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wedonthaveawhile · 22 days

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Betraying the devil you know // Part I

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Months. That's how long Marvolo Gaunt has been crushing the life out of you. One reckless decision was all it took to be dragged into his inner circle to pay for your sins. However, being his favourite informant has its perks—you hear whispers: a civil war is brewing among the Gaunt's.

Is it better the devil you know, or do you seek refuge in the arms of the enemy?

Read the prologue here.

For twenty-eight years, whispers of slander had perpetually preceded the name Ominis Gaunt.

The Daily Prophet had initially reported on the birth of the Gaunt's second son, however, the family had firmly abstained from providing any photographic proof. While they carried on parading their firstborn in the public eye, their second child seemed forever confined within the heavily guarded perimeter of their estate.

The less reputable newspapers fanned the flames of speculation, dubbing him a disfigured, mutated horror—The Broken Gaunt.

Needless to say, the glowering figure at the opposing end of the blinking wand had no deformed limbs or vampiric fangs protruding from his lips. Pale skin stretched taut over his razor-sharp, and undeniably human, features. He was taller than his brother, with a thinner frame but no less imposing.

The only departure from humanity were his eyes, which bore into her as he awaited an answer to his question.

You let us abduct you, didn't you?

"Yes," her admission came hesitantly, as if the inflection of that lone word could reveal every sin she had witnessed, and every one she had committed—her only leverage.

She could see walls of tightly stacked slate wedged between gnarled beams within the musty gloom. That and the smell indicated they were somewhere underground; the air was stagnant, poisoned with an acrid undercurrent of dark magic and scourgify charms. The combination made her stomach roil. Blood; it always meant blood.

"You don't appear overly concerned, which means my brother intended for me to find you, or you deliberately sought me out." The wizard's robes billowed as he swept closer, a glint of emerald trim contrasting against the dark fabric. "Which is it?"

"The latter."

A final crimson glow flared from his wand before he lowered it to his side, "I trust you understand the gravity of my concern. When Marvolo's lackey is found roaming alone, I..."

She thrust forward in her chair, shoulders wailing in pain from the unnatural posture they were contorted into. "I'm not... that," she bristled.

"Then what?" he retorted sharply, leather gloves creaking as his grip tensed around the notched hawthorn. "Are you telling me I'm wrong?"

"I'm no one; I was forced into this."

"His stories say otherwise."

"He lies."

"I'm well aware."

Her captor fell silent as he paced, grit skittering off the ground with each measured step. She expected his shoes to be abraded and sullied with flecks of blood as Marvolo's often were, but they were immaculate—the polished leather glinting under flickering torchlight.

He came to a halt in front of her, and she shifted uncomfortably with nowhere to go.

"An informant stationed at the Leaky Cauldron is not no one," he said, holstering his wand. "The tales you could tell would be most intriguing, I'm sure."

"That's one way to put it," she craned her neck to better survey the desolate crypt, hunting for any sign of Marvolo's silhouette in the shadows of an alcove. If a year of serving under him had given her anything, it was a crippling sense of paranoia. "I need your help."

"Is that so?" He drawled, brushing off a spider scurrying up his wrist—the epitome of indifference.

"I know you've been following me, and I know what it is you're looking for," she said with a harder edge than she felt. "I'm prepared to offer it willingly in exchange for my protection."

"Protection from...?"

"From him. He warned us about you, said you've been search for a crack in his organisation, and what he'd do if any of us were caught..." She could feel the heat of Marvolo's breath hissing into her ear, his fingers constricting around her throat. She forced her voice to remain steady. "I'm your way in; I'll tell you everything I know for… I don't know, fuck… a safe house?"

One of the wizards stationed by the barricaded door let out a derisive snort, which was abruptly silenced by a piercing glare from his boss.

"I have veritaserum, and now I have you. Any reward you receive for the effort I've put in to obtain both would be nothing short of generosity."

"Are you generous?"

He found that amusing, smirking down at her briefly before snapping back to cold indifference. "How can you be certain I won't return you to him?"

"Because I know what he did to you."

A muscle twitched in his jaw—a fleeting tic, but she saw it.

"He shares a lot with you. He must trust you."

"Not at all; he just thinks it's impressive."

His ghostly eyes burned with distrust as he dragged a finger across his lips. "Then how did you fall into his circle?"

Her bravado dissipated as her humbled gaze fell to the floor, "I didn't know it was him…"

She flinched as a figure surfaced from the shadows to present a scrap of parchment before skulking back into the dark. Ominis Gaunt bit down on the tip of his glove, stripping it off before curling his fingers and gliding one over the embossed text.

A scoff broke free from her throat before she could rein it in—all those rumours swirling around him for years... His family's efforts to shield him from society.… all because he was blind? How anticlimactic.

She clenched her lip between her teeth as those sightless eyes pinned her down.

"Keep talking."

"I… uh, I thought he was just another drunk customer passing through. He was showing off some gold ornament, bragging about the risks he took to get it..." She paused to swallow her embarrassment. "My friend and I... we needed money."

"You stole from Marvolo Gaunt," he lifted his head with a scornful sneer of disparagement. "What did you take?"

"A relic," she replied dryly, taking pleasure in how her words wiped the arrogant smirk off his face. "The relic he murdered your friends for."

The weight of his rage was palpable, his fingers twitching as he wrung the note clenched between them until the tearing grain finally broke him from his deliberation.

He gave a terse nod to the wizards on either side of the bolted door.

"Leave."

When the slam of oak against the stone lintel subsided, the room sank into a heavy silence. His body was still as marble, save for the methodical dart of his calculating eyes.

"I can't live like this," she pleaded. "I'm worth your time; I've been listening for months, soaking it all in just for the chance to share it with you. And when he shows himself to take me back, you could—"

His posture straightened with a renewed interest in what she had to offer. "You can lure him out of hiding?"

"He'll come for me," she said firmly, and she meant it. "You and I have a common interest, and I want us to work together to make it happen."

"That shared interest being my brother, dead."

The abruptness of the question clouded her thoughts in suspicion.

Was this a trap?

What if the Gaunt brothers were working together? What if the rumours of their feud were some bullshit story to—

"It's not a trick question," his silken voice sliced through the tangled ivy of her thoughts. "Is that what you want?"

If this plan went up in flames, she was as good as dead anyway, by her own hand or Marvolo's if he beat her to it. There was nothing left to lose.

"Yes."

He stalked around her, icy fingers closing tightly around her arm.

"Don't fucking touch me," she spat, wrenching away in a panic.

Such defiance would have earned her a backhand from his brother, but there was something distinctly less psychotic about this Gaunt than the one she had escaped.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have you dragged back to where my men found you and let my brother finish the job." He sought out the rope and murmured an incantation to untangle her from its grip. "My hands are, and will always remain, clean. Don't delude yourself into believing you're worth tarnishing them."

Her arms spasmed as they hung limp and utterly useless at her sides; she was at a loss for what to do with them. "Thank you."

"Is everything you've told me the truth?"

"It is."

He withdrew a galleon from his pocket and altered its form into a chair, which he positioned in front of her and took a seat. She braced herself against the stiff wooden back of her own as she rotated her raw, chafed wrists.

"I want you to understand that I hate resorting to these measures, but it's necessary for corroborating your story."

"What measures?"

"Look at me, please."

Before she could process the implication of his request, connect the dots and realise the power he held, her eyes instinctively met his. He exploited the connection to slam his way into her mind.

His mental intrusion sliced through her memories like a sharpened blade through flesh, flaying each one until they lay exposed before him, ripe for his scrutiny.

He pulverised her every attempt to occlude and expel him from her thoughts, smothering her internal cries until it was near silence in the wreckage of her consciousness.

The psychological interrogation began with that night—she could hear her inner dialogue and see her life unfolding like a twisted theatre.

She was watching from the bar as the polyjuiced patron brandished his treasure, laughing uproariously as he recounted the price he paid to claim it. The Leaky Cauldron hosted a constant rotation of travellers; it wouldn't be the first time that something pretty found its way into her bag.

Suddenly, she was in the candlelit hallway of her flat, sliding off her shoes beside Poppy's and padding across the chipped floorboards to the kitchen.

She couldn't shut her eyes, couldn't turn away from the memory projecting onto the dark canvas of her closed eyelids.

Marvolo had followed her home; he had Poppy.

Please, stop.

Ominis' legilimency snuffed out her begging.

For the second time in her life, a Gaunt forced her to watch as the radiant light faded from Poppy's eyes. Scarlet spilled from her lacerated throat as the diffindo tore apart her efforts to scream run —the kitchen knife she wielded as her last line of defence lodged between her ribs.

Get the fuck out of my head.

She felt the mental pull to collapse, but her mind was a marionette, strings pulled taut to forcibly suspend it upright against her body's every instinct. It was excruciating; the occasions she had angered Marvolo enough to warrant a taste of the Cruciatus Curse were the only experiences that came close.

Ominis glanced over the tasks she had been compelled to carry out—ranging from thefts of the ministry's highest-ranking officials, to luring naïve wizards into an ambush, to the deliveries of forbidden artefacts...

He then flitted to what he needed to confirm her worth—Marvolo's threats, sifting through the warnings as if her mind were a catalogued library.

No one will ever touch your skin again; every inch of you belongs to me.

If you ever try to run, I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth to raze you from it myself.

I'll rip out the throat of anyone who dares lay a hand on what is mine.

Satisfied, he finally wrenched free from her mind, nearly causing her to black out.

Words stumbled across her tongue, just beyond the reach of her unresponsive mind.

"Don't…" send me back.

She reeled forward and felt fingers dig into her shoulder to stop her from slipping to the ground, followed by a rush of displaced air as Ominis Gaunt disapparated them both.

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nerdieforpedro · 3 months

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Movie Night

Part Three of Two Hearts by the Ocean

Javier Gutierrez x Abigail (plus size OFC)

This part is for teens and up - rating will depend on individual parts. Overall will be 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.3k

Summary: Watching movies with Javier calms Abigail and they’re both able to enjoy each other’s company. However, a shadow looms on the horizon.

Warnings: two cinnamon rolls, possible Nic Cage movie overload, one kiss, mentions of harm to women and threats

Notes: We’re at chapter three and we got one kiss! 😘 They’re adorable. We’re setting a few things up also just having fun. Don’t worry too much about the tags yet. 👀 There’s a reason I’ve kept the overall rating 18+ and keep doing it individually. Special thanks to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for helping with translations. I feel like I always pick the wrong version of the word. 🙃 It’s one of many goals this year.

Dividers are by the ever talented @saradika-graphics

If you’d told Abigail that she was going to meet a handsome man and be watching movies with him, she would have called you insane or told you that she’s watching movies in bed and those are the only handsome men she was seeing as of late. She also would have laughed very hard to hear that the same man had a compound and a private beach with his own movie theater inside his home. She sat on the couch with Javier, wearing yellow fuzzy socks that a maid had brought her in addition to some hot chocolate to go with her cake. She thanked the woman who gave her a quizzical look, and held her hand out. Javi explained it was to put their phones in a basket on the bookshelf so the blue light from the phones wouldn’t disturb the picture from the big screen. Abigail still wondered about the look the maid gave her and put it quickly out of her mind as the movie started. While watching, she laughed and pointed out that she recognized some of the actors and actresses from other shows. She became quiet again, realizing that it's a movie, you're not supposed to talk during a movie.

Javier was delighted to finally have someone else to watch movies with. It’s been months since Gabriella left and she had been his only friend in the home. Not that he didn’t have occasional lady friends over, but they were more interested in party boy Javier and not cinephile Javier. He answered Abby’s questions and listened to her comments which despite the movie playing, he didn’t mind because she was engaged and though her movie knowledge paled in comparison to his, it was fun hearing what she had to say. Slowly over the course of the first movie, he’d been able to inch closer to her. Javi even took a piece of her chocolate cake and she offered him a second one to which they split two more pieces. At the end of the first move, his knee was touching hers as they sat together and discussed if either of them had ever had a marmalade sandwich.

“I think it is only for Paddington, no? I may have some marmalade on toast or a roll but not just in a sandwich.” Javier chuckled. Abby nodded as she set the plate on the table before them next to her mug which she had finished quite a while ago.

“Yeah. I’ve only had jam or jelly and maybe some preserves on baked goods. Never marmalade. I enjoyed the movie a lot more than I thought I would. I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting though.” She smiled and Javi returned it. He suggested that they could go for a short walk to stretch their legs before watching the second movie.

“Well if you enjoyed this one my dear Abigail, you will love Paddington two. I guarantee it.” Javier opened a patio door off the hallway just outside of the theater and they walked out together after putting their shoes back on. There was a small path next to the house that ran along a hill above the beach. The view was breathtaking. The water reflected the crimson, mustard and orange with dashes of pinks that dotted the sky. The pair stood as they watched the sky and Abby reached for Javier’s hand while looking at him, almost believing that he wouldn’t take it. He did not, opting to put an arm around her shoulders as they continued to watch the sun dip behind the ocean. It was a moment that she was content remaining in for hours. Javier’s arm around her as they watched the sun dip beyond the horizon. Her arm found its way around his back and settled on his hip. She was still nervous about touching the man and him touching her, but he was rather disarming. Or would one say inviting? His entire presence seemed to draw her in and whisper that it’s fine to touch, hold, and hug. More than even that aspect, was the sense of tranquility she sensed from him.

Javier was glad to note that Abigail appeared to feel safe in being in his home. He was concerned when he picked her up, but thankfully it worked out. She’s the first person in a while that he’s had a connection with over his interests. He wondered how he could make the most of her time here, in addition to figuring out the budget and such for the estate, he wanted to keep her close. His cousin wanted him to spend money to help wash ‘donations’ they received for their services. Things that Javier had a vague idea of what his cousin did but didn’t want to know the details. It was better he didn’t know. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend the money he’s supposed to then taking Abby out to see the island, he would ask if she wanted to. He was tempted to kiss her cheek, but decided against it as they hadn’t seen the second movie and he didn’t want her to think that it was the reason why he invited her to his home. Though her complement of his body had made him feel proud and fueled some other thoughts that would be pushed aside for now.

The pair went back inside and settled back onto the couch, only this time, Abigail sat right next to Javi and took hold of his hand. She liked the feeling of her small hand in his, plus it was warm like the rest of him. After they confirmed that they were comfortable, the second Paddington movie began. There were laughs, a few tears, several gasps and by the end after becoming fully engrossed in the film, both Javier and Abigail stood and cheered for the little bear coming out of his coma to be reunited with his family and his Aunt Lucy. Their palms were pressed together, swaying back and forth as they looked at the screen, the credits starting to roll. Abby and Javi were laughing, first at the movie’s ending and then at each other. It was a tad absurd that two adults were cheering this hard to a kids move some would say, but that’s what made it so much fun. To engage the part you may still have of yourself not jaded by the life lived. As their movements slowed to a stop, Abby didn’t let go of Javi’s hands as he expected.

“I take it you liked the movie Abby?” Javier asked with his trademark wide smile. He was well aware of the answer, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. Abby giggled and looked down at her yellow socks then back up at Javier. The day started out a bit tenuous but the afternoon and evening had been perfect. She tried something that had Javi’s lips form a small ‘o’ and lifted his left hand, kissing the back of it. Certainly not the kiss Javi had in mind, and it seemed more intimate as the warmth from her lips lingered on his skin.

“I did. Very much so. Thank you so much Javi. This is the most fun I’ve had in quite a long time.” Her smile had him move forward and close the short gap between them. Javier made sure to be wary of her body language for it seemed like she’d opened up to him a bit more. He thought of kissing her lips again, but finally kissed her cheek, his mustache and stubble from his beard grazed her skin and she released a quiet sigh. “I...um…should we…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, Abigail wasn’t exactly sure what she might say next. She was certain she didn’t come to his home just for such advances. They weren’t unwelcome, actually, much too welcome. She reminded herself that she’s supposed to be having fun and she’s going to see him later. Nothing needs to happen right now. Is she even wearing the right underwear for that?

Javier swallowed the thought first, pushing it back down. “We can watch one of Mr. Cage’s movies. I have all of them. I happen to be a very big fan of his. “ Their eyes met again and he knew he should sit back down, if he continued to stand with her, he would pull her over to the couch and that’s not been discussed at all, at least aloud. Via eyes and body language, however, they were loud and clear. Abigail walked to the couch first while still holding Javier’s hand and he followed her, though she didn’t pull him down. He sat next to her and they began watching ‘National Treasure,’ the frantic fun energy was replaced by a simmering heat between them.

