and pulled away completely.

Kirishima’s dazed expression stayed only for a second before he slightly shook himself out of it, a renewed shade of red dusted on his cheeks.

Another giggle escaped from you before whipping out your phone and texting your friend about the newly made plan; red eyes plastered on you and following your every move.

You slid your phone into your back pocket and scooped up Eijirou’s hand, relishing the size difference, and started walking.

The walk held the best kind of conversation: the kind that consisted of everything and nothing at all. You two were taking your time, walking around local parks and goofing off by performing air guitar and dancing around to no music. He talked about how his band started and how he discovered his love for making music. You talked about how you were visiting your friends because they moved away for college and you couldn’t bear to not see them for another few months. At that you saw his open figure slightly deflate.

“So you don’t live around here?” He muttered, unconsciously gripping the energy of the lighthearted conversation downwards, but you stopped it before it could get to the point of no return.

“I’m transferring here.” You said with a promising smile, Kirishima returned the action with a full blown grin. The topic took a turn for the happier as you two chatted about random thoughts and valid opinions.

Inevitably, the time came where it was you two standing in front of your door, spare key in hand with the outside light illuminating the mirroring soft expressions. You stepped closer, recreating the exact actions you did in front of the venue, and this time when he asked to kiss you, your response was nonverbal. You took his lips with yours at first with a peck. The delicate sound of you pulling away only lead to a deeper kiss, one that made his planted palms uproot and wrap you up entirely in his embrace. Your tongue danced with his; The closeness and warmth had you sighing against his mouth. You slightly pulled away, watching a thin trail of saliva leave you two connected before leaning back in for another peck. To that, he loosened his hold without actually letting go.

“Can I see you before you go back?” Kirishima’s voice was breathy and low, a really good combination for him.

“Give me your number and we’ll see.” You replied, trying to compose yourself. He chuckled before fishing out your phone from your back pocket, giving your ass a little squeeze in the process. A squeak instinctively left you as you watched a smirk form at the corner of his lips. You refused to look at Kirishima as you put your thumb on the home button to unlock it, your cheeks were too red.

He added his contact with a red heart next to it, ‘ironic’ you thought.

The goodbye was drawn out; a lot of lazy pushing away and pulling back in, in addition to feverish kisses and roaming hands, but that all came to an end when you finally pushed the key into the lock and twisted it open before quickly shutting it, leaving Eijirou outside begging you to come back out.

“No because soon enough I won’t be able to resist you and I’m going to tell you to come inside and stay the night- which would not be cool to my friends,” you laugh as you hear a huff on the other side of the door.

“You’re right… and I really want your friends to like me…” he trailed off, letting you ponder what he meant for a second.

“Okay can you just open the door one more time please?” So you did. You were greeted by a sweet and soft kiss, reminding you of a dessert that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Goodnight Eijirou.” You whisper before closing the door gently.

Replaying the gushy romantic events that took place that night, you took it upon yourself to text him to write a song about you- playfully of course. The charming red cherry on top of a perfect Hallmark-movie-type of night.

He ended up taking it seriously,

and performed it at the next live show you went to, a few months after you transferred.

And it was that night, when he bounded through the crowd to find you yet again-

instead of asking to hear your voice, he asked to hear your answer on being his romantic partner.

#fawn daydreams <3 #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima eijiro fluff #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha kirishima #mha #mha kirishima #mha x you #gn!reader #hot chocolate ♥︎

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