The night rolled on as the movies continued. After ‘National Treasure’ the pair watched ‘Con Air,’ ‘Ghost Rider,’ and ‘The Sorcerer's Apprentice.”Though, by the last movie, both were nodding off on the couch, Javi’s head was on Abby’s shoulder and they were still holding hands as their eyes became heavier. By the time either of them woke up, they’d been asleep for a few hours, both with sore necks from the sleeping positions. Javi woke first and was worried that she was gone, except he felt his hand first and then looked up seeing her neutral sleeping face. They were still holding hands even while they slept, the wide grin on his face expressed his feelings on the matter.

“Mi diosa linda. Soy tan afortunado de despertarme a tu lado (My beautiful goddess. I am lucky to wake up to you).” He’s careful to move as he sits up and does not disturb her yet. He’s going to need to wake her but not yet. Just a little longer. If the moment could last a bit more.

“Ah-choo!” Abigail’s body jerks with her sneeze and she jolts awake. Her eyes blink as she looks around the room, her eyes adjusting to the light. She looks at Javi who’s holding in a laugh at her expense. She uses her shoulder and give him a gentle nudge to which he releases a roar of a laugh, she does as well and wonders how long they were asleep. There weren’t any clocks in the movie theater. No extra lights to allow for the best picture on the screen. “I’m glad I made you laugh, Javi. What time is it though?”

“I am not sure. I will go check, stay here and warm up a bit.” He stood and put a throw blanket over her legs, she pulled it closer and spread it out. “Did you want some tea? Um…” Javi thought carefully about how to ask, and decided it would be best to just say it. “Abigail. You don’t have to leave, You can stay the night. It is much too dark to drive the golf cart. We would not be staying in the same room. I can have a room made ready for you to use. Not just for tonight.” Javier placed a hand on the back of the couch and sat back down briefly, making sure to keep eye contact as he spoke. He was sincere and maybe she didn’t need to know that he already had a room ready. He could have also left out the part about it being not only for one night but he’s already said it. Not that he would ask her to stay longer if she didn’t want to. He would make sure she made it back to her resort safely.

Abigail was elated to hear that he wanted her to stay. She didn’t want to go, who would? If she can stay in whatever fever dream this was a little longer, she would take the opportunity. She pecked his cheek and nodded. “I’m happy you want me to stay, Javi. I kinda didn’t want to go. Not yet anyway. I should come with you. That way if you want tea or something else, you won't have to make trips or try carrying it by yourself.” Javier shook his head and insisted that she remain here, Abby sighed and agreed but did ask for her phone so she could text her friends and let them know that she’s alright, she’s just out for the night. She will be back tomorrow afternoon.

Javier happily made his way to the kitchen and proceeded to make some tea, though he’d forgotten to ask what tea Abby might like. He went with peppermint for the both of them and two spoons of honey in hers. She appeared to be a fan of sweets. The maid who’d brought the socks and snack entered the kitchen and greeted Javi. She asked if his lady friend was still here and he replied that she was. The maid nodded and informed him that his cousin may be back tomorrow or the following day. It depends when he finishes whatever business they had to take care of in Greece, for her safety, it would be best if she left tomorrow.

“For the record señor Gutierrez, she appears like a kind woman. Your cousin and his associates seem to like to harm such women. You’ll also need to increase your spending again. He’s been keeping watch. I… Lo siento, señor (I am sorry sir).” This particular maid was older and had been with Javier and his cousin Lucas since they bought the compound about five years ago. She’d trained many of the other maids that had come and gone, as such, Lucas had given his goons instructions to not bother her, though they did know where her son and daughter were and their families so she kept Lucas abreast of Javier’s activities when he was away.

“Tia Lupe, gracias cómo siempre (Thank you, always).” Javier said softly before kissing her a peck on the cheek and adding a spoon of honey to his tea as well. He’d need something sweet for the update he’d been given.

Part two. Part Four

Peeps who will watch the sunset 🌅 and a movie marathon:

@innerpersonunknown @trulybetty @tinytinymenace @maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @grogusmum @secretelephanttattoo @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @morallyinept @lady-bess @readingiskeepingmegoing @gwendibleywrites @avastrasposts @bitchwitch1981 @missladym1981 @anoverwhelmingdin

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier gutierrez #Javier Gutierrez x ofc #Javier Gutierrez Fanfiction #Two hearts by the ocean #A Nerdie fic

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ffion451 · 1 year

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Chapter Fifteen: Please Stay | The Centre Cannot Hold: KTH (m)

Chapter characters/pairings: Taehyung x f!reader | AU/Genre: non idol au, angst, smut (see warnings below) see series m.post for fic summary etc.

Rating/Chapter warnings: ⚠️🔞 M - Adults only! 🔞⚠️SMUT (m>f oral, m/f unprotected sex - a little bit rough) After taking 14 chapters for anything to happen - this story will be fairly consistently smutty from here on.

Word count: 5.4K

Note: Sooner than promised 😚 Hope you enjoy! There might even be a smidging of fluff in here (if you squint closely enough) 🙃

<<< Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Sixteen >>>

“We really have to stop meeting like this…” Sam sighs theatrically as he saunters to the staircase. He’s trying to sound playful, but he actually feels a little sad for his housemate. Moments ago, he’d been quietly stretching out after his morning run when he heard the telltale sound of someone trying not to be heard, carefully navigating the creaks of the wooden staircase. So you’re really going to do this again? he thought with a joyless smirk. Part of him was tempted to let you carry on so he could see how you’d handle the noisy latches on the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Taehyung is a strange sort of housemate, he can be very quiet and serious, but he’s also kind, funny and can be great company when he’s in the mood and Sam has grown fond of him; affection for his friend motivates him to act to intercept you. You’re not running out on him again, definitely not after you two smashed last night, Sam thinks crudely. He’s not a pervert, he wasn’t listening in deliberately, the sounds coming from Taehyung’s room were hard to miss, let alone ignore.

He’s surprised when, with a heavy sigh the culprit gives up stealth and skips down the last few steps, “Uh, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, Hyejin,” Sam mutters, embarrassed, “I thought you were Taehyung’s girl…”

“Do you often hide under staircases to scare her?” Hyejin asks, her eyebrow arching.

Sam rolls his eyes, “No, of course I bloody don’t. The last time she stayed here she skipped out on him.”

“They fucked before?” Hyejin asks, her eyes widening at the prospective gossip.

“No,” Sam says quickly, “They’d just met, she was really drunk, nothing happened between them then…”

Hyejin laughs, “Well it’s happening between them now - why do you think I’m getting out of here? Namjoon is sleeping like a fucking rock and those two are making an early start…” she casts her eyes over his running gear, “You out too?”

He smiles, “I’m just back in,” he says, “But, uh, I think I might get some breakfast out this morning if they’re on round two. Wanna join me?”

Hyejin smiles, “Yeah, I was heading out for coffee,” she groans, touching her tender head, “Let’s leave them to it. Joonie can join us if he ever wakes up.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Taehyung wakes up slowly, the dull whoosh of the traffic outside invades his sleeping mind, blending with the crashing waves of his dream… As he rouses himself from his heavy sleep he tries to recall what it was he had been dreaming of, the blue swirl of water still eddying through his mind. There was a boat, you were there… You! Taehyung’s eyes fly open, remembering the night before in an instant. You’re here: your body lies beside his. You’ve turned over to face him in your sleep, swaddling yourself in his sheets, your face at peace in slumber as you push air out of your pouted lips. He can’t control the smile that threatens to split his face in two. Last night was real. Here you are, in his bed and you are all his.

It feels too good to be true… so is it? Taehyung is troubled: he knows you were shy last night, but he knows there’s more to it than that. He recalls your reluctance to dive into things head first with him, how you said you needed time, and his gut twists uncomfortably. After all this time, whatever next move he makes has to keep you close to him. He knows how your mind works now, better than he ever did: thanks to Jihoon’s intervention he knows that over the course of your whole friendship you believed that Taehyung would ever want or love you. Taehyung knows now that he has to reassure you of both: sweeping all that nonsense from your mind and replacing it with him, with his love, his desire and his commitment to you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, stilling himself: he is resolved, confident that any doubts you have won’t last. Finally, the two of you have found your way back to shore and to each other and he is not giving that up. His smile widens as he recalls how you surrendered yourself to him, giving him your heart and your body. His morning wood twitches against his thigh and he can’t resist reaching over to gently tug at the sheet covering you with a hooked finger. Slowly the material yields to him, sliding over your shoulders and gliding over the smooth expanse of your skin, revealing the pattern of bruises his mouth has painted over your neck. He sucks in a breath as the cotton slips over the swell of your breasts, his cock throbbing uncomfortably.

He clicks his tongue gently, deciding what he ought to do next. You’re so cute, he thinks, and part of him wants to let you sleep peacefully, yet another part of him, the part that twitches as it gets harder, wants to wake you, right now. Ultimately, his lust, so long contained, wins out.

Gently, he runs a finger down your nose, “Good morning, baby…” he says softly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead; you mumble incoherently in response.

“Sleepy, eh?” he teases, kissing the tip of your nose gently, “Tell me you love me…”

With a small yawn, your eyes flutter but don’t open, “Love you, Tae,” you whisper, before sleep pulls you back into its embrace.

“Good girl,” Taehyung grins, with satisfaction, “It’s ok, you can snooze a little longer and then I promise you’ll want to wake up,” he whispers with a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss into your hair. Sleep can have you for now, he thinks, but then you’ll be his.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

You wake up to the feeling of a tightening in your core, then you snap fully awake becoming aware of a series of sensations in a defined order: first, the feeling of a something, strong, warm and wet flicking against your clit; second, a face buried in your cunt; third, two strong hands on your thighs, keeping them parted; and four, two broad shoulders beneath your thighs, where your legs are slung over them.

“What the …” you moan at the ceiling, before looking down to see Taehyung eye-fucking you as he delivers a sharp suck to your clit that has you twisting against his face.

“What are you doing?” you moan, rising up on your elbows and staring down at him, you can’t close your legs as he’s lodged between them but you try to push his head away whilst trying to scoot off the pillow he’s placed under your ass.

“Don’t!” he grumbles in annoyance, yanking you back by your thighs to his mouth, “I think it’s obvious that I’m eating you out,” he clarifies with an evil smirk, before returning to sucking and flicking his tongue over your trembling cunt like you are his final meal: your core tightens more and more at the skilled workings of his tongue.

You hear clear noises from the rest of the house and realise it’s now well into the morning and Tae’s housemates and whatever other people that slept over are all definitely awake, definitely moving about and will definitely hear whatever goes down in this room.

“Fuck, you have to stop, Tae - they’ll hear us,” you bite into the heel of you hand to stifle your moans.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you this time, burrowing his tongue into you deeper, the sloppy sounds of him sucking and lapping at you becoming pornographically loud in your embarrassed ears. Yet, when both your hands curl into his hair, you don’t attempt to push him away again. Instead, you lose control, bucking into his face as the tight coil inside you finally snaps and you ride out your high on his face.

He sucks hard at your clit as you come, writhing for him and whimpering his name. You’re overwhelmed, trapped between the ecstasy flowing through you and your aching body, sore from the pounding it took last night and the tight grip he has on you now. When your body relaxes, he eases his ministrations, lapping gently at your quivering folds, soothing you. Eventually, he releases you and in your fucked out state you’re barely aware of his shifting weight around you as he crawls up your body, hovering over you again.

"Good morning…” he breathes again, his hands winding their way into your hair, “Sleep well?”

You manage to croak a weak reply as you feel his hardness press against you as he kisses your throat, his lips tracing your jaw hungrily, his cock twitching against you.

“Tae -” you breathe, “What was that for?”

“Fucking want you...” he whispers, closing the distance between your bodies and using the friction between your thigh and his cock to get himself off, his horniness scrambling the coherence of his thoughts, “Didn’t want you sneaking off again… want you to stay… Stay with me…” His words land like a blow against your heart: it’s a sharp, stabbing feeling of pain and remorse.

“Taehyung, stop a second,” you say firmly and reluctantly he pauses his grinding, looking at you with a mixture of annoyance and irritation.

“What?” he grumbles, his brow furrowing. Even like this, his face sticky with your wetness, his hair mussed and his eyes still puffy from sleep, he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Fuck it, you think: yes, you know you have to take things slowly but you also have to let this man - whom you’ve lied to for a whole year, and even before that - know how you truly feel, “I’m not going anywhere, baby, I won’t sneak off - I’m yours.”

Taehyung grins euphorically at you, before sinking his mouth to your neck, sucking hard as his hips grind into you like some oversexed animal.

“Taehyung -” you try again, finding your voice, “I don’t…” but your protestations are muffled by his mouth on yours. Seemingly oblivious to, or uncaring about, morning breath, Taehyung kisses you passionately as you taste yourself on his wet lips.

When he breaks from you for air, you try to protest again, "Tae… everyone will hear us,” you say, as though it’s obvious. He laughs, undeterred. To your surprise, but also arousal, he continues to rut against you as he speaks.

“They definitely would’ve heard us last night, and we’re going to be fucking all the time now so they might as well get used to it,” he says sternly, more able to speak now he’s taking care of his throbbing length. He forces his way between your legs and guides his weeping cock to your entrance, raising his eyebrows at you, “Yes?” he growls as, despite his effort at restraint, he slides his tip in. The feel of the stretch reignites the memories of the night before and being split apart on his cock. Now, feeling him inside you again, you just want more; you nod your consent.

“I love you,” he beams and then pushes into you with one strong thrust, drawing a cry from you, “Babe, I own this cunt now,” he declares as he begins thrusting slowly, deep grinding rolls of his hips causing you to tremble as he roughly stimulates your throbbing, raw clit.

He swallows your moans as he kisses you deeply and eagerly. Though Taehyung is possessed with lust, the sight of you beneath him, wide eyed, lips swollen from his kisses, his heart beats for you. Beneath his animalistic desire to claim you is a tenderness he’s never felt before; he pauses to draw your legs apart even further, “Put you legs around my waist,” he growls desperately, “Please… need to be closer to you.”

You do, you’ll do anything for him; you gasp as he drives even deeper. He feels so good, his thick cock dragging in and out of you rhythmically, his balls slapping against you as he drives to the hilt each time, his pelvis slapping against yours.

You cry out his name, “I love this,” you moan, “I love you inside me.”

“I belong here,” he asserts, “Always.” Taehyung drops his head into the crook of your neck and can barely contain his grin. He hopes you can feel every detail and vein of his cock the way he can feel every ridge of your tight walls as they hug his throbbing length so warmly, so deliciously.

“Fuck babe, you feel too good… Still so fucking tight…” he groans, “Even after I fucked you open already, fucking perfect cunt, you’re made for me, just for me…”

He’s holding you down and his grip hurts you as his pace quickens: like last night, there’s still an edge to Taehyung that surprises you, an uncontrolled desperation and possessiveness that you don’t expect and that unsettles you a little. You push the thoughts away to be dealt with later because, right now, as he claims you, you love it: each one of his deep thrusts and hissed words making you gush. You’re not sure that you want to stop him, it’s academic though, because even if you wanted to you can’t reach him now - he’s lost in the moment and the pleasure he’s getting from using your body. All his blood and his thoughts are in his cock as he drives into you voraciously.

Soon, you feel the tension building in your core again, his body is so close yours that at this angle that he’s grinding against your clit with each hard press of his hips. You whimper as your thighs tighten around him, another orgasm shooting through you; you spasm wildly around his thickness as you moan his name.

The way you moan for him and your pulsing, tightening walls are too much for him. You’re driving Taehyung wild and he drives into you desperately, groaning obscenely, thrusting violently and battering into you as he chases his own release. All you can do is cling to him, eyes watering with overstimulation as you listen to his filthy, garbled words, “never been this hard,” “so fucking tight”, “good girl”, “mine, mine, mine”, as he pounds you.

Under the force of his hammering, the headboard rattles noisily as it collides with the wall. Above you, Taehyung can feel his release approach, his cock full of cum that he can’t wait to fill you with again. The way you stretch around him, barely yielding to his cock is enough to have him seeing stars. As you clench around him, he’s there: he moans your name loudly and gutturally as his cock throbs his cum in thick streams inside you, painting your bruised and battered walls. You continue to spasm around him, drawing out his bliss as his mouth parts and he can only groan his satisfaction as he finishes pulsing cum deep inside you.

He collapses on top of you, sweaty and spent, “Good girl,” he praises lazily, “Fuck, you take me so well.”

Keeping his cock in you, he rolls gently, pulling you with him on to your side; he’s sensitive now, but he can’t resist rolling his hips a little as his mouth finds yours again and he kisses you deeply.

Quiet settles around you as you play with his hair, kissing him back tenderly, utterly spent and exhausted. Eventually, you feel his cum leaking out from you as he softens. You gently push him away, gasping at the sting as he slides out of you. He eases himself up on an arm, looking down at you fondly.

Lying on your back, your whole body aches. You feel sore and in pain all over: between your legs feels raw, hot and sticky as the mess you’ve both made continues to seep out of you and you squirm uncomfortably. Taehyung, watching you closely, glancing down to see the mess, and only then notices the purple splotches marking your waist and hips: bruises from last night and this morning in different stages of development. You follow his eyes to see what has transfixed him and he looks back at you, hopelessly.

His expression becomes very hard to read, “I am so sorry,” he says in a small voice, “I can’t believe I did that to you.”

Why do you feel a little relieved at his unease? Is it because all his possessiveness and aggression have frightened you a little? You’re not sure if it is just sex talk or some new, dark side to him you don’t know about… This soft Taehyung reassures you, whatever else is going on, he obviously doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Tae,” you say softly, reaching to push his sweaty hair back from his face, “It’s a few bruises, it doesn’t matter. It was worth it,” he doesn’t look reassured, “I never said stop, how could you know?”

He blushes slightly, “Did you like it?” he asks.

You’re slightly afraid he’s asking for round three, which you are definitely unprepared for, but then you realise as you search his face that he is in fact just seeking reassurance. You’re on familiar ground now, back to the old friendship you used to have and you find comforting him as easy as breathing, “Of course I did! Who wouldn’t?” you laugh.

And there it is, that bright, boxy smile that makes you swoon, his face splitting in two, yet you know what complete joy looks like on Taehyung and this isn’t it, “Go on,” you say, eyebrow cocked.

“What?” he asks, ruffling a hand through his messy hair.

“Ask whatever it is you want to ask but are either embarrassed or nervous to, I can’t work out which,” you sigh.

He laughs, “I’d forgotten how well you read me,” he looks sad for a moment, but recovers when he realises that you’re his now, that there’s nothing left to miss or mourn. Everything you took from him you’ve returned with interest; now he has you again and your heart. He takes a breath, “This is a pathetic thing to ask, I know, but this is real, isn’t it? You’re not going to abandon me again?”

Maintaining doubts about him now becomes impossible. In two simple questions, Taehyung has shifted responsibility to you: it is for you to reassure him now and convince him of the truth of your feelings. You turn on your side now so you’re face to face and gently kiss him, just a peck, but the contact is warm and full of feeling: you feel him relax a little.

“It is real, and I won’t abandon you,” Taehyung beams and you want to give him more, “You have no idea how long I’ve loved you for, Tae. I’ve tried to stop, even after we stopped speaking but it wouldn’t. It was like fighting against the tide… I am so sorry that I’ve been such a coward and so stupid…”

You draw a breath, and then another shuddering one follows as tears suddenly rise and overspill, “I wasn’t just stupid, I was cruel, I put my feelings before yours and acted like yours didn’t matter at all,” you confess between shaky breaths, “I am so ashamed, Tae, and I am so fucking sorry…”

“Stop it,” he says, his eyes filling to see you so upset, pulling you closer to him again, soothing you, “You don’t have to apologise anymore,” he says firmly and reassuringly, his warmth somehow in his voice, “I’m the stupid fuck who was in love with you without realising it! You have no idea how much I fucking love you -” Taehyung interrupts his own sentence as he crashes him mouth into yours as though he can push all of the love in him into you.

When he finally pulls back, breathless, he strokes your face. He looks so seriously at you that your stomach tenses a little, “No more tears. No more sadness. We’re going to be so fucking happy, babe. We’re perfect together.”

You smile gently, “I hope so, but right now we just fucking stink together - I feel so filthy… May I shower, please?”

He nods lazily, “What’s mine is yours. The blue towels are clean,” he smiles as you reach for his tee, apparently still embarrassed to be naked in front of him when he’s not inside you, “I’ll go after you. I’ll get some of my clothes ready for us then we can head out for breakfast.”

You’re already halfway to the en-suite and look back, “Why out?”

He grins, “You think you’ll survive Sam and Joon talking about what we’ve been doing?” You blush and nod shyly before getting in the shower, knowing he has a point.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Taehyung strips the sheets off the bed, admiring the filth but also noticing some more blood. Rolling the sheets up, he pushes the door to the en-suite open slightly, asking if he can come in. Though you agree he notice how you try to cover as much of your body as you can. Smirking, he dumps the sheets in the laundry hamper beside the sink and glances at you through the mirror; he can’t miss how carefully you are cleaning yourself through the steam and the wince of pain in your face: his grin falls as he realises he should’ve held back more and chastises himself.

Returning to his bedroom, leaving the door open to release the steam, the distinct, musky scent of sex fills his nose, making him smile again; still he cracks the window wider open, aware there’s a need to freshen the room. He’s not in a frat house anymore and though he doesn’t care if his housemates hear you two, he doesn’t need to make a show of getting laid: you’re not a conquest, your his girlfriend. No, that’s not right, he thinks, he’s had girlfriends before, this isn’t like that… You’re something different, you’re his love.

His heart throbs as he picks out clothes for you to wear, choosing his softest shorts for you. Possessively, he also picks a hoodie he wore recently, so all you’ll smell is him. He finds your underwear from where he flung it in haste last night; he realises there’s no way you can put your knickers back on, especially with your dried wetness and his saliva covering them: he stuffs them to the back of a drawer to keep, and grabs some of his boxers for you. As he folds the clothes neatly at the end of the bed ready for you he wonders if this is what it’s going to be like for you two, this easy domesticity: Will it be this easy? This natural?

He is broken from his reverie when he feels your warm, damp arms circle his bare waist. He feels you press gently against his back, wrapped in his towel; he intertwines his fingers with yours as your lips ghost his shoulder blades, kissing over the faint scratch marks you left last night.

“It’s your turn, gorgeous,” you say, pressing your lips between his shoulder blades and his heart thumps. Yes, he thinks, it’s going to be this easy, this natural. He smiles as you gently pull away from him and smile glowingly at the little pile of clothes he’s left for you. “For me?” you ask, obviously touched, and he nods fondly at you.

Now in front of him, you kiss the tip of his nose and he smells the minty freshness of your breath, making him realise how badly he needs that shower. He knows, as filthy as he is, he could take you again right now: he has never felt like this before, has never needed anyone with the kind of desperation he feels for you.

Feeling you hold him, seeing you so relaxed with him after all the nerves of last night only confirms to him that this was always meant to be. It feels like the time that has passed since you cut him out has disappeared and that easy, deep friendship is as strong as it ever was, stronger, in fact. He knows this is it now: this is your future together.

“Taehyung?” you ask, pulling him from his reverie, “I really do love you.”

He stares into your eyes to see the sincerity there, “Funny,” he grins, “I was thinking the same thing.”

As he gets in the shower and soaps himself, he watches you through the fogged up glass and thinks about how good you look as you put on his clothes; he wonders how long you’ll manage to keep them on.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

On Taehyung’s bed in his clothes, you sit cross-legged to ease your aching folds. Reclining against his headboard slightly, you read your phone messages and reply to them in order of urgency. You deal with Ellie first she’s freaking out because you’re not home. You message her on your group chat as that saves you from needing to deal with Minho and Aera who have text you separately, also freaking out thanks to Ellie spreading panic. You notice that Jihoon is oddly conspicuous by his silence; you decide you’ll deal with him later, wanting to know exactly what he said to Taehyung. You text Jessi next, who’s still at her fuckbuddy’s, side-stepping her questions about whether or not you slept with Taehyung: you realise you need to get home before she does and breaks the news for you.

Taehyung emerges from the shower moments later, and you apologise as you explain that you need to get home and talk to Ellie, explaining the situation with Jessi. You know he’ll understand that you’d rather tell your closest friends about you and Taehyung in your own way.

“Why can’t I come though?” Taehyung whines as he dresses.

“Please, try to understand,” you say patiently, “They’re very hostile because of what’s happened between us and I want to sort that out before you see them.”

“I can handle it,” he frowns, rubbing your thigh as he sits beside you, “Don’t you think I can?”

“Taehyung,” you explain, “The point is that you shouldn’t have to handle it. I’m more to blame than you for what happened and I need them to know that we’re leaving that behind us. These are the people I love most in the world and need them to play nicely with you because, well, because I do…” you trail off, blushing slightly.

Taehyung grins, his hand travelling further up your thigh under the loose material of his shorts; he leans over you, nipping your ear lobe before he says softly into the shell of your ear, “Why’s that baby? Why do they have to play nice with me?”

You shudder and turn to face him, trying to distract him with a kiss. For a moment, he gives into you, but then pulls back with a maddening grin, “Tsk tsk, I thought we were being honest now…” he reprimands playfully.

You blush all the more, “Fine,” you huff, “I need them to be good to you because you’re important to me.”

He smirks, his hand moving to cup your heat through his boxers that you’re wearing, which makes him hornier than he’d expected, “I’m just important?” he asks in faux-disappointment as he squeezes gently.

You slap his hand away, “Oh no you don’t,” you frown, “I am too sore for any more shenanigans from you!”

“Shenanigans?” He teases as you blush again.

“Piss off,” you grump with a small giggle, getting up as your phone pings, “My Uber is here. I’ll call you later?”

Taehyung grabs your hand, “No,” he says, more forcefully than he intends, “You can’t just leave! When will I see you again?”

“Calm down,” you say gently, prizing your hand free from his grip, “I can come back over later, if you want?”

Taehyung shakes his head, “I’d rather come to yours,” he doesn’t miss that you seem uncomfortable at the prospect and he knows that Ellie is unlikely to be as forgiving as either of you would hope.

“Everyone is coming over for dinner,” you admit honestly, “Is that going to be ok?” He nods, while you think, “Hey, Jessi is super close with Hyejin - should we invite her and Namjoon too, so you have another person there - would that help?”

He smiles at your thoughtfulness, watching as you gather your stuff, “No, I don’t think Hyejin complaining about the sound of us fucking will help anything,” he grins, watching you falter as you get flustered. He reminds you that you need to send him your new address as he follows you down the stairs; he kisses you again at the door, his grip on you lingering; it hurts him to watch you leave.

He exhales deeply as he shuts the door behind you, resting his head against the wood as his heart races with an odd mix of excitement and trepidation: he knows you’re his, but your friends have never liked the intensity of your friendship. Now, after everything you two have been through, will they really accept him as your boyfriend?

Taehyung knows he has to have some faith in you and tries to quell his anxious thoughts. His stomach rumbling, he heads to the kitchen where Namjoon leans against the sink, an unreadable expression on his face, clearly waiting for Taehyung.

“Morning,” Taehyung intones with a cheer he doesn’t feel, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It would be,” Namjoon says, “If Sam hadn’t ducked out with my girlfriend for breakfast, leaving you and me to start cleaning this place up. He knows the cleaner won’t come ’til later this week, the sly bastard.”

Taehyung groans, “Fucking Sam,” he complains.

“Actually, not fucking Sam, fucking you,” Namjoon corrects, “It was you trying to break your fucking bed this morning that drove them from the house,” he explains.

“Ah,” Taehyung blushes, “Sorry about that.”

“You should be! I really don’t need to hear you groaning as an alarm call,” Namjoon complains, before his face softens, “…So, you and her, eh? It finally happened?”

Taehyung smiles and nods, “We’re together now. she’s my girlfriend,” the embarrassment he feels at the slightly childish phrase is washed away by the happiness of the truth of it.

He’s surprised, but pleased, to find Namjoon moving forward to enclose him in a bear hug, “So happy for you, man. About damn time!”

Taehyung realises he can cope with cleaning when its soundtracked by Namjoon’s enthusiasm, “I knew she had feelings for you when she turned up here out of her mind with worry for you that time… you two are gonna be great together,” he calls from the kitchen where he’s swilling out the beer bottles.

In the utility room, sweeping up the washing powder you two spilled, Taehyung laughs joyfully.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

With your clothes from last night tucked inside your coat, balled up under your arm, you enter your house carefully, shutting the door behind you. You’re grateful you have an entrance hall, hoping you can creep unnoticed to your room to change before you face Ellie.

Your foot barely touches the first stair when you hear footsteps behind you. You hesitate, but before you can fully turn, Ellie’s loud voice startles you.

“You fucking fucked Kim Taehyung?”

Stood in the doorway that leads to the kitchen and diner space, Ellie, with an apron on, gently bats a rolling pin in the palm of her flour-covered hand. On either side she is flanked by Minho and Aera who look aghast.

“I think you better come into the kitchen,” she says firmly, “We obviously have a lot to talk about.”

Your palms sweat and your heart races, feeling like your parents have just caught you sneaking in, “Sure, I’ll just put my stuff in my room and I’ll be with you,” you say with false cheer, jogging up the stairs.

You throw things on to your bed, shutting your door behind you. For a moment you consider changing, but as you pull the hoodie up, the scent of Taehyung embraces you and you change your mind, feeling comforted by it. Instead, you brush your teeth again, having only been able to use your finger at his, pausing between brushstrokes to send a series of furious text messages: yes, this conversation has to happen but there’s no way you’re having it alone.

<<< Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Sixteen >>>

Author Note: All thoughts and feedback are welcome and appreciated ☺️

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #bts smut #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #v fanfic #bangtanwhq #btswritersclub #no minors please

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pennylanefics · 1 year

Text

The Librarian - Jake Kiszka | Chapter 9

a/n: second time's a charm...sorry, i'm sick of my fics getting buried when there's new content so 🙃 i impulsively deleted the chapter earlier lmao. but anyways...here it is again

word count: ~ 4.5k

The weeks go by, and now, you were finally settled and feeling extremely welcomed in Frankenmuth, having found a job at a publishing company that was located in town. It was a simple job, being the receptionist, but it allowed you to have an idea of what goes on behind the scenes within book publishing.

Everything was going great, especially things with Jake.

Oh…Jake.

He was such a gentleman, just beyond perfect all around. After your first date to the aquarium, you two made it your tradition to have a date every Thursday, whether that was at one of your home’s, a restaurant, or even at the library.

He also wanted to hang out with you any chance he could get. If you were at your house alone, he’d be over and sitting on the couch with you in minutes. If you were talking and mentioned being bored, he would invite you over to his place. He wanted to be with you, he was making it very obvious, and you were overjoyed about that.

With your script finished and the date for early submission slowly approaching, you have been able to spend lots of time with Jake now, and even with Danny and Sam. Josh wasn’t always around much when you were, but it was understandable.

The two twins have sort of reconciled ever since that day, but it was clear that Josh was hurt that a girl he liked chose Jake, and Jake was still very upset over the fact that Josh didn’t see what he was doing wrong until it affected him.

They are back to talking to one another, but things were very clearly strained. You hated that Jake no longer had a good relationship with his twin brother, and with you being the reason, you felt guilty.

One night, a couple weeks after yours and Jake’s first date, they got in an argument over something. Jake called you to calm himself down, as well as vent his frustrations for everything. You, on the other hand, started crying over the fact that you felt like you came between them.

Jake came over as soon as he heard the first sniffle, and held you in his arms as you cried into his chest.

“I want you to know that you were not the one to split us apart,” he whispers into your forehead once your sobs had subsided. “This has been going on for years and I was just so tired of him doing this because you are so special to me.”

“But, but you two haven’t been the same since I told him I liked you.”

“And that’s not your fault, darling. You can’t help who you like, and it’s not your fault that both of us liked you.” You mess with a loose string on the collar of his shirt.

“I hope you liking me isn’t past tense,” you mutter, gazing up at him. He laughs and wipes your tears away with his fingers.

“It’s definitely not past tense. I like you, and again, it’s not your fault. You’re such an amazing girl, it’s hard not to fall for you.”

“Thank you, Jake,” you whisper, snuggling deeper into his chest. He kisses along your hairline and holds you tight to him.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, don’t let my issues with my brother get in the way of you thinking that, okay?”

The holiday season is now here, with Thanksgiving coming and going, and just as Jake promised you, the library was decorated so beautifully for the holidays. It was a Saturday when you two went in after the first day of December, Jake helped the others with decorating everything Wednesday night, so this was the first time you were seeing it.

Jake takes you to your back corner, his own blanket from home in his hands, and you order your usual at the cafe while he searches for a book to read. When you return, you sit beside him, throwing the blanket over your legs, and resting your head on his shoulder.

He had chosen to read a poetry book for some reason, but you didn’t mind. You were just happy to enjoy his presence beside you. Once you finish your croissant, you get a bit more comfortable and lay down, with your head resting on his thighs, and the blanket from his office over your own legs.

He plays with your hair and you close your eyes, listening to the soft, instrumental Christmas music playing through the building. It all felt so cozy and calming, and you couldn’t be more content with the way things were.

“Hm,” Jake hums softly, a grin on his face. Your eyes open to look up at him, noticing that he was still fixated on the book.

“What?” You murmur back. He finally tears his eyes away and gazes down, his smile growing and his teeth showing.

“This is just a really beautiful poem,” he replies. You nod, closing your eyes again as his fingers thread through your hair. You weren’t expecting much, until he clears his throat quietly.

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Whcih heaven to gaudy day denies.”

Heat rises up your neck and to your cheeks as he flicks his eyes down at you quickly before going back to the book.

“Should I continue?” He asks, nerves evident in his voice.

“Yeah.” He grins and opens the book back open with his thumb.

“One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven trees,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tint that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace, with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!”

He finishes the poem and there are tears forming in your eyes. Jake’s velvety soft voice reading with passion and…an emotion you couldn’t identify, but it held so much adoration, the exact way that the poet wished for it to be read in.

“Lord Byron has some wonderful poems about romance,” he shyly says, pushing his glasses up, though this time, out of awkwardness. “Even though some believe that he was misogynistic with them.” You giggle and sit up, quickly pecking his lips.

“So you’re into romantic poems now, huh? What got you into that?” Jake laughs with you and leans into you, silently asking for another kiss, which you give him.

“I think it was this really cute girl showing me what true romance is like,” he mumbles against your lips. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest at this point.

“Will you read me another one?” You request. Jake nods and starts flipping through the book. You see how shaky his hands have become, and it aches in your chest. He was still so nervous around you sometimes, and it really was the sweetest thing.

When he lands on one, he holds the book in his hand like he was before, so you take advantage and grab his other one. He looks at you and all you do is grin a little to offer him some comfort.

Clearing his throat again, he holds the book up so that his head was raised, and he could see you out of his peripheral vision. You were now sitting straight up, criss crossed right next to him.

“i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars aprt

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart).”

He shut the book and within seconds, you throw yourself into his arms, weeping into his shoulder. You were overwhelmed with love, the idea that Jake thought of reading that specific poem to you made you were speechless.

He had mentioned early on that because he never really had much luck with the girls he liked, he wasn’t very experienced when it came to things like dating and being ‘lovey dovey’ and all that. He absolutely had an idea of what it was like, but he never truly got to experience it with someone else.

So for him to just come out and read you a beautiful, tooth-rotting-sweet poem about a lover caring so deeply for his partner, you couldn’t help but fall for Jake even harder.

“Jake, I,” you mutter through tears, sniffling as you raise your head from his shoulder. He chuckles nervously and wipes your tears away with his fingers. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, my love. I read the poem the other day when I had some downtime and, uh, I thought of you within the first few lines.”

“No guy has ever read something so…deep and meaningful to me like that. I just…” More tears fill your eyes but Jake is there to catch them.

“You’re very special to me (Y/N). And I want, and need you, to know that.”

“And I do. Thank you,” you kiss him once more, straddling his lap at this point. It was nothing sexual, you just wanted to be as close to him as you could.

“You mean the world to me, Jake,” you add, whispering against his lips. You tuck a piece of hair that was stuck in front of his glasses back behind his ear, feeling how his hands circle your waist, resting on your hips.

Nothing goes any further, and soon, you are back to laying with your head in his lap, his hands playing with the ends of your hair. You end up dozing off for a bit, and all Jake can do is stare down at you, wondering how in the world he got so lucky.

–

About a week later, Josh invites everyone over to the Kiszka household for the premiere of the film. He even reached out to invite your family, as it was also your film, and since your family had started growing close with the Kiszka’s and Wagner’s.

So, everyone piled into the living room where Josh had the DVD set up on the TV. The parents all stood or sat behind the large couch, where Josie, Ronnie, and your two sisters occupied, with Sam, Josh, Danny, and Warren all on the floor. You and Jake sat side by side on the loveseat, your head resting on his shoulder to get a better view of the TV.

Under the blanket that you two share, he holds your hand in his, something that he wasn’t really comfortable with his family seeing just yet, so he was thankful for the security of the cover he had for now. As the movie plays, Jake kept kissing your forehead every now and then, especially when you’d look up at him after one of his lines.

Thankfully, Josh cut the kiss out of the film, and you were only in it for a split second. After that, you could feel Jake physically relax, knowing that he didn't have to relive that moment again.

The movie finishes and everyone claps, both you and Josh standing up as a way for them to celebrate your accomplishment. You had to admit, it was very incredible to see your script come to life on screen, all thanks to Josh.

“You wanna stay for dinner? My mom has tortilla soup in the crock pot,” Jake offers as everyone disperses.

“That sounds amazing, I’d love to.”

Not long after, Karen announces that dinner is ready. At this point, your family has gone home, having their own plans for dinner, but you follow behind Jake closely into the kitchen as he helps you with your own bowl.

You two return to your seats on the sofa, chatting quietly while eating.

“Um, I was also wondering if you, um, well since today is Friday and neither of us have to work tomorrow, if you’d like to, maybe, uh, spend the night, wi-with me?” His voice was quiet, worried that his family would overhear.

Neither of you have spent the night together yet. Jake made it clear from the beginning that he hasn’t had much experience, so he wanted to take things slow. And you were more than okay with that, giving him the time he needed to move at his own pace and everything.

“I would be very happy to, Jakey,” you whisper back to him. A huge grin breaks out onto his face and he stares down into his bowl of soup.

“I like that nickname,” he mumbles, a blush covering his cheeks. You lean over and kiss his heated cheek before taking another bite of your soup.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, making him hide his face in your shoulder.

After a little while longer of family time, it starts to get really late, and everyone is growing tired. Ronnie had gone to her room, and the Wagner’s went home, Sam going with him to hang out. Josh, still being a little hurt seeing you and Jake, disappeared right after dinner, so it was now just you and Jake on the couch.

“Do you, do you need to take a shower or anything?” Jake asks you once everyone was gone.

“I took one before coming over. But I do need something warmer to sleep in, if that’s alright?” Jake nods and stands, reaching out for your hand. You gladly take it and he brings you up to his room.

You’ve seen his room before, both on FaceTime and being here, so it was nothing new. But with never having slept in his bed before, this was taking your casual dating stage a step forward.

Jake rummages around his closet for something, and lands on a plain black pull over.

“Um, it usually gets pretty cold in my room at night, so I keep this handy, and you have sweats, so is that good?” He was beyond timid at the moment. He wanted you to be comfortable and welcomed, and you made sure that he knew you were.

“This is perfect. I’m gonna go change.”

When you return, Jake was laying in bed, his own pullover covering his body instead of the t-shirt he was wearing earlier.

“So how cold does your room get?” You wonder, taking a seat next to him after discarding your shirt on the floor. Jake pulls his comforter back to reveal a rather thick cover thrown over his body. You crawl with him underneath it, and instantly, you feel the warmth from his body being under it already.

“It can get pretty cold, but this blanket should help us.”

Jake sits up against the headboard and you, watching as he yawns, decide to do something a bit bold. As Jake lifts himself up to reach over and turn his bedside light off, you stop him, bringing his shoulder back so he could face you.

A questioning look appears on his face, but that quickly drops when you reach forward and gently remove his glasses from his face. You are careful to make sure that there’s no hair that’s going to be pulled, and you slowly close them.

You lean across Jake and set them on his bedside table, leaving a kiss upon his cheek when you move back to your spot. His skin was bright pink, not having any clue what just happened. But you settling down on your side under the covers brings him back down to earth.

He turns the light off and slides to lay down on his side facing you. Cautiously as ever, he rests his hands on your waist and brings you closer to him. You curl into him, placing your hand on his chest and your forehead on his shoulder.

Neither of you say anything, just the sound of your breathing fills the room. Jake wants to break the silence, but when he looks down and sees that you are asleep, he just smiles and kisses your forehead, snuggling you closer.

JAKE’S POV:

The harsh blinding sun of the morning filters in through the curtains covering the window. As I slowly open my eyes, I realize that (Y/N) is still in my arms, but now, she’s facing away from me, her back pressed against my front.

I raise myself up a bit to look over and see that she’s still fast asleep, so I take a moment to admire her. The way her eyelashes rest against her cheek, how her lips are slightly parted, soft breaths passing through them. Her hair was splayed out against the pillow, still appearing so perfect since last night.

I shut my eyes for a moment again and just focus on the feel of her in my arms. The warmth coming from her body, our legs intertwined, how soft my pullover felt under my touch, the way her chest was slowly rising and falling with every shallow breath, and how I could feel it every time.

Her phone was laying in her hand, telling me that she had been awake before falling back asleep. Deciding to wake her, I move my body slightly and kiss her cheek as gently as ever. She stirs slightly and inhales sharply, rolling over to face me. However, she was still asleep, though her phone was forgotten on the bed.

“Darling,” I whisper, caressing her cheek with my fingertip. This time, her eyes flutter open, and she stares up at me. My heart races in my chest, and I just hope that she can’t feel it under my pullover.

“Morning,” she whispers back, a tired grin gracing her face. She lets out a yawn and then curls into me, her arms circling my torso. Her cold hands make their way under my top, and I freeze, literally and figuratively.

This all felt so…natural, yet I was so scared. As natural as it felt, it was new territory, and it was kind of terrifying, knowing how strongly I felt for her, and now she’s here, beside me, waking up, entwined with my limbs, her hands underneath my top on my back.

“Morning. Did you already wake up?” I ask, continuing to stroke her cheek.

“Yeah, I uh, I submitted my script and then fell back asleep,” she announces. Immediately, I shoot up, looking down at her in wonder.

“You did?” She giggles and follows me, though a little weary because she was still half asleep. However, I have sudden burst of energy, knowing that all of her hard work has finally paid off.

“I did. So all of my attention is on you now.” I tackle her back down and pepper kisses all over her face. Her laugh rings out in the quiet room, a sound I’ve grown to love so much; I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I mumble against her lips once we settle down a bit. I was hovering over her, my hands on either side of her head. She grasps the sides of my neck, her thumbs softly rubbing back and forth along the areas she could reach, sending tingles down my spine.

“I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without you, in all honesty,” she tells me. “Bringing me snacks when I didn’t take breaks, forcing me to take said breaks, helping me get my mind off of it for a few days, allowing me space to work and everything, I’m so thankful for you, Jakey.”

A blush rises up my neck and I lean down to capture her lips with mine in a sweet, deep kiss. She hums happily into my mouth, her eyes closed on contentment.

“I can’t wait to see where you place,” I tell her after parting from her.

“If I place,” she grumbles.

“When. When you do.” She just smiles and brings me down for another kiss, her hands tangling in the hair at the back of my neck.

“Do you wanna go to the winter lights walk-through tonight?” She asks. I fall beside her, pulling her back into my arms, her head falling onto my chest with her hair tickling my jawline and chin.

“I’d love to. And, you deserve a nice date night to celebrate your accomplishment.”

YOUR POV:

Later that night, you and Jake walk hand in hand along the concrete path surrounded by flickering Christmas lights, strung up in trees and placed all over the park, some in designs of things like Santa, penguins, lyrics and words, anything winter or holiday-related.

There wasn’t that many people here tonight, even though it was a Saturday night, it was cold and rainy, weather that not many people wanted to be out in. But you found this as a great opportunity to spend some time alone with Jake.

Both of you were bundled up as best as you could be; multiple layers of shirts, thick beanies, a pair of sweats over your jeans, scarves around your necks, and thick gloves. Thankfully, you weren’t very bothered by the weather right now. Jake had a huge smile on his face the whole way through, telling you that he was excited to just spend time with you.

“So, this is usually the same every year, and one year, when we were doing the carriage ride, Josh, I think we were like six at the time, saw that elf,” Jake points to an outline of an elf bending over to pick a jack-in-the-box toy up, “and he loudly screamed about how funny it was that his butt was sticking out.”

You let out a laugh and Jake admires you, continuing to walk on, chuckling when your forehead hits his arm as you were coming down from your fit of laughter.

“Josh was certainly…a character,” you finally say, having caught your breath.

“Oh yeah,” Jake replies. “Absolutely.”

You come up to a tunnel of lights, all blinking different colors, before changing to all blue, then all red, following with green, then to white, and finally back to the deep blue. Pausing to take in the sight and the atmosphere of being under them, you gaze around, spinning, and Jake stays put near the entrance of it.

He watches you in awe, wondering how he got so lucky to have met you. Shoving his hands in his pockets, not so gracefully due to the thickness of his gloves, he makes his way over to you, stopping in front of you. He goes to open his mouth and say something, but he just sighs softly and he shuts it. Walking closer to him, you drink in the sight stood in front of you.

His nose was turning pink due to the wind nipping at it, uncovered from his scarf. His cheeks were a similar color, but that was something you were used to, with his constant blushing. The frames of his black glasses sat perfectly on his perfect, cute nose, some condensation from the mist falling from the sky coating the lenses.

Gently, just like last night, you take his glasses off and wipe them clean on the inside of your lined coat pocket. Once they were cleared, you carefully guide them back onto his face, and he just grins at you.

“Can I…um,” you begin, pausing to collect your thoughts, “you know what, I’m just gonna come out and say it.” His eyebrows furrow together as you grab his gloved hands. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Jake’s eyes blow wide, in surprise of what was happening right now. Of course he wanted to be your boyfriend, but he was so scared of asking. He had never done so, and, overall, he figured you two were already on that path, and the label was just a given.

“Really?” He gasps, the color of his cheeks darkening to a deep pink. “I-I um…”

“I’m so sorry if that is weird to ask, but I…I really like you, Jake and I want to be-” He cuts you off with a kiss, dropping your hands to cup your cheeks. You melt into his touch as his lips move against yours, reassuring you silently that he wanted this as much as you did.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” he whispers into your lips, his warm breath heating your face up a touch from the freezing wind that had picked up in that moment. “I’m sorry, I just, I got, uh, a little nervous. I’ve never had anyone ask me that.”

“I didn’t know if or when you were going to ask, and I really just wanted to get it over with,” you respond. Jake giggles and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I was actually going to ask a couple minutes ago, but I got scared,” he admits. “I want you to be my girlfriend as well, and I figured we were already in that phase, but it’s good knowing that the label is now officially there.”

“Me too,” you smile up at him. Your arms wrap around his body and you snuggle your face into his scarf, inhaling his usual scent of old books and his favorite cologne. The scent has become so comforting, one that you longed for whenever you were away from him. It felt like home, and that’s when you started to realize that Jake means a lot more to you than you were expecting.

“You make me so happy,” he whispers, swaying you from side to side, his own arms circling you to keep you close to him. “And I’m also glad you were the one to ask because I was scared shitless and we would’ve just gone on for so long as just casually dating.”

You break out into laughter and raise your head from his body.

“I’m thankful I was too. I couldn’t take just being a casual date anymore. I care for you so much, I want you to be mine.” Jake pulls back from you for a bit and gazes right into your eyes, and with a small grin, he begins reciting a poem.

“I am yours as the summer air at evening is

Possessed by the scent of linden blossoms,

As the snowcap gleams with light

Lent it by the brimming moon.

Without you I’d be an unleaded tree

Blasted in a bleakness with no Spring.

Your love is the weather of my being.

What is an island without the sea?”

—

final a/n: the poems are not mine:

first poem: "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron

second poem: "[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]" by E.E. Cummings

third poem: "Yours" by Daniel Hoffman

taglist: @maud-gone @streamingcolors-gvf @mweasley19 @lolipopsandgumdrops @universoulindigo @byulgogii @artsygarbitch @dannyandthekiszkas @shutupdevvie @writingcold @fan-girl-97 @rhythm-of-space @allieisacrybaby @gardenofgreta @interstellar-shores @anythingforjtk @gretavanbitches @thecoldwind @why-ami-on-here @milkgemini @spark-my-nature

#the librarian #jake kiszka #jake kiszka imagines #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet imagines #gvf imagines #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fanfic #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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willshipanything-blog · 1 year

Text

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 9

New chapter has arrived! Little shorter (3.5k), but the upside of splitting up this one and next is that both are gonna have a little smut! Let's pretend that was intentional 🙃✨

As always, MINORS DNI and check tags on AO3.

Fic on AO3 here

Complete chapter index is here

(Also, I know this gif is Moon Knight. But Al is gonna be sat in a similar position 👀, and Y/N is gonna making some pretty mouthy accusations... 🤭

Chapter 9- Demons

You woke from a surprisingly dreamless sleep. Free from nightmares you were sure might haunt your repose, given last night’s conversation with Al; all the past miseries that had been dredged up, and the present ones you’d created with your indelicate, unintentionally spiteful words. But the night had ended on a sweet note, marked by liberal apologies and candid reassurances- from you and Al in equal measure. And his warm, enveloping hold had seen you off to a gentle sleep. He’d not woken either, so you assumed he wasn’t plagued with nightmares either, no worrying night terrors like you’d witnessed before.

This morning, the room was as peaceful as your slumber had been, a muted pink tincture reawakening the bedroom in a fresh, soft glow. You gently propped yourself on an elbow, looking at Al still asleep beside you in bed. His hand, splayed out a little from his body as if he’d been wordlessly reaching for you in sleep. The slow, steady rise and fall of his bare chest. A soft snore from slightly parted lips, more of a purr than his usual playful growl.

Looking at Al reminded you of a conversation you’d had with Max, that very first day in the woods. How Max had looked just like his mom, whereas Al hadn’t been blessed with those same features. Al obviously detested looking in any way like his father and (despite your best efforts to dissuade such thinking), his self-loathing seemed omnipresent- how much of that, you wondered, was fueled by the reflection he saw in the mirror? Did he glimpse two monsters staring back at him, twin sets of those intense cerulean eyes, both tempting and treacherous?

It wasn’t simply the abuse that made Al’s animosity so deep-rooted (a hatred geared towards both himself and his father). No, the situation was made much worse, deepened like an ocean trench, when the similarities extended far beyond just the visual, encompassing acts of physical violence too. Al’s sins had followed a parallel path to his father, two matching sets of footprints that had descended the basement stairs to inflict pain and incite fear. Two generations of evil.

But did the phrase ‘like father, like son’ apply, when Al’s crimes so heavily outweighed his predecessor's? Of course, you wouldn’t forget the Grabber’s reign of terror, those young lives lost forever at his hand- but you couldn’t help but think of the causation of such evil. The things that had been wreaked on Al in his own childhood- that had to have some awful and profound effect on a person. The Grabber had grown and bloomed from his past, his father’s actions the root and stem of it all. Even if Al had embraced the violence and the bloodshed, he’d been unwittingly molded and twisted into it. You’d helped to untwist him, shaping him back into something good, but the marks of the monster would always be visible, like a hairline crack in a piece of porcelain.

You scanned Al’s face as he slept, each feature you knew so intimately. Each wrinkled crevice at his temples; the exact curve of his jaw, lined with a morning stubble, the straight slope of his nose above that wide, perfect mouth hiding a wide, imperfect smile. You looked wistfully at the face in front of you, weighted by years of hurt, burdened by torments that had been inflicted on him, and those in turn that he’d inflicted on others- in infinitely greater measure. A private thought: which hurt more? As you mapped those lines and features that so closely resembled the evil that came before Al, you realized something. To you, the external similarities were immaterial. You hadn’t known Al’s father. To you, Al wasn’t similar- Al was his own man, and trying to be a better one every day.

“Whatcha thinking about, dove?” Al had woke as you were brushing his soft hair, fingers curled between the ashy tips at his shoulders. You continued stroking his locks as you met his beguiling blue eyes. His question was light, playful- but you answered with an earnest intensity that he was sure to see in the blazing glint of your eyes, hear in the clarity of your voice.

“I’m thinking that you’re a good person, Al. I want- I need you to know that.” Even as you said the words, you wondered silently who they were for; for Al, to divert him from that perilous path of self-loathing, or to remind yourself of the good he was capable of, despite the awful things he’d done. Hopefully your pointed words could hit both targets.

Al let loose a wearied sigh, suggesting you’d missed that first target, that Al was still adamant he was the sole cause of all the hurt in this house, despite the things the house had born witness to decades prior to the Grabber’s emergence.

“Little dove- you can’t blame anybody but me f-” He was hushed by the soft graze of your fingertips on his lips. This wasn’t a time for arguments, not after so much of it the previous night, so your hand moved to his cheek, your nails scratching gentle, assuaging strokes along his jawline as you spoke.

“I know Al. I understand the things you’ve done. But I know the things that have been done to you, too,” you insisted, eyes never straying from his despite the plaintive plea in those crushing blue eyes. “But those things can shape us, can’t they?”

“What, ‘cause he is so like me, he’s shaped me, you mean?” Al grimaced as he spat out the acknowledgment of his father. You could only offer a mute expression in response, raised eyebrows and lips pursed as if to retort: ‘didn’t he?’. Not that you needed to say that out loud. It was an understanding, a silent comprehension between the two of you- of course his father had shaped Al’s existence. The parallels between them were irrefutable. For Al to outright deny it would be laughable if it weren't such a devastating topic.

Of course, shifting blame could never negate Al’s crimes. But the origin of the Grabber, that second monster who had stalked and terrorized this house, was not Al’s handiwork alone. It had been created in Al’s mind, but helped along by the emotions, the torment and the rage that had been unable to die out with his father. Forged from every whip of the belt. Each punch, slap and cruel taunt. Each ceaseless memory carving a new contour that would sculpt that deviled mask.

“Our entire existence shapes us,” you began, delicately constructing your answer. You’d thrown enough virulent barbs at Al last night. Such unkind words, even if Al agreed they were true. But the pain they had caused hadn’t lessened in your mind, and you assumed they hadn’t for Al, either. Soothing, kind words were needed this morning. “The bad, yes- but the good too. Look at Max- he’s made us both better, happier. You know I make you better. And you’ve changed me too- I really am happy here, Al.”

Still, the understanding that passed between your silent stares didn’t ease the anguish in Al’s expression, and it hung between you like a dead, rotten thing. Focusing on the past would only serve to drag him closer to that fatal precipice of self-reproach. You changed tact. Not the badness of the past, but the goodness of the present. Throwing open the curtains of the here and now to banish those dead, shadowy specters.

“But I don’t make you better,” Al huffed. “Even if you’re happy, dove- dontcha think you’re a worse person for staying?”

In the moment or two you took to process what had been said, Al had sat up and swung his legs out of bed, sitting with his back to you. Perhaps ashamed by the words he’d spoken, although those words weren’t exactly a lie. You weren’t upset by the blunt question he’d posed (and if you had been, it would only even out the caustic accusations you’d thrown his way last night). You did feel awful, truly, for the things that had happened, each life that had been extinguished or irreparably damaged by the evil that had festered in this house. But you’d never been remorseful enough to leave, nor had you gone to the police when given the opportunity.

You’d been a good girl your entire life. But for Al, you would willingly slip into an antithetical role. Maybe Naughty Girl wasn’t just an act for you to occupy during the game. You smiled inwardly at this thought, actually smiled at the dark, wretched part of you that had been surrected in these past months. Smiled, despite the sliver of morality you’d had to shed in order to stay with Al in this blissful sin. The scales swapping out the good for the bad in equal measure until balance was restored, your soul just a little blacker than before. It was a zero sum game- but you were always happy to play those.

Your smile coiled into something new at that kind of thought, and you wondered whether your eyes took on a darker hue as you reached for Al, snaking your arms around him like two coils of rope, pressing your front against his broad back. A whisper against the skin on his neck, teeth close enough to skim the arterial vessels thrumming beneath the surface, ever quickening as Al’s breaths became more erratic.

“Actually Al, I think it was a good trade,” you murmured on a low, almost sultry breath. “I don’t mind being a little worse, if it makes you a little better.” Soft and reassuring, but completely lascivious and morally wrong. Both parts of you that could co-exist together, an uneasy treaty of good and bad signed across your heart.

You splayed a hand wide on his bare chest, your palm warming the spot above his heart. The tangle of scars on his skin, each ridge of sinewy muscle (marred and fractured but still whole) was encompassed by your touch. An enduring marker on his skin that his journey to betterment was no grandiose, empty gesture. He’d put himself on the chopping block, quite literally, in order to kill the Grabber, seek atonement at your hands. It was proof that he wanted to be better, and it was enough for you, whatever the cost to your own soul’s innocence.

Al seemed to understand this meaning implicitly, that wordless bond between the two of you like an invisible telephone wire with a direct line to each other’s innermost thoughts. His hand enveloped yours, holding it above his heart for a moment before raising it to his mouth, where he brushed your knuckles with a delicate, warm kiss. His head swiveled to the side, his eyes shining with something other than sorrow now- it was adoration, and need. You were perfect in his eyes, even if you were no angel anymore.

Your voice took on a playful lilt, the intonation rising and falling as you spoke. Not unlike Al’s performances he’d acted out a thousand times.

“Al?”

“Yeah, dove?” he rasped.

“I’m thinking about something else entirely now.” Your hands, which had both found their way back to his chest, began their descent.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Al cooed knowingly, but let out a choked breath as your fingers glided over the soft plane of his stomach, his gut curling inward from the sensation, the anticipation. You released a dark chuckle into Al’s neck at the movement, to which he countered with a clawing grip to one of your thighs by his side, his other hands grasping a thick tendril of your hair and twirling it seductively around his fingers. Your hands reached his hard cock, palming it slowly through his pajama trousers, letting free a low rumble of rolling thunder from Al’s throat.

“Don’t be such a tease, little demon.”

That was more like it. No good girl. No angel. Just the devil and his demon. You obeyed, peeling back the too-many layers between your hands and his hot skin. It was already hard, tip already wet with precum as you used it to begin long, languid strokes along his length. Four crescent red-moon indents were sure to mark your thigh, the way Al’s grasp tightened on your skin as you continued rubbing his cock with fervor, your own aroused breath fanning the shell of his ear as you picked up pace.

“Ahh- that’s it little thing- t-there’s my good girl.” Al stammered between breaths. But he was wrong- no good girls this morning.

“Hmm, maybe I should call you ‘little thing’ Al.”

He bristled beneath you, and you retreated your hand as the air in the room stilled. You’d goaded him with that indignity, knowing he’d react that way, wanting him to. Needing a taste of the smoldering darkness you knew he’d readily provide. Malevolent intent emanated from his body, and he shot you a dark glance sidewards as he clicked his tongue in your direction. A soft, sinister chuckle before he spoke, low and guttural.

“Oh, we both know that’s a lie.” In the flicker of an eye, he’d gripped your arm and used his bestial strength to haul you from the bed. You let loose a shriek as you tumbled onto the shag rug, kneecaps colliding heavily with the floor. Without a chance to straighten yourself, you were brought before him, dragged roughly between his thick thighs, his stiff cock waiting. He curled a hand around the nape of your neck, the other tracing a slow, undulating line along the ridges of your neck, his finger buckling your knees more than any switchblade ever could as he brushed the hollow of your throat. He leaned forward to speak. Close enough for you to see the storm brewing in the ocean of his eyes.

“Now, I’m sure you’re gonna eat those fucking words, huh dove?”

He removed his hand from the front of your neck (the one behind still holding firm) while he allowed you to choose your next move in this game. You bit your bottom lip, considering whether to push him further or submit completely. You surrendered, giving an obedient nod and parting your lips slightly at his command. Approval given, he pushed his length past your lips without hesitation, without time for you to even take a full breath. No retreat either; he’d fisted your hair at the back, giving himself complete control of your movements.

And with the loss of control, you gave yourself over unconditionally. Ready to drown in the void, a vacuum where only the pair of you existed. It was instinctual; mouth wide, tongue flat to lick its way along Al’s shaft as he rutted into your mouth with a merciless pace. Loosening your jaw to accommodate him, hands braced on his study thighs to hold steady against the driving thrusts. The obscene sounds of his cock invading your mouth, in harmony with your breathless whimpers and occasional gagging as it hit the very back of your throat.

Each dirty word he spoke as you sucked, each time he roared your name in carnal bliss, gave a fresh burst of arousal between your own legs, only making you more eager to serve. Al hadn’t spoken like this, so dominating and forceful, in weeks. But even that dark, gravelly tone, one that sounded so laced with deadly intent, thrilled you right to your core. Just as effective as his body in drawing you further into the delirium of the act. The cumulation of it all, the sounds of Al’s euphoric moans, the sensations shooting through your body like bolts of white-hot lightning, was all-consuming. Your pleasure wasn’t the objective, but god, was it close.

Absolutely at his mercy, but happy to be used- you were his to use, after all. Just as he was yours. You felt him near his peak, and decided a little control of your own was in order. Knowing he’d come undone at your piercing gaze, you peered up at him through heavy lashes with him still in your mouth. Right on cue, Al came undone as your eyes tore into his. Hot spurts of his seed hit the back of your throat in quick bursts, and you swallowed unquestioningly. He withdrew, and you sucked in a deep breath while half-discerning being picked up, Al placing you in his lap.

Soft hands pawed at you, wiping the drool from your chin, the tear stains from your cheeks as gentle kisses trailed each angle of your jaw. Soft words, gentle praises at how good you were (at such odds with the profanities he’d spoken only moments ago), brought you back to the surface, back from the black hole you’d both allowed to envelop you. More cognizant now, you pressed a kiss to Al’s lips, the simple, demure gesture just as electrifying as any profane act either of you might perform in bed.

“You know Al, I actually don’t feel much worse.” you cooed.

“Oh dove, I couldn’t ask for better.”

You both huffed a breath of amusement. As before, you looked intensely at Al with riveted eyes. Still the same as before: those deep azure eyes, that winsome smile, the single hint of a dimple, all familiar features you knew so well. Al- the man you loved. No-one else occupied the strong body that held you safely, no other demons invaded the mind that felt so connected with yours. Just Al, who was an infinitely better person than you might ever have hoped for all those months ago. While Al would never love the person he saw in the mirror, you still held out hope that one day he might see a fraction of himself the way you did.

Al knew he hadn’t processed his feelings in any sort of healthy way his entire life. A childhood of hiding them, being himself only in the most covert of circumstances. Then years of holding back everything, unable to handle the amalgamation of loss and longing and loneliness, so cutting himself off completely. And then he’d finally snapped, letting loose the Grabber who knew only rage and violence and fear, enacting them precisely as he took out his anger on the world.

His dove had come along, and suddenly Al was feeling things like never before. An unfathomable range of emotions that she had stirred within him. Confusion had laced his veins when he’d begun to feel compassion, then regret, then- against every odd- love. He’d been sapped of the ice-cold demeanor that had served him well as the Grabber, and it had been replaced with a warmth he hardly knew himself capable of. A warmth he’d not shared for more than two decades.

And now here he was, sharing his innermost feelings, the past he had avoided facing at all costs. It had helped. It had actually helped. He’d torn himself apart opening up, but things hadn’t crumbled to dust around him. She had accepted the past, understood it, but not used it as an excuse- and he revered her for that.

He had worried she’d see him in so many different variations, each more abhorrent than the last. Ashamed to look at that weak little boy who couldn’t protect his family until it was too late, the damage too deeply imbued inside him like an infected, gangrenous wound. Disgusted that he was a carbon copy of his father, who had suffered pain and in turn inflicted it because he couldn’t claw his way out of that cycle. Terrified of that second self that lurked beneath his skin, the Grabber threatening to cut his way to the surface at any given moment.

But no. She saw him as Al. She loved Al, loved him. Despite those other faces that morphed into a grotesque mosaic when he looked at his reflection on his darker days. Those monstrous echoes of his past that she cut through effortlessly, teaching him to try and do the same, to see himself in a better light. No saint, not really even a person worthy of true redemption- but a better person at least. That could count for something, right?

He was being open and honest with her now, and it felt so freeing. There was so little she didn’t know about him now. Except, perhaps, those secrets. Those secrets held deep in his heart, deep in the basement of his soul. Secrets that, Al feared, would eradicate any trace of love within his little dove’s heart forever.

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw #albert shaw x you #black phone fanfic #the black phone

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boinin · 1 year

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Blue Lock Manga

We've been blessed by Chp 218 🙌 It's had a mixed response but I enjoyed it a lot.

Thoughts under the cut.

Previous chapter analyses

The art continues to blow me away. I didn't appreciate it as much when I was bingeing through the chapters, or when I watched the anime 🙃 but gosh it's so pretty. These are my personal favourite panels this week. The one with Barou and Isagi is so evocative. A clear visual explanation of the difference between Metavision and Predator Eye.

Isagi is data scientist AU anybody?

He's SUCH a dork, and I mean that in the kindest sense. Bro's reeling off completely fabricated terms to Niko like he's teaching a class 🥹 I love that he's so keen to pass on what he's learned. He's shown himself to be a voracious learner, going to everyone from Barou to Rin to Kunigami for tips. I want to see someone ask him for instruction!

Also - how cute are Aiku and Niko in this chp?! They're like brothers. I have a draft outline in my writing vault for an Ubers found family fluff fic featuring these two, and this isn't helping me ignore it.

Not everyone has metavision, what a shocking reveal /s It felt heavy handed in delivery, but it shows who Isagi's rivals are in terms of playmaking and predictions. No, Raichi isn't coming for Himsagi's bag yet.

Another amazing set of panels, love it any time they go nuts with the puzzle pieces. Isagi lists only four... but I think Kaneshiro's setting up Aiku to be the surprise fifth MV user. He might not consciously activate the ability as Isagi does, but he's definitely capable.

I had sight of these panels from the leaks when I was writing up the chp 217 post, so I won't rehash the BM v Ubers point. But I like how this visualises their differences. The art is grotesque but really beautiful at the same time. Look at Isagi naming himself at the top alongside Kaiser! That's ego growth for you.

On that note: who's the Game Changer this chapter's talking about? Isagi seems to think it's going to be one of him or Kaiser, or out of Ubers, Lorenzo, Barou, Aiku or Niko. Naturally, it's not likely to be any of these, cos ✨suspense✨

The chapter itself ends with a suggestion that it'll be BM that supplies it...

EMOGAMI PLEASE, DO SOMETHING WITH THAT EDGE OF YOURS, WHAT'S THE POINT OTHERWISE 😭

I'm biased towards my boy Rensuke, but I'll try to be objective here. On the subreddit, people are split 50:50 between being excited that he's getting a moment, or rolling their eyes at that edgy ball steal. I couldn't care less about whether this is an accurate depiction of soccer playing or not (it's a shounen battle manga as far as I'm concerned). But I do think Kunigami's solo run will get shut down next chapter. He hasn't had a lot to do in this match, but I think Kaneshiro will hold back on Kunigami's development for the PXG showdown.

In the last panel, you can see Kunigami's barrelling towards the goal. There's two defenders up ahead. One is Niko, who's apparently well-suited to reacting to sudden threats (i.e. him tackling Isagi). The other is not so obvious... but odds are, it's Aiku. Who's also not done a lot so far and who doesn't have a grudge against Shidou Ryuusei to milk later

My prediction? Kunigami will outmuscle Niko, but get walled by a levelled-up Aiku, leaving a free ball for Kaiser or Isagi to claim.

As for who'll be the true game changer? Said it already, but if Hiori's not getting subbed on for our newly christened royal trash!Ness in the next five chapters, I'll eat my hat. 🐑

No more commentary from me. Just signing off with a glorious narcissistic bastard entering flow 💅

#kaiser is such a bastard love him for it #bllk chp 218 #text post #blue lock spoilers #mine #isagi yoichi #michael kaiser #ikki niko #kunigami rensuke #aiku oliver #bllk #bllk manga spoilers #bllk manga #blue lock #boinin talks bllk

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theatrekidstatus · 5 months

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Chapter 8:

"I'm so happy y'all are dating,because y'all wouldn't shut up about each other" daveed announced "for real all y/n would talk about was anthony and I couldn't even talk to him" Renée added "leave them alone" Leslie said putting his arms around us (a/n not even gonna hold y'all I forgot about Leslie until I read a story with him in last night😭😭😭) "you two are going to be the cutest couple ever" Lin said grinning that big grin "thanks Lin" "anytime" let's get to rehearsals of rehearsal "ugh" "I know I know but we have too,y/n you'll be the audience" "cool ooo can-" "no you can't yell boo if someone messes up" "awww" "HAHA" jazzy cackled "🖕🏾" "ok PLACES" Lin yelled "Que groffsauce" *insert preshow speech* "Leslie" "how dose a BASTERD,orphan,son of a whore and a Scotsmen dropped in the middle spot in the crabien by providence and squalor grow up to be a human and scholar" "y/n's boyfriend" "the ten dollar founding father without a farther got a lot farther by being a lot smarter by 14 they placed him in charge a trading charter" "daveed" "and everyday while slaves were being slaughtered and carted away- something's wrong with my mic" "if this is a joke it's not a funny one David" "it's-" then he started mouthing something "damn...ok if anyone did something to daveed's mic fess up now I won't even make you confess why you did just confess" "no one ok good I'll call tech and have this checked out daveed just articulate" "COOL" after his oak part "what's your name man" "Alexander Hamilton my name is Alexander Hamilton and there's 1000,000 I haven't but just you wait just you wait" "when he was ten his father split full of it debt ridden two year Alex and his mother bedridden and" "Alex got better and his mother went quick"moved with the cousin committed sucide left him with ruined pride something new inside" "Hi excuse me so sorry but the mic you wanted us to check out/fix was purposely damaged It seemed to be stepped on.punched,kicked,chewed? And other things that make us not want to even look let alone touch and it might be unfixable "ok CAST CREW AND OTHER meeting now everyone audience "ooo a mystery" I whispered to ant he looked a little tense "you good" "well I'm a little nervous how the show finna Turn out we've had only a few days of practice" "I'm sorry ant" "huh why *gasp* DID YOU DESTROY HIS MIC" "what no I'm sorry that i relapsed and took 2 days off of rehearsals and I'm sorry something happened to his mic and take more time" "hey I'm It's NOT your fault you relapsed it's those dumb idiots online and I know you didn't cause the mic thingy it's not your flaut ok" he said he's BEAUTIFUL green eyes "OK QUITE DONE EVERYONE,LISTEN I KNOW THIS ISNT A BIG BIG ISSUE BUT THE STUFF SOMEONE DID TO THAT MIC I SENT DAVEED TO THE DOCTOR AND THEN HOME" (all caps cause ArTiCuLaTiOn) Lin said with anger and concern "DAMN" we yelled "I know now I know said who ever messed up the mic could fess up and we'd move but if they wanna confess what you did,why'd you dove and why hide it literally that's it" Lin tells us "and-"

He's cut off by a text "OH HELL NO YOU PHYCHO PUT HONEY ON HIS MIC YOU GUYS KNOW HE IS ALLERGIC" "OH HELL NAH" I yelled Everyone looked at me "My bad" "Listen we will continue this rehearsal but if no one fesses up then YA OUTTA HERE" Lin yells everyone look at each other "if you did it you'd tell me right" he asked I wasn't to mad because he was worried for his best friend "I didn't but if I did I'd tell you" "ok good" I texted the "renèe, Pippa, jazzy AND Y/N" GC if y'all did I won't snitch but did y'all

Jazzy poo bear😭🙄🔛🔝‼️🗞️🧍🏼‍♀️🫶🏾🤭🎶🗣️🪄✅😑👍🏾🩷😂👦🏿🖕🏾😘❕🔥😔👦🏾💞👹❗️🔊🎩👦🏽: do what I was sleeping the whole meeting

Pippy poo😀🥹☺️😃😅😊😄😂😇😁🤣🙂😆🥲🙃: omfg jazzy so you know how so messed daveed mic

Jazzy poo bear😭🙄🔛🔝‼️🗞️🧍🏼‍♀️🫶🏾🤭🎶🗣️🪄✅😑👍🏾🩷😂👦🏿🖕🏾😘❕🔥😔👦🏾💞👹❗️🔊🎩👦🏽:yeah

Pippy poo😀🥹☺️😃😅😊😄😂😇😁🤣🙂😆🥲🙃: he was trying to see if someone would fess up because there'd just have to explain why they did it but if they don't there outta here and no y/n I didn't do it

Jazzy poo bear😭🙄🔛🔝‼️🗞️🧍🏼‍♀️🫶🏾🤭🎶🗣️🪄✅😑👍🏾🩷😂👦🏿🖕🏾😘❕🔥😔👦🏾💞👹❗️🔊🎩👦🏽:ohh i ain't do it now but you nèa nèa

Mommy nèa(not dirty🙄)😉😗😝🤓😌😙😜😎😍😚🤪🥸🥰😋🤨🤩😘😛🧐🥳:no i kinda like daveed

Ooooooooooo (they all texted)

Mommy nèa(not dirty🙄)😉😗😝🤓😌😙😜😎😍😚🤪🥸🥰😋🤨🤩😘😛🧐🥳:omg you guys SO immature

Okay so y'all are clear Ant and I didn't do it so yeah

I was walking around I was singing Burn and and ant came from the shadows

"I'm your boyfriend how dare you not tell me you can sing"

"I'm sorry I love you don't hurt me," I say while slowly falling on the floor My last boyfriend would hit me when I didn't tell him stuff "Hey hey I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you come here I love you too and look at me I will NEVER hurt you," he said hugging me on the floor maybe not all men are bad "an-t," I say through tears " "yes babe" "your my boyfriend?" "Am I?" he asked nervously "Yes, yes you are" he smiled so hard "Let me wipe your tears please" "OK" his thumb slowly went down my face getting rid of my tears "I have to go on stage are you ok?" "I'm fine" "ok let's go" he reaches out a hand and I take it he takes me to my favorite seat in the audience and went in the wings I watched the rehearsal they did it with a recording of Daveed's voice they got far to they got to 'say no to this' WITHOUT ANY BREAKS tech member Katie messed up so they had to stop but Lin made sure she didn't feel guilty "damn I want some cookies" I mumbled "I know" I pull out my phone and text thayne

CoOkIe MoNsTeR😏😕😫😤😒🙁😩😠😞☹️🥺😡😔😣😢🤬😟😖😭🤯:is this y/n

Yes and I want cookies

CoOkIe MoNsTeR😏😕😫😤😒🙁😩😠😞☹️🥺😡😔😣😢🤬😟😖😭🤯:no

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

CoOkIe MoNsTeR😏😕😫😤😒🙁😩😠😞☹️🥺😡😔😣😢🤬😟😖😭🤯: because I fucked them up last night

#hamilton fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfics #fanfic authors #fanfic writers #fanfiction writer #fanfic writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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12timetraveler · 7 months

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🙃🙃

Chapter 5 and 6 of Something In The Orange were originally one chapter but I had to split it up into two because it was going to be so long and I think they're both still going to be some of the longest chapters I just have so many things I want to do in these chapters.

#writing problems #me get carried away?#thats unpossible #something in the orange

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rowanisawriter · 1 year

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WIP…?

…said with the same energy as RIP 😭

thanks for the tag, @zenstrike!! i’m tagging @samseabxrn @nirikeehan @monowires but no pressure :)

here’s what i have brewing, if we want to call haunting my google docs brewing:

battle studies: dragon age, cullen/trevelyan, this is where most of my attention is and i’m almost done! I split it into three smaller pieces and have written 1 and 3. this is definitely the most ambitious fic i’ve written i think.

an unnamed treasure hunter au: also dragon age, cullen/trevelyan, wrote the first chapter to get it out of my system and refocus, then i decided i liked it and want to continue it because i love pain and hate myself 🙃

lore: more dragon age, cullen/trevelyan, i need to be restrained because i can’t stop writing them, but this one is about the inquisitor’s abilities taking a darker turn and the effect it has on their relationship.

fairy tale: more dragon age, amell/alistair, sad little thing about how nothing ever turns out like it does in the books you read when you were young.

your hands were made for holding: finally something other than dragon age, horizon forbidden west fashav/kotallo absolute angst factory.

after: deathloop, charlie/fia, i have had this in the wips since the game came out like two years ago, i want to finish it so bad but it won’t write… so it just gathers dust in the folder and i reread what i’ve got from time to time, suffering in silence.

#tag games #too many wips #this is pretty light for me #I usually have a lot more going on but I’ve been organized a little by dadwc funneling my writing #which has helped so much #anyway #thanks for asking ily

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write-and-buried · 2 years

Note

Sending love and strength and good vibes.

If you’re up for a distraction, could you talk a bit about what fics you’re working on at the moment or what ideas you’d like to work on? I love your writing and it would be lovely to see what we readers have to look forward to 😇

HELL YEAH PORN ROUND UP GOOD VIIIIIBES

Postcards;

I am working on the penultimate chapter and am determined to get it up next week. I've had to separate it, splitting the action into the final chapter, which means you're getting two scoops of smut and angst and not much else

I left you all on a hell of a cliffhanger and I'm sorry about it

Celestial Navagation

Let's talk trashman.

So this fic is shaping itself up to be a cotton candy cloud of fluff and softness.

I'm naming the chapters after the phases of the moon

Dieter calls the reader by his favourite old Hollywood movie stars (Bette, Tallulah, Joan)

There's a barista named Owen who I'm in love with.

mmf action

Switch Dieter

Also he has a circular bed and grows his own weed 🤷‍♀️

Piece;

As most of you saw from my unhinged meltdown - I watched Prospect this week 😳🙃

I have about 1500 words of ezra filth already in the chamber and below is a sample of all the other things my brain has spit at me to write in relation to him

Free use (24 hours where he can do whatever he wants, regardless of objection - note; this is dynamic play and safe words are in effect)

Blood play. Either period or injury

HES FUCKING YOU WITH HIS GUN.

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mintawasalreadytaken · 2 years

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WIP Update: Chapter 3 of Truly Being Alive is now up!

WIP | E | Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter | Romance, Angst, Smut, Mental Health Issues, Sobriety, Disability, Chronic Illness, Gender Identity, Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, BDSM

Snippet:

Sometimes, when Harry was on the upswing after a long spell of poor health, Draco let it be easy. Allowed Harry to catch his lip between his teeth and tug him horizontal.

That particular Saturday morning, Harry won their sleepy battle. Finished, panting, an arm flung over his eyes, Draco huffed a laugh.

"What?" Harry asked.

Draco's lips curved into a smile he might have thought private, only Harry drank its every hill and valley in.

"You've taught me what the word 'insatiable' feels like."

→ Read on AO3

Rambling after the cut...

This week's chapter is a meditation on Draco, and it was such a pleasure and a challenge to write considering the Harry POV leaves a fair few holes in his knowledge re: Draco. It was the first time I reconsidered my own stance on POV switching in this story. I truly had fun plotting out Draco's POV for the entire story, and then flipping it back to Harry; we can only know what he knows, and that causes...problems (cue dramatic music).

It was originally a nearly 20k mega-chapter, which has since been split into two parts. Part two features a reveal I'm so excited about!

Trivia: the misery lit they read in group is "A Million Little Pieces". Seems appropriate 🙃

Happy reading!

#truly being alive #drarry #drarry fanfic #wip

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karahalloway · 3 years

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(Un)Common Attraction - Author’s Note

(Un)Common Attraction is a Drake x OC romance based predominantly on the Royal Romance - Book 1 Choices game by Pixelberry Studios (though I have borrowed some content from the other books in the series as well).

If you have played the original, you will notice that I start off quite canon, but I start to diverge from roughly Lythikos, as I've had to adapt the story to fit the narrative of Drake x OC (rather than Liam x MC that the original story gravitates towards).

If you have not played the game yet, then I highly recommend it if you want a light reading RPG game - not only are the stories well written, but the artists have done a great job creating a visually beautiful game that really brings the story to life!

Obviously, this being a fanfic, I don't own the characters or the story from the game. I used the overall plot and some of the dialogue from the game, but adapted and expand on certain scenes to give it my own spin, as well as delve into the characters a bit more deeply.

Having lived in Europe, I have also taken the opportunity to 'correct' some errors and oversights in the story (see the endnotes in the applicable chapters for details). While I have followed the general outline of the story from the game, I had ended up splitting certain chapters from the game into multiple chapters in my own version, as well as moving some content around to better fit the flow of my story. In addition, I have written a number of new scenes, little 'moments in between', to better develop the relationship between Drake and Harper (my OC) - my favourite of these being Escape Plan and Helluva View (these two chapters pretty much wrote themselves).

Astute readers will also notice that I have changed Drake's characterisation a bit to make him more suave and self-assured. He may have always played second fiddle to Prince Liam (Christian in my version — I decided to change the name because Liam is a very Anglo-Saxon name, which I didn't think worked for the prince of a Mediterranean country), but if you look at his family background and values as presented in the original game, then I see the type of guy that I have tried to present in my version, rather than the glum, slightly mopey guy in the original story.

For instance, in contrast to the game, in my version, Drake dresses up a bit more for social events (because no matter how much he may hate the nobles, I just cannot see him turning up to a fancy ball wearing all denim — I think he's too self-respecting for that).

And I mean... Why would he not? 🙃 I swear to God, when I saw this picture, I thought the guy was holding a tumbler of whiskey!

(Face claim: Hugo Philip)

In addition, I have given him a bit more of a life outside of the Prince's circle — see later chapters for details. Admittedly, not everyone may agree with my take on the character (and I've read fanfics where the authors have presented Drake different to how I have chosen to do so), so you are very welcome to check those out as well (see the favourited stories in my library).

Furthermore, while I have read fanfics where the MC gets together with both Drake and Liam, or Drake starts sleeping with the MC behind Liam's back, I have been reliably informed by real life guys that those scenarios (while great for a romance novel) are not realistic and that is not how guys who are best friends operate in the real world. So, yes, the bro-code is really a thing (see Chapter 22) and bros do come before hoes. This is not to say that I didn't enjoy the other stories, but for mine, I tried to be as 'realistic' as I could.

Finally, you will see that I start certain chapters (especially the new scenes I added) with references to songs that helped inspire my writing. They are a mishmash of different genres, and may not be so mainstream, but I hope you'll check them out.

Happy reading! Love to see your comments and insights!

#the royal romance #trr drake #choices trr #trr #trr fandom #trr fanfic #drake walker #drake x mc #prince liam #uncommon attraction #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance au #trr fanfiction #trr au #choices #trr choices #choices the royal romance #the royal romance fandom

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usergrantaire · 6 years

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Lights Will Guide You Home: Chapter II

A/N: in other news, i got anon hate for the first time :/ disabled anon for a while, i’ll probably be turning it back on in a couple of weeks or so

anyway, happy pride month!! here’s a friendly reminder that all aces/aros are lgbtq+ and exclusionists aren’t welcome at pride events 🙃

it’s also my birthday month, so there’s that

anyway here’s another chapter for y’all, i’m unofficially on summer vacation (unofficially because i don’t have to go to school until the last day, but the last day isn’t here yet so i’m staying at home) so i’ll hopefully be writing and updating more frequently

READ IT HERE ON AO3

previous chapter: xxx

“So where do you want to go for the honeymoon?”

Éponine reached over to take Enjolras’ right hand in her left, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand a squeeze. The two of them and Victoire were on the road once again a week after the proposal, Victoire fast asleep in her car seat in the back and clutching one of the arms of her Elmo doll as Éponine and Enjolras kept their eyes on the road ahead. They still had a bit of time ahead of them—the ride from Enjolras’ hometown back to New York City lasted roughly five hours, hence their decision to leave early that morning. It had been an hour since they left and the sun was well up, the season being summer, and they still had about four more hours to go until they reached New York once again. To their relief, Victoire had nodded off around ten minutes into the drive after a bottle of formula, though they had no way of knowing when she would be waking up again.

Enjolras smiled and brought Éponine’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and admiring how the engagement ring looked on her finger for a split second before he returned his gaze to the road ahead, his hand still clasped tight with Éponine’s. “Where do you want to go?”

“’Jolras, come on.” Though the look on Éponine’s face was mildly irritated, Enjolras could hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t want any of that ‘whatever you want, I want’ bullshit.”

“Language, ’Ponine,” Enjolras gently reprimanded. “Victoire’s here.”

“She’s asleep,” Éponine reminded him dismissively. Even so, she stole a glance over her shoulder to look at Victoire, just to make sure she was still sleeping. Sure enough, the toddler was still fast asleep, her golden hair falling into her eyes and drool dribbling down onto her shirt, eyelashes fluttering every now and then in her sleep. Turning back to look at the road, Éponine suggested, “What do you think about Hawaii?”

Enjolras made a face. “It’s beautiful, yes, but do you think it’s the right honeymoon spot for us?”

Éponine considered it for a few moments before she admitted, “No, I don’t think so.”

After a few moments of silence, Enjolras driving ahead with one hand and his other hand in Éponine’s, he prompted, “What about Bora Bora?”

“Where is that?”

“French Polynesia. I’ve been there before with my parents when I was fifteen, it’s beautiful.”

Éponine took her phone out to look it up, eyes widening at the pictures she found on Google. “Wow,” she breathed, awed by the crystal-clear waters and the azure skies.

“Do you like it?” Enjolras asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” Éponine replied, pausing for a moment before saying, “but I don’t think it’s the right place for us either. I’ll pass on Bora Bora.”

The two of them took advantage of their daughter being sound asleep to bounce ideas back and forth, suggesting several different honeymoon locations, including Venice, Santorini, Fiji, Dubai, the Maldives, Kyoto, Iceland, Palawan, Florence, Rome, Morocco, and countless other places. Neither of them could seem to agree on a location, and Éponine was beginning to despair—she wanted every aspect of this marriage to be perfect, including the honeymoon location. Why couldn’t they just fucking decide on a goddamn place?!

After some time, Éponine slumped down in her seat, fidgeting absent-mindedly with her locket, and suggested offhandedly, “Paris?”

It had been done a million times before, she knew, but that certainly wasn’t for no good reason—Paris was the city of love, practically synonymous with romance, having been hailed as the dream romantic destination for decades, and ever since she was a little girl, Éponine had always dreamed of going to Paris one day. She had always wanted to explore the city with someone, and who better to explore the city with than Enjolras?

She bit her lip, turning her head to glance at Enjolras, caught off-guard when his face lit up at her suggestion. “Yes, let’s go to Paris,” he agreed almost immediately, a smile lighting up his face and making it look as if his blue eyes were sparkling.

“Really?” Éponine could barely keep the excitement out of her voice, eyes bright.

“Yes, let’s go there!” Enjolras said brightly, enthusiastic as he gave Éponine’s hand a firm squeeze before bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles once again. Éponine felt her cheeks flush pink at the feeling, unable to get enough of him.

“Did we just decide on our honeymoon location?” she asked, feeling like she could cry after half an hour of indecisiveness and debating back and forth between themselves about where to go.

“I think we just did,” he confirmed, turning his head to give her a goofy grin before he focused once again on the road.

Éponine laughed out loud, feeling a rush of happiness surging through her upon finalising yet another aspect of the marriage, wishing she could just marry him right then and there. She wouldn’t care when, where, or how they got married—she just wanted them to spend the rest of their lives together as a married couple, and she wanted the rest of their lives to start as soon as possible.

The rest of the car trip passed by with no event, if one didn’t count Éponine and Enjolras having to change the music from Rent to The Lion King once Victoire woke up and made a big fuss about wanting to feed, screaming her head off until Éponine handed her a bottle of formula, which finally quieted her down. Once they had entered New York City, however, Éponine was all too confused when Enjolras drove right past their street, bewildered when they didn’t go back to their apartment.

“’Jolras, we just passed our place,” Éponine tentatively pointed out to him, stealing a glance over her shoulder. Victoire was still gulping down her formula, content for now. “Why’d you do that?”

Enjolras didn’t respond, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, and Éponine narrowed her eyes in suspicion upon noticing that it seemed as if Enjolras was driving towards Brooklyn. “Enjolras,” she growled under her breath once they were on the Brooklyn Bridge, itching for an answer. “Where the hell are we going?”

“You’ll see.” His cryptic answer only further fanned the flames of her annoyance, but she held her tongue, figuring that this better be good, otherwise she’d kick his ass. Once they were in Brooklyn, Enjolras kept driving on, down a familiar path, and Éponine’s suspicions were only confirmed when they pulled up in front of Jehan’s apartment building, Enjolras parking the car by the pavement and getting out.

Éponine got out after him, going to get Victoire out of her car seat as Enjolras went and got the fancy diaper bag Bahorel had given to them as a gift out of the trunk of the car. Victoire was awake now, squinting under the bright sunlight as Éponine picked her up, securing the little girl in her arms, and the two of them looked at Enjolras, Victoire with curiosity and Éponine with irritation.

“Why are we at Jehan’s place?” Éponine asked slowly once Enjolras had locked the car and they had made their way into the building, entering the elevator together. Victoire rubbed at her eye with a little fist when the elevator began to move up, up to Jehan’s loft, and if Éponine was correct in her suspicions, then Les Amis would be waiting inside to surprise them all with a surprise informal engagement party.

Sure enough, once they reached Jehan’s door, Enjolras had barely knocked on the front door when it swung open and they were met by deafening shouts of “CONGRATULATIONS!” from all of the Amis, and Éponine scrunched up her face and mustered a smile as she and Enjolras stepped inside, Victoire in her arms. It seemed that shouting hadn’t been the wisest idea—Azelma and Courfeyrac’s son Louis, now three months old, started wailing, frightened by all the noise, and Éponine winced at the memories of having had to deal with Victoire’s frequent screaming once they had gotten through that blessed period of time in which she was tranquil. Even still, she couldn’t help but snort in amusement upon seeing Azelma rush to grab Louis from his stroller as Courfeyrac quickly followed; as much as the sisters loved each other, they couldn’t help but laugh at each other’s misfortunes.

Éponine gave them all a giant smile, calling out, “Thank you so much, guys!”

Victoire’s big brown eyes searched the room and soon landed on Grantaire, who was standing with his Yorkie Toby at his feet, and she immediately started trying to pull herself out of her mother’s arms, reaching towards Grantaire. Éponine got the hint pretty quickly and put her daughter down on the wood floor, watching as Victoire toddled towards Grantaire as fast as her stubby little legs could take her, gleefully screaming, “Unca R!”

Éponine couldn’t help but laugh as she watched Victoire leap into Grantaire’s arms, the man catching her in record time while the toddler immediately went to grab at his unruly black curls, tugging insistently at them and laughing at the mildly pained look on his face as she did so. She went over to Enjolras’ side, putting an arm around his waist as he did the same with her shoulders just as Combeferre walked up to them, a wide grin on his face.

“Congratulations on the engagement!” Combeferre congratulated them warmly, embracing Enjolras before doing the same with Éponine. Enjolras couldn’t help but grin back, unbelievably happy and still rejoicing over the fact that Éponine actually said yes.

“Thanks, ’Ferre,” Éponine replied, flashing him a dimpled grin.

“When’s the wedding?” Bahorel shouted out from nearby.

“Next autumn!” Éponine called back in response. When she was met by disappointed groans and complaints of how that was to be in over a year, she got up on a chair and called out, “Guys! We’re still sorting things out, all right? Almost none of our plans are set in stone yet, we literally just got engaged a week ago.” She smiled approvingly when the Amis quieted down, going back to their own things as Éponine stepped off the chair and looked around at the decorations.

She had no doubt the decorations were all Cosette’s doing, perhaps with a little help from Feuilly and Jehan—gold and silver balloons spelling out “congratulations on the engagement!” were taped up on the wall above the fireplace, streamers and fairy lights hanging everywhere and giving the place a sort of warm atmosphere. On the wall spaces between the windows, Éponine noticed pictures of her and Enjolras together through the years, even when they hadn’t been together, had been pasted up and tastefully arranged against the red bricks, a good portion of the pictures containing Victoire as well. Snacks lined a long table pushed up against the wall under the windows, containing popcorn, Skittles, Cheetos puffs, Doritos, cupcakes, several different kinds of pies, and God knows what else among them, and music was playing in the background, Éponine noticing that the song currently playing was “Perfect”. The thought that the music was probably off a playlist of love songs got her thinking about how she and Enjolras would have to decide on a song to dance to for their first dance as a married couple, and the mere thought of it made her shiver with excitement.

She didn’t notice Musichetta and Cosette approach her until one of them tapped her on the shoulder, and Éponine jumped, startled as she turned to look at them both. “Jesus fuck, don’t scare me like that!” she hissed, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

The other two women remained unfazed, and to Éponine’s alarm, Cosette’s eyes filled with tears as she reached up to place her hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “We’re so happy for you, Eppy!” she squealed, biting her lip as she smiled up at Éponine. “We’ve been wondering when Enjy was going to propose for a while now.”

“Let us see the ring!” Musichetta practically demanded, although her tone of voice was fairly light. Éponine laughed and brought her left hand up for Musichetta and Cosette to see, the pair letting out little “oooooh’s” of admiration upon seeing the ring.

“Oh, wow,” Musichetta breathed out, lightly running a finger over the tiny diamonds and the aquamarine inlaid in the ring. “Ep, this is gorgeous.”

“Enjy really went all out, didn’t he?” Cosette remarked blithely, looking back up at Éponine once she had satisfied herself with the sight of Éponine’s engagement ring. “How did he propose?”

“He brought me and Vicky out to a field near one of his parents’ log cabins around sunset,” Éponine replied. “He told me he wanted to take us to see the fireflies. I just stood there by a tree and watched him and Vicky playing with the fireflies for the most part until he came back to me. Vicky was still playing in the field; I have pictures if you want to see them later, they’re really nice. We were talking and then he just popped the question, I guess.” Éponine scrunched up her face, her mind going back to the night Enjolras proposed, and she amended, “Actually, he didn’t technically ask, now that I think of it. We talked about marriage for a bit and I told him I’d say yes if he was planning on proposing, so he just took the ring out of his pocket and said, ‘Marry me.’” She smiled at the memory, remembering how she had felt as if she was on cloud nine when he proposed to her and how she had jumped him in response, kissing him as if her life depended on it before finally saying yes.

Musichetta and Cosette were silent, attentive, as they listened to Éponine recount the tale of Enjolras’ marriage proposal to her, and once she was finished, Cosette let out a dreamy sigh. “That’s so sweet,” she cooed, rubbing her abdomen. Éponine’s gaze fell to Cosette’s stomach and she smiled at the sight of her bump. The blonde was about twenty-one weeks along now, and apparently multiples tended to be born earlier, so Éponine supposed she would have Marius and Cosette’s twins attending her wedding to Enjolras by the time it finally rolled around. Not that she wouldn’t even if they were born at forty weeks; the wedding was hopefully to be in just a little bit over a year, and Cosette was five months along already.

“You’re glowing,” Éponine complimented, and Cosette’s face flushed pink.

“Thanks,” the blonde replied rather shyly, rubbing her swelling stomach. “I still can’t believe there’s two of them in me, though.”

“Neither can we,” Musichetta said, laughing.

“Where are you going for the honeymoon, Eppy?” Cosette turned the attention back to Éponine, not wanting her pregnancy to be the talk of the hour when Éponine and Enjolras were the ones being celebrated. “Wait, are you two even going on a honeymoon?”

“Yeah, we are,” Éponine confirmed, a faint, giddy smile spreading across her face and carving dimples into her cheeks. “Vicky’s going to be staying with Enjolras’ parents while we’re in Paris.”

Musichetta and Cosette’s jaws dropped open simultaneously at the revelation that Éponine was to be honeymooning in fucking Paris with Enjolras. “Paris, France?”

Éponine laughed. “Yeah, where the hell else?”

Musichetta’s eyes widened and without thinking, she screeched out, “Holy shit!”

“There are little ears here!” Grantaire hollered back, covering Victoire’s as Azelma flinched in the corner, desperately trying to calm Louis down with Courfeyrac’s help and only resulting in Louis wailing even louder.

Musichetta brought her hand to her mouth, whispering, “Shit.”

Éponine shook her head, trying to restrain herself from smiling in amusement. “We’ve got little kids around us now, Chetta. Watch your language.”

“Jesus, fine,” Musichetta muttered, cheeks flamed red in mortification.

“Oh, by the way—” Another thought popped into Éponine’s head just then and she needed confirmation from Musichetta and Cosette, and so she requested, “Will you two be my bridesmaids?”

Musichetta’s eyes practically popped out of their sockets at Éponine’s request and Cosette was quick to reply, squealing and saying, “Eppy, of course we will! We’d be honoured to!”

Éponine grinned at their enthusiasm. “Sweet. You two are my bridesmaids now, no take backs.”

Éponine soon left Musichetta and Cosette to make her way over to Grantaire, who was sitting on the rug before the TV with Victoire in his lap. The two of them were watching The Little Mermaid—or at least, Grantaire was; Victoire was too busy trying to coax Toby over to her by reaching out to the dog and making grabby hands as she babbled incoherently. Éponine plopped down beside Grantaire and her daughter on the rug, a huge grin on her face.

“Congrats on the engagement, Ep,” Grantaire told her, grinning at her as he turned his head to press a kiss to her temple. “We were wondering when Enj would suck it up and finally propose.”

“Well, he did, and I said yes.” Éponine held out her left hand to admire her ring, still dazzled by its beauty and catching herself wondering how much it could have possibly cost. Grantaire immediately grabbed her hand to bring it closer to his face so he could properly inspect the ring. After a while, he let out a low, appreciative whistle, green eyes sparkling.

“Damn,” Grantaire murmured, yelping when Éponine smacked him in the arm.

“Don’t swear around my kid!” she scolded him, gesturing to Victoire. The toddler remained oblivious, still trying to coax Toby over.

“Oh, like you never do,” Grantaire retorted. “Anyway, that’s a really nice ring. He must like you a lot,” he drawled, feigning indifference.

“I like to think he does,” Éponine replied airily, playing along and glancing over at Enjolras—he was surrounded by Combeferre, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Joly, being congratulated on working up the balls to finally propose after about a year and a half of being with Éponine. She couldn’t help but smile at the mere sight of him—to think, hopefully in a little over a year they were going to be married and she’d finally get to call him her husband.

“Can I be the flower boy at your wedding?” Grantaire’s words brought Éponine out of her trance and she turned her head to glance at him while he bounced Victoire up and down in his lap. The toddler seemed to have given up on trying to wheedle Toby into approaching her and had settled for watching The Little Mermaid, finally admitting defeat.

Éponine scrunched up her face. “Sorry, R, but ’Jolras and I’ve already decided that this little peanut here—” she gestured to Victoire “—is going to be our flower girl.”

Victoire looked up at her mother upon hearing the affectionate nickname her parents had for her and she beamed at Éponine, dimples carving themselves into her cheeks, and she reached for Éponine. “Mommy!”

“Come here, Vicky!” Éponine picked Victoire up, out of Grantaire’s lap and into her own, and Toby immediately rushed over to Grantaire and leapt into his dad’s lap, wagging his tail. Éponine couldn’t help but cackle at the sight, remarking slyly, “Looks like somebody’s a little jealous of Peanut.”

Toby simply barked in response, evoking laughter from both Grantaire and Éponine, and Victoire soon joined in, giggling and clapping her hands despite having no idea what was going on. “Looks like he is,” Grantaire said once his laughter had died down. Looking between Victoire and Éponine, marvelling at the similarities in appearance—Victoire was basically a mini Éponine, only with blonde hair and Enjolras’ smile as well as that tiny cleft in her chin that she had gotten from him—Grantaire commented, “I guess that makes sense, having Vicky be your flower girl.”

Éponine pressed a tender kiss to the top of Victoire’s head as the little girl turned her attention back to The Little Mermaid, tuning out everything else once again. She loved her darling baby girl so much; she had spent nights crying in Enjolras’ arms over the course of the past year, worrying about whether or not she was a horrible mom after recalling how her own mother had fucked her up, but he never failed to reassure her of her capabilities as a mother, always there to remind her that she wasn’t her parents and she wasn’t going to screw this up. “I just love her so much,” Éponine mumbled, her voice barely audible. “She has to be a part of the wedding.”

“Well, yeah, she’s your daughter,” Grantaire pointed out, stating the obvious. “I’d be concerned if she wasn’t. When are you planning on getting married?”

“Late September or early October next year,” Éponine replied, caressing Victoire’s soft golden hair as the little girl kept her deep brown eyes glued on the TV screen. “’Jolras and I’ve decided on getting married in Central Park like Marius and Cosette did. Maybe we’ll even have the ceremony on Cherry Hill like they did. We still haven’t decided on a venue for the reception yet, though—I’ve looked some places up, they’re all equally nice and that’s making it hard to decide between them.” Éponine lightly rested her chin on the top of Victoire’s head, swaying slightly from side to side to “Part of Your World”.

“Wow,” Grantaire murmured. It felt like it had been only yesterday when he and Éponine first approached Les Amis at that café that had become their sacred spot, and now here they all were. “It’s kind of hard to believe you’re actually getting married.”

“Yeah, well, it was kind of hard to believe I was pregnant with Vicky here when I was, but look at us now.” She patted Victoire’s head and pressed another soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, making her giggle slightly. Éponine sighed, giddy about her upcoming wedding and impatient to set a date. “I’m just so excited,” she murmured, a smile spreading across her face and quickly morphing into a huge grin. “I was seriously considering asking ’Jolras to elope, I’m so excited.”

“Hey, we want to be a part of this too,” Grantaire mock-protested, feigning an indignant look and eliciting a snort from Éponine.

“Yeah, that’s why we didn’t end up eloping, my dear R,” Éponine informed him, sickening sweetness dripping from her tone. “You’ll probably be asked to be one of the groomsmen.” Looking around at their friends, Éponine remarked, “I think all of you guys will be asked to be groomsmen. That’s how it was with Marius and Cosette’s wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire grinned to himself upon imagining the bachelor party they were inevitably going to throw for Enjolras after forcing him into agreeing to let them do so, already beginning to get ideas and making mental notes to bring them up later. “I look really hot in a tux.”

“Too bad Jehan hasn’t noticed yet,” Éponine commented rather snarkily. Grantaire was quick to smack her in the arm, glaring at her and only succeeding in making her laugh her ass off at his expense.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flaming red. “I’ll have you know we’ve been out on several dates now. Things are getting pretty serious, Ep.”

“If you say so.” Éponine turned her attention back to the TV screen, absent-mindedly stroking Victoire’s hair as the two of them watched The Little Mermaid, Victoire completely focused on the movie.

After a while, Grantaire asked, “Will you and Enj be going on a honeymoon?”

“Yep,” Éponine responded surely, popping the ‘p’ and smiling at the thought. “We’re going to Paris.”

“Oh, wow, Paris?” Grantaire’s green eyes widened at the information, wondering how the hell they were going to cover all the wedding costs. “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Enjolras’ parents insisted on paying for everything,” Éponine explained, shrugging. “We tried to turn it down but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I guess we’re going to splurge. They offered to take care of Vicky while we’re in Paris as well, so we’ll be leaving her with them for two weeks or for however long our honeymoon will be.”

“Wow.” Grantaire let out another low whistle, amazed by how much thought Éponine had already put into the wedding.

After some time, Éponine murmured, “Vicky?”

Victoire turned around to crane her neck and look up at her mother upon hearing her name, brown eyes wide. Éponine told her softly, “I’m going to leave you with Uncle R, okay? I’m going to go see Auntie Zelma. We can do that, right, baby?”

Victoire simply smiled that sweet little smile of hers at Éponine, displaying four teeth and little dimples, and babbled some nonsense in response, evoking a laugh from Éponine. “I’ll take that as a yes, then!”

She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before lifting her out of her lap and handing her over to Grantaire; Toby had jumped out of his lap to go explore the loft for a little bit, having been spending more and more time over there for the past few weeks. Victoire immediately stood up to face Grantaire, grabbing his face with her starfish hands and kissing his nose; Éponine could hear Grantaire laughing loudly at the gesture as she made her way over to Azelma in the corner.

Azelma and Courfeyrac had finally managed to get Louis to calm down, the three-month-old now peacefully sleeping in his stroller, and the redhead was a little more than a bit frazzled by the time Éponine made her way over to her. Courfeyrac had left to congratulate Enjolras before Éponine found her way to Azelma, and the brunette asked, “You okay?”

“I’m sorry if I ever belittled or made fun of your parenting efforts in this past year, whether intentional or not,” Azelma blurted out rapidly, the words spilling out of her mouth all at once. Her auburn hair was a bit of a mess, her clothing wrinkled and bags beginning to form under her eyes, and Éponine pursed her lips at the sight. Azelma’s hazel eyes were full of despair as she asked, “Ep, tell me the truth—am I a terrible mom? Am I just like our mom?”

“No, Zelma, of course not!” Éponine was quick to reassure Azelma that she was nothing like their own mother was. “You’re trying your best. We all are. That’s what matters in the end.”

“But what if Louis grows up to hate me even when I’m trying my best?” Azelma wailed, glancing at the sleeping baby in the stroller beside her. “It’s happened before, Ep, kids end up hating their parents even if their parents are trying their best and doing what they think is right for the kid. I don’t want that to happen.”

“It won’t,” Éponine firmly reassured Azelma. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

She glanced at Louis, sleeping soundly in the stroller, a corner of his blankie scrunched up in his little fist—he had quite a bit of hair for being only three months old, having inherited Azelma’s auburn hair, though he had inherited his unruly curls from Courfeyrac. Besides the fact that he also had Azelma’s hazel eyes and olive skin tone, Louis looked like a tiny baby Courfeyrac, and Éponine smiled at the sight of her nephew, restraining herself from reaching out and softly pinching his chubby cheek.

“Congrats on the engagement, Éponine.” Azelma’s change of subject brought Éponine back to earth and she looked up to look at her sister, who had smoothed out her hair as best as she could and mustered a smile. “Can I see the ring?”

Éponine held out her left hand for Azelma to see, and she let out a small whistle at the sight of the stunning engagement ring on Éponine’s ring finger. “Damn,” she murmured, running a finger over the aquamarine the ring had been embellished with. “This shit must’ve been expensive.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.” Éponine joined Azelma in admiring her engagement ring, thinking about how she had barely ever taken it off in the past week with the exceptions of when she and Enjolras were bathing Victoire and she was showering. Once she and Azelma were facing one another again, Éponine took a deep breath and requested, “Zel, will you be my maid of honour?”

Azelma nearly choked on her own spit. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Éponine affirmed, sheepish. “It’s just—you’re my sister and we’ve been through a fuckton of shit together. I think it’s only right that you’re my maid of honour. If you’re willing, obviously.”

“Of course I am!” Azelma’s hazel eyes were wide at Éponine’s words, and she was quick to say yes to her older sister’s request. “I’d love to be your maid of honour, Ep.”

Éponine positively beamed when Azelma agreed, letting out a cry of delight and pulling her sister into a tight embrace, which Azelma awkwardly returned. Éponine was planning on asking Gavroche later if he would be willing to escort her down the aisle since their father was very much absent from their lives and had been for the better part of seven years or so and she turned around as her hand went to her locket to play around with it, her gaze landing on Enjolras, who was surrounded by most of the Amis, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him looking so utterly helpless as they peppered him with questions.

At the kitchen island, Enjolras was being bombarded with questions left and right, having been trapped by Courfeyrac, Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly, Marius, Joly, and to some extent, Combeferre, and there was no escaping them now, not when they were talking over each other so damn much and practically attacking him with all their questions. Combeferre remained the calmest out of all of them, keeping silent for the most part, although Enjolras didn’t miss the sympathetic looks Combeferre sent his way as the others barraged him with endless, often repetitive questions.

“Guys!” Combeferre eventually shouted over the noise, effectively shutting them all up. The bespectacled man gestured to a helpless Enjolras, telling them all, “One question at a time, you’re stressing Enjolras out. Lord knows he’s already got enough to stress about with the wedding he has to plan.”

“Thank for the reminder, ’Ferre,” Enjolras grumbled under his breath. He just wanted to get married to Éponine, damn it—he didn’t care how or when or where, all that mattered to him was finally being able to call her his wife.

Although admittedly, the idea of a big white wedding did sound appealing, though neither he nor Éponine wanted too many guests—he vaguely recalled how they had discussed not liking being surrounded by so many people a million years ago at Marius and Cosette’s wedding. He was willing to put up with having a million guests if his parents insisted on it, though. A small price to pay for finally getting to marry the love of his life.

“How d’you feel, Enjy?” Courfeyrac questioned, grinning from ear to ear and wiggling his eyebrows.

“I just want to marry her already,” Enjolras admitted, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a slight smile. “We probably would have gotten married the day after I proposed if we had had our way.”

“No offence, but we’re glad you didn’t,” Bahorel told him candidly, taking a sip of wine. “We want to be a part of this shit too, you know. Our chief and my little sister getting married. We’ve been waiting for this for a long time now, you have no fucking idea how sick we all were of all the pining between you two.”

“Which is precisely why we didn’t end up eloping,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes in mild amusement when Bahorel offhandedly referred to Éponine as his little sister despite the two of them having no relation whatsoever. “Will you guys be my groomsmen? All of you?”

“Is that even a question? Of course we will!” Feuilly gave Enjolras a warm smile, delighted at the news that two of his friends were finally on their way to tying the knot.

“We’re throwing a bachelor party for you, just FYI,” Courfeyrac butted in, grinning deviously at Enjolras and seeming to already have more than a few ideas in mind. Enjolras sighed, figuring that he might as well agree since the others would force him into having a bachelor party anyway if he refused.

“Okay, fine.”

“What’s it like being engaged?” Jehan questioned, bright-eyed and curious.

“Mostly the same, truth be told,” Enjolras replied. “It’s just the fact that she’s my fiancée now instead of my girlfriend that makes a difference.”

“But how do you feel?” Joly pressed.

“Excited.” Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having his friends bear witness to his wedding when it finally rolled around. “I just—I love her so much; I can’t wait to marry her.”

“Awww,” Jehan cooed, absolutely in love with how in love Enjolras was with Éponine. “You two are too cute together.”

“Where are you going to get married? And when?” Marius asked out of the blue, green eyes finding Enjolras’ blue.

“We’re planning on getting married in Central Park next autumn,” Enjolras responded. “Early September or late October. Maybe we could get married on Cherry Hill like you did?” He phrased it more like a question, and Marius beamed at him.

“Oh, that would be so neat!” Marius clapped his hands together, delighted as he asked, “What about the reception?”

“We’re planning on having an outdoor wedding and an indoor reception,” Enjolras told them all. “We’ve looked up some venues for the wedding reception; we haven’t decided on one yet, but I would really love to have the reception at the Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers.”

“Noice,” Courfeyrac commented, grinning widely.

“Are you two going on a honeymoon?” Feuilly enquired, leaning forward above the kitchen island.

“Yes, we’re going to Paris,” Enjolras told them. “Victoire’s going to stay with my parents while ’Ponine and I are in Paris.”

“You two are really going to go all out with this wedding, aren’t you?” Bahorel whistled appreciatively upon hearing Enjolras’ grand plans for his wedding. “How are you even going to afford everything?”

“My parents insisted on paying for it all,” Enjolras admitted, sheepish. “The wedding, the reception, the honeymoon, the clothes, the catering—everything. We tried to say no but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I suppose we’ll be going all out. I just want ’Ponine to be happy, honestly,” he murmured, bowing his head to try and hide his giddy smile. “We’ll definitely have to make some compromises at some point, but in the end, if she’s happy, then I’ll be too.”

Courfeyrac grinned and raised his glass, prompting the others to do the same, as he announced, “To Enjy!”

“To Enjolras!”

Enjolras felt his cheeks grow warm at the gesture, and eventually enough, they had all dispersed except for Combeferre. Enjolras was just about to speak when he felt something collide with his legs; he looked down to find that Victoire had fallen backwards into a sitting position, eyes watery and in a daze from her collision, and she started to cry—loudly—reaching up for Enjolras and wailing, “Daddy Daddy Daddy!”

He bent down to pick her up, gently shushing her and bouncing her up and down in his arms as she stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking at it, tears streaking her pudgy cheeks. “It’s all right, Peanut,” he murmured softly to her, gently bouncing her up and down as her wails gradually died down. “Daddy’s here.”

After a while, Victoire took her thumb out of her mouth and wiped the saliva off on her little blue shortalls before her arms went to wrap around her father’s neck, her head on his shoulder. Enjolras made sure she was secure in his arms before he turned back to Combeferre, who was watching the both of them intently.

“’Ferre, I have a huge favour to ask of you,” Enjolras began, grimacing slightly when Victoire grabbed some of his curls in her hand and tugged at them.

“Whatever it is, the answer is yes,” Combeferre responded swiftly.

Enjolras chuckled, his head being tugged down a little bit as Victoire pulled at his hair even more insistently, merrily laughing and babbling as she twisted her little fingers into her father’s golden curls. “So you’ll be my best man?”

“Of course I will,” Combeferre replied, positively beaming at Enjolras. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel great.” Enjolras paused for a moment to press a kiss to Victoire’s forehead once she finally disentangled her fingers from his hair, grabbing his face and kissing his nose, evoking a laugh from both him and Combeferre. Once Enjolras had turned back to Combeferre, he asked rather hesitantly, “Combeferre, do you think—will I—do you think I’ll be a good husband to ’Ponine?”

Combeferre reached out to place a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “I know you will, Enjolras.” Combeferre was completely earnest as he told the groom-to-be, “You’ve already done such a great job so far being her boyfriend and Victoire’s father. Honestly, you two are practically married already—you just haven’t made it completely official yet.”

“I don’t want to let her down,” Enjolras murmured, his gaze trailing to Éponine across the room as Victoire grabbed at his hair again, and he smiled wistfully at the sight of his fiancée. “I don’t want to disappoint her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Enjolras was rarely this vocal about his innermost feelings, though Combeferre wasn’t surprised that now was one of those rare times when he was, considering how he was engaged to be married. He was understandably anxious about things; it was certainly a massive step for both him and Éponine, actually getting married. Combeferre patted Enjolras’ shoulder, noticing how Victoire’s starfish hands were still wound into her father’s curls and resisting a laugh at the sight of Enjolras looking so obviously uncomfortable as his daughter tugged at his hair, the little blonde toddler giggling and looking as if her father’s discomfort was the funniest thing in her life at the moment.

“I’m sure Éponine feels the same way,” Combeferre reassured Enjolras. “She wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if she didn’t, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Enjolras bit his lip, gazing at Éponine from a distance and wincing slightly when Victoire gave his hair a particularly harsh tug. “I love her so much. I don’t want to let her down.”

“And you won’t,” Combeferre told him confidently. “Anyone could see how much you two clearly love each other and how much you both love Victoire. Will there be bumps in the road along the way? Absolutely, but you two always work things out. You have nothing to worry about, Enjolras.” Changing the subject a bit, Combeferre added, “Also, I’ll make sure Courf’s bachelor party plans don’t get too out of hand.”

Enjolras mustered a smile before it quickly morphed back into a grimace when Victoire pulled at his hair yet again, giggling the entire time. “Thanks, ’Ferre.”

Combeferre soon left to go chat with Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet, leaving Enjolras at the kitchen island with a restless Victoire in his arms. From across the room, Enjolras caught Éponine’s eye, and upon seeing her face light up with a dimpled grin when she noticed him looking at her, her deep brown eyes sparkling, he smiled.

A/N: and there’s that for chapter two, hmu if you want to talk fic (although anon is off for now........ oh well)

hope you liked it! as always, likes/reblogs/comments appreciated

next chapter: xxx

#kei writes #lights will guide you home #enjonine #enjoninepride #•otp: you are my revolution•#les mis #fanfic #modern au #pregregnert verse #pls reblog

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